another shot later. Right now, he
would like to focus on something else. Those dreams. Yeah, on those amazingly
vivid dreams.
Frank had been having bizarre dreams while he was in a
coma. When he regained his consciousness, he did not remember their contents.
As a matter of fact, he was not even sure he’d had any dreams at all.
Very hard. Really damn hard! It was so hard to open his
eyes. To unglue his eyelids, which, as he had begun to suspect, must have been
sewn together, otherwise how could one explain the fact that he had been trying
to put them in motion for ten minutes now (or maybe ten days), and they had not
budged one bit?
Then two flashes of recollection lit up his mind.
First, Frank remembered that there was a steel-plated safe holding a body the
one-legged man’s people would love to get back. He had no clue where he’d
hidden it. Within seconds, this memory disappeared into the ether.
The second flash was one of those strange dreams.
Frank remembered seeing a man who stood by the bathroom
door, collecting his thoughts. The man clasped a nine-inch long knife in his
right hand, but Frank knew he was nursing a hope that he would not have to use
it. Strangle... He would prefer to strangle her.
Frank could also see a woman in the bathroom. She was
in the shower cabin, carefully rubbing soap on her shoulders, forearms, and
breasts, firm jets of hot water massaging her back, her hands sliding smoothly
on the soft lather. The man wrapped his fingers around the knob, turned and
pulled it, swore at himself—this door opens inward, idiot!—and then began
pushing the door slowly until the gap became wide enough for him to see the
woman.
The woman’s progress was easy to observe since the
bathroom fans had been doing a great job of venting most of the steam out. The
man asked himself if he should wait until she finished showering. The answer
was no.
The woman turned around towards the showerhead and remained
in this position for a while as the water rinsed the front of her body. Then
she grabbed the shampoo bottle and squeezed some of its contents into her palm.
She seemed preoccupied with the task at hand and would have hardly noticed if
someone had sneaked into the room, especially with all that mist on the shower
door. After gently lathering the top of her hair, the woman poured more shampoo
into her palm and applied it to her hair in the back.
The man gathered his courage and finally stepped over the
threshold. He quickly shut the door behind him so as to prevent the draft of
cold air from breaking into the bathroom and thus alerting the woman. Frank
still couldn’t discern both the man’s and the woman’s faces—they were the only
blurry spots in this vivid dream—but at the same time he had a feeling he knew
these people very well. The man stood mere feet away from the shower cabin,
watching his target massage the shampoo into her scalp. He was excited she
didn’t see him enter the room. Lucky for him, the woman usually closed her eyes
when lathering up her hair, which meant he had the surprise factor on his side,
just like he’d hoped. Now there was a chance he wouldn’t have to hear her
ear-piercing scream after all.
With a pleased smile, the woman breathed in the hot
steam, letting it warm up her nasal passage and lungs, as her hands slowly
moved from her forehead to the back of her head, her fingers digging into the
shampoo foam in circular motions. She obviously enjoyed taking shower.
Hiding the knife behind his back, the man made the
first step towards the cabin. Through the water jet noise, he heard the woman
start humming some tune, and he froze for a second to shake off the momentary
doubt that he would be unable to yank that bitch out and accomplish what he had
planned. She’d better shut up and quit distracting him! He inhaled through his
nose and exhaled through his mouth and quickly calmed down.
The tune reproduced by the woman was Dancing Queen by
ABBA. Like millions of
would like to focus on something else. Those dreams. Yeah, on those amazingly
vivid dreams.
Frank had been having bizarre dreams while he was in a
coma. When he regained his consciousness, he did not remember their contents.
As a matter of fact, he was not even sure he’d had any dreams at all.
Very hard. Really damn hard! It was so hard to open his
eyes. To unglue his eyelids, which, as he had begun to suspect, must have been
sewn together, otherwise how could one explain the fact that he had been trying
to put them in motion for ten minutes now (or maybe ten days), and they had not
budged one bit?
Then two flashes of recollection lit up his mind.
First, Frank remembered that there was a steel-plated safe holding a body the
one-legged man’s people would love to get back. He had no clue where he’d
hidden it. Within seconds, this memory disappeared into the ether.
The second flash was one of those strange dreams.
Frank remembered seeing a man who stood by the bathroom
door, collecting his thoughts. The man clasped a nine-inch long knife in his
right hand, but Frank knew he was nursing a hope that he would not have to use
it. Strangle... He would prefer to strangle her.
Frank could also see a woman in the bathroom. She was
in the shower cabin, carefully rubbing soap on her shoulders, forearms, and
breasts, firm jets of hot water massaging her back, her hands sliding smoothly
on the soft lather. The man wrapped his fingers around the knob, turned and
pulled it, swore at himself—this door opens inward, idiot!—and then began
pushing the door slowly until the gap became wide enough for him to see the
woman.
The woman’s progress was easy to observe since the
bathroom fans had been doing a great job of venting most of the steam out. The
man asked himself if he should wait until she finished showering. The answer
was no.
The woman turned around towards the showerhead and remained
in this position for a while as the water rinsed the front of her body. Then
she grabbed the shampoo bottle and squeezed some of its contents into her palm.
She seemed preoccupied with the task at hand and would have hardly noticed if
someone had sneaked into the room, especially with all that mist on the shower
door. After gently lathering the top of her hair, the woman poured more shampoo
into her palm and applied it to her hair in the back.
The man gathered his courage and finally stepped over the
threshold. He quickly shut the door behind him so as to prevent the draft of
cold air from breaking into the bathroom and thus alerting the woman. Frank
still couldn’t discern both the man’s and the woman’s faces—they were the only
blurry spots in this vivid dream—but at the same time he had a feeling he knew
these people very well. The man stood mere feet away from the shower cabin,
watching his target massage the shampoo into her scalp. He was excited she
didn’t see him enter the room. Lucky for him, the woman usually closed her eyes
when lathering up her hair, which meant he had the surprise factor on his side,
just like he’d hoped. Now there was a chance he wouldn’t have to hear her
ear-piercing scream after all.
With a pleased smile, the woman breathed in the hot
steam, letting it warm up her nasal passage and lungs, as her hands slowly
moved from her forehead to the back of her head, her fingers digging into the
shampoo foam in circular motions. She obviously enjoyed taking shower.
Hiding the knife behind his back, the man made the
first step towards the cabin. Through the water jet noise, he heard the woman
start humming some tune, and he froze for a second to shake off the momentary
doubt that he would be unable to yank that bitch out and accomplish what he had
planned. She’d better shut up and quit distracting him! He inhaled through his
nose and exhaled through his mouth and quickly calmed down.
The tune reproduced by the woman was Dancing Queen by
ABBA. Like millions of
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