Where Eagles Have Been
Prologue
The sound of sirens was grew louder and louder. A girl, who couldn't have been any older than twenty, held a pistol against her chest. She took a deep breath, counting down the seconds.
"I'll never understand it."
"Understand what?" One of the young men asked.
"Why. Why we were made. Why we were made the way we were."
"It's not worth it. Worrying about it all." Another voice called from the narrow window. A spider was hanging in its corner unaware of the four visiting souls.
"I don't worry."
Silence seeped into the room. Her words were meant to silence anyone who would dare speak. After a long while the silence fled.
"Sometimes..." The girl began, unlocking the safety of the pistol.
Flashes of red and blue intruded into the dark room. But the faces inside were still protected by shadow.
"Sometimes...I wish I could."
"There's no smoking in here." The man said grumpily.
The girl lit the stick anyway, tucking it under her thin upper lip. With her hand free, she lowered her dark glasses ever so slightly so that they rested just above the tip of her nose.
"No please, or excuse me?" She replied in a smooth whisper, gazing at the man with sullen eyes. "Not very polite you know."
The man was much shorter than her; his pudgy face turned shades redder at her curt words. She cocked her head to one side, observing him. He reminded her greatly of a rotting tomato.
He began to blubber about the recently updated health acts or maybe it was something about common decency. Whatever his tomato mouth was spewing, the girl wasn't about to take it.
She pulled the cigarette out from her lips and dashed the ashes atop his balding head. That shut him up. He seemed to be speechless with rage and disbelief. The woman turned away from him, her eyes focusing on the blue sky outside. It was the sort of sky that only appeared after a long rain.
Luckily her stop was next. Hardly anyone occupied this train. After walking through the various cars she had specifically chosen this car because of its lack of people. There were four in total. A woman with far too many shopping bags and a glum smile plastered on her face. Two high-school students in matching busily texting on their phones while snacking on a shared pack of sugary candy. And the tomato-faced man who clearly wanted to stir trouble.
So she smoked on the subway. Who really gave a flying damn? She certainly wasn't annoying the other occupants of the car.
When the train slowed to a screechy stop, she shifted the weight of her messenger bag on her shoulder and exited the train. Dodging her way through throngs of lunch-time commuters, she puffed on her cigarette as she went.
Her apartment was only two blocks from the station. The complex was centered above a well-known gym. As she past the dozens of people who were sweating on treadmills and silently cursing their personal trainers, she dropped the cigarette carelessly onto the ground.
She pulled out her key which was attached to a small iron bird, a trinket key-chain that she had picked up at an aging tourist stand. It was the only key she owned. She had never owned a car or needed a key for her job.
However, when she reached the main door she found it already opened. Shrugging she stepped inside climbing the stairs with ease.
She had purposely picked an apartment on the topmost floor. She never liked the sound of people clompning up and down stairs. If she occupied the top floor, foot traffic would be exclusive to the three other people who occupied the three other studio apartments on the fifth floor.
"Hello ma'am,"
She had reached the top of the stairs. Her eyes swerved to the left. A man stood in the doorway of number 3 the apartment that stood across from her own. However, it wasn't the idiot who took residence in the number 3 apartment. This man was much stouter and wore a worn-in suit. Another man stood just outside the door, but he had his back to her.
She removed her glasses, black brown eyes. They reflected dark wood that had been recently soaked through by an angering storm.
"Yes?" Her voice was pleasant enough. She sounded truthfully interested in the man that stood in the doorway. Her eyes met his evenly, but the lack of light in them put him on edge.
"You are Rosa Valdez are you not? You live here in apartment number 24?" He asked, trying to sound casual.
The young woman smiled kindly and nodded. "I am."
She stuck out her hand and waited for the man to shake it. He did so, rather hesitantly. The other man, who seemed a bit more personable, shook her hand with more force.
She then turned towards her own door, as if the questioning had ended. She flipped open her bag and began digging through its contents.
"Excuse me miss?"
"Call me Rosa." She said airily, still rummaging through the bag.
"Ms. Valdez," the man said stonily. "Did you know your neighbor, a Mr.-"
"Shinichiro." She said, turning towards the man once more. "Shinichiro Izumi?"
"Yes." He affirmed, stepping out of the doorway. A string of policemen were now visible inside the cramped apartment.
Rosa could not help but to look around. "Has...something happened?"
"No need to worry yourself, Rosa. Mr. Izumi has been charged with three counts of embezzlement. He wasn't a violent psychopath or anything like that" The other man said, grinning. His scrappy orange hair bounced as he talked.
The young woman blinked, the crease of anxiety in her brow disappearing. "Oh, I see."
"Did you have any sort of interaction with Mr. Izumi?"
Rosa nodded, her search for her key momentarily abandoned. "I only saw Shinichiro in the mornings. We left for work at the same hour. My job keeps me late, so the morning was really the only time I saw him."
Both men looked rather disappointed, but gave the Rosa polite grins.
The larger one nodded. "Thank you for your time. If you think of anything else, any suspicious activity, do not hesitate to give me a call."
He handed her a common business card and re-entered the apartment shutting the door behind him.
Rosa glanced at the paper. Saito 62-555-4374
She spun around once more and reached into her bag. She slipped the key out and pressed them into the lock. Turning them once, the door opened with a small click. She entered the apartment letting the card slide from her hand and hit the ground without so much as a sound.
The studio was small and had little natural light. In the shadowy apartment, a red light was flashing: her answering machine. Without bothering to turn on any lights, she pulled her lighter out of her pocket and hit the button. As a mechanical voice relayed the date and time the message was left, Rosa sank onto her couch lighting a new cigarette and leaning her head back against the cool leather.
"It's Shinichiro. Look Rosa, I know what you're thinking. But this wasn't about Midori. I-I have to leave now. With any luck I'll be out of the country by five. So don't miss me." There was a click and a beep and the voice cut out.
"Unlikely." She mused to herself, fingers searching lazily for the remote control.
She flipped on the television and flashing lights swirled inside the apartment. She clicked through each major station and listened to the five o' clock news. Not one of the prettily dressed anchor women mentioned anything about any embezzlers being arrested that day.
She had always harbored dislike for Shinichiro Izumi. He was a fool who relied on his so-called emotions to direct all of his decisions.
Every morning he would insist on starting inane conversations about the weather or the young woman he was infatuated with: A waitress named Midori.
It seemed as though he was under the impression that they were 'friends.'
Above all, he was a lousy excuse for a contractor. She had lived next to him for over a year and he was always trying to speak to her about their contracts. He only knew she was a contractor because of his power. Shinichiro could read minds.
It was a handy contract with a fairly easy price to pay, but he still managed to get caught by the Tokyo Police Force.
Smoke filled the room as she fingered the stick, rolling it slowly between her index finger and her thumb. She could no more feel it than she felt loss for the neighbor across the street. She felt nothing.
"I'm like a doll..."
But the darkness did not perk his ears to hear.
AN: I am a total, drop-dead sucker for reviews. I would love to hear from you! In the mean time, thank you for taking the time to read! I promise the characters you know and love will be in the next chapter!