DEATH WITHOUT END

**WARNING** Contains themes of violence; disturbing images.

Amen. 

That’s how it always begins. I say a silent prayer, then lean over to kiss Brad, my husband, good night. Before I can turn around to turn off the light, Brad takes my face in his hands, looks deeply into my eyes, and then kisses me, fully and deliberately.  

We haven’t made love since the baby.

Something grips me in that moment. I hadn’t known how it would be, had become timid and slightly removed, anxious around my husband. Now, recognizing the urgency coming from Brad’s embrace, the hunger, it transfers its energy to me. I am ready. I gasp as I pour myself into him, all of my senses honed in on being a woman . . .

Then the baby begins to wail.

Uhm, make that a mother.

* * *

Now, this is when things get interesting. As I wrestle myself away from Brad and try to catch my breath, the baby wailing in the background, I hear the dog, King, bounding up the stairs outside our closed door. Brad, meanwhile, flips away from me in a huff and punches his pillow.

“I know. I’m sorry. I’ll be back as soon as . . .” I roll out of bed, pull my tee-shirt down. “Soon.”

I race to the door and, as I open it, King knocks me down with a crash, as his sweeping Burmese Mountain Dog tail knocks the lamp off my nightstand.

“KING!” I scream at him. The baby wails louder. King looks baffled, cocks his head at me, then jumps up onto my side of the bed.

“Get down, King!”

Once I’m back up, I notice I walk with a limp, but I hobble my way hurriedly into little Tess’s room.  She’s on her back, arms and legs stiff with fury, her face the color of a boiled beet.

I pick her up and hold her as I make my way to the rocking chair in the corner.  As I pull up my shirt and Tess latches, she exhales and so do I. 

I can hear the hallway clock ticking.

Then I hear a click that sounds like the front door. But it can’t be. We have an alarm system.

“Brad?”

He’s probably asleep. Damn! I cradle Tess as I get up. My tee-shirt falls as I hobble to our bedroom. I can hear the front door open and now there are footsteps.

“Brad!” I hiss.

Both Brad and King are sound asleep in our bed. Most of the lamp pieces I see have been swept under the bed. 

“Brad! Get up!” I hiss again.

King’s eyes fly open and he’s instantly up, barking. He jumps from the bed, toenails scratching the wood floor as he scrambles to make the turn to dash out of the room and down the stairs.

Meantime, Brad’s up and takes long strides to the door.

“You and Tess stay here. . .”

We both hear King yelp, followed by a thud.

Brad and I exchange looks filled with horror. Brad quickly goes to his side of the closet, pulls out a shoebox. Oh Lord, I think, I hate that thing. This is so not good, so not at all good!

Brad looks me square in the eye, then glances at Tess, tucked under my shirt.

“Get to the bathroom. Lock the door!”

As quickly as I can, I take Tess into our bathroom and lock the door behind me. I hear Brad.

“I have a gun! Who’s there?”

Oh, shit, I think. 911! Where’s my phone?

It’s on the nightstand. I begin to go for the door and then remember I have Tess. My ankle feels bad; I don’t want to look at it. Instead, I look around, grab towels and, with one hand, line the bathtub so I have a place to lay my baby down.

When I lift my shirt, little Tess is sleeping, warm and angelic. 

As I gently place my baby into the tub, I whisper to her. “Sleep, little one. No harm will come to you, I promise.”  

Now, my cellphone.

I go to the door, listen. Nothing. I open the door slowly, carefully.

There on the floor is my cellphone. King must have knocked it there along with the lamp.

I scan the room. It’s quiet. I rush forward but my ankle betrays me. I yelp from pain, just as King did, and drop. My lower leg has ballooned.

“Here you are! You should know your husband is a terrible liar. He said he was alone, but I knew you’d be here. Oh, dear, have an accident?” 

I feel shock strike and spread through me like wildfire through a dry field of straw.  

I am facing a stranger dressed in black, nondescript except for one detail. He wears a Robin Hood mask, complete with green cap and shining grin. I fear the implication. 

“Who are you?”

“Oh, we knew you’d ask that. Don’t be boring.”

My mind races. Nothing comes but the crushing knowledge this could be the end. Think! Don’t do until you think! This is the most important moment of your life!

“Where is my husband? What do you want?”

“Two legitimate questions worthy of answers, I suppose. First, I’ll answer a question you haven’t asked but undoubtedly at some point will. When’s the last time you had your security checked? Well, I was able to do that for you. Too bad you’ve been preoccupied with other matters. You might have saved yourselves.

Now, what might you be willing to give me in exchange for that other information you asked about? And, frankly, you should be asking yourself, do you really want to know? I’d think about it, if I were you.” 

I turn off any feeling I might still possess. This is no time to feel. It will not serve. I begin to stand, then stop myself.

“May I?”

The intruder gestures, “Please.”

I struggle to stand, without grace. I bury my fear, set it aside. I need a mask.

“May I ask you a different question?”

The mask does not speak. It makes the same gesture as before.

“If you could have anything in the world, what would it be?”

I take a tentative, careful step forward.

“Well, now, girly-girl, if I expect payment for the answers to your first two questions; what makes you think I’d answer a third for free?”

“You think you know me? I’m not the girly-girl you might suppose. Take a dare, big man?”

In that instant, what I hope might happen, happens. I sense he is caught off-guard, distracted. I dive, ankle be damned, and grasp a shard of lamp under the bed and reach for the phone.

I crouch awkwardly, wielding the makeshift dagger as I prepare to attack this nightmare.

“Good for you, girly-girl. But not good enough.” 

The mask pulls out a pistol and aims it at my face.

My last conscious thought: Tess! 

* * *

Amen. 

How did I get back here? Shouldn’t I be dead? Am I dead?

There’s Brad. . . why is he looking at me like that?

“Vanessa? Are you all right?”

“I … I’ll be right back.”

I rush into the master bath and lock the door. What is happening? I look at myself in the mirror. 

“Nessa? Everything okay?”

“Be right out!”

I splash my face with cold water. I bury my face in a towel, then take a deep breath and open the door.

“You look pale. Let’s get you in bed.”

Instead, I sit on my side of the bed and pick up my cellphone to check the date. Shit. It’s the same time and date as it was then, yesterday.

Tess begins to wail.

Here comes King galloping up the stairs. I hear his heavy breath. Brad looks disappointed.

“Aren’t you going to . . .”

I glance towards Tess’s room, hear King scratching at the door. There’s no time to think.

“Uh, no. Brad, would you mind? I might be getting sick. There’s a bottle prepared that just needs warming.”

“Sure. How long do I zap it?”

“You don’t. Warm water, no more than ten minutes.”

“All right.”

“Careful. King’s right outside the door.”

“Yeah, right.”

Brad opens the door a crack, King does the rest. The door flies open and, with a bang, hits the wall, missing Brad by inches. We hear an accompanying sound of something above us hitting the attic floor. That’s happened a lot lately.

Brad shakes his head, then leaves to tend to our screaming Tess.

After I hear him gather the baby and pad downstairs, I allow King to follow them.

Then I dial 911.

“911 Operator. What’s your emergency?”

“Send someone to 1220 Sycamore. Now!”

“What’s happening over there, ma’am?”

“It’s going to happen. We need help!”

“What’s going to happen, ma’am?”

“I don’t have time to explain. Please, send someone quick! Now!”

“What is your name?”

“What does . . . Vanessa Richardson. 1220 Sycamore!”

“How do you spell that?”

“Are the police on their way?”

“Ma’am, listen! Spell your name, please.”

That’s when I hear the familiar click of the front door.

“THEY’RE HERE, BITCH! GET SOMEONE OVER HERE NOW!”

I’m in tee-shirt and boxers with no pockets so I put my phone down and run to the staircase.

“Brad, run out the back with Tess! NOW!”

King starts barking and rushes the front door. Maybe that will deter them.  I hear Brad’s voice.

“King! What’s . . .”

“Brad, run! Go, get out. . .”

Just then the front door opens a crack and a hand drops a piece of something that smacks when it hits the floor. Meat?

King, no!

Just as I think it, King is on it.  

Yelp. Thud.

By this time, I can only hope Brad and Tess have gone out the back door and have gotten away.

I grab my phone and run to the bathroom, lock the door behind me. Again, I dial 911.

“911 Operator. What’s your . . .”

“They’re here. Send someone now. 1220 Sycamore.”

“Your name, please?”

I grit my teeth, trying to keep my voice steady and low.

“Vanessa R-I-C-H-A-R-D-S-O-N.”

“Was that two S’s?”

Just then, the lock is blown out with a PING-PING. Wood flies and I drop my phone.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

I’m on the floor, my teeth clamped so hard, they hurt.

“I could come in there and get you, but I don’t think you’d like it.”

I feel tears pour down my face as I slowly pull myself up. What now?

The door is already open a crack and I give it a small pull and then stand in the doorway.

“Is someone having a bad night? Tsk.”

I look to see a figure dressed all in black but this one is wearing a Mother Goose mask. Somehow, this terrifies me more.

“Where’s . . .”

“Where’s who, girly-girl? My partner? He’s tending to other business. Now, if you mean some man that was running outside holding some sort of package?”

“NO!”

I rush at the intruder in a fit of uncontrollable rage.  As I reach out to grab him, I fly back in slow motion. I feel nothing but I hear an explosion. The light fades.

* * *

Amen.

Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit. Think, think, think.

Brad is looking at me and I know what he’s thinking. I turn to him and let loose.

“Brad, listen to me. You have to believe me. Something is happening, some kind of warp or time loop I can’t control. We have to act. Fast. Two, at least two intruders are coming to kill us, all of us! I’ve been reliving the same thing night after night and it’s always the same! I need you to believe me, Brad. Brad?”

I can see he doesn’t believe me. 

“Please, Brad. We have to get out! Now! I’ll get Tess, you get King and start the car. There’s no time! Go! Believe me, Brad. We’re all going to die if we don’t! I’m getting Tess and I’ll meet you outside.”

“Now, honey. Vanessa, calm down. Think this through.”

I’m standing now. Tess will soon begin to cry and it’ll start all over again!

“NOW! IT HAS TO BE NOW! DON’T YOU GET IT? WE HAVE TO GO!”

Tess begins to wail. King begins to bark.

Shit.

I go to the door and throw it open, standing back. King charges in. I run out.

“Come on, baby. We have to go.”

“No, Vanessa. We’re not going anywhere.”

“Brad? What . . .”

“The doctor warned us, remember? I want you to relax and take one of these. I’ll take care of Tess.”

“No! You don’t understand!”

“Nessa, you’re not in your right mind. Come with me, sweetheart. Everything’s going to be all right.”

With Tess screaming and King barking, I can’t hear the front door! I bow my head and walk towards Brad.

Then I make a run for it. He tries to grab me but I just manage to escape his grasp. In so doing, I fall down the stairs, landing at the bottom in a heap. I try to get up.

Just then, the front door springs open.

* * *

Amen.

I grab my head. I am so completely alone in this and I don’t know what “this” is!

No more thinking. Time for action. Thinking hasn’t gotten me anywhere.

I get out of bed and go to the closet.

“Nessa? What are you doing? Come to bed.”

“In a minute.” I try to sound normal.

I slide open the closet doors, reach for the shoebox.

“What are you . . .”

“I thought my wedding shoes were in here. I just want to check.”

Liar.

I kneel in front of the closet and open the box. The gun and the clip lay side by side. I try not to make it obvious what I’m doing until I jam the chamber into place with a loud clack.

“Vanessa, what the hell?”

I get up holding the gun down with both hands.

“Stay there, Brad. I have something I . . .”

“Give me that! You don’t know how to handle . . .”

I’m at my wit's end. Done.

“Just fucking stay back, Brad! Trust me!”

Tess cries out. Brad is out of bed now. I hate how he looks at me.

“Give me the gun, Vanessa.”

Before he can reach me, I get to the door, open it and jump back. King bounds into the room and blocks Brad’s way.

Between Tess’s wails, I hear the front door.  I don’t have much time. Brad is still facing King.

“I’m so sorry,” I say as I bring the butt of the gun down on Brad’s head. As he falls, I shut the bedroom door before King can reach me.   

I fly down the stairs and slip behind the front door just as it cracks open.  Two dark figures enter the foyer slowly, looking up the stairs towards the commotion.

“What. . .” one of them begins.

“Look who’s having a bad night now,” I growl. 

I fire until the gun empties. 

There’s something else I do.  

I remove their masks.   

* * *

Amen.

Yes, amen.

“Brad? I forgot I have to do something. Would you listen for Tess? I’ll be right back.”

“What is it?”

“Nothing, really. Wait for me?”

Liar.

I tip-toe out and close the bedroom door behind me. I pass Tess’s room and see her begin to stir.

At the end of the hallway is the entrance to the attic. I pull the cord that brings down the stairs. I flip the switch to turn on the attic lights and climb.

The attic is a musty enclosure of bare wood and artifacts belonging to generations of a family. A resolve deep within me ignites. This is my family being threatened. Enough.

I survey the area. I see dusty trunks, boxes taped and labeled, antique furniture no longer in fashion, tea sets retired from everyday use, covered with plastic. 

I am in a graveyard of past things whose owners have moved on. Nostalgia is what I should feel but, instead, I am filled with resentment and a need to destroy that which seeks to destroy me and mine.

My attention is drawn to a bureau that once belonged to a great aunt I never met. It has a mirror affixed to it that has always had pictures tucked into the frame. I walk over to it and draw a sharp breath. 

There is a jagged crack down the center of the mirror that is new. There is the picture I remember of a tiny coffin of a stillborn baby, a common way in those days to commemorate the dead. 

Realization dawns as, when I look at a picture of my great aunt, I see one of the intruders. She is seated next to a man who has his hand placed over hers. He is the other. Both look grim, and I shudder.

“What do you want?” I whisper. 

I begin opening drawers. There must be something here. My foot touches something partially exposed beneath the bureau, perhaps one of the items that we could hear fall from the floor below.

It is a photograph of the dead child, also cracked. I glance at my great aunt and am overcome with compassion.

I carefully, reverently, remove the picture from the damaged frame and place it over my heart.

“I’ll take care of her,” I whisper.

* * *

As I climb down the stairs and push the attic door up and back into place, I turn to see King guarding Tess’s room. His tail pounds an ecstatic greeting.

I pat his loyal head as I enter the nursery. As Brad rocks our Tess with bottle in hand, four beautiful eyes look up.

“Everything under control?”

I smile.

“Sure. Whatever that is.”