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SUSAN MOORE STEPPED into the foyer of her condominium and she was rocked by a premonition. She gasped at the unexpected surge of adrenaline throughout her body and doubled over with one trembling hand clinging tightly to the knob and the other suddenly clutching against her stomach. A sharp jabbing sensation tore into her midriff like white-hot lightning that made her think of the excruciating pain she endured when passing a kidney stone several years back.
She struggled for breath. Her lungs and throat felt constricted and she was unable to get enough oxygen into her system. She felt her knees begin to buckle, but she held fast to the knob and locked her knees, determined to remain on her feet.
This was not the first time the surge of a premonition rushed through her body, pouring adrenaline into her bloodstream, and making her feel as though she were on an extreme caffeine high; yet still, the premonitions continued to shock her each time.
Icy tendrils coursed through her belly and moved into her throat. She was suddenly afraid because this premonition was different. This premonition reminded her of the horrible violence that happened to Timothy Altman a year ago. This was going to be bad.
Normally, when the premonitions came, she always had bad feelings. The premonitions were the forewarning and what she really feared was the vision which she never quite knew when to expect. Often the vision would immediately follow a premonition, while other times, the really bad times, the vision would not come for days, and her nerves were raw waiting for the ultimate moment.
On the night Timothy died the vision came a day later and by then the poor boy was already in his watery grave.
In the open doorway she cringed, silently cursing the premonition. She doubled over, bringing her free hand to her bosom, waiting for her throat to open a little so that sweet oxygen would fill her lungs.
She felt like she’d taken a blow to the abdomen by a heavy weight fighter and it was a challenge to keep her feet beneath her.
From behind, she heard the creak and swish of a door opening somewhere on her floor. Still out of breath, she somehow mustered enough control over her body to force herself to move fully into the foyer and close the door behind her, wanting desperately to avoid an embarrassing scene in front of her neighbors.
Most of the occupants of the condo already believed she needed psychiatric attention and an extended stay in a secure ward in Thorek Hospital with a straight jacket and Thorazine cocktail every hour.
The nosy neighbors didn’t hide their morbid curiosity from her; they stared openly when they saw her in the halls or at the association meetings, and in their faces, she could see fear, disgust, and pity all at once. She could tolerate the other ugly emotions and even the imagined weight of their eyes upon her, but she would not tolerate anyone’s pity; the mere thought of it angered her. Sometimes she wanted to scream into their faces and act crazy, because that was what they expected from her. They were all secretly hoping to catch a glimpse of Side Show Susan and that made her sick to her stomach.
In her haste to avoid prying eyes, she closed the door so suddenly that she lost her balance. She tried to keep herself from falling, but sweaty palms betrayed her, and she fell back against the door. She slid down to the cold wood floor, wrapping her arms tightly around her knees, hugging herself fiercely.
She bit her lips and fought back stinging tears, determined to be strong. Rage pulsed through her veins and throbbed in her temples, blurring her vision. She was angry at those who pitied and with herself for being cursed with a strange power she didn’t understand. Although it had been a part of her life for as long as she could remember, the visions were still foreign to her, a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside of an enigma, as Winston Churchill would have told anyone.
Earlier this evening she lectured about paranormal activities at Northwestern University. Standing at the podium and among colleagues and students who shared her passion and believed in the supernatural made her feel sure of herself and her ability instead of outcast and ashamed. In fact, as she drove home, she savored every moment of her evening and committed the normalcy of it to memory.
Now the premonition dashed all hope of normalcy; the floodgates had opened, and the strangeness of her world came pouring in, unchecked and powerful.
Any self-control she might have exerted only moments ago had suddenly been stripped away. Like a sudden rising tide responding to the mysterious pull of the moon’s gravity, her emotions washed to the surface.
She sat in the dark foyer and wept as silently as she could. Her weeping soon turned to silent sobs that wracked her body. She shuddered convulsively with each new sob that tore through her like a bad case of hiccups. After several minutes, she took deep breaths, trying to regain the rhythm of normal breathing. Eventually, the swelling rage she’d felt overwhelming her started to subside. Her eyes felt swollen and itchy. Her cheeks felt flushed.
Through the living room windows, pale light filtered in from the cracks of the vertical blinds, casting long, shadowy lines across the couch and coffee table, angling sharply up one wall where they became part of the gray shadows of the room.
A light flashed blue and red and a siren wailed briefly as it passed near, reaching its climax, and then drawing away into the night. Somewhere in the house, a clock ticked. The refrigerator motor kicked on with a rattle and then hummed monotonously in the kitchen. The click of the thermostat ignited the boilers as the mercury switch shifted and the hiss of forced heat filtered into the room.
Susan felt herself grow calm. Her heartbeat returned to normal rate and her breathing slowed. Her face no longer felt hot and flushed. The pain in her stomach had gone as quickly as it had come, like losing a bad dream upon waking in a cold sweat. She wiped away tears from her puffy eyes with the sleeve of her blazer.
She got shakily to her knees and tried to stand, but still she felt faint as blood rushed to her head. She stayed on the floor with her back pressing against the door until her legs stopped shaking and her head stopped buzzing.
When something warm and furry brushed against her hand she almost screamed. She jerked her hand back as if stung and snapped her head to the right, eyes wide open.
Sitting with her tail entwined around her front paws was Phoenix, a fat domestic short hair cat with tiger stripes and a black-tipped tail.
“Phoenix,” Susan said nervously. Her face again flushed and felt hot. “You scared the crap out of me.”
Phoenix mewed as if by way of apology.
Susan smiled thinly, relieved it was only the cat, but feeling silly for thinking it could have been anything else. Pushing up with her legs she stood and leaned slightly against the door. She found that she could stand now and stooped down slowly to lift the cat into her arms.
“I bet you’re hungry, huh?” she asked and scratched the cat behind its left ear. Susan felt the rumble of a purr begin in the cat’s belly and vibrate into her own chest. It was a comforting feeling and she hugged the cat tighter.
With Phoenix cradled in her arms, Susan went into the kitchen to scoop food for the cat. She set Phoenix on the table while she searched the cabinets beneath the sink for a can of Whiskas to complement the dry food. She walked to the small red dish beside the stove and emptied the can into the second compartment.
“You eat, sweetie,” she said, reaching down to scratch behind the cat’s ear again. “Mommy’s going to bed.”
She left the kitchen, pausing in the living room to lock the door and set the security chain in place. As was her habit learned long ago from her father, Susan made a complete circuit of the condo, checking all the door locks and window latches to be sure all were secure.
Although crime in her neighborhood was nonexistent the habit was hard to break, and the ritual was performed more for her own peace of mind than for necessity.
Her circuit through the condo eventually ended in the bedroom, where she checked the three windows which were already secured. She looked at the bed and felt the exhaustion of the long day settle upon her like a heavy blanket. She wanted to lie down next to David, but she knew that she would be unable to sleep; she’d spend the whole night lying awake in bed, waiting for the vision or dream to come, and dreading every moment in between.
She moved as quietly as she could through the bedroom, not wanting to wake David. She paused at the foot of the bed and watched him sleeping. His upper lip curled a little each time he snored.
In the bathroom she stripped out of her clothing keeping on only her pale-yellow panties and bra and made her way back into the bedroom. It was cool in the condo, as usual, because David could not sleep if it was too hot. She turned the thermostat up slightly and slipped silently beneath the cold peach-colored sheets. She gritted her teeth as her warm skin touched the sheets. She felt like thousands of cold fingers touched her all over.
The pains again jolted her, taking her completely by surprise. The first hit her under the left breast, a sharp stinging that brought tears to her eyes. The second stab of pain struck her above the navel but was not as excruciating as the first. Her hands drew reflexively to her abdomen and she expected to feel the sticky wetness of blood but all she felt was the flatness of her stomach. She looked down in the dark but merely saw the grayness of shadows.
She braced herself for another circuit of pain but there was nothing more. The burning sting was gone but her breasts and belly still throbbed. She ran her shaky hands over her taut stomach again, searching for wounds she knew were not there, but her mind insisted must be.
The icy tendrils of fear coursed through her body. Although she was becoming an old hand when it came to premonitions and visions, very rarely had she experienced any physical pain and that scared the shit out of her.
The pain she experienced was real enough and she knew there must be a connection between the burning sting she felt in her abdomen and the premonition she experienced within the half hour.
A hot lump formed in her throat. She dreaded the coming of the vision, very much afraid of what she would see. She had a very bad feeling about this, unlike anything previously experienced.
She rolled on her side and curled her body up. Feeling guilty about submitting to fear, she wept. The foreboding warned her that something bad was coming her way. She closed her eyes, waiting for what would come next.
The awful ability had made her a pessimist of sorts, providing yet another reason to hate the cursed power.
For the next hour, she lay in bed weeping, waiting for the worst, never hoping, or expecting the best.