Before Death, Part I: Past, Chapter One--The Prophecy, Pt. III

Woman

Running until her legs got so sore she couldn't take it anymore, she then pushed herself forward and ran some more. Collapsing into the sea of sand surrounding her, on hands and knees she looked around at the desert expanding in front of her in all directions. She stopped dead in her tracks, laughing maniacally. 

"He is no more in my presence?" she screamed into the vast nothingness. "He is no more in my presence!" she roared, the wind carrying her declaration away. She slowly raised herself onto one knee then the other. Dusting off her hands, knees, legs, and feet, she realized she liked the gritty feeling of the sand against her skin. The gentle scrape it made was soothing. 

She looked around, realizing she could literally go in any direction she wanted. "He is not here to direct me or tell me where I should be. I, for now and ever, will decide where I go, when I go, or how I get there. If I want to build something, I will build it. If I want to do something, I will do it. IF I WANT TO SAY SOMETHING, BY OR AGAINST THE GODS I WILL SAY IT!" she screamed. The power emanated from within her skin, forcing her to spread her arms as if to embrace the wind surrounding her. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply through her nose. The scent of the sand and heat filling her chest as she exhaled and released it from her mouth. It felt nice. Have I always done that? she wondered. She did it again. And again. She quickly lost count of the breaths as she lost herself in the meditation. Her body slowly rocked forward then her head jerked back and she snorted through her nose. She burst out laughing again. 

"What a wonder!" she declared as she caught her breaths between heaves. "Okay. I must find somewhere to rest," she decided, finally choosing a direction to walk. She looked at the sun, disappearing over the horizon, and glanced at the gorgeous whitish-blue round circle that was shining down upon her. The way the sand glowed looked like nothing she had seen before. In the Oasis there were trees, vines, grass, foliage, fruit trees and plants everywhere. It was lush and perfect, but she realized this expanse of desert was perfect, too. 

Falling onto her back, she looked up at the sky and stared at the giant round mass. She didn't care that she had just wiped herself off from falling on her knees. This was the kind of energy she wanted to soak up and charge into her very essence. She knew she was to have a journey ahead of her, and she was up for it. This was the kind of thing she was alive to do.

Jericho

Although she was young, she was regal. She couldn't have been any older than twenty-two at the most, but she moved with the kind of elegance that reigns for centuries. She walked with her shoulders back and her head held high. She looked odd in the old hotel. With the kind of grace she exhibited as she moved, one would think she wouldn't be caught dead in a dirty dump like this one. Yet and still, here she was. She was shaking something in her hand at her side, but it was barely noticeable because Jericho was stuck staring at her face. She wore a black leather jacket with silver zippers and grommets, a white V-neck tee shirt and a form-fitting pair of jeans that hugged in all the right places. Her hair was straight back in a bun with little wisps at her temples. Her diamond studded earrings looked like saucers on her earlobes, and the tiny silver chain with the crescent moon hung from her neck, resting in the center of the v in her shirt. As she walked closer to the door Jericho stood in front of, Jericho gasped in shock at what she saw. The shadows peeled back from the girl's face and Jericho immediately looked like she was going to break into sobs right there on the spot. The girl opened her shaking hand, exposing the key she held and flipped it to her fingers like a magician, then inserted it into the slot in the doorknob. She turned the knob then paused for a moment, resting her head on the door, taking a breath. Then she picked her head up almost as quickly as she put it down, and shoved the door open.

Jericho followed her inside. When she did, it was like slipping into the girl's mind. It took her a second to realize she was in the girl's subconscious and could hear her thoughts and unthoughts, her heart's dreams and desires while also seeing what she sees. Why doesn't this feel as weird as it should? she thought. This is literally impossible. She shook her head and closed her eyes. "Let me see what I'm supposed to see," she said out loud, allowing the girl's thoughts, visual and physical experiences to take over her body.

The room was dark, but there was a dim yellow lamp on, standing in the far left corner. The girl closed the door behind her, locked it, and took off her jacket, laying it across the back of the armchair that sat on the other side of the lamp. Once she put it down, she walked over to the bed. She looked down at the sheets and pillows disgusted. She couldn't believe she was here, in this shithole, to do this. 

What else am I going to do? she thought as she pulled the small black and silver-embellished envelope out from her back pocket. The man at the club had given it to her after he caught her standing outside the dance floor, sipping her drink, meticulously watching the crowd. I don't have a choice, she thought miserably.

"You should be out there letting loose, you know?" he had asked, leaning into her ear from her right side. 

She looked him up and down and said reassuringly, "If I wanted to, I would." 

At that, he smiled. It was a warm grin, but there was something sneaky about it.  Especially because of the way his eyes sparkled when he looked deeply into hers. Was it a sparkle or a flash? she thought, and shook it off. She went back to watching the dance floor, determined to mind her business, tbereby forcing him to mind his own. 

He didn't take the hint. There was a girl in the middle of the dance floor, with long, blonde hair and even longer tanned legs. She looked like she was having a great time, but her partner not so much. She was whipping her hair around, moving to the music, rolling her hips and raising her arms like she was a sprite or a fairy flitting through the air. 

"You don't have to just stand here and watch," the man insisted. 

"I promise you," she replied, "If I wanted to, I would. Now, please. I hope you enjoy your night, but I'm going to go enjoy mine somewhere uninhabited."

 "But wait," he said, gently pulling her by the arm. She snapped her arm back to herself like an angry rubber band that had been stretched too far. 

"Don't you ever touch me without my say so or permission first. Do you understand?" she scowled. She looked like he had touched her with a hot iron. 

"Damn, shorty! I ain't know it was like that," he said, throwing up his hands and walking backward, retreating from the discrepancy. 

She took a deep breath. Relief. When she looked back to the dance floor, the blonde girl was gone. Fuck, she cursed. Where the fuck did she go? she thought.

She had been hired to watch the woman by the woman's mother. The man with the permanent scowl was her over-hyped, rich boyfriend, and allegedly he was abusive. He only let her appear in public so as to appease the fans and people who knew who they were--otherwise, she wouldn't have gone anywhere he didn't tell her to first. But she was wealthy, and had fans of her own before she ever met him, and they were vocal about protecting her at all costs. Her mother wanted to protect her because she believed he was only after her daughter for her money and success. 

"He's an angry drunk and a failed actor," she said while she sat in the chair across from her desk in the dusty office. "His name is Mack Warren. I don't know why he's so angry," she shook her head, puzzled. "I mean, yeah," she continued, "He was injured during weight training in the off-season, right before the draft his senior year of college, so he never had the chance to go pro, but he was already very vocal about his intent to marry my Marina at that time, and he always said if football didn't work out, acting or broadcasting would have been his next move."

"After a while he did try his hand at acting. The studios loved the idea of him because he had the 'All-American look,' they said, but after a while they realized he had a horrible attitude that was far more detrimental than he was actually worth." She shook her head. "He hadn't realized how much he really wanted to play football, so he drank when he wasn't on stage and even sometimes between takes. His reputation and favors at the studios dried up after awhile, and little by little, the phone stopped ringing and the happy, determined Hollywood voices stopped calling. But Marina? Oh she was having the time of her life, and, 'She was rubbing it all in his face,' he said." 

"It's been five years since his accident. They've pushed the wedding back so many times because he can't get it together, but she will not leave. She adamantly refuses whenever I ask her about it. I want my Marina away from him yesterday. I'll pay you anything," she pleaded.

"Okay, ma'am," she wanted to comfort the woman, but she really didn't know what to say. "I will look into her, but I'm going to need a list of all her favorite places and things to do, and your last known address for her. I can't make any promises about how long this process is going to take because it depends on the people involved and where they are in their understanding of the situation they're going through, but I will do my best to reach out to your daughter in the safest way possible at least, and hopefully get her to have a conversation with you so she can let you know how she feels. I must warn you, though, if she is actually being abused, I can't promise you that she will decide to leave him. She has to want to do that herself. You do realize that, right?"

The mother dabbed at her eyes with a tissue off of the desk and feebly nodded her head. "I understand. My daughter's life is priceless, though. I will literally pay you anything, and if you can get her to come home safely and in one piece, I will pay you more than top-dollar for your services."

"Thank you, Ms.?" the girl paused for a second, allowing the woman a moment to introduce herself.

"Ms. Lewis," she corrected. "And her name is Marina Lewis."

"Ah, okay, Ms. Lewis. Thank you for your faith and trust. I'll give you a call in a few days to let you know what I've found." She reached for a business card in the top right-hand drawer and passed it to Ms. Lewis, who was still blowing her nose from all the emotion and tears.

"Here's $20,000 to get you started. We'll consider this your retainer." Ms. Lewis passed her an enveloped that was stuffed with something, and it felt pretty thick and substantial. "If you need more when you call in a few days, please let me know. I can not put a price on my precious baby's safety."

Her first forty-eight hours of research and investigating led her to this very nightclub. It was a pretty regular spot for Marina and her boyfriend, Mack. 

Now where did she go? she thought as she set the glass of water she was slowly sipping on to blend into the crowd down on one of the unoccupied tables. She decided to first check the ladies' room to see if maybe she was taking a break from all the dancing and celebrating.

Opening the bathroom door in front of her, she saw an attendant sitting on a stool between the row of sinks and the door. She had a basket full of hand lotions, warm towels, face cloths, and sanitizer right there ready for whomever needed one of the supplies. There was even travel-sized bottles of mascara and eyeliner in case one of the attendees decided she wanted to freshen up her look before heading back out to the floor. The attendant was rubbing her head weakly, but when she saw the girl looking in her direction, she dropped her arms to her sides and nodded her head, acknowledging her entry into the ladies'.

She walked to one of the stalls, pretending to need to use the facilities, and closed and locked the door behind her. She had a few of the hundreds she pulled out of the envelope Ms. Lewis had given her in the office and she counted them to make sure no one had pick-pocketed her against her will, but everything was there. She waited a couple minutes to see if anyone else was using a stall, or flushing before leaving, but heard nothing. When she was satisfied that Marina wasn't in one of the stalls, let alone in the bathroom at all, she stood up and flushed the toilet. She pulled one of the fifties out of the wad stuffed in her back pocket and moved it to her front pocket. She had plans for that fifty tonight. 

She opened the stall door and walked to the sink. She pumped a few pumps of the liquid soap they had in the container bolted on the cinder block wall, and scrubbed her hands meticulously. Even though she hadn't actually used the restroom, she had touched the lever to flush the toilet and god only knows what was on it. She looked into the mirror in front of her and pretended to check her makeup. It was good. She looked good, but she wore her usual outfit: leather jacket, white v-neck tee, black denim jeans, and combat boots. The studs in her ears looked like stars on the sides of her face, and she smiled warmly at her reflection. Reapplying some lip gloss like she was worried about someone seeing her with bare lips, she turned from the mirror, and reached into her right front pocket. 

"Hey," she said to the attendant on the stool, checking her name tag and handing her the bill. "How are you tonight, Patricia?" 

Patricia took the bill, not noticing what it actually was at first and said, "Good evening. Warm towel?" 

"Yes, please, and some information if you have it? I just need to ask you a few questions if you don't mind." She gestured with her eyes at the crisp bill Patricia was holding in her left hand.

Patricia followed her eyes, looking down confused, then her eyes grew as wide as saucers. "I'd love to help, if I can," she said tentatively.

"I'm looking for a woman. Tall, slender, blonde, tan. She looks like a model, but she's actually an actress. She's wearing a low-cut black top, black high-heeled, knee-high boots and black leather pants. Do you remember if she ever came in here at all?"

The attendant looked scared and pressed her lips together like she knew a secret she couldn't share. 

She was getting ready to pull out another fifty when the attendant sighed and said, "I'm not supposed to say anything, but fuck him. I hate him. I'm so glad he can't play football anymore. He doesn't deserve to after what I saw him do to her."

"What happened? What did you see?"

"She came in to splash some water on her face because she said she was hot from all the dancing. I recognized her from that one show and a few movies, but I can't remember what they're called right now. It was her and this other woman, but the other woman, there was something about her I didn't like. Anyway, she splashes her face with the water, trying to cool down like I said, and the other woman is talking to her about that man she was with. 'Mack,' I think his name is. She kept saying stuff like, 'Oh, you shouldn't make him angry. You're supposed to be his wife-to-be. Why are you so stubborn? It's your job to make him happy, not piss him off. He needs your support,' and all that jazz. It was so sad because nobody else's happiness is anybody else's responsibility you know? But what do I know? I'm just a bathroom attendant. I'm nobody important."

"But anyway, she tells the other woman just that, 'It's not my responsibility to appease him,' she said. 'And honestly, I'm sick of it.' The woman looked so surprised to hear her say it, but I'm like, 'I don't even know the guy like that, and I kind of hate him already, too,' you know?"

She nodded to communicate that she was following along, but didn't want to speak up or interrupt so as not to disrupt the attendant's train of thought.

"Well, alright. Like immediately as she said, 'I'm sick of it,' the bathroom door bursts open and he comes charging through. He grabs her by the hair and pulls her out of the bathroom and then they disappeared out of the back door of the club. That's the last I saw of them."

Fuck, she thought, but she remained cool. "Did she scream, yell, fight back, or anything?"

"Not really," the attendant said after a minute. "Now that I think about it, that was the really strange part. It was like she expected him to do it so she just shut her mouth and went along with it. I had screamed out telling him to get off of her, but he shoved me to the floor and I hit my head on this wall here. I had only just gotten myself back up and brushed myself off right before you came in. I'm not supposed to say or do anything like that. The club believes celebrities can do what they wanna do and we have to 'mind ours' cuz our rules aren't their rules,' according to management, but she's a human being. I couldn't just let him drag her like that. It's inhumane."

She smiled sadly, knowing full well exactly what Patricia was talking about. "Patricia, do you think you need to go to the doctor?" she asked concerned. 

"Eh, even if I did, I would only lose hours and get a too-large hospital bill out of it. I'll be okay," she thought out loud. "Thanks for asking, though."

She reached in her back pocket, separating two of the hundreds from the rest of the wad and put them in the jar sitting atop the tray with all of the hygiene supplies. "Thanks so much for your help, Patricia. I really hope you feel better, and if you change your mind, please go to the hospital. You don't know how bad the damage could be until you get it checked out."

Patricia smiled weakly and nodded her head. "Alright. I will. But who do I send the bill?"

Pulling a business card out of her left jacket pocket, she said, "Me. Now I'm going to go ahead and go out the same back door they did. I have some investigating to do. Have a good night. Take care." Then she walked out the door without another word. 

Walking out the back door into the night, she looked around to see if there was any evidence of a struggle or commotion that she could tell. It was too dark. She walked to the gate on the other side of the lot and looked towards the door and at the ground for clues. There wasn't much light, so she really couldn't see certain details. After a while she gave up and considered the night a dead end. She started walking toward the gate so she could get to the street and look for anything else that might stand out, then turned left and headed back to the front of the building, pulling out her valet ticket to retrieve her vehicle. She stood there waiting for the young man who was barely old enough to not be called a kid anymore to bring around her car, when she saw the man who was pestering her inside the club approaching.

Just fucking great, she thought, rolling her eyes. He walked up beside her, and looked ahead in the same direction she was, attempting to act like he wasn't talking to her at all. 

"You know, if you take me where I need to go, I'll tell you where I saw him drag your little friend that you were watching inside."

This made her look at him, staring in disbelief. As audacious as he was, she could tell he wanted to talk. He wasn't actually trying to make things rough on her, he just wanted to get something out of the deal, too. Can't really fault him for that, or can I? she thought.

"If you tell me where they went, I'll think about taking you where you need to go," she countered.

Realizing he really didn't have any other cards to negotiate with, he started talking. "Well, when he dragged her out the back door, I was on the other side of that dumpster over there taking a leak," he pointed at the dumpster sitting at the edge of the cross street before the gate. "I thought it was wild that he was carrying her the way he was considering she seemed like she was totally conscious and light as a feather, but he treated her like a twenty-pound sack of potatoes. Her eyes were open, but his hand was over her mouth, and she kind of looked at me with this pleading look, but I didn't know what to do so I just stood there in the shadows watching in disbelief."

"There was another woman with them," he continued, "and she was begging him to stop manhandling her the way he was, but he told her to shut up and get in the car, and threw the girl in the backseat. The other woman jumped up front in the passenger, closing the door behind her. He never saw me. He was muttering to himself about ungrateful bitches and the like, and said, 'I'll teach her to fuck with me when we get home,' he said."

"So they're going home?" she asked.

"I guess so," he shrugged.

"And where do you need to go?" she asked. 

"Moonlight Grove," he said.

She stopped and looked at him shocked. "What the hell do you know about Moonlight Grove?" she asked. 

"A lot," he said with a grin.

Right then the too-young valet pulled her car around and she looked the man up and down. She didn't know what he was up to, but he had offered her the information. She knew that she would have checked their home automatically, but he did help her not have to go on a wild goose chase. She decided to keep her word and take him to Moonlight Grove, the cemetery that sits in the center of town, but he would have to come with her first in case her trip to the Lewis/Warren house proved unsuccessful. She had a feeling he wouldn't get in her way, so she told him so, and he agreed to go with it, muttering in agreement. 

 They got in the car together and put on their seatbelts. "Don't get too comfortable," she said.

"You, either," he retorted.

She gave him a sideways glance then brushed it off. She had more important shit to do.

When they arrived at the house, all the lights were out and there was no sign of life. Fuck, she thought. Fuck, fuck, fuck! What if I'm too late? She knew Marina had yoga in the morning with her personal trainer which was one of the only moments she was allowed to have free time away from Mack because he was doing his own physical therapy three times a week. She decided to try to catch up with her then, and headed toward the cemetery.

"You know, I don't even know your name," he prodded. 

"That's because I never offered it."

"Well, you don't know my name either," he said.

"That's because I didn't ask."

"Touche," he agreed. 

"But do you know who I work for?" he asked.

"Does it really matter if I'm never going to see you again?" she cut.

"Ouch. Damn," he said, laughing. "If I didn't know any better, I might think you were trying to hurt me with your words there."

"I'm sure you're fragile enough to get hurt well enough on your own. You don't need my help."

 He laughed again and looked out the passenger window at the buildings and lights they were passing by, silent the rest of the way.

Not too long later she pulled up to the gate at the Moonlight Grove Cemetery and unlocked the power door lock so he could get out of the car. 

"Thank you," he said, nodding his head. "You know, I can help you with whatever you have going on. All you have to do is say the word."

"Sorry," she said. "I work alone."

"Oh, I know you do, but everybody needs help sometimes," he said with a grin. "Here. Take this, and if you realize you need me, please. Give me a call. I'd be glad to." He passed her the black envelope with the silver embellished decor. There was a card inside. She watched him open the gate and step inside, then she backed the car out of the drive and took off toward home.