Chasing Shadows Read online

She is. She turns her head towards me and her eyes bug out. “Kelly!” She whispers.

  I’m stunned. I don’t know what to say. Kelly? Does this person know me? “Who are you?” I hiss.

  The girl starts to cry. “You’re dead.” she sobs. “Oh God, I’m gonna die.”

  “Hush.” I snap. “I’m not dead. I’m right here.”

  She sucks in her lip. There’s a noise from beyond my line of sight. “Run.” She whispers to me.

  What? Me run? I think indignantly. “I’m here to save you.” I whisper, and as I do I reach out to start moving boxes.

  She shakes her head violently. “Too late. You have to run.” Now she snaps her gaze back down the room. I pull my head back. I can still see the girl, but not much else. I hear footsteps.

  A man’s voice grunts as the footsteps approach. “So, Bitch. You want to tell me what you think you remember?”

  I see the girl stick out her chin, defiance written all over her face. I like her. I want to help her. I’m afraid.

  “You killed Kelly.” She shouts but her voice shakes.

  The man grunts. “You’re the only one who thinks so.” He says.

  “I know what I saw, you dirty son of a bitch. You’re not getting away with it.” Wow is this girl stupid? She either wants to die, or doesn’t think she stands a chance of living.

  “You were passed out. You couldn’t have seen anything. You’d shot enough heroin to kill a horse. You’re making it up. You just think you’ll get something out of this but you won’t. I’m not losing everything over an addict, and a dumb whore. You both fucked half the men on that boat and you loved it. You stupid cow. No one believed you down there because you’re crazy, and no one’s going to miss you either.”

  The girl laughs. “Sure, pig. No one believed me. That’s why you’ve got me tied up in a basement, because I’m not a threat. I know you’re going to kill me, and you’re the dumb bitch, because it’ll only get worse for you when I’m gone. I’m not the only one who saw and I’m not the only...” but she doesn’t finish, because a huge man lunges forward kicks her in the gut. I can’t see his features, but the way the light catches his short hair suggests a blonde. I stand there quietly, while the great big man with the light hair pummels her repeatedly. After about seven or eight strikes, he stands back. Her head slumps my way. Holy Shit! Where’s her face? I suck in a breath and the sound of it is covered by Mr. Huge Ass’s heavy breathing. He slides something from his pocket. I don’t see what it is but when he straddles the girl and grabs her by the hair I can see he has a hard on. Oh God, I think, I hope she’s already dead. I take a step back without realizing it. I guess the movement caught his attention, because Big Man Blonde turns to face me. He’s looking right at me. I can see light shining off his teeth and reflecting out of his left eye but the rest of his face is shadow. His eye bugs out when he sees me, just like hers did.

  Crash! Something falls, further back in the room. The man jumps and turns towards the sound. It’s now that I see he’s holding a long, straight knife. I don’t need any more incentive, the girl’s toast. I run back up the stairs. I’m too concerned with speed to try and be quiet. I hit the door like a ton of bricks. It flies open.

  “Ahhh.” A male voice.

  I look down. There’s a guy. Some white dude, with sandy hair about my age. I guess he must have been leaning on the door and I knocked him flat on his ass when I crashed through it. He’s wearing a white jacket. Go figure.

  “You should run.” I say, and proceed to follow my own advice. The sleet has turned to straight rain now and I’m glad. The snow’s all melted. I won’t leave footprints. I have no idea where I’m going. I just go, making turns at random, hoping Big Man’s not following me. As I run I re-think the event in terrifying little snippets. What made that crash after he saw me? Was it the shadow people?

  ***

  I don’t know how long I’ve been running. My legs are burning. My lungs are burning. Tears streak off my face, flying behind me as I go. I turn the corner and see the familiar lights of an El station. It’s not the one I got off at, but maybe that’s good. I wonder if it’s the same line. I slow to a jog, and then walk the last block, trying to catch my breath. I’m not sure how I manage to get the card in the slot, but I guess I do, because next thing I know I’m curled up in a glass portico on the platform crying like a little kid. Holy Shit.

  A train comes and goes and I don’t move. It’s either pretty late or pretty far away from the popular parts of the city, because no one gets off or on. I just sit where I am, and as my heart rate slows, I begin to wonder if any of that actually happened. Kelly, she called me Kelly. He looked like he recognized me. I shudder at the thought. My eyes stare unfocussed at the wooden floor in front of me. There’s another shadow thing creeping up through the cracks. It glows red at the edges.

  “You Okay?” It’s a deep male voice. Startled, I look up from my corner and see his face, familiar... why? He darts his eyes to the side. “Oh, sorry.” He says. “I didn’t know it was you.”

  This creeps me out. “You know me?” I demand. “What’s my name?”

  He looks terrified. “Shit.” he says. “Don’t yell at me. I was just trying to be nice. I saw you crying.”

  I blink a few times. He seems sincere. “You don’t know my name?” I ask quietly.

  He balks. “What, are you famous or something?”

  I sort of smile, looking at the ground. “No. Sorry for yelling at you. It’s been a weird night.” I watch the shadow as it creeps slowly toward the guy’s leg.

  “You’ve yelled at me before.”

  I look up at him quizzically. Blondish hair, clean shaven face, black pea coat over a hoodie, brown eyes.... it’s not coming to me. Then he turns to face me straight on and I notice the perfect V shape of his torso. “Meat Shopper!” I say, all happy like we’re best friends.

  He cocks an eyebrow and smiles. It’s a nice smile. “I’m Schuyler.” He offers his hand.

  I reach up to shake it automatically. “My name is Meegan.” But suddenly I’m floored. Is it Meegan? No of course it’s not, but does that mean its Kelly? I burst into tears, take my hand back, and hug myself into the corner of the portico. I’m not looking at the guy. He might as well not be here. I’m sure he’s booked it to the far side of the station by now.

  Except, what’s this? There’s an arm around my shoulder. I look, yup, real arm, real person. Not only is this total stranger touching me, but, Oh my God, he feels sorry for me. This is not good. I can only cry harder in the face of sympathy. “Fuck it.” I sob, and bury my head in the strange guy’s shoulder. Vaguely I wonder if I'm just plain destined to end up murdered by the end of the night. Meat Shopper is probably a serial killer. What was his name?

  I feel him chuckle. I guess to him, it’s funny. Oh well. I don’t care. It’s nice not to be alone. Now I’m crying for myself. No Ashley to call. I’m not really friends with Fin. I don’t know anyone else. So I've wound up here, pathetic and crying on some weird guy's shoulder. The red shadow swirls into my vision, it settles in on the guy’s chest. I roll my eyes. I get it already, leave me alone for a while, I think at the apparition, and to my surprise it ripples a little and disappears. Do I have control over this?

  The train comes by again. “You headed south?” Asks What was it? Schuyler.

  I nod. Schuyler helps me up, and we board the train together. It’s empty. “What time is it?” I ask. I’m still looking around for the shade, but it’s gone.

  Schuyler checks his watch. “12:01.”

  “How long was I running?” I ask myself as we sit. I’m too dazed to keep my thoughts quiet. I’m just so relieved to be having some that string together like they should.

  Schuyler eyes me, and wraps his arm back around my shoulders, which still freaks me out. “Break up?"

  “No, murder.” I feel him stiffen. “Not me!” I quickly assert. “I just saw it and I ran, but I think they knew me, even though I don’t know them. Didn’t for one
, don’t for the other.” I shudder and look out the window. “That’s why I got aggressive when you said ‘Oh it’s you’ or whatever. I didn’t recognize you, and I thought, Holy Shit, somebody else thinks they know me?”

  Schuyler doesn’t answer, and I allow the silence to sit there. He still has his arm around my shoulder, and I wonder why he thinks that's okay. Maybe he's European. I hear they have different social standards about this kind of thing. After a minute I feel his other hand on my chin. He’s turning my face towards him. I allow it, figuring I'm close enough to hit him pretty hard if he gets too frisky.

  “You’re serious?” Schuyler asks, once he can see my face.

  I nod.

  “What happened?” He asks.

  I look for derision or skepticism in his face, but I don’t see any, another European ting? How can I tell this guy? How can I tell anyone? But I hear my voice saying:

  “I followed the shadows to a dark warehouse, snuck in, and saw a girl beaten to death by a huge blond guy she called pig. Before she died, she called me Kelly, like she knew me by that name. The guy saw me, and his eyes bugged out like he knew me too, and I ran. He didn’t get me. I don’t know where I was. There were boxes in the way.” Wow I said that out loud, yup, sure did.

  Schuyler looks thoughtfully away. “But you’re name’s Meegan right? So, maybe you looked like someone they know, or knew.”

  I shake my head. “I named myself Meegan. My memory only goes back three years. I have amnesia. My name could have been Kelly three years ago. The girl thought I was a ghost at first.”

  I’ll give Schuyler credit. He takes all this with a grain of salt. Nodding he says, “Now, I’m not trying to be a prick here, but do you know for sure it happened?”

  I stare at him, about to get angry.

  He holds up his free hand. “Look I hear voices too. I see stuff. I’m a... I have schizophrenia, but I’m on my medication.” He adds quickly.

  I’m still staring at him. This is too perfect, but I feel something like hope dawning in my chest. “See, that’s what I'm worried about!” I say enthusiastically. “So you don’t see them when you’re medicated?”

  Schuyler shrugs. “A lot less.”

  “Did they ever lead you to anything like a murder?”

  He shakes his head.

  “You tried following them though, right?”

  He nods. “Yeah, ended up naked, covered in feces in the park.”

  I laugh and so does he. Now I sigh, leaning into him heavily. It feels like I’ve known him a long time. “So you think I’m schizophrenic?” It sounds so easy and neat. There was no murder. I need medication.

  Schuyler shrugs. “Maybe. Was the murder real?”

  I choke up. “Looked pretty real.”

  He rubs my shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out. If you need help I can help you get it.”

  “If?" I say incredulously, disturbed at how easy it is to let this weird person hold me on the train. I'm usually only this friendly when I'm drunk, as you've seen. “You think people see things for real?”

  Schuyler laughs. “I’m not a good one to ask. Every time I see something, I think it’s real.”

  I dry my face with my gloved hand. It comes back dirty with make up. “Christ. It was awful.”

  Schuyler nods and strokes my hair like I’m a puppy.

  I like it. It feels normal. The thought makes me laugh.

  “What?" He asks.

  I shrug. “I was just thinking how much better I feel talking to you, and how I should’ve been nice to you in the store. I’m sorry. We could have been friends this whole time.”

  Schuyler harrumphs. “Not a big deal. I don’t know what I was thinking, trying to talk to a stranger at three in the morning. I probably creeped you out.”

  I turn my head and meet his eyes. They’re the color of milk chocolate. They’re big and just a little too wide set. Not that I need to find a flaw here. “I don’t think you creeped me out.” I say. “I’d just seen a bird fly by, and I didn’t know if it was real. That was back when I was afraid of my hallucinations.”

  Schuyler smirks. “What, like five days ago?”

  I smile. “Yeah. It’s been a busy week. So, what should I do?” Just now the train stops and six people hurry in from the cold. “Don’t answer.” I say quietly.

  He nods and squeezes my shoulder. “Hungry?”

  “Yeah, now that you mention it. I’m fucking famished.”

  Schuyler laughs. “I live at the next stop.”

  I give him a look.

  “No, no. Not like that.” He says. He shakes his head and looks irritated. “I’m always doing shit like that.” He looks at me. “I don’t know where people’s boundaries are, because I don’t have any.”

  “Any?” I ask with a smile.

  He returns the smile but ruefully. “It’s not actually very cool. People are always rejecting me, and I never know why until after, when I think about it. I’m working on it.” He shrugs.

  “So.” I prompt. “What did you mean? If I’m going to give you credit for not trying to make a move on me.”

  Schuyler turns his face to me. “Just that I live in a nice place, and there’s leftover lasagna in the fridge and beer and wine and salad and soda. You don’t have to drink, that’s not the point. That sounded bad right, with the beer and the wine part?”

  I smile, but I don’t laugh at him, which is a surprise. Wow, this guy totally brings out the nice in me. Schuyler seems genuinely awkward, like he’s socially suffering. Typically I would respond to this show of weakness with a caustic comment designed to make him feel worse, but looking at Schuyler I don’t want him to feel bad. It’s like I’m a nurturing person or something. Very twilight zone.

  “You cooked lasagna?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “The maid cooks. That’s weird too, right?”

  I shrug. “Honey, don’t worry too much about being weird. I follow invisible things to warehouses, alone, in the middle of the night. Sure, I’d love to come over. You can feed me lasagna, and tell me what it is you think I’m supposed to do.”

  He smiles.

  I smile. This is nice. Oh fuck, I just burst into tears again. At least I’m not making crying sounds. Well hell, there goes everything.

  ***

  I'm sitting in the cushy, beautiful passenger seat of a tricked out Escalade. In my three long years of life, I've never had a rich friend. I like it. Its 10:15 and Schuyler is driving my silly ass to work. I spent the day on his couch. We didn't decide to lock me up this morning, so he's promised to help me revisit the topic on my next day off. That's when I've promised to return his shirt and socks. I think this will be the first time I've gone to work without my bag. I was almost out of smokes by the time the night was over. Rather than wake me up in time to go home before work, Schuyler sent the maid out to get me more. How sweet is that? We're here. Schuyler pulls to the curb and turns his flashers on.

  "Hey, thank you." I say.

  He smiles. "My pleasure. See you soon."

  I look at him for a second, then I throw myself across the cavernous interior to give the man a hug. How's that for no boundaries? He laughs, surprised, but he hugs me back. "You saved my sanity last night. I'm so glad you were there."

  Schuyler grabs my hand. "Hey, thanks for coming over."

  "Yeah." I'm grinning. It feels good. I have the briefest thought that maybe Schuyler is gay. Maybe that's why it's so easy. He doesn't act gay to me, but there's got to be a catch right? I release his hand and reach over to sweep back his hair. "K." I shake myself. "Gotta go." and before I can embarrass myself further, I hop out of the Escalade, shut the door, and hoof it to Flagship without looking back. Well, maybe I look back once.

  Inside it's a different story. It looks like a social gauntlet between here and the elevator. Ashley's by the checkout getting something stickered. Fin and Doug are over near youth fiction, go figure. And to top it off, Qasim is cooling his heels suspiciously by the elevator. W
hat the fuck is he doing here? I scowl and then I realize he's watching me. Oh, and there's tons of customers, but who cares?

  With a deep breath I trudge over to the elevator. Because there is a God and he's hilarious, Ashley arrives at the same time I do. Qasim is oblivious to the significance of this, and it's not like we're giving away many clues. Each of us is pretending the other doesn't exist. I nod at Qasim, hoping this will be good enough, and hit the button.

  "Hi." He mumbles.

  I give a brave smile. "What's up?" I respond.

  "Who was that?" And there it is: that tiny, tiny voice.

  I look him over and wonder what was I thinking? Oh that's right, Heineken was doing the thinking. "Who?" I ask, because I'm not above being petty.

  "The guy in the SUV." Qasim looks irritable.

  I'm getting kind of indignant. "Are you here to talk to me or to shop?" I say in super pleasant voice.

  Ashley is staring now.

  Qasim looks at the floor. "I sort of wanted to talk to you."

  I nod. The elevator arrives, saving me some face. I get on and key in the basement as fast as humanly possible. Ashley follows me in, but so does Qasim. He hits the button for two. I sigh. This elevator is programmed to service customer floors first. Now we're all going up. I check my phone, 10:20. I don't even have to be here until 10:55.

  "Look." Qasim starts speaking quietly, but clearly he doesn't care if we're over heard. This does not earn him any points with me. "I kind of wanted to apologize."

  I stiffen. Do I kind of want to forgive him? Not really. "Nothing to apologize for." I say.

  He puts his hands in his pockets. "So, who was that in the SUV?” He asks again. Ah. He thinks Schuyler is a love interest. This makes me smile because I suspect he's gay, or otherwise unattainable to the likes of me.

  "My friend." I answer.

  And evidently this is too much for Ashley. "What friend?" She demands as the doors open up on two. Qasim looks surprised. He hadn't counted on Ashley. I step out of the elevator, pathetically trying to dodge but naturally, both of them follow me. Maybe they should date each other. I make it as far as metaphysics before Ashley corners me. Qasim is too interested to leave now. Begrudgingly, I meet Ashley's eyes.