Chapter five -- Witchblade Karma

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Date Posted: 11:15:44 10/13/04 Wed
Author: moondreamer
Subject: Chapter five
In reply to: moondreamer 's message, "The Ghost in the Machine - PG 13" on 08:45:09 10/07/04 Thu

He was alone. It was night and the humidity was heavy in the air. He could feel material of his shirt as it clung to him, glued to his flesh with perspiration.

He was in an alley behind the club. The sound and lights seemed so very far away. They were barely audible to him over the sound of his own labored breathing.

Jake knew his target was in the alley. He had chased the man for what seemed like miles before the suspect had run into the dark ahead of him. He also knew he should call for backup, the stakeout had gone to shit and there was too much at risk to lose it all now.

But he couldn�t seem to make the call. Instead he was pulled deeper into the beckoning blackness ahead. The alley was full of shadows that seemed alive; moving and twisting, calling his name with wailing cries as he walked by.

He moved in the familiar search pattern he had been taught so long ago, his gun positioned in front of him as he spun carefully around to make sure each area around him was clear.

No matter how far into the alley he moved it always seemed there was farther to go. He tried to pick a reference point, a trash can, a pile of debris to judge his distance but, like something in a nightmare the alley just seemed to grow longer, the shadows deeper.

The music from the club began to grow louder, keeping time with the increasing pulse of his heart. There was a light ahead of him, a strange, unearthly glow. His heart beat faster still.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion as he came closer to the light. He could see into the light now. There was his suspect, but he wasn�t alone. Carla was there. She struggled viciously against the arms that held her close.

There were bruises on her face and arms and several defensive wounds on her upheld hands that rained blood onto the filthy pavement below in thick, gleaming drops that kept time with his heartbeat before bursting and spraying outward in a fine red mist.

The gleaming knife was pressed up under her chin, in front of her left ear, and blood oozed in a thick trail down her neck, staining her white blouse with a deep, flowering red.

Jake could see her mouth moving, her lips painted the same color of her blood. He knew she was crying out to him, telling him to stay away, telling him she loved him, but he couldn�t hear the words.

All he could see was the screaming agony in her eyes and above her, the soulless face of her attacker hidden by a shiny, coppery mask. There was no expression on the smooth surface as her killer turned his face and rested his head upon hers in a taunting caress.

Jake knew he was screaming back at Carla, but he didn�t know what he said. Their words flowed out towards each other but couldn�t connect, blocked by some kind of unseen wall. He raised his gun, aiming for the head of the suspect, his arms coming up so slow, too slow.

He couldn�t make them move any faster and he could only watch in horror as the knife moved from the left to the right and Carla�s limp body was discarded to ground as her life flowed out and down like a crimson ribbon.

Everything then seemed to accelerate, faster and faster; the lights and colors and sound streaming past him in a blur. He didn�t know that he was firing as he ran towards her until the clip was exhausted and the man in the mask was falling.

Jake fell to his knees and lifted Carla to his chest, his weapon dropping unheeded to the ground as he moved his hands frantically over her body searching for some sign of life, before he gave in to the inevitable and just held her to his heart, rocking back and forth in desperate denial.

�No! God, no!� He murmured repeatedly as he brushed the tangled hair away from her face and kissed her cooling lips while frantic voices barked questions at him from his earpiece.

It was the sound, the gurgle, which brought him back to the present; the realization that her killer was still alive behind him. With a final kiss, Jake carefully laid Carla�s body onto the ground and retrieved his weapon; finding and jamming a fresh clip home without even looking.

He was covered from head to foot in Carla�s blood. It was smeared over him, dripping down his face like the caress of her hand and was starting to stiffly dry on his clothes.

Jake�s features were barely recognizable under the ancient war paint as he walked over to the figure on the ground, who was struggling in his attempt to reach the knife he used to destroy Jake�s life.

Jake placed his right boot onto the chest of the prone figure and leaned his weight forward. He held his gun in a tight grip as he reached down to remove the copper face mask. As he pulled it off it dropped from his hand, falling and circling before coming to rest.

He pulled his gaze away from the mask�s mocking smile and stared down into the gleaming red eyes of hell. The figure then changed into the shape of a woman who snarled obscenities up at him, her eyes changing to dark brown as she finally grabbed hold of the knife once again and raised it up to strike while Jake was suddenly seized from behind by hands that wrestled the gun from him and dragged him away from his vengeance while they screamed meaningless words in his ear.

�It�s not worth it, McCartey, let it go! Let it go!�

As Jake struggled to free himself he felt the sudden, cold kiss of the knife as it bit hungrily into his flesh. He dropped to his knees, arms outstretched and watched as his blood flowed out to mix with Carla�s in what would be their final joining�

- - - - - --

�Shit!�

Jake sat up quickly. He was covered with sweat, his chest was heaving and he felt sick to his stomach. He rolled over and vomited into the wastebasket beside the bed; heaving and gasping as he sought to purge himself of his nightmare.

He wiped him mouth and lay back against his pillow, one muscular arm covering the betraying wetness in his eyes. It had been a bad one. The dreams were so real, so painfully graphic. And, of late, they had been mixing what had actually happened with strange and new elements.

He kept reliving the past again and again but in different scenarios and with new faces; new visions of hell. The woman under the mask in tonight�s dream had seemed familiar to him. He knew her. He just didn�t know what it all meant.

With a groan, Jake threw back the covers and rose shakily to his feet. He wasn�t going to get anymore sleep tonight. Hell, he did know what it meant; it meant he had to clean the damn wastebasket again.

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Chapter Six -- moondreamer, 19:38:28 10/17/04 Sun