Rainfall

A side story.

I know…I should be writing the next chapter of Crazy Persons Diary, but I had to share this short story. The genre is like a thriller/romance, something I have never tried before and I enjoyed it immensely. I hope you enjoy this short story as well, a small drama to wet your palate.

The morning mist swirled around the telephone poles, the road was silent as stone, and the cold asphalt sank into the soles of my shoes.

 I looked behind me as I carefully walked up the street, pulling my long black coat around me and letting my midnight hair slide down my back.

 Maybe this was disguise enough.

 I turned down the road to my old house, hardly knowing why I was doing it.

 I stood before the blackened ruin, swathed in caution tape as smatterings of rain fell.

 Are you mad?

 What are you doing here?

 I paused at the tape, then pushed it up and slid underneath.

What is the worst that could happen?

I knew the answer to that.

I scuffed my shoe in the rubble piles at the wreck’s edge.

So this is it.

I lifted my face to the gray sky and let the raindrops trickle down my face, beading in my eyelashes. The rain seemed to taunt me from the cloudy morning heavens, so free.

You are trying to escape the fact that you are considered dead.

No.

I looked back over the ruin.

This is all a play, but I don’t know my lines. I pretend to be dead, yet here I am.

A faint smile hovered over my lips.

A ghost.

A hand descended on my shoulder, and I froze.

It was not meant to end this way.

I turned slowly toward the hand.

A man dressed in a black sweatshirt with a black scarf tied around his face stared back at me.

I didn’t speak a word. The rain came down harder, drenching my clothes, but still, he didn’t move.

He was staring at me.

There was a question in that look he gave me.

Why?

I gathered up my courage and spoke, “Who are you?”

He blinked, then straightened up and reached into his pocket.

I stiffened, preparing to defend myself. Though, in the back of my mind, a thin trickle of doubt ran through my flood of fear.

Who is this?

He looked up again and handed me a small piece of paper.

I looked up, straight into his eyes.

They were a dazzling blue, glistening as the rain falling from the sky had reflected in them.

Why do I feel like I know you?

I grasped the paper, and he looked away, slid under the tape… and was gone.

The rain came down in sheets, blurring my vision. Water dripped off my hair and rolled down the tip of my nose.

I looked down at the folded piece of paper and stared at it.

My fingers were shaking.

I had never been surprised like that, ever.

What has gotten into me?

I opened it and stared at the words scrawled on it.

Who will look for the one who is gone?

Who will look for me if I disappear?

Are you looking for me?

Am I looking for you?

I folded the paper back up and pushed it into my pocket.

I was looking for him.

* * *

I stood shamelessly under the spluttering lights.

My wet hair left little puddles on the concrete floor, and my sopping shoes squeaked accusingly as I shifted my weight from one leg to the other.

“I hope that you were following a very important lead.” Vincent, my bodyguard, said quietly.

I stared back at him.

Vincent glanced down at my shoes.

“Why Jesse?” he said, his voice echoing in the small room.  “The agency wants people who stick to their cases and protocol.”

I felt my hands ball into fists, crumpling the paper.

“I had to.”

His eyes bored into me. “What did you see?”

I handed him the paper silently.

He unrolled it and read the cryptic message.

He looked back up at me.

“What is this?”

I smiled, feeling officially crazy. “I don’t know who he is.”

Vincent handed the paper back to me. “You are investigating the murder of a young girl. Your death was faked to ensure your safety from her murderers.” He shook his head, “you cannot blow your cover. Not now.”

I nodded, “of course.”

* * *

Piles of papers surrounded me. I stared at a document, my eyes blurring the lines of print together.

Shaylee Houston, age twelve, blonde hair, blue eyes, was found dead on the side of a country road.

Killers are suspected to be part of a lethal gang of bandits.

I threw down the stack of files and massaged my temples.

I reached across the table and picked up a mug of day-old coffee. Staring blankly at the watery coffee, I took a sip, grimaced, and set it aside.

The corner of the list caught my eye.

I tugged the paper out and read the opening lines.

Relatives of Shaylee Houston: Nick Houston, Joanna Houston, Jarred Kenon, Heather Seva, Ryan Karn…

I stared at the wall in front of me.

Ryan Karn…now, why do I know that name?

I scrabbled for my computer, found the Google search bar, and typed in… Ryan Karn.

His picture popped up, and I froze in my seat.

It was a poorly taken picture. He was looking away from the camera, and his smile was self-conscious, but his eyes… were glistening blue, like a piece of a rainy sky.

I took my hand off the mouse and leaned back in my chair.

How was he connected?

How do I know him?

His face was vaguely familiar. Like a vision, a memory.

I read down the lines of his description.

I paused where it listed where he lived.

He lives on my street… where my house was.

I glanced at the address, jumped out of my chair, and grabbed my coat.

Vicent started in his chair as I raced past him.

“Where are you going?” He shouted after me.

“I have a lead,” I said and ran outside.

* * *

The doorbell echoed inside the house.

Turning up my collar, I glanced behind me and quickly checked my surroundings.

I was foolish. People were trying to trace me, but I needed to follow this. There was something so…so familiar about his eyes, his words.

The door opened inward, and a middle-aged lady peered out at me.

“Yes?” she asked, casting a curious glance over me.

“May I come in?” I asked, quickly showing her my badge with my alias: Katrina Durpow.

Her eyes widened, and she opened the door wider, “Yes, of course.”

I stepped in.

The front entryway was painted in a sun-faded yellow, its color looking drab in the poor lighting. A ragged carpet staircase was in one corner, and a small table with a dying plant drooping in the shadows.

A stale, dusty feeling was in the air.

I turned to the lady and smiled reassuringly. “I am looking for a young man named Ryan Karn. Does he live here?”

The lady twisted her stained t-shirt in her hands. “Yes,” she said, “but he has been out for a few days. I have been worried about him. I am his mother.”

I nodded, “Do you have any ideas about where he might be?”

“No,” she said, “which is why I am worried. It is not like him.”

I saw a shadow flit past the front window. I squinted and blinked.

“Do you know the Houston’s?” I asked.

Her eyes flicked away from mine quickly. “I am not sure.”

My jaw tightened, “Thank you for your time, Mrs. Karn.”

She nodded and opened the door for me, “Come back any time.”

I looked at her gray eyes and saw fear roiling below the surface.

I smiled wryly, “Of course.”

As the door shut, I felt two hands grip my neck.

I grabbed one hand, twisted it back into an armbar, and slid my elbow around his neck in a pro choke.

“Nice try,” I hissed into his ear.

My captive gave a low chuckle.

“Look behind you, girly, “ he said, his voice grated on my ears like broken glass.

A cold chill slipped down my spine.

A blade pressed into my back.

“Drop him.”

I replaced him and let him collapse, gasping for air. I raised my hands and slowly turned.

Six men wearing dark hoodies and full-face masks were facing me; as I turned, they stepped up to me and held their knives to my throat.

The deadly mesh of steel encircled me completely.

I was trapped.

I smiled grimly.

The man who had grabbed me at first came up behind me and placed his respective knife against the back of my neck.

“I should have started with this,” he wheezed.

I closed my eyes. “What do you want?”

The man whispered into my ear, his voice making me suppress a shudder.

“You. You are on our trail, and it is about time that you stop.”

“You don’t want another murder on your record.”

“Oh yes…I do.”

I could feel the knives cutting into my skin, I winced.

A bag was jammed over my head, and everything went black.

* * *

It was raining again.

The clouds were pouring out their troubles on the earth.

I was sitting, tied to a tree, with my hands duct taped at the base of the trunk. The bark had scraped the skin off my arms, and now the rain was washing the wounds, making them sting.

I leaned my head against the tree and sighed.

How did I get into this?

I am foolish, foolish, and naive.

A knife buried itself in the wood next to me.

I turned and saw a black shadow slip from the bushes behind my tree and half crawl towards me.

His face was hidden from me, but he grabbed the knife and, at the same time, pressed a hand over my mouth.

I struggled, my bonds unyielding.

He saw the fear in my eyes and turned away, cutting through my bonds in a few quick sawing motions. He grabbed my hand and dragged me into the bush.

I pried his fingers off my hand.

He turned to me.

I ran forward and swept him to the ground, turning his still-open knife to his throat. I stared down at him.

The rain poured down.

He stared up at me, his hoody falling back to reveal his eyes.

I dropped the knife and staggered back.

He got up slowly and brushed the mud off his soaked cargo pants.

He looked up at me and reached up, pulling the bandanna off his face.

I felt tears spill over my cheeks, mingling with the rain.

“Ryan?” I whispered.

“You know my name, Jesse?” He asked softly.

I nodded.

He reached out and brushed my skinned arms.

“I am sorry that I could not come sooner.”

I shook my head.

A small smile spread across his face.

“You were looking for me.”

I pulled the paper out of my pocket and handed it to him.

He stared at it.

“I thought that you were dead.”

“I never thought that someone cared for me.”

His head shot up, his eyes burning.

“I would have never stopped searching. Once I realized that I had lost you…I…something both died and awoke in me.”

“And now?”

He smiled, throwing the paper to the ground.

“I found you.”

Rain poured down.

Drops of diamonds, gleaming splinters of the sky.

All of them reflected in his eyes.

And I had found him.

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