Phantoms

Chapter 3 Confrontation

God he was tired. He wanted to sleep. Why wouldn't they just let him rest!

He looked around, watching as though he weren't in the middle of this. There were people everywhere, each wearing a long white coat. Wires protruded from all fields of his vision, many attached to him. The people were all running about, yelling various things to one another and being answered in similar form. He didn't really hear what they were saying, he didn't really care. He was just tired and they wouldn't let him rest. He willed himself to slip, to fall into blissful sleep…

The sharp electric shock was not exactly what he'd planned. It jolted his being back to awareness with frightening speed. There was more surprise than pain, the shock being just enough to get his attention. He tried to find his voice, to tell them to leave him alone, but couldn't seem to find the connection. He paused; perplexed with the fact that it wasn't working seeing as he'd never had trouble with it before. Curious, he tried to focus on all of the activities around him. There was an insistent beeping that started soon after, just about the time he felt exhaustion hit him full force. More yelling; followed by more scurried movements. There was a name called…his? Someone else? Both? He wasn't sure anymore.

He was so tired now, barely able to keep his mind aware of anything. He was slipping again, welcoming the chance at rest…

Another jolt, this one stronger than the last, he ignored it. There was a third, again, stronger than the last, still it was ignored. The fourth did not react in the same manner. It was no stronger than the last but it did not merely shock and then leave. No, it stayed, persistent in its form. Grudgingly, he pulled himself back up again, his focus wavering. There was more yelling but it sounded different…it sounded angry, in pain. And very familiar. He tried to pull himself up further, wanting to figure out who the voice belonged to.

It was a female…she was yelling at one of the men in the white coats. He couldn't understand what she was saying only that she was thoroughly mad. Something beeped and the two stopped their screaming to look in the machine's direction. The electrical shock had stopped. The girl inhaled a sharp breath and disappeared from his view. He scanned, trying to find her, ignoring the strain that it put on his exhausted self…but suddenly, she was there, with him. He heard her talking, her tone inflicted with something that he couldn't place. Her words were meaningless, he couldn't understand them now, but her tone was soothing. He fought the dark state of rest to simply listen to the voice. All other things were lost and his attention became focused on that single sound. He never heard when the machines stopped their constant beeping, never saw the others in the white jackets stop running and begin to stare, and he didn't care.

He woke slowly, his mind confused with the images that had just gone through it. He didn't remember this per say, but he remembered it at the same time. It didn't make any sense and it wasn't the first time this had happened. Reflexively, he scanned the area, noting nothing out of place. He was restless again, feeling the deep desire to move, to drive. There wasn't a second thought when the engine fired up, the transmission shifted and the tail lights disappeared out of the alleyway.

The daylight filtered through the dirty window of her little 'home'. Nacoma hastily readied herself for the day. She looked at her torn shirt in disdain. It was the only one she'd had left that was wearable. The shirt had to be worn anyway and she pulled it over her head. She grimaced as the material brushed against her bruised and swollen cheek. There was definitely going to be some explaining to Mario. Her mind toyed with the thought of going by Mama's for some ointment, and certainly a new shirt. She pulled the baggie of money out of her sleeping bag, stuffing it in her pocket and stood, giving herself a quick once over in the busted mirror. Her face looked like crap and the shirt was completely trashed. She shook her head, quickly pulling her hair into its standard pony tail and made for the door, Ram waiting inside for her return.

The streets were busy this morning. It was a Saturday and was to be expected but it still annoyed him to no end. That was something that always bothered him; he never liked to feel trapped in any way. Perhaps that's why he was constantly on the move from city to city. He scanned his maps, looking for a faster way to move. He didn't really have a planned destination in mind, just felt the urge to drive…anywhere. Having satisfactorily found an alternate route, the truck inched ahead until it came to yet another alley. He mused at that for a moment. This city seemed filled with these alleys, easy shortcuts throughout the city, but were usually deserted. The previous days activities resurfaced in his mind and he had an understanding on why. He turned down the alley and onto the next street. This one was not quite as busy as the last and made it easy for him to move. His path continued in such a manner, moving along on one street for a while before ducking into an alley and taking another route.

Nacoma walked through the crowded streets, trying to stick to the shadows of buildings to conceal her bruise. There were a lot of cops about and she didn't want to be asked a bunch of questions she wasn't sure how to answer. Oh sure, the drunken would-be rapists was the easy part but how to explain a massive black truck that appeared out of no where to save her butt? She shook her head at the thought and rounded the corner next to Mama's. Her eyes glanced at the curb, the one where she'd first seen the vehicle but no one was there now. A sigh escaped her as she entered Mama's store. She expected to hear Mama's ranting and raving once she got a good look at Nacoma's face but what she didn't expect was to find Mama on the floor, bleeding. Mama's eyes stared lifelessly at a nearby rack of potato chips. She held fast, her breath caught in her throat, her limbs frozen and shaking. That was when she heard it, the noises coming from the back office. Nacoma tried to shake herself out of the vision before her, tried to get her limbs moving. She had to find help, call the police, something! Her limbs refused to obey her, her eyes still locked on the prone woman at her feet. The noises got louder, voices could be heard and then someone emerged from the back office and looked directly at her. She saw the person, the mask that obscured the vision of their face. She saw the person's eyes widen with a sudden surprise at there being someone else in the store. Then she saw them reach for the gun and finally her body responded.

She bolted backwards and spun, running for the door and out into the streets. Nacoma ran as one possessed. She didn't look to see if she was being followed, only ran to get away from that terrible scene. Her path took her many directions, cutting through alleys and cross streets. She ran until her breathing came harsh and ragged before finally stopping next to a dumpster. There were tears that went unheeded down her face, the warm wetness doing nothing to quell the cold inside her. She felt like a coward, running away when Mama needed her help. She kept gasping, trying to regain her air. Her mind calculated how far she'd come before telling her that she'd run over a mile at full speed. Muscles burned and her head swum, the lack of oxygen pulling hard on both. Her face hurt and she could feel her rapid pulse in the bruise.

Finally, she regained enough air to begin moving again. She started to go see Mario. She had to tell him what she saw so Mama could be avenged. Nacoma began walking, sticking closer to the shadows than ever before until she reached Mario's Garage. She ran through the bays and opened Mario's door, forcefully closing it behind her. Mario stood quickly and crossed the distance. "Nacoma, chica…what are you doing? Are you okay?" he asked, placing his hands on her shoulders and looking at her. "What happened to you?" She worked on calming her breathing again, ignoring the fresh tears sliding down her cheeks. "Mario…I saw 'em…" he huffed out. "Saw who?" he encouraged.

"They shot Mama…Mario, they shot her…" she managed.

Mario's face faltered. His eyes changed.

"What do you mean they shot Mama?" he asked.

"I went to Mama's this morning…she was on the floor…she's dead, Mario! Then the guy came out of the back office and he had a gun, and…"

Mario closed his eyes tightly. "Chica, I need you to tell me. Did you see the guy with the gun?"

She shook her head, "No, he was wearin' a mask. I did see a ring though…"

His eyes opened again. "What kind of ring?"

"I don't know. Flashy I guess. Shaped kinda funny, like a star."

"And this guy saw you?" he asked.

She merely nodded in response. Mario heaved out a shaky sigh. "Okay, here's what you need to do. Get out of town. Run as far away as you can."

"But Mama…" she started.

Mario got a firmer grasp on her shoulders. "I'll worry about that. Listen to me. If you listen to nothing else I say listen to this. Stay away from the Star, okay? That ring means bad business and I don't wanna see you hurt, okay chica? Promise me."

"I don't understand, Mario…"

"I know. Just promise me."

The look in his eyes was so intense she couldn't help but nod her head. Mario visibly relaxed and took a good look at her face and shirt. "Who did this to ya?" he half asked himself. "Drunks last night." She saw his face grow fierce again. "No, they didn't do nothing like that. They tried but someone helped me."

He seemed to take her story with some disbelief but said nothing else about it. Instead he pulled an extra first aid kit from his desk and a clean shirt from his locker. "Take this stuff, go get Ram and get outta here before they find you. And thank you for comin' to tell me about Mama, chica. Be careful, okay?" he asked. She nodded mutely, her mind realizing that this could very well be the last time she saw her friend. Without further thought she threw her arms around his neck, hugging him fiercely. "I'm sorry, Mario. I'll be careful." Quickly she disengaged the hug and walked out the office, intent on following Mario's advice no matter how confused and scared she was. As she rounded the block she saw Tina, Mario's sister, standing talking with a small group of people. There was a car there as well and the name on the side of the door made her freeze in her tracks. It said "Child Services". Tina was talking to child services? About who?

About that time, Tina turned and saw the brunette standing there watching. "There she is!" she exclaimed. This seemed to prompt the men into action and they started advancing towards Nacoma. Betrayal was a fierce feeling, especially when it's from someone you considered a friend. And betrayal was exactly what Nacoma felt right now. She took off running, again straining her tired muscles into action. This time though, she knew she was being followed, and closely. She pulled out every trick and shortcut she knew, just trying to stay ahead of her chasers. They were close now; she could hear their breathing just a few feet behind her. Her legs burned with effort, her breathing came in ragged gasps. Caution was thrown to the wind as a survival instinct took over her body. She crossed streets, unchecked traffic slamming on brakes to miss hitting her. She made it across long before the more cautious pursuers and half way through the next alley before they made it to the other side of the street. Tired legs carried her still but faltered at the edge of the next street, sending her sprawling into the lane.

Only one noise filled her ears then, the sound of screeching brakes. She closed her eyes, waiting for the inevitable impact but it never came. Cautiously she opened her eyes, and was staring directly at a pitch black bumper of a truck. The exhaust grumbled noisily, the smell of burnt rubber mingling in with the diesel fumes. Her eyes widened. It was the same truck from yesterday! She swallowed, trying to dampen her dry throat and moved to say something when the shouts from the alley reminded her that she was being chased. Nervously she glanced at the alley mouth and stood, casting one more glance to the truck before bolting yet again down another alley. Not but a few seconds later, the men followed, none of which even paid a momentary glance at the vehicle. The truck moved then, tires peeling against the ground as it shot forward and turned another block down.

Nacoma was exhausted. She felt she would pass out if she didn't stop running. The men were still behind her as she rounded another corner, nearly colliding with a very solid body. The truck sat there, engine running idly. She stopped and gaped as the passenger door opened and a male voice called "Get in." Normally, she wouldn't do the whole getting into the car with strangers thing but given circumstances…

She quickly entered the truck, pulling the door closed as it pulled away from the curb.