Chasing Shadows Read online

  "Fuck." I say, just for good measure. I turn to face the next room, and as I do there's movement. I stop. I'm staring into the darkness, but there's someone in there, I know it. I think I see the shape of a person in the dark, standing just beyond where the light from this room shines into that one. Again, I think, I am definitely taking that foil down.

  I stand so still, staring and staring into the shape of the darkness. I'm going to have to blink though, crap, I can't help it. I blink. I hear a soft step. I see the deeper darkness shift back. There's a sliding sound, and a thunk as something in there hits the floor. I'm unfrozen now. The noise seems to make this more real. I grab the floor lamp by the post and lunge it into the next room... No one. “Balls, Piss, Fuck, Balls, Gay Bullshit!” I yell. “This is getting SO old!” Goddamn it.

  With heavy steps I trudge into the little room and turn on all the lamps. I walk angrily and methodically to each window in the apartment, tearing down the foil. I’ll be damned if I’m going to keep waking up blind. I am so used to the darkness that it doesn’t register with me for a minute that its night outside. Well, hell. How long did I sleep anyway? I’m just headed to the sink for some water when I see it. There’s a glass on the floor. It must be what fell and made the noise, but is it a glass I’ve ever used? I bend over and pick it up. Where did I get this? It doesn’t look familiar to me. It’s octagonal and clear with little texture bubbles inside the base. I don’t have glasses like these. My glasses are all from the dollar store, and most of them are the plastic ones you can get four for a buck.

  I’m standing there in my tank top and underwear staring at the glass when the overhead light goes on. Well... that’s not good. I look to the wall by the door, which I notice now is indeed dead bolted properly, the switch is in the off position. I cross over and flick it up and down a few times. No change. Of all the things happening here, this is the least creepy. The wiring in this house is turn of the century, last century. I’m not afraid of some flickers.

  I’m feeling empowered, a problem I can solve! Fucking ay! I set the glass down and go back to the bedroom where my desk is. I retrieve the desk chair and position it under the offending fixture. I step up carefully. Dust falls in my mouth as I unscrew the decorative glass housing. Holding that in my left hand, I reach up with my right to unscrew the bulb. It hasn’t really been on long enough to be hot. Twirl, twirl, tw... and the lights go out. Not just the one I’m holding, but all my lamps too. I am so proud of myself for taking that foil down. After a minute my eyes adjust and I climb back down from the chair.

  “Okay.” I say to the room. “I’m gonna shower, lights or no lights. After that I’ll try and talk to you. Deal?”

  I listen for a minute, feeling stupid and crazy. Why did I talk to the room? Nut jobs talk to empty rooms. Then I remember last night. I remember Qasim telling me to test it out. I also remember him telling me he deserved to be with someone sane. “Fucking Mighty Mouse.” I say. Still I’d liked the idea then, drunk, and I like it now, hung over. Let’s just ride this crazy train for a day or so, and see where it takes us.

  I leave the office chair where it is so I can trip over it later. I scuff back into the bedroom. I find my phone and check it, 8 PM. Okay. I look at the calendar, Sunday. Good. I’m off tonight. That makes it an excellent night to wander around after spooky shit. I just need a shower first. I use my phone as a flashlight while I gather up clothes to wear. There’s a light brush over my hair as I’m pulling my shirt out of the drawer.

  Side note, need to do laundry or go shopping. It's getting pretty bad. I‘m down to my last clean shirt. It‘s a fuzzy brown sweater that’s tight across the boobs, but hangs tunic style down to my mid thighs. It had something about hand washing on the tag, but I have always cleverly disregarded that.

  I walk to the bathroom by the light from the street that shines in through my windows. As I’m turning the water on, the lights come back, including the lamp in the bathroom which I’m pretty sure I hadn’t turned on in the first place.

  “Thanks guys." I mumble. I take my sweet time going through my routine. I even apply make-up and put my belongings in my pockets. I’m not going to take my bag if I’m following shadows around all night. It’s winter now anyway, and between my coat and my jeans I can carry my phone, wallet, smokes and keys. What else could I want? Now I’m all ready, so I sit cross legged on my couch and think for a minute about how best to phrase this. When I believe I’ve got my little speech all planned out, I swallow my dumb-kid feelings and open my mouth.

  “Okay, whoever you are, first, you should know I don’t typically believe in you. I’m pretty sure I’m hallucinating every time you do anything, but for the sake of argument, I’m offering you this one chance. Tonight, and only tonight, that’s all I’m promising...” I pause and take a deep breath. “You have until sunrise. I will listen, and look for you. I will follow where you lead me. But if morning comes and you haven’t shown me something conclusive, something that proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that you’re real, and not only real, that you’re useful or in some way necessary to my life, If you can’t prove all those things, then first thing in the morning, I’m calling my social worker Melody Smith. I’m going to tell her all about you. I’ll tell her you make me want to kill myself. She’ll send me straight to the nut house, where they’ll help me medicate you assholes right out of my life. Are we clear?”

  As if on queue the lights flicker out and that stupid glass goes slamming to the floor. “Okay, cool. “ I say. I stand up and the door handle jiggles. This is going to be like following bread crumbs. I wish for a moment that Ashley was still my friend. It’d be smart to call someone and tell them that if I don’t show up for work tomorrow they should call the police. Oh well. I’m on my own. No back up. Just Batman, no Robin... Actually more like just Robin. I open the door and start my, whatever this is.

  When I get outside I look around carefully, nothing. With a sigh, I lock up behind me and trot down the steps. At the bottom I stop again and look around, nothing. I cross the blacktop to the alley. Once here I can go either way, north or south. I turn and look north, there! Behind that dumpster I see a little movement. I head towards it. When I get near, a shadow bird takes wing and flutters all the way to the end of the alley. I believe I see it take a right, headed east on the side street.

  “Okay.” I whisper, and start off after it. It’s cold as hell out here. The ground is covered with a light dusting of snow that we northerners refer to as frost. It crunches under my boots. By the time I reach the end of the alley, more snow is falling. I pause to slip on my gloves and hat, zip up my coat, and wonder where I’m going. I turn right, squint into the wind, and lumber on. After about eight blocks, I’m nearing the elevated tracks. At the street just before them, I see the bird again. It swoops north and I follow, walking parallel with the tracks.

  The breeze, I mean gale force wind, is cut off here on the north/south street. I’m beginning to feel my face again when a train clatters by over head. As it does, I hear an extra little hiss, like a whisper, in my right ear. If I had to tell you what it said I’d guess ‘hurry’ but I can’t be sure, and I hate to be rushed, so I keep going at my steady pace. A few more steps and there’s a hand on my back. I look, no one, of course. But the hand keeps pressing. I step it up a bit, the pressure ceases, and now disappears.

  “Fucking cardio.” I say. “Of all the spooks, I get one obsessed with fitness.”

  I go on. There’s no more prompting from the great beyond. In a few quick blocks this street dead ends onto another east west one. I come out right by the poorly lit, back entrance of an El station. Its one with no attendant, just the floor to ceiling revolving bars. I don’t feel the need to wait for confirmation. I’m fucking cold. I’m standing in front of the turn style, digging through my wallet for my Trans pass. I haven’t used it since Friday. I pretty much walk everywhere except work, but then I’m usually not on a schedule of any kind. My craziness tonight seems to have an agenda. When I fi
nally have the card out I pause. I’d hate to waist a dollar sixty if the shade doesn’t want me on the train. Flash: the warm train car, the familiar smell of stale urine, the feel of my ass in a seat. I wait. I gave my word, I’m going where I’m led... Fuck this sucks. I look through the bars.

  “Go, or don’t go?" I whisper. There! Right in front of me. Has it been there the whole time? Floating about three feet off the ground is a shimmer of light. As I focus on it, it disappears, but then the turn style rattles. Good enough for me.

  I swipe my card and enter. I climb the concrete steps and emerge on a not-quite-deserted platform. There are around twelve other people up here, singly or in groups of two or three. I dig out my phone and check the time, 8:34. Now... which train? I wait. The wind whips the hair that hangs below my skull cap. The hair catches in my lips. I pull it off and cover my cheeks with my hands. I’d like to duck behind the big advertisement partition to block the wind, but I feel I should maintain a line of sight with both sets of tracks. All in all, this hasn’t been bad so far. I light up a Camel. No sooner is it lit than a dirty looking dude I hadn’t noticed accosts me.

  “Hey pretty lady,” His voice grumbles. “Got a smoke for a poor old man?”

  I sniffle. “Nope.”

  He puts on that hurt face you see on Broadway. “Awe, come on, baby. Give me a cigarette.”

  “No.” I say, not looking at him. I glance over in time to register anger, before he covers it up with something else.

  “Hey now, sexy girl,” He purrs as he steps closer. “Why so up tight?” He reaches a hand out to grab my arm.

  I pull my arm back. A train is coming from the south. I see it make its stop at a platform a few blocks down. “I said no, man.” I’m not even yelling. Aren’t I proud of myself? “Leave me alone.”

  “Hey, baby.” He croons, reaching for me again. Alright, at this point I have three choices. One: I could walk away from him, towards the other passengers, but he might follow me, and then I’d look like a victim. Two: I could give in and give the bastard a Camel, maybe he’d leave me alone, maybe he’d try to molest me, either way I hate rewarding this kind of behavior. Three: I could do this:

  “Fuck off!” I yell at the top of my lungs. I kick at him. I miss, but I kick again, making contact with his shin this time. I reach out and push him. “You commie prick!” I scream, pushing and kicking with the cigarette between my teeth. I make to smack him about the head and he runs off down the stairs I just came up.

  “Crazy white bitch!” he yells over his shoulder, but he’s still running.

  I smile, triumphant. Assault, makes a girl feel pretty. Some of the other passengers are looking my way. I nod at them and take a self satisfied drag. Fuck him, I think. Thought he could intimidate me into giving him something I paid good money for, mother fucker. The train is a few hundred yards off now, rocking and rolling into the station. I still have half a smoke left. I flick it onto the tracks as the train arrives. Why? Cause fuck that guy, that’s why! Oh wait, shit. I forgot what I was doing. Am I even supposed to get on this train? Damn I should’ve waited for confirmation before chucking that Camel.

  The train pulls in and the doors open. Three or four people get off of the car closest to me. I wait and watch. The car is about half full. “Yes or no?” I whisper. I feel a push on my back. Cool. I can do this. I get in long before the doors close, and am able to snag the forward facing seat at the rear of the car. It’s the one with the sideways seat in front of it so I can prop my legs up. Awesome. I look out the window onto the platform. The bum has emerged from the stairwell. He makes to come onto my train car. I catch his eye through the window and jump to my feet with my crazy face, opening my arms wide like ‘what?’

  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 ol
d, 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.