Eyes of Time - 4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Pursuit

Instead of resuming its regular beating pattern, my heart started to race erratically fast. In a symphony only measured by the speed at which my thoughts gain voice inside my head. This is a paradox I can’t possible force myself to comprehend. How can those beautiful clear eyes, that I know can gain such a caring quality to them, possibly star in the same horror movie as that steel harsh person, the one than made my life this nightmare?

What is the meaning of this? Did he try to kill me in the first place? Wasn’t it an accident after all? My mind is reeling from all the effort to put all the pieces together, convey them into some meaningful sense. But then why the initial soft touch? The one before the vacant expression phone call? Only now do I realise how I had come to label those events in my head, how deeply present those precious seconds had somehow become to me.

But I don’t have time to analyse them now, because climbing those stairs right now is my impending doom. How poetic. Sarcasm seems the only tool left for me to cope with what thoughts my brain can’t deal with at the moment.

There has passed a split second since I first saw them, and all these things had started overwhelming my head. Such a spinning quality that I almost didn’t recognize the change, those clear eyes watching me, intensely, for a fraction of a second, before the vacant expression took reign yet again. The other man must have said something, because the man I had come to call the driver looked in his direction and progressed as if normally.

He didn’t tell him! I can’t understand why he did do it, I just know that he didn’t. And whatever the reason for it was I don’t care at the moment, because by then I can no longer ignore the raging scream all my instincts are shouting at me. RUN! As fast as you can, and don’t stop until you’re safe.

By the end of that thought the elevator doors, that would take me to the other exit, were already closing in front of me, right before the pair of man reached the second floor, only a dozen passes from where I’m standing.

As I progressed to the street and watch my surroundings, keeping a fast slide on the sidewalk, trying not to call too much attention over myself, I realise just how many close calls I’ve had in the past two days. First the accident, then the hospital, and now this.

How lucky can someone be? Or is it just luck? Suddenly it crosses my mind that only one thing makes me different from all the others, and I wonder if it has been having any part in avoiding my death so far. I wonder if these close calls have been even closer that I know, just because my brain just knows when and where to turn.

It did it again just a few blocks behind, and is making me do it again now. Going through the alleys and streets like a maze only my unconscious knows. Somehow I feel that it’s more than having a destination in mind. It’s simply choosing what to avoid, at the right time, like it knows where the danger lies. Like little premonitions of alert, that travel my skin in shivers of awareness.

I can’t tell it is there until I have let myself act on it. Only afterwards do I realise I turned for no particular reason. That I stopped and resumed a slower or faster pace until I am already rolling over another street. The only thing I have to compare this with is the feeling of freedom I experience every time I go to the park and learn a few new tricks on the wheels and boards flipping around. Or when I’m doing a particular daunting stunt with my rollerblades, simply letting go. For the first time I wonder if my good skills aren’t so natural after all, if something bigger is behind it.

I keep cutting corners, moving ahead, totally disoriented, yet certain of my way, wherever that may be. Questions pop into my head, one after the other. Impossible concepts and truths that make a point of avoiding clarification. The driver, what is his role? Why him? And the messages, the ones I had almost forgot on my haste at escaping, a warning, but against who?

All is going fine until, after hastily cutting into yet another alley I run right into someone, but it could almost have been a wall of bricks. Not a very strong one though, because the wall apparently also lost its balance and falls to the ground, under me.

I look down, and I stop breathing. Eyes so clear, they have a tint of violet to it, but not quite. I’m mesmerized, and I rationally know I’m supposed to be somewhere else, that this can’t be, but all my body is relaxed, transfixed at the sight of those dark, warm features, yet the eyes will eventually turn empty and vacant, they always do. Yet, for now they seem to be full of amusement, for the predicament we’re in or the prospect of my downfall I cannot say.

When time resumes its course again, all my muscles tense, the wrongness has finally settled into my being and I struggle for action. Before I can though, my attention gets caught by the light reflected by some shiny surface, a few paces to the right. There, on the ground, lies a gun, cold metal and hard truth.

He must have seen me watch it, because as soon as I move to grab it, so does he. We end up struggling, rolling on the floor. I try to be faster and get it first, but he’s right on top of me every time. It’s frustrating. He decides to go for his only advantage over me, the fact that he’s just plain stronger. He holds my hands on a dead grip, holds them with one hand and reaches for the gun with the other. He doesn’t point it at me though. He stares, lying on top of me, pinning me to the ground, and his eyes are no longer vacant, I don’t think they have been like that during this encounter yet.

“You should be more careful. We keep colliding. You may end up hurting yourself.” His voice is rich, a deep velvet, its expelled puffs of breath caressing my cheeks. I would be hypnotised if it weren’t for the dead grip holding me and the knowledge of that gun in his hands.

“I know how to take care of myself. No harm will come to happen if no one causes it.” I try to make my voice sharp and steady, hard to achieve through the panting going on. I stare back just as intently, struggling to get free, my eyes shouting my indignity at the situation.

He starts to move, to get up, he releases my hands, always locking our eyes, raising himself. He doesn’t give me any time to try and escape, the gun is half pointed in my direction, his face angling to the side, watching me, daring me amusedly to try and run. I won’t risk it, not yet, but I need to take some measure, some way I can feel I’m gaining time.

“So, I guess this proves it wasn’t an accident after all. It was you people’s first attempt at offing me.” Rounding my dignity around me isn’t an easy task while on roller blades, trying to get up from the floor, with a gun pointed in my direction. “Why taking me to the hospital then? It makes no sense.”

“I’m afraid you have it wrong. It was indeed an accident, I didn’t know who you were. A fortunate coincidence, the high point of my day actually. Such fair maiden in distress made me feel the most courageous knight.” He has a cultured accent, one that goes well with his fit dark suit, very elegant and expensive, only marred by the dust we shared on the ground.

“Too bad I was ordered to kill you shortly afterwards. I couldn’t quite hide the surprise when I saw your portrait sketched. I had to tell them I knew where you were. And why would I care? What power do you hold over me that keeps me wishing all was different, all was brighter?” He has gotten closer, slowly, as he speaks. His eyes have again gain that rare quality to them, the one of inspecting a rare treat, a precious memory to behold. I can barely keep the stare, but I manage not to flinch as he comes even closer. Interestingly enough, the sense of danger I feel running up my spine is not quite that of mortal peril. It’s more similar to that of quiet anticipation before a quite daring jump into the unknown.

“I thought it had been the surprise, the being caught unaware. That apparently isn’t all of it. Your very presence makes it all come back. All that I was sure was forever lost.” He’s so close now I can feel the sweet mint on his every breath, the soft musk smell of his cologne.

I’m so sure he is about to move those few inches and kiss me, that I freeze. I can’t grasp what is happening. I should be running, as fast as I can, instead... All rational thought leaves as he moves those few precious inches left, and all would make sense again were his lips to meet mine, but a sudden noise behind me draws us apart.

I’m expecting to be grabbed as a human shield, at least I would if I was actually able to think again. As it is he simply stepped away from me, still pointing the gun, vacant eyes quickly hiding all emotion that could have been there. They are sharp, missing nothing, all tense muscles ready to bolt. As he watches the new arrival, which I had also turned half around to identify, his eyes widen.

He looks at the new man walking towards us, right hand lifted just the same, gun pointed at my captor, which in place keeps staring from the new man to me and back again. Suddenly a small smile lifts the corner of his mouth, a smirk actually, too cold to be anything else, but still apparently appreciative of the situation we find ourselves.

“Oh. But of course. It makes so much more sense now. You have been following me.” It is my captor that speaks to the new man. This person in contrast has fair skin, rosed cheeks that speak of effort, a panting chest, yet a quiet strength in his demeanour. His hair is all brown curls, short yet long enough to look messy. He has a soft jaw and bright blue eyes, the face the likes of the angels from the paintings on the Louvre.

“Let me guess, it wasn’t me you were looking for. You just couldn’t track her either. Hmmm, quite an interesting approach. Tell me, and how exactly do you intend to get her? Or are you here to get rid of her like the rest of us mortals?” At the end his tone is clearly sardonic, one of superiority and certainty. The two men keep staring each other down, unblinking, unnervingly quiet. I wonder what would happen if I were to decide to take a stroll right about now, but something about the taunt muscles, the straining pointing arms, and my own gut, all tell me to keep quiet as the alpha male ritual in front of me takes place.

I am not private to the contents of the hidden messages exchanged in that stare, or what sign my captor was looking for in the other man’s eyes, but whatever it is he must have found it, because moments after he was lowering his gun arm, assuming a considerably more relaxed stance.

“You are here for her, to make sure that lovely mouth of hers keeps on expelling that sweet breath.” My cheeks would actually blush was I not terrified to the bone. What the hell is going on?

“Well, what can I say, she was too fast for me, too quick and agile. A formidable athlete no doubt.” His posture is so casual and relaxed I have to wonder what game he is playing now. I can’t stop staring at him, looking like someone whose lollipop has been stolen from her mouth and can’t possibly comprehend how or why.

“Why?” Why am I even asking? You should be running girl, not asking damned stupid questions.

He looks at me and I feel so stupid for asking, because his whole expression tells me it should be so obvious. “Some questions shouldn’t be asked, and some lions shouldn’t be poked.” He turns to the other man, who’s gun hasn’t yet wavered from its target, always strained on the figure now performing a little salute with his hand and turning around to leave, his only parting words a clear “Until we meet again. Or not.”

I watch dumbfounded as he leaves, but as soon as his presence is lost on the maze of streets and stream of people running unaware a few paces ahead, all my senses return to me full blast. The instinct to run is so strong I can barely quell it with the knowledge that the man standing still holds a gun, and that it could be pointed at me any minute now.

I turn around to face him, feeling like I’m about to face my executor. I’m restless and I don’t like it one bit. Funny how I wasn’t feeling so restless when those warm lips were about to touch mine.Huh... and that thought came from where? Focus Rhina!

“Let’s go, we have to move. Leo may have given us a reprieve but I wouldn’t doubt he’s warning the others as we speak. We must go, now.” His eyes are so honest, his expression so frank, and all I can capture from his words is Leo. His name is Leo, the lion I shouldn’t poke.

“Are you listening? Rhina, we must go, you’re in serious danger.” All my awareness is sharp again, and I’m quick to realise he is no longer holding his gun. It is settled at his waist, his hand grips now a cell phone instead, he motions for me to follow as he waits for someone to pick up on the other side of the line.

Somehow I again just know I can’t go back the way I came, and the only exit is towards the way this blue eyed man appeared. I decide to follow him until I have a chance to escape. I console myself with the notion that he does seem to care for my welfare, not seemingly much set on putting an end to my life just yet.

With a fast stride and sharp looks around he motions me to the exit of the alley we were in. His voice quick and solemn as he grunts instructions into his cell phone. “I have her. He retreated for now but I don’t want to risk it, I would bet he’s warning the others as we speak. I’m taking her in.” His entire posture is brisk and tense, and it all makes my senses go haywire again, I feel just as trapped as I was before. I must get some diversion, some way to escape. Buying time is again the solution that my curiosity cannot quell.

“What is going on? Who are you and where the hell do you think you’re taking me?”

“My name is James. I’m here to make sure you get to safety. Here, take this” His hand delves in his pocket, looking for something that I soon realize is a cell phone that he hands to me.

“My number is on speed dial. If you ever need help or get lost, call me. Me or somebody else sent by me will go get you. Do you understand?” He stops and makes sure that our eyes meet, his look being so sincere, so honest that I almost can’t doubt that he means it.

“Let’s go, you’re not safe here.” The pace is even faster, brisker, tension exhales from his every pore.

“Who are those people, who are your people?” He keeps on walking, ignoring my questions and I don’t like it. Not even my father could get away with ignoring me when I wanted an important answer and he won’t get away with it either. I put a stop to my feet sliding, stopping indignantly in the middle of the somewhat more deserted street we had come to travel.

He stops when he notices my tantrum demonstration, clearly exasperated. What can I say, I have that effect on people, specially people who think they know what is better for me, like my step-mother. They now share the same huffing quality to them, except hers was more due to my particular exotic choices of clothing whenever I visited. I made a point of them after all, every single week when I visited.

“Look, I’ll tell you ok? I’ll tell you everything you want to know, but can we please get to a safe location first? My car is just over there, com’on. Trust me.” Why would I? I nod my head for a lack of anything better to do but my mind is reeling with the possibilities of escape, I will not be pressured into an unknown situation. My safety first and foremost I’m afraid.

As we approach his car I feel a deep sense of sickness, a dizziness I have no idea where is coming from. I can feel his arms getting around me, softer than I would expect them to be, being careful to direct me to the car still, but making sure I’m not hurt, that I am okay.

“What is it? Are you sick, did that bastard gave you something to make you feel like this?” He is obviously concerned and all my resentment fades away for a while. I struggle to shake my head, to tell him no, that I don’t know.

He is putting the keys to the door, his arm around me, my back halfway turned to the car. As I watch the movement, with more clarity and sharpness that my senses had allowed me in the last seconds, something clicks inside my head. This is wrong.

This is so intensely wrong that my instinct is to run and hide, cover for safety, and drag with me everything on my path. When reason again takes hold of my mind, I am sprawled on top of the man named James, his back harshly pressed to the concrete floor, a huge wave of hot bristling fire licking just a few inches off our heads, an enormous rumbling sound threatening to leave me deaf. Oh my ... I can’t believe that car just exploded...

James looks stunned, mouth almost completely agape, body in a effort to crawl back on the pavement, bringing me with him to a more safe location. He’s panting, staring from me to the car and back again.

“You saved me. You knew. How?” His struggle to make sense of the situation is evident in the frown covering his features, but he tries to shake those thoughts, freeing his mind to more pressing matters.

“Let’s go, like I said it isn’t safe, nowhere is safe, com’on.” You’re right, nowhere is safe. I pretend to nod, and follow his somewhat disoriented self, but when the next alley appears I do a quick, soundless turn, quick to again loose myself in the maze of streets and back alleys this side of town so shamefully provides. The old buildings around the main centre, in the North part of the city, those the city hall has ignored because they are home to the less favoured of society. Well, I appreciate them very much now, their shadows cover my tracks, the metallic sounds they encase muffle my escape. I spot a fire escape stair case, lying open and invitingly in front of my path. Even though I had probably already passed dozens of these and simply ignored them, I don’t hesitate to grab it and start climbing it, a performance trick I had mastered a long time ago.

When I reach the top of the building I stop. All my instincts stopped screaming, I no longer feel like I have to keep on running. I must have lost all those that were on my tail. I am free again to roam the city I can now witness in all its glory. It is already mid-afternoon, the sun will set in a few hours. I haven’t yet eaten since breakfast. The daytime hours lost in the library musings of abstract concepts and hidden messages. My energy expended on running the streets for my life’s safety.

I take a deep breath, let myself drown in the sounds of the unaware world around me. And what are you going to do now? Where are you going for safety?

I am not sure how much time I spent on top of that building’s roof, just letting myself be and feel, let myself be one with the wind rustling my body. I just know the sun had already set when the bus finally left me on Sam’s neighbourhood. My mind is distracted as I walk to his home, my roller blades hanging by the laces from my left hand, my backpack heavy on my shoulders. My legs drag and I just wish Sam has already gotten home and has some food available. My kingdom for a pizza.

This thoughts preoccupy me so, as well as the wondering on the possibility of telling Sam all that had happened or not, sparing him some of his worry and safety, that I barely notice that I had not had need of the key to open the front door. When I give the first step to cross the threshold I stop, my mind focusing on the wrongness of this scenario. I drag my eyes from my hand on the doorknob to the contents of the hall in front of me. I progress with care, aware but alarming instincts not flaring. Only a deep sense of wrongness, of emptiness in the house I find myself in.

When I walk into the small living room I can see some objects scattered around on the floor, they don’t belong there but they have been thrown by some unknown circumstance or force. A deep feeling of despair and wrongness weights heavy on my chest, and all courage is suddenly snuffed from me by the contents on that note, assigned to me, waiting on the mirror for my attention to stray to it.

Looking at that torn piece of paper, my fate woven in its contents, I know for sure that there is no such thing as a safe place anymore.