The Broken Date

√5√

Jack's POV:

Watching the shadow on the hedge, I walked even faster, my feet padding loudly on the sidewalk. My forehead began to ache. I could feel my fear grip my throat and wondered if I'd be able to scream for help if I had to.

The shadow began moving faster too, gliding silently along the shifting, rustling hedge. It's head was bent forward, it's long, thin arms swung rapidly back and forth, almost as if swimming.

I felt as if I were swimming, too. My eyes blurred as if underwater. I gulped for air. Then the wind seemed to push me back,like ocean waves.

Why hadn't I accepted Felix's offer? Why did I insist on walking home?

I just hadn't been able to think clearly since. . .since the sight of the holdup in the jewelry store, since seeing Mark with that gun, since seeing him shoot the little man. I hadn't been able to think clearly, or to think anything else.

I started to run. The shadow began to run, too. The two shadows were nearly side by side on the hedge.

Suddenly the hedge ended. But the soft this of running footsteps behind me continued. I was almost home, just three houses to go.

Just three houses to go. Now two. Then I had a terrifying thought: what if I were imagining this, too?

What if no one was chasing me?

What if my mind was betraying me again?

I had to find out. I had no choice.

My legs aching, my forehead throbbing with pain, I reached my driveway. Then I spun around suddenly, almost losing my balance,and stared back at my pursuer.

I saw a blur of pale blue and black. Whoever it was leaped behind a tree.

Someone was there. For a brief moment, I felt strangely relieved. Better to be chased by a real person than by your own mind running wild.

Then the fear came rushing back. I forced my legs to carry me up the driveway. The porch light was on, but the rest of the house was dark. My parents must be in the den in back. I was only a few yards from the front stoop now. Would the door open?

I turned again, and saw the figure dive back into twisting tree shadows.

“Mark?”

Had I seen the flash of that black hair reflected in the streetlight?

“Mark?”

My voice was a whisper on the wind. I tried to shout louder, but my heart was beating too fast, my throat too choked and dry to cooperate.

“Mark? Is that you?”

A gust of wind was my only reply. No figure emerged from the darkness. A cat howled down the block, sounding horribly human, like a screeching child.

I wanted to how, too. I wanted to screech at the top of my lungs.

“Mark? Why are you doing this? Is that you?”

Silence. The cat wailed again.

“Do you want to talk?”

Silence.

I reached for the front door knob with a trembling hand, turned it and pushed the door in. Stepping into the house, I took one more look back into the shadowy front yard. He was running away now, running toward the street, head low, running in a crouch,staying in the shadows, trying not to be seen.

I could see his hair. His raven-black hair.

I stood at the doorway and watched until the darkness swallowed him up. Then I closed the door and locked it. I leaned back, trying to catch my breath, pressing my back hard against the door as if trying to keep the outside out.