was why she was still there. Why was she being made to hover, to watch as he tried to resuscitate her lifeless body?
She could hear him calling her name as he pounded on her chest. “Come on, Bladen, breathe.” He began compressions, trying to keep the blood flowing to her brain. “I’m not done with you yet. Come on.” He stopped compressions and blew air into her lungs, then resumed pumping on her chest. His words were clipped as he pumped her heart, urging it to start again. “Come on! You’ve got—some fight—left in—you. That’s why—I picked you. I knew—you would—fight. Come—on!”
“Bladen,” a man’s voice said softly.
Bladen turned her head from side to side, trying to find the source. That’s when she saw the bright white light. It was so beautiful, Bladen wanted to rush toward it, but the silhouette of a man appeared between her and the light. As he came toward her, his features became clear. He was tall with a head full of curly, reddish-brown hair and a beard to match. His green eyes were penetrating. Bladen had the sense that she knew him, but could not place his familiar face.
“Are you here to take me to the light?” she asked.
“It’s not your time, Bladen. You have to go back.”
Bladen looked down at her body, with her murderer still trying to revive it. The thought of going back there sent her into a panic.
“Please, don’t make me go back. He’s going to kill me anyway. Don’t make me suffer more. Just take me now.”
“Have faith, Bladen,” the man said, as his image began to dissipate like fog clearing under the warmth of the sun. Just before he vanished completely, he said, “Don’t give up. They’re coming for you.”
Bladen screamed at the man who was now only a mist, “It’s too late. Don’t you see? It’s too late. Please, God, don’t leave me here.”
#
Rainey sat at the desk in her office sending emails, her hair still damp, but clean and pulled back in a loose ponytail to dry. If she left it free, the curls would expand into a frizzy mess. The thought of doing a Halle Berry on her hair had crossed her mind. Mostly, when one of the kids had a handful between fat little fingers, apparently having lost the motor skills to unfold the tightly clinched fist. If Katie said, “No,” it was received with coos and appropriate responses. If Rainey told the triplets, “No,” it was a mere momentary distraction and whatever activity they were involved in would immediately resume, until she physically removed the phone from a mouth, took away the shredded book, or rescued the cat.
Freddie Krueger, Rainey’s bobbed tail black cat, could identify with her on the triplets’ penchant for hair pulling. He had adjusted to the move and the babies fairly well. He roamed the large lot, mostly staying in his yard behind the high-security fence, but was known to head down to the lake from time to time. Rainey knew this from the variety of dead things he left in the garage, where his doggie-door entrance was located. Rainey tried to keep him in at night, and often found him curled up on the floor outside the triplets’ nursery door. She was not sure if he was protecting them, or plotting his revenge for the handfuls of fur forcefully removed from his coat. Just in case it was the latter, he was not allowed in their room unsupervised. They installed a screened door over the babies’ room doorway, covered in plastic-coated hardware cloth strong enough to keep Freddie out and the babies in. That way, the solid wooden door could remain open. Sightlines and hearing were important, with three clever children and an equally cunning feline.
Family life had changed Rainey and Freddie, but they both seemed to be doing well. Rainey never knew she could love something as much as she loved those babies. They seemed to find her amusing and instinctively knew she was the weaker of the two adults. They pulled all their best stunts when she was the one watching them, but
She could hear him calling her name as he pounded on her chest. “Come on, Bladen, breathe.” He began compressions, trying to keep the blood flowing to her brain. “I’m not done with you yet. Come on.” He stopped compressions and blew air into her lungs, then resumed pumping on her chest. His words were clipped as he pumped her heart, urging it to start again. “Come on! You’ve got—some fight—left in—you. That’s why—I picked you. I knew—you would—fight. Come—on!”
“Bladen,” a man’s voice said softly.
Bladen turned her head from side to side, trying to find the source. That’s when she saw the bright white light. It was so beautiful, Bladen wanted to rush toward it, but the silhouette of a man appeared between her and the light. As he came toward her, his features became clear. He was tall with a head full of curly, reddish-brown hair and a beard to match. His green eyes were penetrating. Bladen had the sense that she knew him, but could not place his familiar face.
“Are you here to take me to the light?” she asked.
“It’s not your time, Bladen. You have to go back.”
Bladen looked down at her body, with her murderer still trying to revive it. The thought of going back there sent her into a panic.
“Please, don’t make me go back. He’s going to kill me anyway. Don’t make me suffer more. Just take me now.”
“Have faith, Bladen,” the man said, as his image began to dissipate like fog clearing under the warmth of the sun. Just before he vanished completely, he said, “Don’t give up. They’re coming for you.”
Bladen screamed at the man who was now only a mist, “It’s too late. Don’t you see? It’s too late. Please, God, don’t leave me here.”
#
Rainey sat at the desk in her office sending emails, her hair still damp, but clean and pulled back in a loose ponytail to dry. If she left it free, the curls would expand into a frizzy mess. The thought of doing a Halle Berry on her hair had crossed her mind. Mostly, when one of the kids had a handful between fat little fingers, apparently having lost the motor skills to unfold the tightly clinched fist. If Katie said, “No,” it was received with coos and appropriate responses. If Rainey told the triplets, “No,” it was a mere momentary distraction and whatever activity they were involved in would immediately resume, until she physically removed the phone from a mouth, took away the shredded book, or rescued the cat.
Freddie Krueger, Rainey’s bobbed tail black cat, could identify with her on the triplets’ penchant for hair pulling. He had adjusted to the move and the babies fairly well. He roamed the large lot, mostly staying in his yard behind the high-security fence, but was known to head down to the lake from time to time. Rainey knew this from the variety of dead things he left in the garage, where his doggie-door entrance was located. Rainey tried to keep him in at night, and often found him curled up on the floor outside the triplets’ nursery door. She was not sure if he was protecting them, or plotting his revenge for the handfuls of fur forcefully removed from his coat. Just in case it was the latter, he was not allowed in their room unsupervised. They installed a screened door over the babies’ room doorway, covered in plastic-coated hardware cloth strong enough to keep Freddie out and the babies in. That way, the solid wooden door could remain open. Sightlines and hearing were important, with three clever children and an equally cunning feline.
Family life had changed Rainey and Freddie, but they both seemed to be doing well. Rainey never knew she could love something as much as she loved those babies. They seemed to find her amusing and instinctively knew she was the weaker of the two adults. They pulled all their best stunts when she was the one watching them, but
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