--------------------
Kierana Nelson burst through the front door of her house, her lungs expanded, breathing hard. She jogged into the kitchen and grabbed a banana from the fruit bowl, all the while keeping her motion steady. Then, throwing in a few jumping jacks for good measure and to slow her heart down, she plopped onto one of the stools at the breakfast bar.
Then, she suddenly felt a draft coming from somewhere. Peering around the edge of the wall dividing the living room and the dining room/kitchen, she saw that the front door was open. Must have left it open. She got up to close it, but stopped when she saw the footprint. There on the carpet, in black mud so dark she knew it would never come out, was the print of a boot. She glanced down to be absolutely sure. She was wearing cross-trainers. And the boot mark was too big to be hers.
Had it been there when she entered? Or had the intruder since come into the house? She gazed at the stairs, and began to follow the lead of black footprints up the stairs. Whatever had happened, it was probably just a homeless person looking for a place to sleep. Except she couldn't make herself believe that.
Kierana's heart rate began to pulse higher again, her breathing becoming agitated and gasping. She reached into her pocket for her inhaler as she felt her airways close, but she couldn't seem to find it. Digging deeper, she wheezed her way up the stairs. Glancing behind her, she saw the orange and white container that carried the precious gases on the floor at the bottom of the stairs.
She swore quietly and continued her ascent. If she didn't go now, she would never have the courage or the breath to climb the stairs and see who was, or had been here.
Just as Kierana reached the top of the stairs and took her first step down the hallway, she heard a small pop. And right then, she knew. She knew who it was that had enough gall to enter her house without permission, and tromp upstairs in muddy boots. A person who habitually chewed nicotine gum and popped it annoyingly in people's ears.
Her half sister, Karen. The name seemed ill-fitting, as one that was normally assigned to a sweet, gentle person who was cautious but kind. As Kierana entered her bedroom, she took in first the black combat boots, muddied most of the way up, the fishnet tights, revealing toned calves and taut thighs. The red pleather skirt that barely covered ten inches of body. The matching painted-on top that reached two inches above Karen's navel.
Karen had a sneer on her heavily made-up face as Kierana, gasping, knelt on the floor in front of her. "I knew you would bow before me someday, sister," she hissed in her contralto voice. Her long black hair swayed seductively behind her head as she spoke. "I have come here to give you something."
Kierana laughed. "Give what?" she wheezed. "What could you…have that I would possibly…want?"
Karen reached into her leatherette purse and pulled out something small and silver. It was a cell phone, Kierana realized as her blurred vision snapped into focus for a second. Karen's inch-long crimson acrylic nails seemed like bloody talons as she held the phone out to her sister.
With trembling fingers, Kierana took it, leaning close enough toward her half sister that she caught the faintest scent of cigarettes. Suddenly, the tiny phone in her hand rang, startling her out of the reverie she had unconsciously drifted into. She had enough sense to press the accept call button and gasp "hello?" into the receiver.
"Kierana?" The voice that came through on the other end was heavily scarred by static, but she knew it well. It sent chills down her spine to hear it now. It was her husband's voice. "Kierana, it's me, Jack. Are you there?"
"This isn't possible," she began to sob to Karen, who had taken a few steps toward the door. "He's dead, I saw him myself!"
"Kierana!" Jack's voice cut through her hysteria, and she silenced her sobs for a moment. "I can't find a good way to say this, but it was necessary, honey. It was for your protection. Karen helped me."
"What?" She could hardly believe her ears. "Are you saying you …you staged your own death?"
"In a manner of speaking, yes." He replied calmly. "You know my missions were dangerous. I had found out that some men were searching for me. If I hadn't done what I did, they might have found you. I couldn't let that happen."
Kierana didn't reply; she simply wept into the phone. Tears and her asthma attack had blurred her vision beyond sight now.
Something hit the carpet beside her with a small plop. She reached instinctively for it, and found her inhaler resting in her palm. Karen stood in the doorway. "I've got to go," she rasped. "Gimme back my phone and I'll be gone."
"Kierana, I'm coming to see you. I'll be there as soon as I can. I am sure that the danger is past, or I wouldn't have sent Karen. She checked for signs of anything amiss before revealing what you needed to know."
Kierana inserted the inhaler into her mouth, pushing down the release tab and sending the chemicals into her airways. She coughed over the fumes, but managed to press the end call button and hand the phone to her half sister.
Karen turned toward the door and stopped. The rising sun left a reddish glow on her face as she focused on the east window. "Good to see you again, sis." And she was gone.
No comments:
Post a Comment