Gray Skies (12 page)

“I’m not even sure anymore that your mother’s flu wasn’t intentional.”

6

Sammi crinkled her nose to the musty, dank odor of the old theater. She’d planned to surprise Declan, and had left their Commune early enough to set things up. With a rolled bed of her favorite blankets tucked under her arm, and a splash of her mother’s scented waters, she wanted the afternoon to be perfect. After all, today wasn’t just about the End of Gray Skies; she was going to choose Declan. Giddy and anxious, Sammi couldn’t help herself, and smiled nervously.

The stage where they’d shared a passionate moment earlier was where she’d planned to set up her blankets and candle. But, when she caught a glimpse of the passing fog above the theater’s balcony, she couldn’t help but think that the seclusion and closeness to the sky could be magical. The End of Gray Skies was promised, and it was going to happen soon. The thought of having the sunlight wash over their naked bodies made the decision an easy one.

Looking up into the dark, narrow pass, Sammi hesitated at the bottom of the steps. She couldn’t see all of the stairs ahead of her, and she wasn’t certain that they were intact, or even there.

You can do this
, she told herself, and eased her foot onto the first step. Shifting her weight, she wobbled, and almost fell backward. She grabbed the railing that hung from rusty cleats, and jumped when a handful of spider legs scurried over her fingers. She let out a nervous laugh, and moved on to the next step.

Most of the steps felt stronger than they appeared, but still, she continued with caution, as the wood creaked under her feet. By the time she’d reached the darkest part of the stairwell, she’d begun to question her ascent. Should she have waited for Declan? Dust and remains of rotting carpet stirred up from under her feet, and met her nose. She coughed and sneezed, and then was silent, regretting how loud she’d been.

A sound stirred from the balcony, stopping her. Something was already up there, and it was moving around. For a moment, she thought it might be Declan. Maybe he’d left their Commune before her. Maybe he’d had the same idea, and had brought rolled blankets for them to share. Sammi pressed her fingers over the outline of the candle in her pocket, relieved that she’d left it there. Maybe Declan had brought them food, and was trying to get everything just right. But it didn’t matter to her; she’d love anything that he did.

Another sound came from the balcony, softer this time. As she ascended, she knew that it wasn’t Declan. It was the mewling cry of a young cat. The cat’s cry came again, bringing a sense of urgency to her climb. Sammi took to the next step, but this time, the wood creaked, and then dropped beneath her. The remainder of the stairs held strong until she was safely on the landing of the balcony.

What she saw when she’d reached the landing was perfect: the balcony was sheltered and private, and sat just beneath the opening in the roof. It looked down like a parental mountain, watching over a valley. While a few of the theater seats remained in front of the giant screen, the majority of them had been taken out, leaving behind rusting metal rods sprouting from the floor. The balcony was closer to the decorative ceiling, and was only meters from the large opening in the roof. There, she could see their gray world, and the hovering misty vapor, as it passed over the theater. She imagined her blankets rolled out across the floor, and their naked bodies lying under the opening in the roof. She’d choose Declan, and then they would make love for the first time, while sunlight bathed them, blessing their new union.

The mewling cry came again, pulling Sammi’s thoughts from what would be. She called to the cat, searching the darker shadows of the balcony. To the far side, she found the remains of tether straps, noosed on one end, and tied off above the floor: a snare. Four, or maybe five, tether straps hung, empty of any captures, but the last one held the tiny paw of a young cat.

“This is how Harold is getting them,” she mumbled. Sourness clenched her stomach as images of his piggy face came to her mind. Green eyes found Sammi, followed by the hissing sounds of the feral cat. Terror-stricken, the cat was very young, but it had already matured enough to have dangerous teeth and claws.

Sammi crossed the balcony, taking care, as some of the floorboards bowed under her. Most of the flooring held, but some parts hadn’t fared well, and had rotted to near dust, leaving holes for her to step around. The balcony’s railing, stippled in decorative etchings, was worn and smooth under her fingers. Steadying herself against the banister, Sammi flinched, taking her hand back, when the railing moved. The banister groaned, complaining to her, and warning that it was going to break. She took gentle steps, and finally reached the frightened cat. A mouth full of pointy teeth hissed, and spat at her, while claws flew violently in the air, swiping at her hands. Sammi reeled back when the cat’s claws opened thin red lines on her skin. The cuts immediately became puffy and itchy as she tried to rub the irritation away.

“I’m trying to help you, is all. Don’t you know that?” Sammi pleaded. Frustration grew as sweat beaded above her eyes, and she tried to reach the noosed end of the tether strap. The cat lashed out again, fear driving its claws into Sammi’s coveralls until she felt them pierce her skin.

“Dammit!” Sammi yelped, the sound of her voice bouncing around the theater. She pulled her arm back, falling to the floor. Dust from the old carpets erupted around her, making her nose tickle, and her eyes water. Sammi cringed, and felt the ache in her back, remembering the pain of her last encounter.

The floorboards creaked behind her, and relief settled in place of the anxiety. Declan could help; two sets of hands would be easier than one to free the cat. Maybe they could use her roll of blankets to hold the cat, while they untied it.

“I found where Harold’s been trapping the cats,” Sammi declared, and tried to move closer to the feral cat. “Help me free the poor thing! The noose is just about off of her leg. I just need a—” Without turning, she stopped talking as the balcony floor creaked under more sets of feet. Her heart sank, and a bitter feeling shortened her breath when she heard the snort of a piggy laugh. More snickering came then, and the urge to cry came to her. She wanted to cower in the shadows with the cat, and hide from the dangers that stood behind her.

In her mind, she was twelve years old again, and she was backed into the farthest corner of their classroom. The four of them were huddled away in the shadows, hidden from their classmates, and Ms. Gilly. She remembered how Peter and Richie had tightened their hands around her arms in a grip that had bruised and raised welts. Harold had stood there, towering over her, and had snorted a laugh as eager spittle dripped from his mouth. She was just twelve that first time, and she’d wanted to scream, but he’d threatened to have the boys break her arms if she’d made a sound. She believed that the boys would do exactly what Harold told them to.

Sammi rubbed her arms, as if the pain was fresh, and the welts stood new. Even though it had been five years, she remembered that day, as if it had happened yesterday. She could still see and smell the memory, and she could swear that she felt the pain from the grip of their hands, and the push of his piggy fingers. Harold towered over her, like a monster preparing to devour its prey. She was so small and vulnerable, back then. She couldn’t fight him, and she certainly couldn’t fight all three of them, no matter how much she’d wanted to. As he’d pressed his hands onto her, pinching and fondling, while she squirmed under his touch, she had known that she was no match. When he’d wriggled his fingers in a way that had turned her stomach, and made her cry, she had pushed her mind to someplace else. It was all that she
could
have done. She’d gone to a place far away, that made what was happening to her disappear. But she couldn’t do that again. Trapped on the balcony with the cat, Harold wasn’t going to just let her go.

Sammi’s eyes darted around to find something to protect herself with. She searched the balcony floor, through the remains of hundreds of years, trying to find something that hadn’t already been picked apart. As she poked around in the dim light, she realized that she was beginning to sob, just as she had done when she was twelve. The fear was making her weak, and this realization suddenly spurred anger.

“You’re freeing our cats?” Harold asked with another piggy laugh.

Her hands started shaking when the boys stepped closer to her. Desperation gripped her heart, hurting her as it pounded in her chest. Her breath struggled, and her mind wanted to close off to the world around her, like it had before, when the boys had first held her captive to Harold’s molestation.

“This is gonna be fun,” she heard Harold tell the other boys. Jibes and heckling soon followed, and the fear that had incited her anger turned to rage. The trapped cat bowed high on its haunches, and hissed at the boys standing behind her. Like the cat, Sammi was cornered in a snare of fear and anger. But, this time, she wasn’t going to let him touch her like he had before, when she was small and defenseless. She had teeth and claws, too, and she was ready to use them.

Without realizing it, Sammi had pulled something from the floor. She wrapped her hands around one of the steel rods that had held a row of balcony seats some time ago. An odd view came to her mind, as she imagined a young couple sitting on the balcony hundreds of years ago. They shared one another, watching each other more than the moving pictures on the screen. She imagined that it would have been her and Declan, but Harold was changing that, now, and Sammi could only hope that Declan would be late. She wished that he would forget about their date in the theater, knowing that Harold would kill him, if given the chance.

The post was covered in rusty flakes and splinters that crumbled with her touch, but it still held most of the iron and weight of its original form. She tightened her grip on the rod’s sharp edge until it cut into her skin. When she felt the warmth of blood in her palm, she was ready. She jumped to her feet, swinging the metal rod in a wide arch. The ragged end of the long hit the boy closest to her. The sharp end raced over Peter’s arm, slicing open a long stretch of his coveralls, and tearing into his skin. He threw himself back, grabbing at his arm, and cried out from the blow. Her eyes widened, dripping the remains of rested tears, as he collapsed to the ground, covering his arm, and trying to protect it. Her heart skipped, and she pulled in a satisfied breath. But her achievement was short-lived. She never saw the club swinging from her right, but she felt it connect to the side of her head. The formidable blow struck her with a dizzying thud, and pain echoed throughout her. She reeled back on her heels, seeing double images of the boys. Grabbing her head, she pushed forward onto her toes, to try to regain her balance.

“That’s for breaking my nose!”

She heard satisfaction in Richie’s voice as he laughed at her. Sammi continued stumbling, and then backed away from the boys until she was pinned against the frail banister. The balustrade below her waist leaned away from her. She heard it moaning against her body, and, for a moment, she considered jumping over the rail. It was too high though. Harold swung the back of his hand, and flattened Richie’s bandaged nose, breaking it for a second time that day. Richie fell to his knees, screaming as blood spurted from beneath the bandages.

“Nobody touches her. Ever!” Harold yelled at him. Sammi held her breath, and gripped the metal seat post that she’d found, waiting for Harold to take another step. Instead, he raised his hands, like he’d done before, and motioned to the stairs. Cautious relief tempted her heart, while the offer was open, and her mind flooded with the idea of running to the stairwell. But then Harold’s expression changed, as a scornful reminder set in his eyes when he noticed the rolled blankets on the balcony floor. He picked them up, and pulled the blankets into his face, inhaling deeply, before tossing the bed-roll down.

“You were going to choose Declan today, weren’t you?”

“I’d never choose you,” she spat at him, and saw in Harold’s eyes a true hurt. But she didn’t stop; she didn’t care. “I’ve chosen Declan. I’ve always chosen him!”

“Hold her down!” Harold huffed without hesitation or fear. But the boys didn’t move; Richie tended to his broken nose, while Peter held onto his bleeding arm. Sammi saw the furious rage in Harold’s eyes, as he stepped toward her. She threw another wide swing of the metal post, just missing Harold’s face, as he quickly leaned back out of range. Sammi had over-swung the post, and was already losing her balance when she realized what was going to happen. Her heart and breath stopped, as her body crashed against the balcony railing. When the wood splintered and broke away, she was certain that a hand was on her. It was Harold. His fingers were splayed across her back, but she couldn’t tell if he was pushing her, or trying to pull her to safety from the balcony’s edge.

What happened next seemed to last forever but was actually over in just a blink. As she fell, Sammi let her mind drift to the safety of that distant place she’d found when she was just twelve. She listened to the sweet sounds of her mother’s voice, singing a lullaby—one that she’d never get to sing to her own children now. She thought of the warm touches of Declan’s hands on her skin, and heard his voice breathe words that proclaimed his love for her. The theater came to her eyes a final time; first, there was the balcony, with Harold and the boys watching helplessly, as she fell. Then, when her legs rolled above her head, she glimpsed the stage, where she’d shared a passionate kiss with Declan. What she saw next was the immense opening in the roof, as she landed, staring upward. Pain didn’t find her mind, at first, but she heard her bones crunch against the floor, and felt the air rush out of her lungs. The view in her eyes exploded in a flash of white light, before dimming to black.