CHAPTER 39
Please, please, please…. Her stomach was already knotting
and beginning to cramp, her palms were wet. Still, the hallway light
strobed erratically. Maybe it's just a bad bulb. That's probably
it… Connie sat on the edge of the bed for a moment and breathed
deeply, trying to get oxygen to her brain and calm her nerves. Her
legs felt weak and wobbly but she managed to make it to the doorway.
When Connie looked down the staircase, her fears were realized.
The lights she had left on in the living room were flashing, too,
and she was all alone. A small sob escaped her as she pressed her
back against the wall and flattened her palms against its surface.
Help me….
It was an odd sensation to feel your sanity slowly bleed away
- to know that you are losing control and have no way to stop
it. Connie inched her way down the stairs, still backed against
the wall. She moved slowly, one step at a time, feeling her way
with balls of her bare feet. Maybe Kevin didn't go out…
That thought and the fact that she hadn't been swallowed by permanent
darkness were the only things that were keeping her from crashing.
She needed a lifeline and she needed one fast.
Connie stopped moving when she felt hard, cool tiles beneath
her feet. She had made it down the stairs. A small amount of self-satisfaction
washed over her. Then her sensibilities kicked in long enough
for her to ask herself why she was congratulating herself. What
had she achieved? She was no calmer, no less frightened. Her situation
hadn't changed. The darkness still threatened. Five seconds later,
the threat became a full-blown attack as the blackness engulfed
her. The light did not return and Connie fell to her knees, unable
to see, unable to hear and now unable to feel anything but panic
and sheer terror.
*****
The music and banter inside the club drowned out any noise that
might indicate a ferocious storm had erupted outside. Hannah and
Kevin continued to sit at the bar, neither of them saying much.
Hannah glanced at Kevin occasionally, from the corner of her eye.
She usually didn’t have much patience with remorseful assholes
but she doubted that Kevin would qualify as a genuine ass - although
from time to time, he had done a pretty good imitation of one
- at least since she had known him. What saved him, in her book,
was that he had never been bi-polar about it. That is, with Kevin,
'what you see is what you get'. Trevor had always been syrupy
and phony, blowing wind up Hannah's ass every chance he got only
because he knew that she was close to Connie.
Kevin was no ass-kisser. He could be painfully blunt but rarely
attacked unless he felt threatened in some way. Hannah surmised
that Kevin had felt threatened by Stephen's call and, unfortunately,
had attacked Connie. The fact that Kevin knew exactly where to
stick the knife point in order to cause the most damage could
be an asset in some cases, but not this one. He had given Connie
a mortal wound. Hannah just hoped that it wouldn't prove to be
fatal.
The barstool to Kevin's right emptied but not for long. A couple
had just come in from outside. Their clothes and hair were wet
and they were laughing to each other, reveling in the fact that
they had escaped the charge of an unexpected tropical storm.
"You guys need a towel?" the bartender called from the far end
of the bar. "Looks like you two have been swimming!" He picked
up and ashtray and emptied it and then reached under the counter,
grabbing a handful of dishtowels for the drenched couple. "What's
it doing out there?"
Kevin wasn't interested in the weather but he was destined to
hear the latest update anyway. The couple was very vocal about
the conditions outside and he had no choice but to listen to their
report.
"It's a mother out there!" the man laughed. "It's blowing like
a son of a bitch…."
Hannah rolled her eyes at Kevin. The man was loud and seemed
a little drunk.
"Lines have blown down everywhere…" he announced. "Especially
near the Gulf. Power is out all up and down the coastal region…"
The bartender shook his head. "Good thing we've got a generator."
Kevin was sucking on an ice cube when he felt Hannah grab his
forearm. When he jerked his head in her direction, she was staring
at him, wide eyed. Kevin spit the ice back into his glass.
"What?" he frowned, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
"The power…" Hannah prompted, searching his face for understanding.
"Yeah?….."
"No power - no electricity…."
Kevin shook his head impatiently. He didn't really feel like
word games.
"Okay…." He played along. "No electricity - no……TV?" The purpose
of this exchange was escaping him.
"No, you dumbshit!" Hanna hissed. "No electricity - no fuckin'
lights!"
Kevin's brows furrowed and then slowly began to straighten and
rise. Hannah could even see his pupils dilate as understanding
filled his mind.
"Oh, shit…." he whispered, as his eyes focused above Hannah's
head.
"Shit might be an understatement, Kevin…" Hannah shook his arm,
recapturing his attention. "She's stressed out anyway and in a
strange place and she's all alone! If she's in the dark, too,
she's going to crack…"
Kevin practically leaped from the barstool and began digging
in his pocket.
"Can you drive? You've thrown back quite a few and I don't think…"
"I'm fine!" Kevin said anxiously, throwing a fifty-dollar bill
down on the bar. "I've got to get to Connie…."
"Be careful, Kevin!" Hannah warned as she followed him through
the crowd towards the exit. "You haven't seen her like this! Maybe
I should come with you…"
Kevin stopped and looked down at the older woman. There was
no doubt that she was beyond worried about her friend and was
more than willing to offer comfort and aid. But a powerful feeling
of responsibility had washed over Kevin as well as the notion
that if Connie was in trouble or anguished, then he was
the one who needed to be there for her, especially considering
what had happened between them. There was also a territorial aspect
to consider. Kevin didn't want anyone else to help Connie.
He wanted and needed to be her comforter. He wanted and needed
for her to want and need him - no one else.
"No. I'll take care of Connie. If anything happens, I'll call
here or one of the guys and they can bring you back to the house."
He was effectively telling her to back off. If anyone else had
had the gumption to tell her to 'butt out', Hannah would have
read them the riot act, but something in Kevin's eyes had held
her at bay. He wasn't toying with Connie or playing the role of
the hero in order to win her affection. Kevin truly loved Connie.
Hannah smiled grimly and nodded Kevin towards the door with a
sigh. She needs a prince right now…and you, my friend, need
your princess….
*****
Connie was aware of her knees moving across the floor. Hard
tiles soon gave way to carpet and, a minute or two later, hardness
again. Survival instinct had taken over as Connie reached up from
the floor and pulled open a kitchen drawer, stuck her hand inside
and groped through its contents. Nothing. She moved to the next
drawer and did the same thing, this time searching a little more
frantically. Her fingers fell against the softness of terrycloth
and her body moved once more. This time, her hand grabbed the
drawer handle and pulled fiercely, yanking the drawer out of its
frame and spilling its contents all over the floor. Connie slapped
her hands against the tiles and fumbled through scattered utensils,
grabbing and feeling for the object of her search. The knife found
her instead. When she grabbed the sharp blade, it sliced into
the palm of her hand, creating a gash that began to bleed immediately.
Connie felt no pain. She felt nothing physical as, once again,
her body propelled itself across the floor in the pitch-blackness,
knife in hand. She hadn't consciously paid much attention to the
interior of the guest house when she arrived but some small corner
of her mind must have taken it all in. She finally arrived at
the destination that her gut told her would be the safest place
to be - the space beneath the stairs, which served as a closet.
She fumbled for the latch with one hand while holding the knife
against her chest with the other and pulled open the door. It
felt empty and so she crawled inside and sat, waiting for rescue
or light to return her sanity.
CHAPTER 40
The closer he got to the grove house, the more
furious the wind and rain became. Kevin had to slow down. The windshield
wipers couldn't keep up with the downpour and his visibility was
next to zero. The guy at the bar had been right. Lights were out
everywhere, including at the main house. As his tires crunched against
the gravel in the lane, he looked for signs of life - a flashlight
or the glow of a candle, but he saw nothing. As far as he knew,
no one was on the property.
He ground to a stop in front of the porch, jumped out of his
truck and ran into the main house. The downpour was so intense
that he became soaked in the few seconds it took him to reach
shelter. He would check here first. Maybe Connie had made her
way back here, since the house was more familiar to her and she
had been told where emergency supplies were stored. Kevin ran
into the house screaming for her, momentarily forgetting that
his screams were useless. He took the stairs three at a time and
threw the door open to his bedroom their bedroom… but nothing
seemed to have been touched or moved. He hesitated just long enough
to catch his breath before running back down the stairs and out
of the back door.
By the time he reached the guest house, his eyes had adjusted
to the lack of light and he was saturated with rain. He tried
the door. Locked… and began to feel around the window and
door ledges for a key, cursing in frustration when his search
left him lacking. The curtains were drawn and he couldn't see
inside, so Kevin ran through the torrent to the rear of the house,
not even sure if the small house had a back door. He was relieved
to discover that not only was there a back door but that it also
had glass panes on it's upper half. If this door was locked, he
could, at least, break the glass and gain entrance. Once again,
the knob refused to give and Kevin pulled off the short sleeved
shirt that covered his tee, wrapped the fabric around his fist
and slammed it through one of the lower squares of glass. Then,
reaching through the empty frame, he felt for the inside latch,
released the lock and pushed the door open.
As he stood for a moment, trying to gain a sense of direction
in the darkness, the house suddenly brightened, momentarily blinding
him. Electricity had been restored. He blinked several times and
squinted, readjusting his vision. When his sight cleared and he
glanced around the room, his heart moved to his throat. Two drawers
had been pulled open and a third was on the floor, its contents
scattered across the gray marble tiles. There was something else
on the floor - a small spill of some sort.
Kevin stepped over to the tangle of spatulas and wooden spoons
and crouched. He knew what it was before he touched it but he
lowered his middle finger anyway and touched the dark stain which,
by now, had become tacky and cool. He stopped breathing as he
raised his finger and smeared the small drop with his thumb. Blood….
The air that he had been holding in his lungs exploded from
his mouth as he shouted her name.
"CONNIE!!!"
His cry was met with silence and he mentally argued that the
reason she didn't answer was because she was deaf and not because
she was hurt.
*****
Connie sat on the floor in the back of the closet, as far under
the stairs as her body would permit. Her knees were drawn up to
her chest and her hands covered her eyes. One of those hands still
held the knife, the bloody blade now pressed against her head
as she rocked rhythmically, unaware that blood still oozed from
the gash on her palm and trailed down her face to her throat and
on to her breasts where it soaked into her top. Even if she had
seen the thread of light than now ran across the bottom of the
closet door, she would not have been comforted. The panic had
lasted for too long and her brain had begun to play tricks on
her. She imagined movement behind her, a hand on her neck, the
smell of smoke. Trevor's lips moved in her mind's eye… Don't
want to play, Connie? Let's go in here so you can rethink that…
rethink that… Connie's sense of time had been completely erased.
For all she knew, she might have been under those stairs for days,
yet she continued to pray for rescue - not to God, but to Kevin.
*****
Kevin's was about to take off for the stairs when his eyes fell
to the floor once again. There was another dark spot on the floor
about a foot away from the one he had discovered amid the pile
of utensils. His gaze traveled farther across the floor and found
another, then another. He followed the trail of smears through
the kitchen and onto the light carpet in the living area. Here,
the stains seemed to spread and their appearance was more violent
and shocking and Kevin felt himself fighting the reflex to gag.
The traces became small and sickening guideposts that led Kevin
from the edge of the living area and across the room to a spot
under the stairs. There they stopped at the closed door of what
Kevin suspected to be a storage closet.
Connie?…. His hand slid on the surface of the knob the
first time he tried to turn it and he had to wipe his sweaty palm
down the side of his pants. Kevin took a shallow breath and tried
again. This time the door opened with no problem and he peered
into the dark space under the stairs. There she sat, pushed against
the underside of the staircase, rocking and trembling as if she
was covered in ice. She was pressing the heels of her hands against
her eyes and she held a kitchen knife in one of them. Rivulets
of red ran down her arm and the side of her face and neck were
covered with red streaks.
"Connie….." he whispered as he bent to his knees and reached
out slowly into the shadows to touch her arm. "Come here, baby…"
Kevin knew that Connie was oblivious to his voice but the words
came instinctively. His touch startled and frightened her and
she stiffened. She whimpered as she used her legs to try to push
her body against the wall and both of her hands fell from her
eyes, tightly grasped the handle of the knife and held the blade
in front of her face. Her eyes were still squeezed shut as if
she were afraid to face the intruder - the monster of her imagination.
Kevin's heart broke when he heard her furtive threats.
"Go away!" she commanded in a whisper. "Kevin's coming! Kevin's
coming and he'll get you! Go away! He'll get you!"
Her childlike display caused him to draw a ragged breath and
he reached out a second time, grabbing her wrists with one hand
and taking the knife from them with the other. Connie gasped at
the perceived attack and began to thrash her arms, kicking and
trying to pull away, still too frightened to open her eyes. She
was trying desperately to get away but had no place to go and
Kevin had to forego tenderness for the moment and force her to
look at him. He placed his hands on each side of her head, forcing
her to face him, and shook.
Connie's breath caught in her throat when she felt the pressure
of his hands on her head and when, after two or three hard shakes,
her head was steadied again, she found herself paralyzed, wondering
what was going to come next.
What came was the touch of his thumbs gently wiping the tears
from under her eyes as his fingers splayed in her hair, still
holding her head upright. Then she felt herself being pulled forward
slightly and his lips pressing against her brow. Facial hair brushed
against her forehead and cheekbone. Kevin? She slowly opened
her eyes, releasing the tears that had been held beneath her lids
and pulled away to gaze into the face of her captor.
Kevin didn't move. He still held Connie's face in his hands
as her eyes traveled over his face, examining his features as
if she were trying to remember who he was. Her fear was now colored
with confusion and, to Kevin's dismay, a brief flash of defeat
crossed her face. He tried to squelch the anger that was bubbling
in his gut as he wondered how many times Trevor's cruelty had
elicited this same response.
Connie must have stared at Kevin for half a minute or more before
she inhaled sharply and threw herself against him. Her arms wrapped
around his chest and her fingers pulled at the white cotton of
his shirt until they took hold of the fabric and tightened. The
side of her face pressed against his chest, further marking his
clothing with her blood and she began to shake almost violently,
gasping for air as if he had pulled her from the depths of the
ocean.
Kevin didn't move out of the closet yet. He held Connie tightly
in his arms and rubbed her back as he murmured words of comfort,
assurance and love - words that she would never hear, but words
he had to say. His own feelings during these emotional minutes
were conflicted. He was furious that another person could have
hurt her so badly, happy that she wasn't seriously injured, guilty
that he hadn't been there when the crisis occurred and relieved
that she needed him. Him and no one else….
She seemed utterly exhausted and disoriented as she leaned against
him and he felt the need to get her out of these claustrophobic
surroundings. Kevin pulled her arms from around his back and she
protested, whimpering into his chest as she tried to hang on to
fists full of his shirt. She calmed a little when she felt him
move her arms up around his neck and kiss her on her temple. Connie
felt his hands on her buttocks and he lifted her slightly causing
her legs to wrap themselves around his hips before he stood slowly
and backed out through the closet door, carrying her as one might
carry a weary child. She still shuddered and mumbled incoherently
and as Kevin carried her out into the living room, he cocked his
head to the side to look at her face as it rested on his shoulder.
Her eyes were open but glazed over in emotional shock. Kevin gave
her a gentle squeeze and started up the stairs towards the bedroom.
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