Unholy Cult of the Blood Rose

Sarah Jenkins sat at her desk, carefully studying the text of her latest book. Her eyes, deeply etched with lines of worry, stared at a troubling section. Her expression twisted with impatient anger as the passage displeased her. After she typed in a few sentences, she sat back to study the wording again. Her frown turned even more intense as she tapped one fingernail on the worn oak desk. A forced sigh of exasperation escaped through her tightly clenched teeth. The entire chapter needed rewriting.

Gabriel shifted around from his perch near the monitor and blinked at Sarah lazily with his yellow eyes. The cat arched his back and stretched before approaching her for attention. She smiled at him and reached out to pet his head. He began to purr softly and nudge against her hand to entice more interaction. She rarely spoke aloud to him. The method of communication between them seemed almost telepathic.

Sarah sipped on coffee and brandy, which was slowly getting cool. She realized then she had been sitting for too long at the desk. She glanced at the clock on the wall. Three hours had passed. Her knees creaked and popped as she straightened her legs to stand. She stepped out of the study into the living room, stretching the tightened muscles in her legs and back, looking outside the window as the day began to brighten.

“This would be a beautiful day to work out in the garden, Gabriel. The flowerbeds have missed Juan’s attention and desperately need weeding and care.”

Gabriel expressed his indifference with a wide yawn.

Sarah moved through the old house into the kitchen where she had done most of the interior work. A meticulously restored Victorian, the house itself had been in terrible shape when she found it. Thieves had torn through walls to steal what they had thought would be a boon in copper wiring. Then vandals, perhaps boys in their tweens trying to prove their manhood to neighborhood brethren, had broken nearly all the ornate stained-glass windows. Rats and termites were also responsible for the damage to the structure. She had to spend a small fortune to restore the old house to its former splendor, but the work reflected the message she wanted from the house.

Sarah went into a kitchen where her taste for decorating changed dramatically from formal to informal. While most of the rest of the house had a restrictive, almost prudish manner, the kitchen appeared warm and inviting. The ceilings were high in this room as well, and she opted to paint with bright colors, cheerful and pleasing to the eye. The upper cabinets did not reach all the way to the ceiling. Here and there, she placed colorful, ornate bowls or a floral arrangement of silk flowers. She had canisters and cookie jars of many shapes. Most were whimsical representations of farm animals.

All these items were set on top of the cabinets at various intervals, so they were not too crowded or overpowering. The counter tops were bare of all but the essentials. Sarah had seen many kitchens so crowded on the counters there remained no room for work. She had a set of canisters and a lazy Susan that held her basic cooking utensils. The rest of her utensils were stored away, each in its proper place.

The kitchen existed as a tie to her past. Sarah remembered the little table that graced the humble cottage her grandmother had lived in. The kitchen in that house had always been warm and inviting and scented with fresh baked goods. Sarah never knew a day when the kindhearted old woman did not offer a cookie or pastry. She tried her best to evoke the memories within the decorations of her own kitchen.

Sarah rinsed out her coffee cup and poured herself more coffee, cream, and brandy. She walked over to a table set into a tall bay window and sat down. The windows were open and let in a pleasant mid-morning breeze scented of azaleas, honeysuckle, and rose. She picked up the Dallas newspaper and started reading the metro page. She did not understand what compelled her to read the crime stories usually printed on the interior pages. It depressed her to read about the victims of crime, especially when it came to children.

Sarah gazed out the window as she sipped at her coffee and scanned through the paper. Shadows danced with sunlight across the broad green lawn. Low gray clouds were beginning to roll across the East Texas skies. The weatherman, usually accurate, called for widely scattered showers to come through the Tyler area later in the day. She decided she needed to weed her flowerbeds before the rain arrived.

Sarah rose from the table after finishing the rest of her coffee. She turned about to head to the sink with the cup when the telephone rang. She glanced at the clock on the wall. Not yet seven, she wondered who could be calling so early as she walked over to the telephone. Few people knew her telephone number. She let it ring again while she checked the caller I.D. The frown of curiosity turned into a smile of recognition.

She set the cup on the counter and walked over to the telephone. "Hello?"

"Sarah?"

The man speaking on the other end of the line had a deep, husky voice with a distinguished Spanish accent. Juan Ontiveros, one of a few men she allowed close enough to be a friend, spoke in a mournful tone of voice. It seemed as if the man teetered on the verge of crying.

Sarah grew alarmed as her heart sank with immediate understanding. "Is it Yolanda?"

Sarah’s throat felt tightly closed as her heart began to beat rapidly, seeming ready to explode. Juan had always been a cheerful man, even on the day she had him fired from his restaurant job. Hardly anything could shake his pleasant demeanor. Lately, though, a friend of theirs suffered from AIDS, which demoralized both.

"She's asking for you." Juan choked on his own tears. "I think you better come soon."

"I'll be there." Sarah's eyes were watering.

"Hurry," Juan sobbed with a sense of urgency.

Sarah started to hang up but remembered her lunch date with Rebecca. She dialed the telephone number to her mother’s house. She wiped her eyes as she waited, growing impatient after the third ring. She almost hung up when the other end answered. Sarah dreaded what she had to tell Rebecca, but Juan needed her.

"Mother?" Sarah tried to keep herself from sobbing over the telephone.

"Why Sarah!" Rebecca sounded pleased. "I'm surprised to hear from you this morning.” Then, as if she could flip an emotional switch, she sounded worried. “Is something wrong?"

Sarah could not help but think Rebecca’s greeting sounded canned. "Do you think you could come over tomorrow, instead?" She twirled the telephone cord in her hand in nervous agitation. "Yolanda isn't expected to make it through the day. She asked to see me."

"Are you sure that you wouldn't want me there this afternoon?" Rebecca sounded concerned, but Sarah knew better. "You sound like you could use someone to talk to."

Sarah sighed and almost lost her composure. "I can manage this by myself, Mother. If I need you, I'll call."

Rebecca remained silent for a long moment, which seemed to last forever. The telephone picked up some obscure radio stations that played old country songs. The lyrics were hard to discern, but the instrumentals were undeniable as guitars.

"Okay, Mother?" Sarah squeezed her eyes shut.

"Okay," Rebecca finally said with a soft, worried tone of voice. "Just continue to take care of yourself and push everybody else away who might have an ounce of sympathy for you."

"I've got to go, Mother," Sarah sobbed. "Please understand."

"Call me." Rebecca spoke with a bit of regret.

"I will, Mother."

Sarah waited until she heard a click on the telephone line, then hung up the receiver and headed for the study. She filed the page she had been working on and then clicked off the computer. She grabbed her purse and keys and headed for the front door through the parlor. Gabriel meowed pathetically as she passed him by without stopping to pet him. He must have sensed her distress, for he called after her even as she closed the door.

Juan paced nervously up and down the hall when Sarah exited the elevator. His wife of many years watched him from her seat near their young children, her own eyes reddened from sorrow. He looked up at Sarah with a half-hearted smile, tears brimming in his deep brown eyes. He wiped them dry to show he remained a man, yet more tears streamed out to replace them. He rushed up to greet her.

"The nurses say it won't be long, Sarah." Juan took her hands. "Yolanda keeps asking for you."

"I've got to go in there." Sarah started to go around Juan.

Juan gently held her back. "The nurses are in there with her right now."

"When did she get worse?" Sarah glanced over Juan's shoulder, but she could see nothing of the room.

"Last night. She keeps hanging on, though." Juan nearly broke down. "It's like she has some unfinished matters to take care of. They thought she would die last night, but she waited to see you one last time."

Sarah placed her hand upon his shoulder. "It is okay, Juan. I'm here now."

Juan sobbed loudly as he leaned against her. "I'm sorry. I cannot help myself. I just keep seeing her in that condition, and I remember the vibrant, healthy girl I had watched grow up."

"I know. I know." Sarah sensed that her protective shell was in danger of crumbling away, something she could not allow. She led Juan to a couple of chairs in the hall. "How long?"

Juan struggled to gain control of his emotions. "Sometime this morning, maybe. She looks like she is suffering tremendously."

A nurse stepped out of the Intensive Care Unit and looked around slowly. After setting eyes upon Juan and Sarah, the nurse, a beautiful red-haired woman in her late thirties, advanced toward them with the deepest expression of concern upon her face. Sarah wondered if the expression was practiced or genuine.

"Are you Mrs. Jenkins?" The nurse had a deep, almost masculine voice that did not fit her appearances.

Sarah almost corrected the woman to call her Miss Jenkins rather than Mrs. "Yes, I am."

"Ms. Valdez has no other family?" The nurse raised a disapproving eyebrow.

"Yolanda came into our lives a few years ago," Sarah replied curtly, although it was none of the woman’s business. It unnerved her to speak to a woman whose voice just did not fit. "She was an orphan and unable to have children of her own."

"She's been asking for you." The nurse stepped back.

Sarah glanced to Juan, her tone and demeanor softening. "Are you going to be okay?"

Juan tried to smile and urged her to go without words. Sarah stood up and followed the nurse down the hallway. Juan sat in the chair, doubled over, and sobbed heavily. She realized how much love that man held in his heart, and she admired him for it. There were few men like him.

The environment changed dramatically as the two women passed through double doors. Grim memories caused Sarah to shiver as they went through a dimly lit area. A type of silence fell over the Intensive Care Unit different from the rest of the hospital. The angel of death waited there expectantly. Sarah could discern the beep of individual heart monitors and mechanical respirators. One room stood silent as she approached, and she peered in apprehensively. There had been ten full rooms in the unit just the day before, but now that one appeared empty. Sarah shook her head and bit her lip. This room had held a young girl who was holding on to the thread of life. A drunk driver with two previous convictions had rolled over her fragile body while speeding through a school zone.

The nurse noticed Sarah gazing into the room. "I knew the bastard that killed that little girl.” Again, she spoke with the irksome masculine tinges. “Used to be a doctor at this hospital. Ironic, huh?"

"Did she suffer?"

Sarah tried to force the image out of her mind. She could only perceive, through the anger building within her soul, the twisted form of a child lying in a bed, almost obscured by the tubes and bandages that covered her.

"They said she was brain-dead already." The nurse spoke with almost a loathing tone. "The bastard tried to flee from the accident. I wish they would give him the chair for this."

"I would like to talk to her family and the administrator," Sarah then added coldly. "We know that the doctor will walk away with a slap on the wrist."

The nurse nodded her agreement in silence, and then whispered, "I could have Mr. Johnson come down later this morning. He’ll know how to contact the family."

Sarah nodded thoughtfully and followed the nurse into Yolanda's room. The nurse stepped back to the doorway to leave the two women alone. Sarah's anger extinguished itself the moment she entered the room. The lights dimmed within to protect Yolanda’s weakened sight. Only a heart monitor recorded her vital signs.

Sarah approached the bed, trying to hold back the tears already streaming down her cheeks. "I'm here, Yolanda," she whispered.

Yolanda stirred slowly. It took significant effort for her to turn over and look up at Sarah. Barely twenty-five, the ravages of the disease upon her body made her look much older. Lines had etched themselves into her flesh prematurely. The youthful vigor that had once lit up such beautiful eyes had given way to a haunted, hollow semblance of death. She tried to smile, but even that required more effort than she could spare herself.

"Sarah," Yolanda whispered hoarsely.

Sarah leaned down and pushed the hair out of Yolanda's eyes. "Don't speak. Save your strength."

"Listen to me," Yolanda urged. "There is something that you must do for me, for everyone."

Sarah drew up a chair and took one of Yolanda's hands into hers, trying hard not to lose her composure. "Tell me."

Yolanda drew in as much air as she could. A sickening rattle emanated deep within her chest. "The Cult of the Blood Rose... It must not be completed. You are the one. You can stop it from happening."

Sarah shook her head. "I don't understand. What are you trying to tell me?"

"I was part of it. He found a way to get to me. I thought that I was safe." Yolanda raised herself up, the strength coming from the need for Sarah to listen. "In my work with the children, I came across the one that Morgan is looking for. He is in an orphanage in Dallas. You must take the little boy away from there before they find him."

Sarah had to regain control of her emotions. When Yolanda mentioned the name Morgan, a cool shiver ran down her spine. For a moment, she imagined that horrid tongue pushing through wicked teeth caked with yellow gunk. A knot of revulsion churned in her gut.

"Yolanda..." Sarah believed that Yolanda became delirious and wondered what she could do to calm the woman down.

"Find him and protect him," Yolanda stressed.

"I can't take care of a child," Sarah spoke honestly. "I truly don't think I could." She immediately regretted saying those words.

"You have so much anger in you, Sarah. So much that makes you as sick as I am in your soul." Yolanda pulled even closer to Sarah. "You did more for me than anyone else ever did. I know that compassionate heart of yours. You could help him, too. He is so tiny and frail. If they get a hold of him..."

"Who are 'they’? Why not call the police?" Sarah had not wanted to upset Yolanda in her state of health. The young woman exhibited obvious delirium.

Yolanda lay back on the bed with such force that it shuddered. "They are the evil ones. Parts of the police are with them. They are everywhere, and they serve Morgan."

"Please, Yolanda." Sarah laid her hands over Yolanda's to help soothe her. "Calm down."

"I'm not crazy, Sarah." Yolanda sobbed. "Go to my apartment. Find the key. You will see. Find him and protect him from them. Do it for me. Please."

"Okay, I'll do it."

"Promise me." Yolanda spoke firmly.

"I promise I will."

Yolanda sighed with satisfaction and closed her eyes. Sarah relaxed a bit. She looked around, feeling a bit of guilt. As she suspected, the nurse watched the two of them intently. She turned back to Yolanda and reckoned the young woman had gone back to sleep. Sarah started to speak a few words with the nurse when Yolanda reached up and held her hand to stop her.

"I never had the opportunity to thank you for all the help that you have given me over the years." Yolanda smiled sweetly.

Sarah swallowed a lump forming at the base of her throat. It would not go away, though. "I only did what I thought right." She thought she would start crying again.

“You are like a mother to me." Yolanda still smiled. The pain seemed to have left her expression. "When Enrique turned abusive and nearly killed me, you were there to help me pick up the pieces of my life."

"Juan has been the biggest help." Sarah felt weak and out of control. Her emotions threatened to overtake her again.

"No. He is a friend to me, but you..." Yolanda touched Sarah's long red hair, feeling the silken curls for one last time. "You taught me how to respect myself again. I saw you, and I knew that I wanted to be like you.” She drew in a deep breath, gathering the last reserves of life she had. "That's why I started working with the children. I believed that if I could help just one of them, then I would give to God what I had received.

“It seemed hard at first. I had to learn patience. Their lives were in my hands. The angry ones I got easily frustrated with, but then I remembered how you dealt with me in times I even supposed that I hated you. I have grown to love you.

"That is why you must find the little boy for me. That boy needs you. More than anything else in your life, you must do this. His name is Tommy Morgan..."

Sarah froze at the mention of the boy’s name 'Morgan' as a brief, haunted memory came surging into her mind. She quickly fought it down until it receded back into the darkest corner of her mind. She wondered if the nurse or Yolanda had witnessed the moment of weakness.

Yolanda pulled Sarah even closer to whisper what she did not want the nurse to hear. “Go to my apartment. Find that special gift you gave me so long ago. You will see.”

"I will do what I can," Sarah spoke somberly. "I love you, too, Yolanda."

"There is one last thing that you could do for me. Something that I had always longed for since I was a child," Yolanda whispered softly.

Sarah leaned over the bed. "Whatever it is."

Yolanda coughed hoarsely. "I have always wanted a mother to tuck me in and kiss me good night."

Sarah tried to say something, but her voice broke apart in her throat. She stood up so she could lean over the bed. Carefully drawing up the sheets, she pulled them up to Yolanda's chin. She tucked the sides in. Her tears burned hot as they fell upon the clean white linens. She leaned forward and kissed the young woman's forehead.

How could she be considered a mother to this dying child? "Good night and pleasant dreams, my child." Sarah whispered with a hoarse voice.

Yolanda took a last breath. It seemed as if she was trying to hold it and experience the last moments of her life. Sarah realized that the world was pressing towards her. The sound of the heart rate monitor seemed to come from another room. Yolanda's expression etched itself into her memory. She finally seemed to be at peace. There had been so much pain in her life, and now it was over Sarah tried to stand, but found her legs were weak. She became angry with herself for giving in to her emotions. The nurse walked into the room and turned off the monitor. She said nothing as she exited the room, but she made sure to lay a reassuring hand on Sarah's shoulder. Sarah gripped the rails on the bed so hard her knuckles turned white. She stiffened her arms and tried to channel her pain into another emotion.

The moment she thought she would break down, Sarah found an exit.

Enrique.

Sarah’s hatred for the man enabled her to suppress the pain she needed to release. He had been a monster. Yolanda had barely turned fifteen when he had taken her for his wife. She had loved him because he had pretended to care for her. Sarah had found out that Enrique liked his women only at a certain age. Yolanda had been a late bloomer, blossoming into womanhood when she had turned sixteen. Even after they had been married, Enrique had found other immature girls on whom to take out his pleasures.

Years of living in various orphanages and foster homes left an indelible mark on Yolanda's soul. It seemed extremely difficult for a child to find love in this sort of life. Enrique was twenty-seven when he started working on a thirteen-year-old Yolanda Their initially pleasant relationship lasted only four years. Enrique was the loveliest person to enter Yolanda's life. He treated her with gentleness, and she immediately clung to him and eventually found a decent rock with which to anchor her life. She had loved him so much that she let herself become his victim Yolanda's love for the man turned sour quickly after they began living together. They were never officially married. He risked discovery of his illegal acts if they did attempt to get married. Yolanda found out quickly there were other girls as young as she was. When she told a social worker about him, Enrique beat the living hell out of her and threatened to kill her. The knowledge of the acts that Enrique performed on other immature girls burdened her soul tremendously.

Taught by an earlier foster family to seek help at the church, Yolanda attended one Sunday morning. When Enrique did not return home from a Saturday night of binge drinking, she took two other girls he had brought home from a place about which he would not talk. They went to a small church within a short distance from the ramshackle home she shared with the sick man.

Juan first met her there. Yolanda and the two other girls, who could not have been more than eleven each, had remained behind after the church let out, praying fervently before the altar. She cried terribly. It tore Juan's heart to see a young girl crying. He had asked his wife to go on to the car. He went up to the front of the church and began to talk to Yolanda.

It took Juan a modest amount of time to convince Yolanda and the other two girls he posed no threat to them and coaxed them into telling him their troubles. As soon as he heard the horrifying truth, he called the police and vowed never to let harm come to any of the girls again. The two other girls’ families were located and reunited, but Yolanda had no one to look after her. Juan’s heart tore yet again, enlarged with compassion, and he immediately took the girl under his wing.

Juan stepped in and stared down at the withered form of Yolanda with his eyes nearly flooded with tears. "She has no more pain in her life."

"She never should have met Enrique." Sarah gritted her teeth together as she fought her own tears. "I harbor no respect for him for the misery he caused her."

"Please don't be angry, Sarah." Juan began to shake. He started to reach out and touch Sarah on the shoulder but knew that would only make matters worse. Sarah never let anyone close enough to touch her soul. "We must forget the past and put it behind us. The pain is a poison for the future."

"I've got to go! I need to think!" Sarah tried to scramble away from the emotional tidal wave threatening to crash down upon her. "Will you be all right?"

"I'll be okay. I've got to take care of the arrangements." Juan wished he had the strength that Sarah had. He could not keep his emotions at bay as well as she did. "You go on."

"I'm sorry, Juan. There is no way that I could stay here right now." Sarah felt a sense of guilt for leaving him behind.

"Go ahead." Juan gazed over at Yolanda. "Her suffering is over now. You gave her happiness just before she went to sleep. That is all we could ask."

Sarah nodded and stepped out of the room as she could. The hospital had grown into an oppressive death chamber. She desperately needed to get out of there before she screamed her lungs out. The nurse gave her a deep, respective observation that showed her condolences. Sarah hurried out of the Intensive Care Unit. She had to get out of there.

Sarah reached the elevators at the end of the hall, but then had to wait for what seemed to be an eternity. The elevators were acting much slower than usual. She sighed impatiently as tears stung her eyes. No crying! Tears never helped. She paced back and forth in front of the elevators. People watched her with mixed feelings. The door finally slid open, and she had to restrain herself from rushing madly inside. People packed it full at that time in the morning.

The doors did not open soon enough when the elevator reached the first floor. Sarah made sure she left first. She walked across the lobby to the entrance doors. Everyone she encountered smiled. She wondered how they could smile on such a day as this one. Tears burned at the corners of her eyes.

Sarah pushed her way through the glass doors and stepped out into the fresh air. The street in front of the hospital churned with lunch hour traffic. She paid no mind to the myriad of cars that drove by as she dashed across the street, heedless of a car that nearly struck her. The driver had given her a warning honk. As she continued, she fumbled through her purse until she located her keys and pulled them out.

Sarah almost panicked when she could not spot her car at first. The tears were striving to form as she put her free hand to her temple in a vain effort to stop the coming migraine. She found her bumper in a sea of bumpers where she had parked. She let out one noiseless sob as she rushed to the safety of her car. She started to climb in when a police car pulled up in front of her car, cutting off any way for her to get out. She desperately needed to get into her car and drive away.

Sarah drew up in frustration and turned on the officer just as he stepped out of his car. "Can I help you, officer?"

"Yes, you can." The officer approached her casually.

The man appeared to be in his mid-thirties with light brown hair. He had an athletic build complimented by his uniform. When he walked around the front of his car to confront her, she noticed right away he could not avoid looking at her body. She noted the number on his badge and forced his last name into her memory.

Haskell.

As Officer Haskell approached her, he exuded a confidence she would quickly take care of. He stopped at the hood of her car and looked down at the silver jaguar in admiration. Sarah frowned as she started to approach him, but then he smiled. The smile completely derailed the steam train she started to hurl at him. She nearly lost the composure she fought so hard to control.

"Are you okay, ma'am?" Haskell wanted to touch the silver cat, but he knew that would be a mistake. "I nearly hit you when you crossed the street out there."

Sarah struggled to rebuild her attack, but he still smiled. "My friend just died."

The officer showed no sign of distrust or disbelief, but his smile disappeared. "I'm sorry to hear that, ma'am." He did not offer any reproach but looked at her with compassion. "Just be careful. You ought to sit for a minute before leaving. Collect your thoughts before driving."

"Okay." Sarah had wanted to vent her rage at the police officer, but his attitude completely baffled her. The tears burned hotter.

Officer Haskell returned to his car. He tipped his head respectfully to her as he stepped in. Sarah looked at him with bewilderment as he drove away. Did it show in her face she hurt over Yolanda's death? The police car entered the busy street. Officer Haskell looked back over his shoulder at her before he drove away.

Sarah sat in her car abruptly. The need to escape seemed stronger than ever. She wanted to go in and comfort Juan, but the day kept falling apart around her, and she needed to piece everything back together.

The migraine creeping insidiously up through the base of Sarah’s neck suddenly burst forward. She clenched her teeth together and pressed both palms against her eyes. The pain seemed as if the pressure would drive her eyes out of their sockets. She risked forcing her right eye open as she frantically searched for her purse and then through it. It seemed as if she would never find the bottle of pain medicine. For a moment, she feared she might have left them at home. Then she latched hold of the small bottle and retrieved it. Only two tablets remained, and she frantically downed both.

Sarah turned the ignition and the big cat purred to life. She turned on the radio to a station that played soothing music and lay back in her seat, replacing her palms upon her eyes. The radio station played a song by Kenny Rogers singing a devotion of love to a woman. The migraine, still in control, blurred the words and the tune into an old Bee Gees song. That song disappeared into grayness. When the pain began to ebb, Elvis sang about the ghettos. She surprised herself with a loud sob and pulled her hands away from her eyes. They were wet with tears she should not have been crying. She sat up, disgusted with her show of weakness, and slammed the car's transmission into drive.

With a violent squeal of protest from the tires pushed beyond their limits, Sarah tore out of the parking lot at a haphazard rate. She fishtailed across three lanes of traffic before bringing the car under control. One driver shot her the finger and shouted something through his side glass which could have been ‘Go to hell’ for all she cared. Several cars she had cut off as she pulled onto the street honked their horns angrily.

Sarah turned up Broadway and headed for the Troup Highway, which she knew to be free of traffic at that hour. The traffic on Broadway seemed too heavy for what she needed. She nearly rear-ended two ramshackle farm trucks before she turned onto the highway leading away from the Tyler City limits. Once she passed Troup, the construction ended. The barricades were gone, and there would be no danger of a worker stepping out in front of her. Hardwoods gave way to deep, tall pine trees that shadowed the road most of the time. Trees grew into blurs as she sought to escape her pain, unaware that her foot kept the accelerator on the floor. The road had occasional twists and curves, but the suspension fit precisely and kept the car firmly gripped to the surface.

Yolanda occupied her thoughts. Sarah kept beholding the woman as a young girl, living a life of terror and pain in the grips of the monster, Enrique. She had been so frail and timid. He had ruined her and given her the death sentence with the disease he carried. Sarah never wished such a disease upon anyone, apart from one person who deserved it.

What are you running from, little girl? The voice belonged to a ghost of the past.

"I’m not running." Sarah whispered to herself.

You will fall and break your neck.

"Daddy," Sarah did not realize she brooded aloud. "I’m being careful."

Sarah knew where her thoughts were taking her. It always happened when her control weakened. She focused her mind's eye on the young police officer. She forced herself to think of him. She tried to remember what he looked like, the features of his face, his badge number, his name. The only thing she could see clearly was his smile with those glistening white teeth.

The teeth were not actually glistening, and they were not white, were they? They were an ugly yellow, probably stained from too much coffee or pipe smoke. Not all of them were there, either. One of them was chipped while a silver cap covered another. They parted so the tongue could dart out snake like...

Sarah shuddered in revulsion at the vivid memory. She gripped the steering wheel with both hands so tightly her fingertips were tingling. The shudder caused her arms to spasm. The car responded to the sudden change. She hit gravel and lost contact with solid pavement. From somewhere around her, she could hear a truck horn blaring at her, but she could not locate the other vehicle immediately.

The trees grew up close to the highway, and Sarah feared she would plow right through them. She turned the wheel again to try to get back up on the highway. She over-corrected and crossed the road in the opposite direction. She jerked the wheel again and entered the path of an approaching school bus. She cried out to God and stomped on the brake pedal. The back of the car swung around suddenly, and she could no longer observe the bus.

The momentum carried Sarah’s car off the pavement again just as the bus roared by her, narrowly missing the front of her car. She kept the brake pedal mashed in as far as she could press it until the car came to a full stop.

"Oh God!" Sarah exclaimed when she realized she had not been hurt.

The bus had pulled to a stop a hundred yards away. The driver got out and approached her cautiously. Staring at him, she wondered how any parent could trust their children in his care. He had a shaggy beard, which extended down to an exposed gut. She did not want to talk to him.

"Jeez, lady!" The man had a graveled voice that rasped against her nerves. "You nearly hit us!"

Sarah's stomach churned when she looked at him. Through the narrow crack in the window, she could smell him, and it reminded her of something dead on the side of the road. His face looked greasier than his navel and looked like a battleground from all the pimple craters. His massive, bulbous nose looked as if it would burst open if he decided to rub it. His sleeveless shirt bared arms scarred with the tracks of needle marks.

The driver kept looking back at the bus nervously. There were several children gazing out the back window. They were cute and could not have been older than eight or nine. One of them waved to her, but she was in no mood to wave in return. She turned back to the man.

"I'm okay, sir. I just lost a friend. I was thinking about her when I lost control of the car. I’m sorry if I frightened you or the children."

The driver snorted and then spit out a thick wad of phlegm onto the shoulder of the road. "Sorry to hear about your friend, lady. Don't you worry about them young ‘uns." He paused to glance up at the bus again. "We were on our way to Tyler on a field trip. Do you want me to call the police for you?"

"I'm fine." Sarah wanted to end their conversation as quickly as possible. "I'll sit here and wait a few minutes before I leave."

The driver stooped over to talk to her through her window. He straightened back up and scratched the enormous gut he seemed to display proudly. "Well, I have a tight schedule to meet. These kids have a busy day ahead of them. If you will pardon me..."

"Gladly," Sarah whispered to herself when he had turned away. She finally waved to the child that had waved to her and saw a smile spread across the young girl's mouth.

The bus soon left, leaving Sarah to sit alone in her car. She had no desire to drive away yet. The car still functioned. She pushed a button on the dash, and the top slowly retracted. The sky opened above her. She turned off the air conditioner and let the natural air wash over her. It felt warm and moist, promising of rain. The clouds were streaming northeastward but appeared to be getting heavier.

Sarah shut off the motor, thankful she had not done any damage to the car, or anyone else for that matter. A hawk cried a warning as it circled overhead. She watched it for a long time as it tirelessly hunted, gracefully swooping low through the trees, and avoiding the thick branches, which would have caught larger animals. It cried again as it gracefully swept in an arc up high into the air. Its wings folded, and it plummeted toward the ground a hundred feet in front of her. A master of flight, the bird of prey exhibited skill as it landed upon a copperhead attempting to cross the highway.

Only a few seconds passed for the carefully planned attack. The snake tried to strike with its deadly fangs, but the bird of prey had anticipated the move. It caught the viper's head with its powerful beak and with a quick flip of its neck, severed the snake's head from its body. The body of the snake still writhed and twisted as if it strove to escape. The hawk took flight with its kill to a more secluded area to dine. Sarah had only taken three breaths. She hated snakes. They were loathsome creatures she could not tolerate. She hoped the hawk had an insatiable appetite for snakes.

The migraine had left her, and she felt grateful for that as well. She cursed her foolishness for driving so fast to get out of town. Her mind began to clear. Her friend had died, and she knew she needed to help set things in order. She could not deal with the funeral procedures. Juan would have to do that on his own. She dreaded even sitting through the service. She loved Yolanda as much as anyone else did, but it would be wearisome to sit through the service and keep control over her emotions. She needed to be busy to keep from falling away into the cataclysm of pain.

Sarah remembered what Yolanda had asked her to return to her apartment and get a gift from long ago. The apartment did not exist in the greatest part of town, and residents would be quick to take advantage of the young woman’s passing. If anything, she needed to get there and preserve what little possessions Yolanda had. She started the car back up and turned back to town.