The End of Her World

Chapter Twenty Two-- Reunited

The sirens were dull, flashing lights around her, the rough shouting of the officers distant and cold, echoing  back and forth within Katrina’s skull. Her legs were weak, they felt like they were filled with unsteady jelly. Inside her chest, her heart throbbed like a torn muscle. In the past, Katrina had always viewed the term ‘heart broken’ as a fanciful description, not a real feeling or ailment. But now what she experienced felt like someone had sliced up her heart into a million tiny pieces and scattered them about her body. Tears ran down her face in an undammed river, and curses escaped her lips.

The concrete was hard and unforgiving underneath her bare skin. Her parachute was tangled around her. Multiple hands tugged at the fabric, seeking to rip it away, to expose her. Katrina wiped her tears away, and steadied her face, melding it into a mask of stone.

The parachute was ripped upward, and Katrina found herself staring into the eyes of a burly firefighter. He stumbled backward, cursing, his eyes fixed on her eyes. “Your eyes,” he muttered. “You have the eyes of a snake.”

Katrina drew herself to full height, forcing back a moan of pain as her injured leg took the brunt of her weight. “Yes.” she said. “Yes, I do.”

A police officer reached forward, his gaze icy. Katrina grasped his hand and twisted it, with a snap, the bone broke. She rushed past the men, left the burning lights behind, the chaos, the pain, the wreckage of her love, of her soul.

She knew where to go, she had walked around New York for ages. Sliding through the rain, she sat down on a metal bench at a bus stop. The bus screeched around the corner, and the kind face of Joe stared at her through the glass. Joe had been her dad’s best friend after the war.

“Hey, Kat!” Joe raised his beefy arm and waved furiously. “Long time no see!”

“Yeah,” grunted Katrina, as he buzzed open the door. His eyes darkened with worry as he noticed her conspicuous limp.

“What happened?”

“Oh, you know, just tripped and fell,”

Joe surveyed her with a sad glance. “You’re different, now.”

“Have you seen my dad?” Katrina asked.

“Nope. But he sent me a message that he was back here, whatever that means,”

“Get me to my house.”

“Sure thing.” Joe paused and looked over Katrina again.

Katrina sat down heavily next a tall, thin African American man with a Marine cap slung over his eyes. She rested her head against the window, and peered out onto the desolate wet landscape around them.

“Lying to a friend is the worst thing you can do, young lady,” the man had a deep, smooth, practiced voice like an orator. The bus pulled up at a ramshackle building. The man stood up. “Remember that, girl.” He limped heavily on a mangled, twisted leg. Joe pushed the doors open, and the man dissipated into shadows.

Katrina mulled over the words of the man slowly, like flavorful wine she did not want to swallow. She allowed the meaning of his words to sink in. He was right, she shouldn’t lie, but if she told the truth, everything would be worse than it already was.

The bus kept sliding sleekly through the rain, winding through the ocean of asphalt. Katrina closed her eyes. It would be many stops and much time before she reached her location. She pulled her ragged coat up higher, and fell into a light sleep.

“Kat, we’re here,” the loud bellow of Joe sliced through Katrina’s sleep, waking her instantly.

She picked herself up and glanced out the rain streaked window of the bus. Her house, neatly carved out in the middle of a grove of pine trees glittered in front of her. The wood was birch light, and rain dripped calmly off the boards, and smeared the windows. Lights blurred through the night.

Joe opened the door, and Katrina stepped out into the wet, cool night. She drew in the sharp, pungent aroma of the pines and other conifers around her, and walked forward. Treading carefully up the stairs, she pushed the door experimentally. It was open. It swung inward on recently oiled hinges. People were in her house.

She unsheathed the knife hanging on her belt, and cautiously proceeded into the deserted entryway. Lights spilled from the sockets of lamps embedded on the wall. Finally, she arrived at the kitchen. She pressed her back against the opposite wall, and listened carefully.

“Just lie still, Jason,” it was a boy’s voice.

Jason groaned in pain. Katrina’s muscles tightened, and her knife shook in her grip. With lightning speed, she hurled herself around the corner and slashed outward with her knife. Blood. She saw a sea of blood. Jason lay on the table, blood.

The boy ducked under her aimed blow, and rushed upward, taking advantage of her surprise at the sight of her father, and glared into her eyes. “Who are you?”

“Katrina! What are you doing with my father!”

“Katrina!” Jason’s eyes widened with emotion. Tears rushed to the corners of his eyes.

Katrina jabbed an elbow at the boy, and broke free from him, and threw her arms around her father. They hung onto each other tightly, and clinging onto a piece of their old worlds that somehow had not been destroyed. Blood soaked Katrina’s t-shirt; Jason was bleeding.

“Dad…” Katrina’s voice broke. “I missed you sooo much.”

“Sweetheart,” Jason murmured. He grunted, forced down a ragged fit of coughing. His lips turned cherry red with blood.

“How did you know Michelle? Why were you working with her?” Katrina held her father at arms length, peering into his face. It was only then that she noticed the gauntness of her father’s face, the purple shadow outlining his features, the wear and tear on his face, weathered like an old, exposed boulder,  but his shoulders were still wide and strong, the hard look of a Marine still jammed on his face.

“How do you know about her?” Jason’s eyes gazed at her, surprise flickering in their depths, like an elusive fish.

“I… was trained by a secret recon facility that intended to kill us-- me.”

“I know,” Jason leaned forward, his eyes inquiring. “I worked with Michelle, believing her and her Ghosts-- that’s her private army-- would help me find you. They massacred everyone in that facility. I couldn’t find you, but I found Sarah. She’s with your mother now.”

Tears welled in Katrina’s eyes. “Thank fucking God, I thought she died…” Katrina threw her arms around her dad, and lay on the table next to him, her head resting on his chest. She closed her eyes.