Stevan Mena - Transience

He navigated his way through the darkness into an adjacent room, gun barrel leading the way. He stepped around stacks of boxes piled five high, nearly taller than him. There was a hanging chain attached to a lightbulb in the center of the room. He cautiously tugged it, turning it on. A wall of slat board shelving held all types of old camera equipment. A workbench was buried beneath dirty plates, used cups, cruddy silverware, and meals half finished. And more boxes, everywhere.

Jack flipped open the top of one, dispersing years of dust into the air. Inside were expensive looking art supplies and paints. Jack turned and spotted several pictures on the wall; the same man in each, posing with various people. He stepped closer, focusing. The man in the pictures was Michael Ketcher. Son of a bitch — she did know him!

Had he and Leonard misconstrued what Rebecca was saying when she blurted out “catch her” ? Had she named her killer after all? One picture showed Michael smiling, standing next to several Black and Latino youths in front of the Community Center. Behind them a banner read:

Another sign read:

He moved to the last room, there was daylight coming through a window. He looked out and spotted the patrol car he’d ordered pulling up.

He could see the fruit stand from here. “The fruits of our labors,” he whispered. He could also see the water tower far in the distance on the hill, the words Find Jesus clearly legible.

“Find Jesus…”

Then a strange rattling noise spun him around again. Mice? Rats?

The light from outside reflected off a large metal cage, the kind very big dogs are kept in. Jack inched closer, there was something moving inside. He could hear whatever it was… breathing . Jack shined his tiny flashlight.

It was a young girl! Naked, hunched over, the cage not much bigger than her body. Her hair was black, her skin bruised, bloody. Underneath the elevated cage was a bucket for human waste.

“My name’s Detective Jack Ridge, can you speak?” The girl turned her bruised and battered face towards him. It was the face he’d been agonizing over for months. It was Angelina. She was alive!

“Christ.” Jack searched for a way to pry her cage open, something to smash the lock. He could hear the officer walking across the ceiling upstairs.

“Detective Ridge?” the officer called out.

“Down here! Call an ambulance!”

The top of Laura’s head had struck the sharp corner of the kitchen counter before smashing onto the linoleum floor. She was out cold, a small puddle of blood pooled under her hair.

Rebecca collapsed beside her mother. “Mommy! Wake up!” Rebecca shook Laura, trying to rouse her. Michael kicked Rebecca onto her backside. He reached for her, but she pushed off with her legs, sliding across the floor until her back was up against the wall. Michael stepped forward, bent over, and callously slapped her hard across the face.

Rebecca’s cheek stung, the shock of the blow left a loud ringing in her ears, making her dizzy. She’d never been struck by an adult before. Her entire life, her mother had never once laid a hand on her. Laura had made a vow never to strike her children during a particularly vicious beating doled out by her father when she was 15. One night he’d come home drunk after losing big at a poker game. She was in view and he needed to vent. Laura lost a tooth in the attack, and kept it as a reminder. She would never hurt her own child. Ever.

Rebecca clutched the side of her face, but fear overshadowed the pain. The man from her nightmares was standing over her, his breath real, as was the back of his hand.

Michael kicked open the side door and went outside. Rebecca felt a huge wave of relief — the evil was gone. But in the time it took her to slowly roll onto her side and wipe her eyes, he was back. Kicking the screen door open again, nearly taking it off its hinges, he stomped into the kitchen carrying a duffel bag.

“Do you love your mother?” he asked. Rebecca squirmed. He grabbed her by the hair viciously. “Sweet girl, why do you look so confused? You seemed so certain just a few moments ago.”

Rebecca blinked, she felt her insides knotting up in fear. “Okay, I’ll ask again, do you love your mother?” Rebecca shook. He tugged at her hair like reigns on a horse, but spoke calmly. “Answer me.”

“Yes.”

“Of course you do. Now, tell me, and don’t lie, because if you do you won’t like the bad things I do to Mommy. Understand?”

She nodded hard and fast.

“Good.” He opened his fist, releasing his grip on her hair. It fell back onto her head and spread across her face. He gently brushed it from her eyes and lifted her chin. Tiny tears rolled down onto his fingertips.

“Tell me, who else lives here?” Rebecca’s eyes darted back and forth.

“Just us.”

“Who’s us?”

“My mother and me.”

Michael leaned in close to her face. “What did I tell you about lying to me?” The calmness in his voice stood her hair on end with terror. “We’re both artists. We both pay very close attention to detail, don’t we? When I arrived, I noticed a photo — of you, Mommy, and I’m guessing… Daddy? Where is Daddy?”

“I… I don’t know,” Rebecca cried, closing her eyes, awaiting the worst.

“You don’t know?”

“He left, moved away. I don’t know where he went. We don’t know, I swear.”

Michael released her chin, letting her head droop. Her body shivered like she was naked in snow. He sat back and stared at her with pity.

“Jeez, I think that’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard. I believe you, darling.” Rebecca exhaled, she had been holding her breath the entire conversation. “Now, I’m going to make sure Mommy doesn’t do anything stupid.”

He reached for her again. She turned her face inward, tucking it into her shoulder like a bird cleaning its feathers. “The only danger would be if you tried to run while I’m making sure Mommy is secure. Do I have your word? Because it sounds like Daddy was a real jerk — he’d have to be to leave two beautiful ladies like you behind. And I don’t want to have to do anything that would leave you all alone to fend for yourself in this cruel world.”

He waited. Rebecca didn’t look, but she nodded into her shoulder, whimpering.

“Good girl.”

Several EMT’s wheeled Angelina on a stretcher to the back of a waiting ambulance. The elderly woman stood in the doorway on her walker, looking confused as all hell. An officer spoke with her, making about as much progress as Jack had earlier. The EMT’s carefully collapsed Angelina’s stretcher and guided it in. One man sat beside her, holding up an IV.

Jack was on his cell phone, listening to the dial tone for the fifth time. “Shit. Pick up Laura…” Jack hung up and looked into the back of the ambulance.

“Is she going to be alright?”

“She’s dehydrated, her pulse is weak but her vitals are stable. She’s gonna be fine, we’ll take care of her.”

Jack saluted the man and rushed to his car, still running. He threw it into gear and sped off, racing back to the main road, taking the turns way too fast.

He slalomed around other cars as if they were standing still. His car drifted up onto the shoulder doing 90mph, his tires churning mud and rocks into the air.

Maybe Laura took Rebecca out somewhere. Maybe the meeting was cancelled. An overwhelming feeling of dread washed over him.

His cell phone rang. Please, please …