MADRIGAL

Chapter 2

Outside Jane's apartment building, the stranger sat in an idling gray Cadillac. Jane climbed inside. "We should call the police."

"I did. I called you. We're on our way." The woman drove into the traffic lane.

"I mean, officers on duty. I don't even have a weapon."

"First off, that's just silly. I always carry weapons on me, on duty or off. Second, pleased to meet you; the name's Deanna, thanks for asking. Thirdly, your plan won't work. If the guy sees cops, he'll just wander off and wait until later. Cops won't know who he is, and even if they did, there's no proof or evidence. They show up a minute too early, and nothing happens, and a minute too late is too damn late." The car headed left.

"Why? Why me?"

"Because you no longer exist. You were removed from the world, or you removed yourself. For all intents and purposes, you died ten minutes ago, but due to the hand of divine intervention," Deanna said, sticking out her hand before placing it on her chest, "you were spared. Your timeline's up; there's no timeline to disrupt. Were I to pick any of these fools on the streets, if they perished, a husband might be lost, a mother might die, someone who still has value to the world. You, you removed yourself from play. Whether you're gone a half hour ago or a half hour from now, it makes no difference to anyone but the worms. Might as well do something useful first."

They drove on in silence for a few more minutes. Jane's city of Dothan passed by in flashes of light and sound. She recalled a poem about an old man that contemplated about whether every street he journeyed down would be the last visit for each. Jane wondered the same for herself. She started to speak but found there was nothing else to say. Jane saw no reason to continue anything in the world, let alone a conversation.

Several turns and streets later, they pulled in front of a mid-grade apartment building and found an immediate parking spot. "You see that? The second closest space. If that doesn't convince you that God's hand is at work, I don't know what would."

The building appeared in good shape but worn. The walls were a year or two away from a repainting and the entryway trashcan had its fair share of scuffs and dents. Deanna pushed a button on the elevator. "Apartment four, twenty-three. Two minutes." The doors opened and they entered. "Having fun yet?"

The doors closed. "There's nothing fun. You're not helping."

"I'm not here to help." The elevator chimed with every floor. "Not them, not you. My job is as witness. You fail, they die. It's that simple."

The opening doors revealed hallways to the left, right, and center. A plastic rectangular frame on the wall held a map of the floor, water stained beyond readability. Deanna smiled. "One minute. Which way?"

Jane hesitated for a moment before charging straight ahead. She didn't know why, but her heart pounded. It didn't make sense. She didn't believe. She came more to prove to herself that there was no divine presence interfering in the world. She checked the first sets of doors. The numbers were too high, so she retreated towards the elevators, nearly running Deanna down. She prepared to head right when banging echoed from the left-hand corridor. Jane sprinted through the hall, which turned right to another hallway after thirty feet.

Eight doors ahead, a man threw his shoulder against an apartment door, his back to Jane's approach. Screams sounded from inside, and Jane was seconds away when the door gave in. The figure disappeared from her view and she heard the man's voice yelling something. Jane turned sharp and ran inside.

She had no time to process the room or its occupants. She saw a mother and son, but noted neither her busted lip nor his blackened eye. She did see the man before them pull something from behind his back. Jane tackled him without thought. A gun skidded across the floor as the two of them crashed to the ground. His momentary shock flamed back to rage as his fist flailed behind himself. The side of his hand boxed Jane's ear several times, and she released hold of his waist to grasp his arm, hoping to bend it behind his back.