The Open Door (14 page)

The man reached out his gloved hand; she
reached for his palm, for salvation. His hand grabbed hers and
clamped down, painfully tight. In her weakened state, she could not
pull free from his grip, and accepted the crushing grasp of the
stranger. And even though her hand—her entire body for that
matter—was numb—she could hear and feel her boney fingers grinding
together like walnuts on the verge of cracking open.

The numbness slowly dissipated as a jolt of
energy shot through her entire body, causing it to stiffen.

Samantha now lay flat on her back, erect and
unable to move.

Terror filled her heart while tears managed
to build up in her eyes, further blurring her already failing
vision.

She became cold, her vision went from blurry
to black— she could no longer see.

Her fingertips that once detected the callous
surface of the alley’s pavement, now felt nothing.

Certain she was dying; she struggled for a
life that she was so willing to give up only moments ago. She felt
as though her soul floated aimlessly in a body no longer belonging
to her—then she realized: she’s not alone.

Powerless to do anything, terrified of what
shared her body; she cowered deep inside while the unknown entity
took control.

The tall man walked away. “Thank you,
Samantha. I knew you would be easy,” he said as he faded into the
murky shadows of the alley’s end.

Hey, Spookster, how did your meeting with
Mrs. Abrahamson go?”  Cody asked Scott, being sarcastic as
usual.

  “Good, although she’s now more
involved than you might think.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning that the man you and I both
saw paid her a visit.”

  “No!”

  “Yes!  And he gave her something
to give me, a bag containing the collar Whiskers wore.” 

  “Your cat’s collar?  That’s
morbid.  How did he get it?”

  “I don’t know, and I’m not sure I want
to.  We’re going to get together soon—I’ll let you know when I
can arrange for Ella and Mustapha to meet.  We need to start
brainstorming—coming up with ways to defeat this before something
bad happens.”

  “Tell me about it, this is getting
seriously creepy.”

  “I’ll call you soon.  Take care,
buddy.”

  “Take care.”

  After hanging up, Cody sat in his worn
beer-stained recliner, a chair that had seen him through many
football games, and he adjusted the seat for maximum comfort while
reaching for the remote. 

  With not much on during the early part
of the day, he left it on a channel showing a replay of a
heavy-weight boxing match.  As he stared at the screen with
little interest, Cody began to slip into temporary
hibernation—partly due to the large meal he had just devoured,
partly because of the three beers that accompanied the meal, and
partly because he had been going on little sleep ever since his
nightmare. 

  He slumbered; the television no longer
could be seen or heard. Light and time ceased to exist. 

  People laughing could be heard in the
background.  Cody searched, but found nobody.  He knew
the home was the one he grew up in, but it looked different. 
He turned, and in the dining room, his family engaged in a fluid
and pleasant conversation.  His father, mother, sister, and
two brothers, all happy and eating one of the family’s favorite
traditional meals: beef stew. 

  At the end of the table, an empty
chair, his chair.  Cody sat; his family all looked and smiled.
The stew smelled magnificent. A warm feeling came over him: the
feeling of being home in a familiar atmosphere, with familiar
people.  In a sense, it was his Happy Place.  

  No bad guys would crash this party,
not an evil soul in sight.  The dream felt real, as many
dreams did, and Cody had no interest in coming back to the real
world where evil endures, even after losing many battles. 

  The sound of a car slamming on its
breaks, tires squealing along the asphalt, and a thumping noise
crudely woke Cody from his Happy Place. 

  He rose from his chair, still weary
and unstable on his feet; he walked towards his front door and
opened it to see what happened. 

With still focusing eyes he saw a large
four-door car sideways in the middle of the road, blocking both
lanes.  It looked like a 1970’s Lincoln, or something
similar. 

On the other side of the car he saw two feet
on the ground sticking out from behind the front grill, and he
could hear someone frantically speaking, “I don’t know!  She’s
not moving!  Please send an ambulance, now!”

  Cody received a shot of adrenaline
that brought his senses back to full—he rushed out the door towards
the front of the car.

  He stood and observed a ragged but
somehow pretty woman lying on the ground.  She may have looked
rough due to being hit by a car, so Cody couldn’t judge. 

  Her face had scratches and wounds, her
eyes were closed, and if she was breathing it was hardly
noticeable. 

Her right hand was in bad shape—Cody
continued to scan down her body—her left leg was bent unnaturally,
in fact, her toes were pointed backwards, indicating her leg had
been completely broken and twisted.  She had other cuts and
scrapes, but minor compared to these injuries. 

  The driver of the vehicle got off the
phone, he was trembling at the thought that he may have just killed
someone.  “She came out of nowhere!  I swear!  I was
driving, and then she just appeared in front of my vehicle!  I
don’t even know which direction she came from!“  The man
continued his hysterics while Cody listened. 

  Cody looked down at the woman’s face;
he felt sympathy towards her for some reason, even a faint
attraction that he couldn’t understand. 

  It was clear that she had been
beautiful, and could be again if she were cleaned up.  She
looked frail, which added to the number of strings being pulled on
his heart. 

 
Had she attempted suicide? 
Jumped in front of this poor man’s vehicle? 
Cody thought,
as he continued to stare at the woman, feeling useless to help her
and wishing the paramedics would hurry.

  Sirens roared in the background,
slowly closing in on their location.  Cody looked down again,
and realized he was holding the victim’s hand.  Sadness
overwhelmed him. He thought:
if she lives, maybe she’ll clean
herself up.  Please give her one more chance, God. 
Please.

  The ambulance and police arrived at
the same time, and directly behind was a fire truck. 

The paramedics quickly ran towards the victim
with a stretcher; Cody stood and backed off to give them
room.  The driver was pulled aside for questioning by police
officers.  Paramedics performed CPR on the woman, a shot of
adrenaline was administered, and life appeared once again in the
pale, limp body. 

  The woman had no identification, and
the medics were rushing her off to the ambulance where they would
transport her to the nearest level-one trauma center. 

Cody had to think fast, he had to know the
outcome: if she would be OK, and who she was?

  “Excuse me!  I’m with her, can I
ride along?”

  “You know this girl?  One of the
medics asked.

  Cody hated to lie, and knew he could
get in trouble.  He would simply leave the hospital once the
girl came to, and there would be no harm.  “Yes, I know
her.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “She told me her name is, Lisa. 
We just met, so I don’t know her last name.”  Cody figured he
couldn’t get in trouble, because they could never verify if he was
telling the truth with such limited information.

  “Quick!  Jump in!”

  Cody rode in the back as
paramedics continued working on stabilizing the woman.

  They pulled up to the emergency room
ambulance bay, unloaded the female, and rushed her into room
number-six.

Cody lagged behind as to not get in the
way.  He was allowed to sit in the room with her, but was
asked to leave when doctors entered and began working on her leg
and checking her vitals. 

Once stabilized, she would be transferred to
surgery, and then to ICU for recovery and monitoring—if she made
it.  Cody was terrified at the thought that she wouldn’t be
given a second chance. 

  Knowing they would eventually identify
the girl, either through family or friends that reported her
missing, or by fingerprints, Cody knew his time was
limited. 

He waited till she was in surgery, at least
knowing she was alive and most likely going to make it, and then he
left. 

  His heart sunk knowing he would never
see her again—never know her name, or even where she was
from.  He couldn’t go back to the hospital because he wouldn’t
be able to ask for her by name, and they would surely know her true
identity soon. 

  Cody hailed a cab and went home. 
When he arrived in front of his home, he noticed the blood stained
street and one of the woman’s shoes. 

He picked up her shoe and brought it
inside.  Maybe it would be like Cinderella?  Only this
time the woman’s shoe was no glass slipper, but a once white-canvas
shoe, now shades of brown and grey, tattered from years of
abuse. 

  He entered his home and placed the
shoe in the closest spot he could find: his fireplace mantel. He
sat in his recliner, and resumed his nap, hoping to find his way
back to the Happy Place. 

  The sound of laughter and good cheer
echoed from the depths and elevated until he found himself at the
dinner table eating his bowl of beef stew—in the presence of his
family. 

  The dream went on for a while, and
then sadly, it came to an end.  In his dream, Cody said
goodnight to his family and went to sleep. Now he was sleeping in
both the dream world and the real world, giving him the deepest
sleep anyone could possibly imagine. 

  After sleeping for several hours, Cody
woke up to a dark home; the blanket of night had draped over the
sky. 

Clouds loomed low, rendering the evening
moonless, and what little light the amber street lamps offered, did
nothing to brighten his home. 

  He sat up slowly, shuffled along the
floor, taking short steps while feeling his surroundings with his
hands, and then located the light switch to the hall that led to
the front entrance. 

The light was enough to see the front door,
so Cody checked to be sure it was locked for the night, and it
was.  He looked at the fireplace mantel—the shoe was
gone.  He searched the floor to see if it had fallen, but the
shoe was nowhere to be found.

  A metallic clanking sound came from
the kitchen.  He turned and plodded towards the lit hallway,
which was the only area of the house with a light on. 

  He peered into the opening on the
other side of the hallway where the kitchen and dining room were
located.  Across from the dining room was the living room,
where he had just woken from his nap. 

It was too dark to see anything, and the
light switches were located on the walls in the separate rooms, so
he would have to walk into total darkness to turn them on. 
What if there was an intruder?  He wasn’t about to walk into a
dangerous situation, so he went upstairs to his room where he had
his cell phone, and locked the door behind him.

  Not wanting to call in a false alarm,
Cody listened closely for more unfamiliar noises. 

For several minutes there was nothing, and
then a faint noise came from downstairs. 

He placed his ear against the door and closed
his eyes, focusing all of his energy on what was making the
noise.

  A faint scraping could be heard. 
Metal on metal?   No!  Metal on wood!  It
became louder, indicating it was coming closer.  Something
metal being dragged along the stair railing—it had to be.  It
increased in volume and then stopped. 
Someone’s at the top
of the stairs,
Cody thought. 

  He dialed 911 while his left ear was
still pressed against the door.  “911 Operator, what’s your
emergency?”  The Dispatcher said in a routine tone. 

  “This is Cody Wells, there’s someone
in my house!”

  “What is your address, sir?”

  “1901 Balsam Court, in Littleton.”

  “Please repeat the address sir.”

  “1901 Balsam Court, Littleton!  I
need someone immediately!  Please!” 

  “An abrupt noise shot into Cody’s left
ear as it was pressed against the door.  He pulled away and
looked at where his ear was—the tip of a knife blade had pierced
the door.  He felt pain and put his hand on his ear; he was
bleeding.  Fortunately the blade didn’t penetrate far enough
to cause significant damage. 

  “Sir, are you there?  Sir?” 
The Dispatcher was still on the line.

  “I’ve been stabbed!  They’re
breaking into my room!  Please hurry!” 

  “I need you to stay on the line—“ Cody
hung up the phone.  He had no time to speak to a 911 Operator
while he was in the process of saving his life.  

  He searched his closet, throwing
everything on the floor while frantically looking for an item to be
used as a weapon. 

He didn’t own a gun, but he wish he had. If
he lived to see tomorrow, buying a gun would be the first thing he
would do. 

  A loud crash emanated from the
door.  The knife had been pulled out, but someone was trying
to break in. 
Bam! 
Another loud crash.  The
door was flexing with each strike; Cody could see the door handle
being pushed in each time, which would indicate that the person on
the other side was kicking near the lock.

  With only moments before the intruder
would blast in, Cody became desperate and grabbed his pool
cue.  It wasn’t much of a defense tool, but it would have to
do.