Chasing Shadows (9 page)

He pretends he doesn’t see me and bustles on
down to the next car. I am a rock star! Also I am a bully, but he
started it. I told him ‘no’ very nicely
three
times. And he
touched
me, mother fucker. I take a deep breath and settle
in for the ride. I don’t anticipate seeing any more shades until I
get to my stop, wherever that is. I sort of wish I’d brought my ear
buds.

***

Back and forth, back and forth, the El jostles
me lethargically. I’m the last one in this car and I’m starting to
wonder if I missed it somewhere. I haven’t seen any shadow that’s
not my own since I got on the beast. There are only two more stops
between here and the end of the line. It’s too warm in here. I’m
starting to get sea sick. I’m thirsty. I want a cigarette. Bitch,
bitch, moan. Suck it up self.

The train lumbers to a stop on an abandoned
platform. I stand up to be near to the door, needing to feel the
frosty air on my face. As I get there, my leg catches on nothing
visible. I completely loose my balance and fall out of the train
onto my hands and knees. Well, that was rude. The first thing I do
is look around to see if anyone saw me. Now I pull myself up and
wipe my hands off on my jeans. I take a deep breath of the cold air
and realize my knees sting. That’ll probably be real pretty later.
Flash of getting knee bruises for other, better reasons. Flash of
Qasim holding me against the wall... Stop it brain! Jesus H Christ,
do not jones for fucking Mickey Mouse. You don’t even know the
guy.

I turn in a full circle, checking out the
platform as the train pulls away. All the way up at the north end
of the station is a stairwell that leads to a turn style at street
level. As I look at it, the lights flicker. There’s my sign. I head
that way and exit the station in a part of town I’ve never been to.
Its all parking lots and office buildings, warehouses and highway
overpasses. At least there’s lots of colorful graffiti to brighten
it up. Awesome. I won’t have to call my social worker in the
morning because I’ll be dead.

The snow continues to pelt down, whipping
around my head. It’s pretty. Maybe it’ll be too cold for the
mini-gangsters. The grown up ones drive cars right? So I’ll just
have to remember to duck out of sight if I see a car. Yeah, I can
duck into one of the sparsely located and ever so safe looking
alleys. I should get a darker coat. Oh shit, my coat! There are
those blue stripes on the arms. Doesn’t that mean something? Blue
and white, I seem to remember those are somebody’s colors. Is it
worse to wear opposing gang colors, or the colors of a gang to
which you very obviously do not belong? Oh well, I’ve already come
this far. I look one way and then the other. There’s my bird! Off
to my left. I hurry after it not wanting to linger in this
abandoned place. Give me the lakeside parks any night. At least I
know the hoodlums and man whores who hide out there by sight. This
concrete prairie is totally new territory.

I’m not even looking where I’m going. I just
jog along and follow the bird when I see it: left, right, straight,
left again. At last I’m running out of breath. I stop for a smoke.
I’m in the mouth of an alley and I’m no longer afraid of the
neighborhood. Fuck it, haven’t seen anyone yet. I’m leaning against
the inner wall of the alley. Snow is turning to sleet, so I have my
hand cupped over my cigarette to keep it dry. I can’t feel my nose.
I check my phone, 10:38. The night is young.

I peer deeper into the alley. It’s clear of
debris which means people probably work here. There are three
dumpsters in a row, and beyond them a door into the three-story,
gray-brick warehouse like building I’m facing. There are no windows
at this level. I turn my head. I’m leaning on the red brick little
brother of the gray building. The alley isn’t very long, only the
length of the one set of buildings. Snow is melting under the
wetter, slicker precipitation. There’s a hot breath on my neck. I
lean towards it, and the lid to the farthest dumpster flaps in the
wind.

I sigh, great. This is going to be gross. I
head that way. Now as I approach the dumpster the door handle
jiggles. I pitch my Camel to the ground. Tentatively I place my
hand on the knob and twist, locked.

“Hey, shadow bird, the door’s locked. You want
me in there or not?” I wait for a second, reconsidering the
dumpster, and now I hear it, a delicate little ca-click as the
tumbler trips. You have got to be shitting me! I’m psyched now.
This is so cool. With a smile, I open the door and silently duck
inside. There’s an old, gray, industrial carpet on the floor. I
notice it’s empty of wet footprints, other than mine. I wipe my
feet. I am facing a stairwell. Down straight ahead, up to my right.
A little light, and I mean precious little, is filtering in from
the window above me on the second story. The smarter half of me
wants to look around on this floor. The dumber half hears a thump
from below and heads immediately to the bare concrete steps. I
slink down, trying for stealth.

The stairs are steep and narrow. They end at a
little landing with a cinder block wall in front and a thin wooden
door to my right. There’s dim light glowing from the cracks around
the door. I hear a scuff from inside. I hold my breath and put my
gloved hand on the shiny knob. I turn it slowly, and apply just the
barest pressure, easing the door towards me. It doesn’t creak! I
exhale. I thank God or whoever. With a tiny step I ease myself
forward and look through the door. This must not be the primary
entrance because the doorway is crowded with big cardboard boxes
that are stacked up above my waist.

I peek my head a little further. The room has a
low ceiling and is lit by a single hanging fixture far to my right.
There are lots of boxes and crates around the edges of the room and
support pillars stand at intervals throughout the space. One of the
pillars is about even with me, and my eyes are drawn to it when I
hear a scrape. I look closely. I can see a person sitting against
it, facing the light. It looks like a woman. It has wavy dark hair.
I blink a little. I can only see the part of her that’s lit. Either
she’s got her hands behind her back or she’s tied to the post.
Flash: local hero saves kidnapping victim. “Hey.” I hiss, wondering
if she’s awake.

She is. She turns her head towards me and her
eyes bug out. “Kelly!” She whispers.

I’m stunned. I don’t know what to say. Kelly?
Does this person know me? “Who are you?” I hiss.

The girl starts to cry. “You’re dead.” she
sobs. “Oh God, I’m gonna die.”

“Hush.” I snap. “I’m not dead. I’m right
here.”

She sucks in her lip. There’s a noise from
beyond my line of sight. “Run.” She whispers to me.

What? Me run? I think indignantly. “I’m here to
save you.” I whisper, and as I do I reach out to start moving
boxes.

She shakes her head violently. “Too late. You
have to run.” Now she snaps her gaze back down the room. I pull my
head back. I can still see the girl, but not much else. I hear
footsteps.

A man’s voice grunts as the footsteps approach.
“So, Bitch. You want to tell me what you think you
remember?”

I see the girl stick out her chin, defiance
written all over her face. I like her. I want to help her. I’m
afraid.

“You killed Kelly.” She shouts but her voice
shakes.

The man grunts. “You’re the only one who thinks
so.” He says.

“I know what I saw, you dirty son of a bitch.
You’re not getting away with it.” Wow is this girl stupid? She
either wants to die, or doesn’t think she stands a chance of
living.

“You were passed out. You couldn’t have seen
anything. You’d shot enough heroin to kill a horse. You’re making
it up. You just think you’ll get something out of this but you
won’t. I’m not losing everything over an addict, and a dumb whore.
You both fucked half the men on that boat and you loved it. You
stupid cow. No one believed you down there because you’re crazy,
and no one’s going to miss you either.”

The girl laughs. “Sure, pig. No one believed
me. That’s why you’ve got me tied up in a basement, because I’m not
a threat. I know you’re going to kill me, and you’re the dumb
bitch, because it’ll only get worse for you when I’m gone. I’m not
the only one who saw and I’m not the only...” but she doesn’t
finish, because a huge man lunges forward kicks her in the gut. I
can’t see his features, but the way the light catches his short
hair suggests a blonde. I stand there quietly, while the great big
man with the light hair pummels her repeatedly. After about seven
or eight strikes, he stands back. Her head slumps my way. Holy
Shit! Where’s her face? I suck in a breath and the sound of it is
covered by Mr. Huge Ass’s heavy breathing. He slides something from
his pocket. I don’t see what it is but when he straddles the girl
and grabs her by the hair I can see he has a hard on. Oh God, I
think, I hope she’s already dead. I take a step back without
realizing it. I guess the movement caught his attention, because
Big Man Blonde turns to face me. He’s looking right at me. I can
see light shining off his teeth and reflecting out of his left eye
but the rest of his face is shadow. His eye bugs out when he sees
me, just like hers did.

Crash! Something falls, further back in the
room. The man jumps and turns towards the sound. It’s now that I
see he’s holding a long, straight knife. I don’t need any more
incentive, the girl’s toast. I run back up the stairs. I’m too
concerned with speed to try and be quiet. I hit the door like a ton
of bricks. It flies open.

“Ahhh.” A male voice.

I look down. There’s a guy. Some white dude,
with sandy hair about my age. I guess he must have been leaning on
the door and I knocked him flat on his ass when I crashed through
it. He’s wearing a white jacket. Go figure.

“You should run.” I say, and proceed to follow
my own advice. The sleet has turned to straight rain now and I’m
glad. The snow’s all melted. I won’t leave footprints. I have no
idea where I’m going. I just go, making turns at random, hoping Big
Man’s not following me. As I run I re-think the event in terrifying
little snippets. What made that crash after he saw me? Was it the
shadow people?

***

I don’t know how long I’ve been running. My
legs are burning. My lungs are burning. Tears streak off my face,
flying behind me as I go. I turn the corner and see the familiar
lights of an El station. It’s not the one I got off at, but maybe
that’s good. I wonder if it’s the same line. I slow to a jog, and
then walk the last block, trying to catch my breath. I’m not sure
how I manage to get the card in the slot, but I guess I do, because
next thing I know I’m curled up in a glass portico on the platform
crying like a little kid. Holy Shit.

A train comes and goes and I don’t move. It’s
either pretty late or pretty far away from the popular parts of the
city, because no one gets off or on. I just sit where I am, and as
my heart rate slows, I begin to wonder if any of that actually
happened. Kelly, she called me Kelly. He looked like he recognized
me. I shudder at the thought. My eyes stare unfocussed at the
wooden floor in front of me. There’s another shadow thing creeping
up through the cracks. It glows red at the edges.

“You Okay?” It’s a deep male voice. Startled, I
look up from my corner and see his face, familiar... why? He darts
his eyes to the side. “Oh, sorry.” He says. “I didn’t know it was
you.”

This creeps me out. “You know me?” I demand.
“What’s my name?”

He looks terrified. “Shit.” he says. “Don’t
yell at me. I was just trying to be nice. I saw you
crying.”

I blink a few times. He seems sincere. “You
don’t know my name?” I ask quietly.

He balks. “What, are you famous or
something?”

I sort of smile, looking at the ground. “No.
Sorry for yelling at you. It’s been a weird night.” I watch the
shadow as it creeps slowly toward the guy’s leg.

“You’ve yelled at me before.”

I look up at him quizzically. Blondish hair,
clean shaven face, black pea coat over a hoodie, brown eyes....
it’s not coming to me. Then he turns to face me straight on and I
notice the perfect V shape of his torso. “Meat Shopper!” I say, all
happy like we’re best friends.

He cocks an eyebrow and smiles. It’s a nice
smile. “I’m Schuyler.” He offers his hand.

I reach up to shake it automatically. “My name
is Meegan.” But suddenly I’m floored.
Is
it Meegan? No of
course it’s not, but does that mean its Kelly? I burst into tears,
take my hand back, and hug myself into the corner of the portico.
I’m not looking at the guy. He might as well not be here. I’m sure
he’s booked it to the far side of the station by now.

Except, what’s this? There’s an arm around my
shoulder. I look, yup, real arm, real person. Not only is this
total stranger touching me, but, Oh my God, he feels sorry for me.
This is not good. I can only cry harder in the face of sympathy.
“Fuck it.” I sob, and bury my head in the strange guy’s shoulder.
Vaguely I wonder if I'm just plain destined to end up murdered by
the end of the night. Meat Shopper is probably a serial killer.
What was his name?

I feel him chuckle. I guess to him, it’s funny.
Oh well. I don’t care. It’s nice not to be alone. Now I’m crying
for myself. No Ashley to call. I’m not really friends with Fin. I
don’t know anyone else. So I've wound up here, pathetic and crying
on some weird guy's shoulder. The red shadow swirls into my vision,
it settles in on the guy’s chest. I roll my eyes.
I get it
already, leave me alone for a while
, I think at the apparition,
and to my surprise it ripples a little and disappears. Do I have
control over this?