MILES: Chapter Five, pt. 4

* * * * *

I V

* * * * *

The phone rang again. Melody tried to ignore it; she pushed the pillow over her ears and rolled over but the sound was insistent. Finally, the machine took it, and she heard her own grainy and distant voice say, “I’m not home. Please leave a message,” followed by the traditional sound.

There was an eerie silence, then the caller hung up. Melody lifted her head from the pillow in surprise, blinked heavily at the now pulsing red light, and nearly jumped out of her skin when the phone began to ring again.

She stared at it now, as it rang and rang, the body of the telephone vibrating slightly as the hammer rattled the bell inside. She reached for the handset but stopped midair, uncertain now.

The machine took the call, and she heard her prerecorded message again. After the shrill sound there was silence again, followed by a sharp breath that left Melody’s blood cold. Then a voice, calm and poisonous.

“Now this is just silly, Melody. Pick up the phone. I know you’re there.”

The faucet in Melody’s arteries turned from cold to hot, she felt her face flush with rage. She grabbed the handset.

“Whatthefuckdoyouwant?!” she said in a single breath. Then after a pause, “You know what? I don’t even care. Don’t call here again.”

She had just about hung up the phone when Mark’s voice stopped her.

“Wait,” he said. “There’s no reason for this. Just listen.”

She paused, and brought the phone back to her ear.

“I’m going home, Melody. And I’m inviting you to join me.”

Her head began to pound again. Talking to Mark was like talking to a machine – he’d say what he wanted to say regardless of who was listening, and her only options were to hear him out or shut him off. Morbid curiosity kept her on the phone, at least that’s what she told herself, but some part of her knew that her curiosity was laced with a certain sense of responsibility as well.

“I thought you said you’d met somebody. Did she leave you al–”

“I did meet someone,” he interrupted. “He’s amazing. I’d like for you to meet him.”

Silence, while Melody tried to process this last datum. When in doubt, substitute with sarcasm.

“Well, I’m really sorry I can’t make it to the wedding, but I really do wish the best for you both.” Her voice was thick and syrupy, and she allowed herself half a hope that he’d take a hint and leave her alone, but she knew well enough that Mark understood subtlety about as well as he understood piloting a spaceship.

“We’re going to change the world, Melody. I really wish you could be a part of this, but if the distance between us is really that…” he was choosing his words carefully. “…insurmountable, then I guess you’ll be… left behind. This is the last time I’ll call you, Melody. But you’ll know how to find me if you experience a sudden change in heart. Au Revoir.”

He hung up. Melody’s mouth was suddenly dry. Her phone had hummed, chirped, and finally a woman’s voice was telling her that if she’d ‘like to make a call, please hang up and try again’ before it occurred to her to put the handset back in the cradle. It was then she realized she was shaking. She closed her eyes. There was a shudder along the white corridor; something was happening out there, and Melody was scared.

MILES: Chapter Three, part 7

Instead of catching the next bus home, she walked out onto the avenue, down past the frozen trees of the park, and down the hill into the heart of the city. It was dark, and cold, and she tugged her long coat tighter. She needed a change in atmosphere. She crossed a glass sky-bridge, colored lights twinkling in the frozen air, and the open sky made her feel a little better.

Mark wanted something, but she had no idea what. Even when they were together, he had been enigmatic at best, and often deliberately misleading. And so, like a seed caught between her back teeth that she couldn’t dislodge, a feeling of dread rooted itself into the back of her mind and slowly began to spread.

Now Melody needed something to eat, and a chance to relax. Downtown was surprisingly busy for the season. She was rounding a corner when she noticed she was being followed, but not by anything dangerous. She stopped, and peered down an empty alley. Amidst the garbage and discarded furniture, several sets of yellow eyes peered up at her. She grinned.

“Hey, babies,” she called into the alley, and three alley cats appeared from the shadows. “I wish I had some food for you.” The cats mewed their agreement with that sentiment. Two of them – an orange tabby and a fat Siamese – approached Melody fearlessly, butting up against her. They had only been abandoned recently, she knew, and still hung onto their domestic nature. The third was a wild-eyed tom, thin and feral, and took his time trusting her. He stared her down, perched atop a stack of broken wooden pallets.

“I’m sorry, sweethearts,” she said, and the orange cat at her feet mewed sadly, nearly breaking Melody’s heart. “I’m going inside for a while, where it’s warm. No, you can’t come with me. I have to get some people food first, but if you find me later, I’ll get you something to eat.”

The orange cat turned her head to one side, licked her lips and with a leap and a scuffle, vanished into the shadows. The Siamese wasn’t so graceful, but wandered off as well, leaving the tom still perched, roughly the height of Melody’s head, glaring at her.

“You too, you big meanie,” she said, and stuck out her tongue. “But you have to be nice to Francis. He’s not good with strangers.”

The black cat yawned wide, his pink tongue flicked out, and he leapt down from the pallets into the darkness.

Down the street, she passed Frond’s – the dance club that throbbed uncomfortably and radiated much more sexual energy than Melody was entirely comfortable with – and the Watchtower Pub. Something trickled through her as she passed the Watchtower; someone inside made her curious. She peeked through a window, and caught a glimpse of a handsome man in a starched white dress shirt sitting by himself at the bar. She stared another moment, trying to glean what was so interesting about him, but scurried away quickly when he turned to look outside.

In a nearby Greek restaurant she ordered a falafel and a coffee and sat alone, just inside the window. An untended fire slowly burned away in a fireplace across the room, providing little heat. With no other customers, the proprietor wandered into the back where Melody presumed his wife was cooking, as snippets of an argument trickled back to her. She didn’t understand the language, but the anger that filled the air needed little translation. Melody began to feel a little uncomfortable. The argument quickly escalated; the man and woman began shouting and stomping about, oblivious to the business they may have been scaring off. Grateful that she’d paid her bill when she ordered, Melody wrapped up her pita and trudged outside to a covered bus stop, soaking in the bitter cold. A few minutes later, a curious meow and a bundle of orange fur joined her on the bench.

“Where are your friends?” she asked. “Not as brave as you?” Melody offered some falafel but after a sniff the cat turned away and sneezed in disgust. “I guess you’re not a vegetarian.”

She finished her dinner in silence, and sipped her coffee while the cat made herself comfortable in Melody’s lap, quickly falling asleep. Her turtleneck was warm enough, she thought, and the night was beautiful, if cold. She amused herself by watching her breath waft away in the frozen air.

And, though she rarely indulged herself, she decided what she really wanted was a cigarette.

MILES: Chapter Three, part 6

The phone rang.

Melody opened her eyes, squinting against the bright sun shining through an open window. She stretched, shook her head and blinked heavily a few times, and plodded into the bedroom where the phone jangled insistently. Scattered images from the hallucination still worried her, and she tried in vain to let them go.

“‘allo?”

Silence on the other end of the line. Melody’s brow furrowed. Something didn’t feel right.

“Hello?” she said again, more insistently.

“It is you,” a male voice finally spoke. “It’s been a long time, my dear.”

“Goddammit, Mark,” she said. “What do you want?”

“What does anyone really want?” he said. “Someone who understands them, perhaps? Someone who believes in them?”

“Don’t do this, Mark. It’s over – it’s been over for a long time. I have to go–”

“You’ll be happy to know,” he interrupted her. “That I’ve met someone.”

“Congratu-fucking-lations.” Melody massaged the bridge of her nose with her free hand. Whatever relief had come from her meditation was swiftly negated. She could feel a headache building already. “When she figures out who you really are and dumps your ass, please please don’t come running back.”

“I’m disappointed, dear.” His voice oozed like slime over the phone. Melody felt dirty just speaking to him. But still he kept talking. “I thought you of all people would pleased for me.”

“I’m tired of this bullshit, Mark.” Melody was exasperated. “I’m hanging up the phone now.”

“A man rises from the earth,” Mark droned on, now sounding like he was quoting from some unfamiliar scripture. “And he says to the world: Join me, my flock, and I shall show you the light and the love and the glory never before known.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve found religion,” Melody sighed heavily. “You of all people–”

“But the flock rose against the shepherd, and the Shepherd grew angry,” Mark continued to monotone. “For his will was mighty, and his vengeance swift!” Mark finished with a flourish, as though he expected applause, or perhaps a hallelujah.

“This is a bit much coming from the guy who told me he was a god among men, and was above mortal judgment,” Melody said, cursing herself for rising to his bait.

“I am a god, Melody. But many gods walk this earth.” She could hear the smile in his voice, the wicked smile that she knew better than to trust. “I’ll see you soon.”

Melody exploded. “You son of a bitch! If you’ve been following me...” she hesitated, not entirely sure how to appropriately threaten him. “I’ll have you fucking arrested!” She slammed down the phone, nearly knocking it off her bedside table. Her pulse raced, her face was flushed with anger. She shouldn’t have let him get under her skin, she thought. She was embarrassed; she knew she had provided him some twisted satisfaction when she lost her temper.

And now she was late. Melody worked part-time at a veterinary hospital, after hours. Melody rushed out the door, bag swinging behind her, barely missing the bus as it pulled away from her stop. It wasn’t far, maybe 16 blocks, and so she ran – trying not to cry as her bag thumped uncomfortably on her shoulder. The winter sun was already low in the horizon, not so much setting as escaping, and the temperature was dropping rapidly. She stopped, breathless, on the steps outside the clinic. She pulled out her compact and made sure no stray tears had mussed her eyeliner, tried unsuccessfully to mash her now windblown hair back into place, and trudged up the stairs.

Her supervisor raised a curious eyebrow in her direction when she arrived, but thankfully left her alone. For the next four hours Melody was distracted, unable to focus. A wall of animal emotion hit her: hunger, loneliness, fear – her center was off, she was completely unbalanced, and the more she tried to reach out and calm the menagerie, the more it opened her up to the barrage of discomfort and displeasure the animals of the shelter were experiencing. Mark had rattled her far more than she wanted to admit.

The creatures under her care were restless; the cats fussed and scratched at her when she tried to bathe them, a beautiful golden lab refused to sit still as she tried to provide much-needed antibiotics. The dog jumped out of her arms and tore off down the hallway before one of the other lab assistants intervened and coaxed the dog back into a kennel. The dog paced and snuffled impatiently, glaring at Melody.

“I’ll get her later, okay?” the assistant offered graciously. “You look like you could use a break.”

Melody busied herself filing paperwork instead, angry that she was unable to pull herself together. Evening came, and by the end she’d managed to let little of the day’s stress go. She was walking out into the cold air when she realized she hadn’t eaten all day – her unplanned phone call had left her little time to grab lunch. There had been nothing in the break room but cold coffee and stale popcorn.

MILES: Chapter Three, part 5

* * * * *

I I I

* * * * *

Melody’s apartment was on the top corner of three-story building, with sprawling windows looking out over the city. Her floor was the only one that directly overlooked the adjoining building, allowing her a unique rooftop access to the next-door warehouse. The building was near abandoned, which left her the freedom to scatter planters and mount hanging pots on the flat roof, a veritable jungle for her two cats.

Francis and Butterfly were outside, stalking something unseen through the ferns and creeping vines.

She chose the apartment in part because of the spectacular view, but also because it existed on a fault line, a cusp of raw power. The web surrounded her here, soaked her with emotion, and she loved the connection to other living things. The web brought her comfort, an easy connection to the White Corridor. She was a part of something greater here; she breathed in life as well as air.

In the center of the room was her meditation pillow, a blue throw with a golden Chinese dragon sewn into it. Ten minutes of meditation, she thought. A connection to the web and some simple reassurance. She would feel better.

She sat, closed her eyes, and tried to relax. She concentrated on her breathing, focused her mind. She let her conscious mind go, let go of her clients and her phone bill and the muck inside the fridge... all the things that would otherwise have her attention. Still, the shadow in the street haunted her. She struggled to dislodge him from her mind. It wasn’t easy. He had dug in deep, and was taking root. She expanded herself outward, let the web take her up – up and out. Her breathing slowed and she began to see –

Nothing at first, just a sea of white, but then the white became solid and she was looking down at the city, and then the city was all blue. Calm. Safe.

Better.

She floated down, nearly weightless, onto the empty street, and as her toes touched down her skin began to tingle, warm at first, then sharp and aggravating. She looked around, disoriented, as the feeling grew worse. She felt eyes on her and she spun around, but there was no one, nothing, but –

There was something in the air, a crack, a break in the calm. A streak of violent, fire engine red cut across the blue, like blood trickling through water, and Melody tried to step back but the red was filling the very air she breathed. The paranoia filled her again, not just a passing feeling as it was on the bus, but a tangible, physical sensation. It pressed against her chest, suffocating her, and she stumbled, afraid, gasping for air where there was none.

She tried to pull back, to return to herself sitting in the third story apartment, but the connection was slow, and she heard a voice in the distance, calling out a warning.

It took her a moment to remember that here there was no air; without her body she didn’t need to breathe, but the physical instincts were hard to break, and it was a few seconds before her pulse slowed and her head stopped pounding.

But the overwhelming sense of paranoia and fear was still there. Something was out there – something watched her from a distance, something she could not place.

Melody pushed herself to another place on the psychic plane. Uncomfortable with what tumbled downstream, she elevated herself to her private place, an isolated area for her extended consciousness to take a breather. Someone would have to consciously follow her there to give her more grief, rather than just send negative energy down the pipeline. No one did. She counted her breaths until she finally calmed down, and slowly let herself fall back into her own body.

MILES: Chapter Three, part 4

Erik felt a little drunk. The tips of his fingers tingled, and he found himself staring at them, as if there was something touching them that he yet couldn’t identify. When he and Sharon were together, they often drank wine with dinner, but he was never a social drinker; he didn’t like the feeling of losing control. But the other patrons in the bar seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely; perhaps there was a secret to drinking that he was unaware of. He began to feel unbalanced again, alone and unarmed. Perhaps this excursion was a mistake.

He paid the bill, left a fair tip, pulled his pea coat tightly around him, and stepped out into the cold air.

“Excuse me?” The woman’s voice behind him startled him. “Do you have a cigarette?”

“I don’t smoke,” he said, almost apologetically, and turned to face the source of the question.

The woman was young, maybe mid-twenties, with bright brown eyes and bright red hair, which was propped up on the top of her head by a pair of oversized sunglasses and billowed across the shoulders of her turtleneck sweater. She wore a short black coat, which stopped at her waist and accented plaid pants, snug against her long legs. She exhaled sharply, her breath condensing into an almost pure white cloud, and she rubbed her hands together briskly in an attempt to warm them.

“S’alright. It’s a filthy habit anyway. Francis gives me grief about it all the time.”

“Sorry, who?” he asked.

The woman looked momentarily embarrassed, and then quickly smiled. “Oh, no one. I was just being silly.”

Erik began to wonder if the girl was flirting or just making fun of him, like perhaps there was some inside joke that he was blissfully unaware of, and if he tried chatting up this girl she would only laugh and point out his folly.

“It’s a bit cold, isn’t it?” he said, pointing out the painfully obvious. He felt foolish the moment he said the words. She smiled wide nonetheless, a warm and forgiving smile, and he felt suddenly at ease. He felt like he should say something else, like he should introduce himself or comment on something, anything other than the weather. Instead he stood there, uncomfortable, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, blowing warm breath into the cold air.

“You have a good way about you,” she said. “You take care, alright?”

She turned and walked down the sidewalk, her long red hair bouncing and rippling with each footstep. He stood for an unusually long time, watching her walk. Yes, she was undoubtedly attractive – strikingly beautiful, even – but that wasn’t why Erik stared. There were beautiful women everywhere, several in his office in fact, but Erik was a man of tact, not one for outright gawking. Erik stared because he seemed to have no choice; there was something unusually alluring, something so unexpectedly inviting and compassionate about the woman, that he could not break his gaze.

But there was something odd and almost unnerving about the woman as well, something mysterious and inhuman – no, perhaps more than human was more appropriate. Her hips twisted and curved with such raw sexuality, almost animal in its intensity, but she moved with a certain feline grace.

He realized a moment later what was also so strange about her: as she walked down the alley, she was being followed by a surprising number of feral cats. It seemed as though all the stray cats of the neighborhood were drawn to her like moths to a light; they stalked her, silent and agile. They stuck mostly to the shadows, flitting in and out of dark pockets like shadows themselves. She seemed not to notice, and by the time she crossed the street, the cats were nowhere to be seen.

Cats, he thought. How funny. Cats.

Perhaps if not for the distraction of the red-haired woman, perhaps if not for the several gin martinis, Erik would have noticed the large black sedan with tinted windows slowly following him down the street. Perhaps he would have noticed the driver’s side window roll down halfway as a man in sunglasses and a dark suit took several snapshots with a small digital camera. But Erik kept walking, stumbling slightly as the last of the alcohol settled in, and he pulled himself clumsily up the stairs to his apartment.

Cats.

MILES: Chapter Three, part 1

* * * * *

I

* * * * *

MELODY WALKED through the stranger’s home. She liked new places; here was a condo, part of an expensive high-rise. She peeked around the corners, taking in her surroundings, evaluating today’s job. Everything was lavish to the point of looking a little ridiculous. The decor was deep burgundy against a white backdrop; the furniture looked like it was straight off a showroom floor. The spacious living room looked across through a breakfast bar to the kitchen; the gas stovetop was set in an island, the cabinetry was ornate white wood with pewter hardware.

She felt the animal before she saw it; a cat mewed and padded curiously around the corner. Melody smiled and bent down to pet the grey and white creature, which immediately sprang up into her arms, purring contently.

“Looks like you have a new friend,” the woman spoke, peering out at Melody from the kitchen. The woman’s face was trapped in a permanent scowl. “Ferdinand normally doesn’t like anybody. He’s Anton’s cat. Very particular.”

“Oh, he’s beautiful,” said Melody, as the cat nuzzled her neck. “Aren’t you just precious?”

The woman looked at her strangely. “I’ll be gone in a few minutes. I just have to finish… you know.” The woman disappeared into the hall bathroom, but her voice still carried. “Then I’ll be out of your hair and you can get to work.” The woman spoke as though housecleaning was something to be ashamed of. A few spritzes of perfume later and the woman pranced down the hall, her heels clicking on the wood floors. “My car is here. I’ll be back in a few hours. I expect you’ll be gone by then.” she paused, and added with forced consideration. “There’s sparkling water in the fridge, but please stay out of the bourbon. I know how much is left.”

Melody tried not to act insulted. Instead, she held out the cat in offering, who looked up at the woman and promptly sneezed. “Say goodbye to Ferdinand?”

“Oh, good gracious no,” said the woman, turning abruptly and exiting the condo. “Dreadful animal.”

Now alone in the house, Melody let herself relax. “Poor little thing. Anton’s her son, isn’t he? He must off at school.” She ran her fingers along a family photograph on the wall, one among many. A wife and husband and a son in his late teens, all sharply dressed and carefully posed. All the pictures looked roughly the same, all carefully postured – the parents looked stern and the boy wore a quirky half-smile, as though he constantly on the verge of a laugh. “I’d laugh too, boy, if I had to wear those clothes all the time.”

The cat sniffled and jumped out of her arms, and began grooming himself on the edge of the sofa. Melody busied herself first by opening every drape in the house and cracking a few windows. Light flooded in, and a cool breeze trickled through, dispelling the stillness in the air.

She gathered her bag of supplies. The condo was barely lived in; Melody wondered why on earth a family would need a maid when it was clear to her that no one ever touched anything. Still, a paycheck was a paycheck. And they had a nice cat.

She started in the kitchen, disinfecting countertops that looked like no one had even cooked on them, vacuuming immaculate floors. Only the furniture needed the slightest attention, and she cleaned off the residual fur with a lint brush and fluffed the pillows. The cat followed her, softly, from room to room – scattering whenever she turned on the vacuum or swept the broom, but returning quickly to her side when the dangerous appliance had been put away.

She was dusting the cabinetry, the cat perched in a windowsill, when she felt it – not quite something dangerous, but something unusual. A tingling crept up from the edges of her awareness. There was a shiver in the air, a dry crackle like all the moisture had suddenly been sucked away, and the atmosphere was trying to compensate for the vacuum. The cat hissed suddenly, and jumped down from the window, circling her leg and looking up at her anxiously. Melody looked out at the window, surprised. She was nine stories up – there couldn’t possibly be anything dangerous outside. Still, she crept toward the window like she anticipated something jumping out at her, and peered out into the street.

The street was as busy as expected. An afternoon in Newark: people milled about, but nothing out of the ordinary. Then she saw him, almost a shadow below her, dark skin and pale eyes, watching from across the street. Her blood ran cold as she stared down this dark figure, still against the constant motion of the city street. She did not know how this shadow could pick her out from a window ninety feet in the air, but she knew with absolute certainty that she was being watched. And even from that distance, she was somehow certain he was smiling.

She heard the cat skitter behind her; Ferdinand quickly hid under the sofa, somewhere out of sight.

Then the traffic lights changed color, the traffic began to move, and in an instant the shadow was gone. A shudder took her, racing up and down her spine. She exhaled involuntarily, and stepped back from the window, yanking the blinds closed behind her.

The cat butted up against her leg and she jumped, barely stifling a scream. Her pulse was racing. The cat mewed up at her curiously and she picked him up, absentmindedly petting his fur, trying to calm the electricity in her nerves.

The house she finished cleaning in absolute silence.

The bus ride home was cold and lonely, and Melody spent the hour reaching out to her surroundings with her mind, unable to shake the feeling that someone was following her – someone just beyond her reach.