It is awhile that I watch the SWAT team move in, like long limbs of a black widow spider move and curl, progressing across the back lawn in a circle. Up the hill, and closing in, they move all around. I follow the paths of the sides of the barn house as others towards the front seem to mirror this progress
And so fixed am I to the spot staring through the binoculars, that I hardly see what is there before me. Perhaps it is the remote sense from seeing it all through shields of glass and lenses that I don’t really seem to connect.
I don’t connect with the immediacy that is
And again, like the other time I watched, it is like some action film that I seem not to even believe what I am looking at and, because it takes long for me to register what I am seeing; a slow motion reflex of some kind of disbelief ....
But—there!
And it is only because I recognize his silhouette so well—that and the enigmatic way he moves; lithe and menacing at the same time—because I would know him anywhere just by the way he moves, would know anywhere— like his hips, his shoulders, knowing without having to see the details of every line and crease, as if I put it all there myself. Jörn comes from a different direction, from behind the arthropodrical limbs that move as one, he takes a different route, going in an angle horizontally across the lawn and stops beside a shrub at the front corner of the shed-like building that is the sauna
And for awhile nothing happens. Everyone is still.
and fixed so intently holding the binoculars steady it feels almost fake; like a video game or an action thriller that lulls me deeper into that disbelief of what I am looking at....until I taste it in my mouth.
I taste it..... it is as if —like a warning
It has been described as a kind of metallic taste and it is because this is what registers to me, I realize ....that taste is danger and.... I have tasted this before
and maybe it was long ago, for certainly, it has been years.... the alien sensation triggers the reminder of.... what tastes like fear. Yes, I have tasted this before. In a dorm room feeling myself die, the air squeezed out of my throat by hands careless of soft tissue, careless of life, hands with a cruel iron grip that cared nothing for the life it was wasting. And even back then, yes, it was surreal, slipping out of myself, letting go of life, not connected to my body and seeing images of the life I was departing; a cruel father, a sneering killer telling me how that father wished me dead, so why don’t I just die? ....seeing the image of a newspaper of the dead girl found in the dorm room, raped and strangled ....and remember —as I felt life end for me—how I saw my mother holding the newspaper of that story.... about the girl ....in black and white print.... a story in a newspaper. That was me. Yes, I saw it. I saw myself. Dead.... until somebody screamed “No!” ....somebody screamed no.... but that was not me because I had my vocal chords in a vise, but somebody screamed it in my head....and sent me back to myself....
Retnuh Nivek.... just now I get a shudder as the taste in my mouth connects with.... the present
Something at the corner of my eye moves! Something ....There in the shadows it emerges from below and closer in the direction of the underground, where I know is mostly dense woods, slightly past the rusted and defunct sewers .... another figure emerges! This one is different from everyone. This one is not dressed in the SWAT clothes, nor is he dressed like I remember the assassins were, this one.... is different
By the way he moves I can see he is older, there is a stiffness to his movements. This one is big and heavy and, although has muscle, it is not so lithe, slightly bent and there is a lumbering quality in how he moves.... no, he is not with the SWAT team— no— this one is not one of ours
and again, like a warning, I taste it in my mouth, something I recognize
and as he moves towards the barn house something finally registers in my head
Jörn can’t see him!
and because it is clear to me that this bear-like, lumbering figure is loaded down with weapons with one in his hand at the ready pointing towards Jörn I spring into action! I reach for my phone with fingers shaking and type into my phone,
<look out, there’s someone behind you!>
—and send it....
but Jörn stays in position where he is fixed and makes no reach for his phone
I bolt to the hobbit door, now glad that I had the forethought to have changed into the clothes Jörn left for me with a pair of my own hiking boots Ilya packed for me. And so in familiar footing, I move fast down the narrow, spiral stairs, through the tree trunk, through the passage, past the rover and then through the hidden doorway that leads back to the dungeon
It is the only way I know how to get there the quickest, and as I bolt through the dungeon, I have a split second to notice— there is someone in the cage— but the cage, with the iron bars, which is never shut, I notice now is and fastened with a padlock. And as I run past I see someone in there tied up and gagged that I recognize from the parking lot at Lake Placid, the one smoking the cigarette who stared so oddly at me.... but at the moment is slumped over a desk and seems unconscious
I feel a surge of adrenaline and along with it mixed, is panic, as I head through the catacombs that will lead just behind the new imposter heading straight for Jörn but the space of time between having seen this new arrival and getting through the walls makes me afraid of what I may find, fearing I move too slow, force my limbs to move
When I do reach outside they are much further than I expected and with the aid of the binoculars I can at least see the intruder has still not made his presence known. I decide to go wider around, under cover of trees and shrubs and head towards the sauna.
As unused to this kind of exercise of stealth and fear, I become aware I am in danger of passing out, at turns breathing too hard, between holding my breath and the pain in my shins from exertion after weeks stuck inside. Practicality forces me to calculate my actions, first concern—do not pass out.... forcing breathing to calm until the stars go away along with the black dots that had begun to take over my vision—now move! I bolt to the left corner of the shed building and find the cover of bushes I well know by heart —but by the time I reach the corner where Jörn was, he is already well past!
Shit!—as I can see he is still not aware of the imposter! I run out away from the cover of bushes and shout,
“look-out!!”
but only after having done do I realize what I left myself in for as I feel myself being grabbed from behind and before I can shout again or do anything more, I am pulled right up off my feet with a hand pressed over my mouth,
“well look who I caught!” said with an ....all too familiar evil laugh, with a voice I could never forget ....and a stench of bad breath against my face
“Retnuh ....Nivek ....” but only comes out muffled against his hand pressed to my face
“Sorry, little hussy bitch, didn’t get that—you sayin’ you recognize your old college buddy from da hood? Said I’d finish the job, didn’t I?” and reeking with body odor, his sweat dripping onto me, he laughs again, “you’ve been keepin’ yourself nice and fit, hardly weigh as much as my dawg, nice and fit for ol’ Retnuh, —yeah, I remember, you hussy bitch!”
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