Agent with a History

  *****

  I jerked upright in the bed, my scream still lingering in my ears. My hand went to my mouth and I started to sob.

  I couldn’t take it anymore!

  Oh God, please help me!

  I crashed back against my pillows and cried for a while, but sleep wouldn’t come, no matter how much I needed it. I threw back the covers and got up.

  I looked at the alarm clock in disgust, 2:00 am. I’d only been asleep for less than two hours.

  My eyes burned and I stumbled my way to the bathroom. I didn’t turn on the light as I turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on my face repeatedly. I stood there for a moment, water dripping off my face onto the countertop.

  I was so tired of this!

  I headed back to the bed, dreading every step, but I had to get some sleep even at the risk of another nightmare. I was about to slip back under the covers when the hairs on the back of my neck stood up.

  I wasn’t alone!

  It was a terrible realization to have and I reacted quickly out of fear, my hands dove under my pillow to grasp a small 9mm I kept there and I swung around with it held high.

  My aim centered on the shadowy outline of a person sitting in one of my small kitchenette chairs.

  The filtered city light from outside outlined the individual and I made it out to be a man wearing a dark suit. Something chilled within me as I guessed as to whom it could be, the man from the sketch!

  I was breathing hard, as if I had just been in a race, and I felt the tight grip I had on the gun waver slightly.

  ‘Get a hold of yourself Lisa!’ My brain screamed at me, but I couldn’t help it.

  Fear gripped me hard, as I stared down the barrel of the pistol at the man sitting in my kitchen chair.

  “How long have you been sitting there?” I asked, as my mind seized in consideration of everything that he could have done to me and perhaps still could. My grip tightened on the gun yet further at the possibility of that last thought.

  He spoke, “I’m sorry I didn’t wake you from the nightmare you were having, but I figured that living alone and being woken up by a stranger would be a nightmare all of its own.”

  “Who are you and what are you doing in my apartment?” Before he could answer I added, “Are you here to kill me?”

  There was a short moment of silence. “If I was here to kill you, you would already be dead. As to who I am, you may call me Flint. As to why I’m here, the best way to say it, is that I’ve come to warn you.”

  He stood up and my finger tightened on the trigger.

  “That gun isn’t loaded,” he said softly.

  He took a step toward me and I pulled the trigger.

  Click! Click! Click!

  He’d unloaded my gun and slipped it back under my pillow while I slept!

  A little cry of despair escaped me. I turned and felt under my side of the mattress for the sawed off shotgun I kept there.

  It was gone!

  I turned to the night table for my phone, but it was gone too!

  I glanced at the slowly approaching man and saw him hold up my phone before he slipped it back into a coat pocket. There was nothing else to do; I had to take him out if I was to survive.

  I threw the gun at him and then launched myself toward him. Sickeningly, I saw him snatch the gun out of the air and idly toss it to the side. I launched at him feet first in a double legged kick, but he caught my feet and stole my momentum.

  My head and upper back should’ve crashed into the floor hard, with my feet being held captive, but I felt him grab my shoulder and pull my torso upwards as he let my feet drop. Then he spun me around, moments before we both crashed into the floor; but he didn’t let his weight fall on me like he could have.

  Just before we impacted with the floor I felt his hand slide in front of my face, which helped absorb the force of the connection of my head with the floor.

  As I gathered in a quick breath, I realized in anguish that it was already all over before I could even move. My legs were twisted one way and my arms another so that I literally couldn’t move at all. He could dislocate my shoulders, pop my hip out, break my back, crush my windpipe; he could do anything he wanted to me!

  There was no overcoming either the strength or skill with which he held me and I couldn’t help the little wail of despair that escaped through my parted lips.

  I was afraid.

  I hadn’t been this powerless or helpless over my own fate since I was a little girl and had been forced to watch my fathers’ brother rape and kill my own mother and then rape me.

  I had never wanted this to happen again!

  I had worked so hard to learn how to defend myself, but it was all useless to me now!

  I started to cry softly, as I let my forehead down to rest against the floor. His voice against my ear stilled my breathing.

  “Fear is a terrible thing, but it can teach a useful lesson. I know what the fear you are experiencing right now feels like. I’ve felt it before, too. You’re completely helpless, and you can’t stop anything at all that I might attempt, from happening to you. I don’t enjoy giving you this fear. It’s not why I came here, but it serves a point. Two men have died so far and more are sure to follow and I don’t want you to be one of them. You’re a good person and a good cop, a rare combination these days. Those two men died feeling just what you're feeling right now. Don’t be the next victim to experience fear like this. Close your investigation and walk away or this could be you in the near future!”

  His words ended and he let me go and got up. Shakily I sat up rubbing the soreness from my arms, acutely aware of my near naked status. I was cold and the tracks left by my tears across my skin were freezing.

  Where had he gone?

  I felt a blanket drape around my shoulders and I latched onto it reflexively. His big hands slid under my shoulders as he pulled me up to my feet and moved me backward to sit me down on the edge of the bed.

  He stood in front of me and I couldn’t bring myself to look up into his eyes, not that much could be seen in the darkened room. But I knew what he looked like from the sketch, which hadn’t lied about a thing.

  I saw my phone light up, as he placed it back on its charging station beside my bed.

  “Your shotgun and bullet clips are on the kitchen table. You need better locks and you should have a chair under the door handle as an extra precaution.”

  He stood there for a moment longer and then I heard him sigh loudly. “You’re not going to give up your investigation, are you Lisa?”

  I shook my head no and he sighed again. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  I watched him go into the bathroom and I heard water run briefly and then he was back. He pushed me back onto the pillows and swung my legs into the bed and then covered me up with the sheet and coverlet. He placed a cold washcloth on my head.

  “Try to get some sleep; heaven knows you’re going to need it. If you need to get a hold of me you can reach me at this number.”

  He placed a white card on top of my phone. “It’s in use for one call only. So make it good!”

  He turned and walked to the door and pointed to the handle. “Chair, tomorrow night.”

  Then the door was closing.

  My eyes drifted from the closed door to the ceiling above my head. What had just happened?

  I couldn’t think about it right now. I was just too tired. The aftermath of all the adrenaline that had been going through me made me drowsier than I had been all day.