The Darkness of Shadows (4 page)

I wasn’t sure what was happening as I fell backward and hit the ground hard. Flashes of light volleyed about. Brilliant colors fluttered by. I tried to get up, but Val’s gentle hands kept me down. There was movement everywhere around me.

“Nat, look at me,” Val said. She took my hand—it was slick with red. Must be blood—mine, I guessed. I’m quick like that.

“You … okay?” My breathing was labored, rough. “Your … mom?”

“We’re fine. Where the hell are the EMS guys?”

“They are en route.” Mrs. Guerrero was kneeling on my other side. When did they get here?

Val squeezed my hand—I was too weak to return the gesture.

“Mom …”

“Keep talking to her.” Mrs. Guerrero touched my stomach and murmured something too low to make out.

The world around me started to tremble, reverberate. It felt like the life was leaving my body. The shadows were coming. Not like before, though. Not threatening, like the nightmares.

“He … can’t … hurt me … any … more,” I said.

“Who?” Val said.

A futile exhalation.

“Who did this to you?”

My voice was fading, my breathing ragged. “Father …”

“Cut it out!” Val’s eyes never left mine. Tears slid down her cheeks. “You’re fine, you’re going to be fine …”

I tried to say goodbye and that I loved them. The noise began to fade as I drifted into the stillness and the peace the shadows offered.

This time, my mother was waiting for me.

Blood was everywhere: on the walls, the floor, the furniture, her. I listened for my father but there was nothing.

“Ma’am?” I said. The life was leaving her eyes—I could still see the hatred in them.

“He needs me to finish the ritual.” Her voice was raspy. “I never … should have had you …”

I turned away from her, away from the blood. The acrid stench filled my nostrils and I gagged. I needed to get out of there before my father came back. I tried to stand, but couldn’t. I was slipping, couldn’t find my feet with all the blood.

Sirens, howling. Sirens meant strangers—strangers were coming to see all my secrets.

“Natalie?” It was Mrs. Guerrero.

If I stayed still, didn’t make any noise, they wouldn’t see me, they would leave. Instead, I saw Mrs. Guerrero sitting down with me.

“Your clothes …” I said. “Blood’s hard to get out.”

She tried to touch me and I moved away as best I could.

“Honey, please, you are safe now. I will stay with you. I promise.” She touched my leg. I flinched.

“Oh, child, what have they done to you?”

I
woke up.

I was pretty sure I wasn’t in hell, because I smelled fresh linens that had been hung out in the sun to dry. Hell wouldn’t smell like sunshine and clean sheets.

What happened? Think.
Oh crap!
It was something to do with my father. I started to panic. Where the hell was I? Machines to the left of me, clowns to the right. Lines ran out of my arm and into an IV pole. Leads, or whatever they were called, were attached to various parts of my body. Something—oxygen I guess—was up my nose.

There were two chairs facing each other by the window. Someone was using them as a makeshift bed—I couldn’t see who, since the person was covered by a blanket.

I ripped the thing off my face as I tried to sit up. Bad idea. Pain shredded through my stomach.

The figure by the window stirred.

“Nat?” Val’s voice was sleep-muddled. “You’re awake!”

She threw the blanket on the floor, hopped off the chairs, and was by me in the blink of my eye. I winced as she grabbed me and hugged me hard.

“How do you feel? I have to call Mom.” More questions followed. They were rapid fire and there were too many of them to answer anyway.

“Water … please.”

Val held the cup for me while I took a sip from the straw.

“You okay? Your family?” I said.

“We’re all fine.”

I saw what I thought was a blanket on the bed, but it turned out to be a quilt. One of Mrs. Guerrero’s.

“Mom brought it from home for you,” Val said.

Mystery of good-smelling stuff solved.

A nurse came in, surprised to see me awake. She shooed Val out and did nurse things. She made a quick trip out of the room and returned with doctors, who did doctor things. Just what I loved, strangers touching me.

“How’s the pain level on a scale of one to ten?” Dr. Poke and Prod said. “Ten being the worst imaginable.”

I tried to hide the grimace. “It’s a one.”

“You’re not a very good liar, Ms. Gannon. Just press this button and the pain meds will start.” He demonstrated on the line going into my arm. “If it becomes intolerable, call the nurse.”

“I’m fine, thank you.” I shifted away from him.

“If it wasn’t for Mrs. Guerrero, you wouldn’t have made it,” one of the other young doctors said.

“What did you say?”

A nurse stopped him and ushered him and the others out of the room.

“My name is Helen.” Her voice was like bourbon and cigarettes—she smelled of the latter. “I’m a friend of Mrs. Guerrero’s. If you need anything, let me know.” She padded out of the room on silent nurse shoes.

The truth about what happened to me would be nice, for starters.

Everything was silent except for the whir of the machines. I touched the quilt. It smelled like the Guerrero home: lavender and vanilla. It made me feel safe for some stupid reason.

I reached for the cup on the tray/stand thing. It seemed to be taunting me, just a few inches out of my reach.

“Dammit!” I leaned back, exhausted by the small effort. The water was still on the tray, still mocking me. I pulled the quilt closer.

“Natalie, how are you feeling?” Mrs. Guerrero said.

She and Val had snuck up on the side of the bed with less machinery.

“Mrs. G, I didn’t know you were there … Sorry for swearing in front of you,” I said.

“It is all right, child. How are you?”

“My stomach hurts. Mostly I’m confused.” I shifted in the bed as a wave of pain clawed through my belly. Note to self: moving less equals less pain.
What a dumbass.
“How long have I been here?”

“Ten days.” The side rail of the bed was down. “May I sit with you?” I nodded. She took my hand in hers. “What do you remember?”

“My father was at my apartment. He had a knife. Me on the ground. You and Val. And then nothing. It’s like short film clips that don’t make sense.”

She had a worried mom-look on her face. “Try to remember. But if this becomes too much, you must tell me and we will finish another time. Promise me, Natalie.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I sighed. “A few weeks ago … my father called me.”

“WHAT?” Val said, pressing closer.

“He said he wanted to see me.”

Both Val and her mom stared, mouths open.

“Are you fucking serious?” Val said.

“As a heart attack.”

“Why didn’t you TELL ME?” Val and I didn’t fight often but when we did, whoa, look out. But now, she had me at a mega-disadvantage.

“I know you’re pissed—”

Mrs. Guerrero uncharacteristically ignored the swear-fest.

“That doesn’t even
begin
to cover it!” Val said.

“Just listen to me for a minute.” The machines attached to me started a song of warnings. “Please?”

“
Fine
.” Val was waiting, not an easy thing for her.

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” I said.

“What did he say?”

“He needed to see me.”

“What else?”

“He … he said you, your mom, and Tina were looking well.”

“Jesus Christ!”

The equipment was now scatting out a medical riff as another wave of pain rushed over me. Val’s anger calmed as she saw the anguish on my face. The worry in her eyes was killing me. The last thing in the world I wanted was to hurt her.

“Valerie, that is enough,” Mrs. Guerrero said.

“Did the police catch him?” I said.

“No, not yet—” Mrs. Guerrero said.

“Your laws don’t apply to him.” I was surprised by my own anger. “He’s been out there for sixteen years, and they’ve never even gotten close to him.” As quick as I’d fired up, I burned out. “I’d understand if you want to leave.”

“We are not going anywhere,” Mrs. Guerrero said.

“I’m sorry.”

“This is a heavy burden to carry by oneself. We will figure this out together,” Mrs. Guerrero said. “You will move back home while we sort this out.”

I looked from Mrs. Guerrero, who was still seated on the bed, to Val, who was standing. I blinked a few times.

“He won’t stop,” I said. “You’d be safer if you’d let me go.”

“Natalie!” the Guerrero women said in unison.

I needed to get out of there, disappear, to protect Val and her mom. Where was my cane? Real nice, hide the cripple’s cane. Where was my pistol? I pulled lines out of my arm and tried to get out of the bed.

Mrs. Guerrero blocked my way—damn! She was strong for someone so small!

“Valerie, please get Mrs. Carey,” she said.

Val ran out of the room.

I struggled against her tiny frame. She was like a freakin’ brick wall. My nerves were jangled and my body was beyond exhausted, but I kept fighting. Pain raced through my stomach. The panic was reaching further into the depths of my mind.

“I can’t protect you. You have to LET ME GO!”

“
You will listen to me, young lady
!” Mrs. Guerrero said.

Wow! That was a rarity. I pissed her off enough that she raised her voice.

I tried to gather some strength for another round when she passed her hand in front of my face and whispered something. Dazed, I collapsed against her, my head resting on her shoulder.

My vision blurred. “What … What did you …”

“Dear child,” she said as she laid me down. “We will protect each other.”

Val and Nurse Helen hurried into the room. Mrs. Guerrero nodded to the nurse, who returned the nod. She had something in her hand. I couldn’t make it out until it was too late. She reinserted the IV and plunged the syringe into it.

I tried to protest, tried to fight it, but on top of whatever Mrs. Guerrero had done, this was too much for me. A warm feeling coursed through my veins. I murmured something I was sure I would have to apologize for later, and drifted off.

The Guerrero’s soft voices were coming from the chairs by the window. I blinked several times, trying to clear my head. I was thirsty. The water cup looked like it was closer. I reached for it and missed.

“Dammit!”

“As Yogi Berra said, ‘It’s like déjà vu all over again.’” Val smiled.

They were looking at me. I looked at them looking at me. If things turned out like that movie
Groundhog Day
, this was going to blow.

“Maybe today you can tie some sheets together and go out the window,” Val said.

I glared at her. I tried to swallow, but my mouth was so dry.

“Water. Please? That’s if you’re finished with your comedy routine.”

Val moved the stand closer and handed me the cup.

“Thank you.” That was good water. I tried to put the cup back, but couldn’t manage the simple task. Val helped.

“I’m sorry for yesterday.” Mostly sorry I hadn’t gotten away.

“You are part of our family,” Mrs. G said. “We do not turn our backs on family. Is that understood?”