Step Into Madness

By Di

I cast a nervous glance at the Writing Chicas gathered behind me, cheering me on. Swallowing hard, I closed my eyes and stepped through the door into the world of Tony Ramirez and Sarah Taylor.

A breeze caressed my cheeks like a warm breath, and I opened my eyes to find myself standing in an airport corridor holding a small tote and handbag. I looked up to see the object of my fantasy descending the escalator, a serious look on his handsome face. A child's squeal could be heard over the hum of voices, causing Tony to look up and smile. He stepped off the escalator, quickly making his way toward the woman and little girl standing several feet apart from the crowd. Scooping the child into his arms, he quickly kissed the young woman on the cheek, leading her to the empty chairs a few feet away.

I found a secluded spot where I could watch the scene as it unfolded. The serious look returned to Tony's face as he talked to the young woman. It was apparent that what he was telling her was painful to hear. The little girl sang to her dolly, dancing between the chairs, oblivious to the tears that streaked her mother's face.

The loudspeaker crackled, announcing the boarding of Flight 1178. Tony quickly hugged the mother and child, picked up his briefcase and headed for the gate. Reaching into my handbag, I located the airline ticket I had requested from the Virgentrix staff, complete with boarding pass. Heels clicking on the tile floor, I quickly crossed the corridor, moving into line about a dozen people behind Tony.

The trip down the jet way was annoyingly slow. I eventually stepped into the plane behind a middle-aged businessman, glancing up to see Tony seated against the window in Row 15. The boarding pass I held in my hand read Row 13, Seat D. Movement stopped once again. The main in front of me reached to grab the latest copy of "Time", and I could read Row 15, Seat B printed boldly on the pass he held.

Several passengers stood in the aisle as they searched for storage room in the overhead bins. While we waited for the aisle to clear, I lightly tapped the businessman on the shoulder. "Excuse me. I see an old friend of mine is seated in Row 15, and I noticed that your seat is in that row. Could I possibly talk you into switching with me?"

"What seat do you have? Thirteen C, huh? Heck, I'm probably going to sleep anyway." The weary look in his eyes confirmed that this would very possibly be the case. "Sure, you go ahead and sit next to your friend."

"Thank you! I really appreciate it! We haven't seen each other in quite awhile. This will give us a chance to catch up!"

Finally reaching Row 15, I tossed my handbag into the seat, and flipped open the overhead compartment, only to find that it was completely stuffed. Glancing around the plane, I spotted some space above Row 12 and dragged my tote bag in that direction. It was heavier that I had realized, and I struggled to lift it above my head. Frustration was setting in when I felt someone take it from me. At the same instant I heard, "Let me."

The voice was undeniable. I put on my best smile as I turned to see his leather-clad back as Tony made his way back to his seat. I slid into the seat next to him, mumbled my thanks and received a quiet, "No problem" in return. Casting a sideways glance in his direction, the preoccupation on his face was apparent as he resumed his gaze out the small window.

Several minutes into the flight, I couldn't stand it any longer. Clearing my throat, I shifted slightly in the seat to better face my traveling companion. "I'm Di, by the way. Thanks again for helping me get that bag into the bin."

Resigning himself to the fact that I was going to be one of those annoying people who wanted to visit during the flight, he glanced in my direction as he answered, "Tony, Tony Ramirez. Are you traveling for pleasure or for business?"

Skirting the truth, I explained that I was visiting a friend who was going through some difficult times, and that I hoped my visit would help resolve some of those problems. The remainder of the flight was filled with small talk, passing the time quickly.

There was an audible 'pop' as the intercom sprang to life, announcing that we would be landing in fifteen minutes. I turned to Tony, thinking to resume the conversation, finding him deep in thought, worry lines etched deeply into the strong brow.

We sat in silence as the plane taxied up to the gate. When the seatbelt sign blinked off, passengers scrambled to retrieve their belongings, clogging the aisle and bringing all forward movement to a crawl. It took several minutes to get to Row 12. I reached toward the bin to pull down my tote bag, losing my balance as the passengers behind me lurched forward. A hand grabbed my arm to steady me. I got my feet back under me, turning to see Tony holding my tote. "Go ahead, I have it."

Passengers tumbled out of the jet way, many into the waiting arms of friends and relatives. Others had the dazed look of the travel-weary as they tried to locate their connecting flight, or searched for directions to the baggage carousels.

Moving off to the side, I turned to take the tote bag from Tony. Looking into his eyes, I heard my voice say, "Are you going into the city? Maybe we could share a cab." He rattled off an address in the heart of the city. I assured him that I was headed in that general direction, and together we walked out of the terminal, waving down a cab within minutes.

Other than pointing out a few points of interest, the trip passed in relative quiet. I felt a twinge of disappointment as the cab pulled to a halt in front a large building which appeared to be an old warehouse. Music blasted from the small amusement park located directly across the street.

"You live here?"

"Yes, I have a loft on the top floor." Tony climbed out of the cab, closed the door and reached through the open passenger window to hand some bills to the driver. "I hope you enjoy your visit and that things work out okay for your friend."

"Thanks, I hope so too. And thanks again for your help on the plane," I called in his direction as he walked toward the building. Reaching the heavy metal door, he turned once more to wave before disappearing inside.

"Where to, lady?" The driver's voice broke into my thoughts.

Following my instructions, the driver pulled into the parking apron of a small convenience store a few blocks from Tony's loft. I passed a twenty-dollar bill to the driver and stepped out of the cab, pulling my bag behind me. Fifteen minutes later I walked out of the restroom dressed in the jeans, sweater and sneakers that had been packed in the tote. The weather had turned colder, and I was thankful for the jacket I found folded at the very bottom.

A brisk ten-minute walk retraced the route to Tony's building. The music continued to blare from the amusement rides, and people milled around the various games of chance. I suddenly realized I hadn't eaten in quite awhile, and the gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach demanded attention. An empty bus stop bench faced the warehouse building, and I quickly sat down, popcorn in hand, waiting for events to unfold.

A distant rumble grew louder as a city bus pulled up to the stop, effectively blocking my view of the building across the street. Once the driver realized I was not getting on, the door closed and the bus roared into motion. It finally moved out of my line of vision, giving me a clear view of the blond woman walking into the elevator. She pulled down the gate and the elevator rose, taking her out of sight.

It took every fiber of self-control to keep myself from charging across the street to confront Dr. Sarah Taylor right then and there. Sheer willpower kept me seated on the bench. Daylight was beginning to fade when the hum of a motorcycle could be heard in the distance. Sarah had been alone in the loft for almost fifteen minutes when Tony pulled up to the elevator, opened the gate and wheeled his motorcycle inside.

I didn't have long to wait before the elevator descended once again. Sarah threw open the gate and ran for her car. Tires squealed as she pulled away from the curb. I watched her speed down the street before turning back to see several people gathered around the elevator entrance. Shift change, I decided. Good-natured jostling and joking passed amongst the group as they waited for the elevator to reach street level. It finally arrived, the people standing there parting to allow the motorcycle to roll off the platform. Several turned to watch as the driver brought the machine to life, revved the motor and roared down the road.

Tearing across the street, I pushed my way to the front of the line. The second the gate was pushed up, I squeezed into the elevator, barely managing to reach the control panel to push the button for the top floor.

"Hey, honey, you just missed the guy who lives up there. That was him on the motorcycle."

Putting on my sweetest smile, I looked up at the large man standing next to me. "Yes, I know. He thought we might miss each other! He asked me to wait for him in the loft til he gets back."

The elevator ground to a stop one floor below Tony's. One by one the men exited until I was alone. Reaching up, I pulled the gate down again, and the elevator resumed its journey upward. Seconds later, I pushed the gate back up, hurrying into the loft. Several stacks of paper lay on a desk in the corner. Frantically, I began leafing through them.

"He has to have her address here someplace! How the hell am I going to find them?" Bills of Sale, invoices and letters covered the desk, but nothing revealed the address of Sarah Taylor. I took a deep breath and scanned the room, my eye finally falling on a phone book lying open on the kitchen table.

I flipped hurriedly through the pages: Tabor, Tanner, Taylor! Using my finger as a guide, I scanned through the names, only to find dozens of listings for S. Taylor, Sara Taylor and Sarah Taylor. Tears of frustration filled my eyes as I slammed the book shut. This wasn't supposed to happen! I wanted to stop her! Now I couldn't even find them!

A tear fell from my cheek, landing on the closed phone book, and drawing my attention to the handwritten notes on the cover. The name Sarah Taylor was written in bold print, followed by a phone number and address. I wiped the tears from my eyes, ripped the cover from the book, and ran for the elevator.

The crisp air took my breath away as I stepped out of the elevator into the night. Across the street I could see a cab parked next to the curb with its "Not In Service" light shining brightly. Undaunted, I dashed in front of several cars making their way down the street. The driver leaned against the hood of the cab, obviously enjoying the hotdog he held in both hands.

"I need you to take me to this address…" I managed to stammer before he held up his hand to stop me.

"I'm on a break, lady. If you want to wait about half an hour 'til I'm back on duty, I can take you then."

"I can't wait a half an hour! It's an emergency! Listen, I'll pay you double whatever the meter shows, okay? But we need to go now!"

Stuffing the remainder of the hotdog into his mouth, he managed to mumble, "Get in!" as he opened the back door.

The cab roared through the deserted streets, around corners and through intersections at breakneck speeds. It seemed the driver managed to hit every available pothole, bouncing me from one side of the backseat to the other.

Rubber squealed as the car took a sharp left, coming to a stop behind the motorcycle parked in the driveway. "This is it, lady," the cabbie announced. "The meter reads $18.50. You did say double, right?"

I placed two $20 bills into his waiting hand, crawled out of the cab with my meager possessions and hurried up the steps. I placed the tote bag off to the side, and reached to press the button next to the name 'Taylor' on the intercom panel. I snatched back my hand as if it had touched fire. That's not the way to play this, I told myself, and pushed the button marked 'Manager' instead.

The sound of a single gunshot split the air. Frantically I started pressing all of the buttons on the panel. Seconds seemed like minutes, minutes like hours as I jabbed at the intercom, praying someone would release the lock. The door suddenly buzzed, and I pulled it open at the same instant that a second gunshot could be heard. Rushing into the entry, I collided with the elderly woman standing there, fear in her face.

"Call 911! Do it now!" The tone of my voice spurred her into action as she nodded, disappearing into the first floor apartment.

I ascended the steps as quietly as possible. When I reached the second floor landing, I could see the door to Sarah's apartment was ajar. The door opened further with a slight nudge. From inside, a woman's voice could be heard repeating the same phrase over and over. Careful not to draw her attention, I moved silently into the apartment where I could see her standing at the sink, pulling the tape from a videocassette, murmuring "It never happened, it never happened" as if in a trance.

Panicked at what I was going to find, I rushed down the hallway, and through the door to the bedroom. One look at the man lying on the bed was all that was needed to know that he was dead. Terrified, I moved further into the room. Tony lay sprawled on the floor, a wet, red stain spreading across his shirt. Falling to my knees at his side, I lifted his head into my lap, and was rewarded with a small groan. Using my shirt, I wiped at the blood that trickled from his lips. "Don't you give up on me, Tony! Help is coming! Just hang in…."

"Who the hell are you?" The voice was manic, and I looked up to see Sarah standing in the doorway, gun in hand. She started to ramble a bizarre explanation about being stalked, and how Tony shot her father. As she ranted, it was obvious that she had forgotten I was even in the room. Slowly, I moved my hand forward until I felt the cold steel of the gun lying on the floor. Just as my fingers curled around the grip, the look on her face changed once again. Her head snapped up, and I saw her level the gun directly at me.

The next few seconds were a flurry of activity, all of it in slow motion. Her finger twitched on the trigger, followed by an ear-splitting explosion. As Sarah crumpled to the floor, I could see two policemen running down the hall behind her. It took several heartbeats to realize that the explosion had come from my gun, not hers.

The room suddenly filled with people. Strong hands gripped my arms, pulling me away from Tony who remained motionless on the floor. The space I left quickly filled with paramedics and their equipment. I watched their efforts even as I felt myself being led from the room. A policewoman stood stoically behind me as I lowered myself into a chair in the living room. I attempted to rise and follow the gurney as they carried Tony out to the waiting ambulance. The policewoman stopped me from following, compassion in her eyes. "Stay here. I'll let you know as soon as I can find out how he's doing."

Forensic teams scoured every corner of the apartment. Evidence was bagged and labeled. Detective Sandler arrived shortly, and I found myself repeating the details of the shooting over and over again as he hurriedly scribbled notes onto a small pad. Stopping one of the examiners as they walked through the room, he lifted one of the evidence bags by the corner. "What's this?"

"Found the empty videotape cassette on the kitchen counter. This," he moved several bags to find what he was looking for, "is the tape we found wound around the blades of the garbage disposal. We'll be splicing it together to see if we can figure out what's on it as soon as we get it back to the lab."

After two hours of alternating between answering questions and sitting in silence, Detective Sandler rose. "Come on, we'll finish this down at the station."

A radio squawked, and I felt a hand on my arm. The policewoman stood behind me with a small smile on her face. "They just brought him out of surgery. The bullet broke a rib and that punctured his lung. He's in recovery, he's going to be fine."

I smiled my thanks as the detective propelled me toward the door. The pool of blood in the bedroom doorway was proof that the madness that was Sarah Taylor had been stopped.

"C'mon! Let's go!" the detective urged as he stood impatiently on the landing outside the apartment door. Several tenants stood in the hall, craning their necks for a better view of what was going on.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped across the threshold. A sudden gust of air hit my face, making my eyes close involuntarily. Seconds later I opened them to find myself facing the anxious faces of the Writing Chicas. Spinning around, I could see that I was back in the Virtuport of Banderas World.

Tension was thick as the Chicas waited for my report. "Let me just say this, mi amigas. Tony is NOT dead; he is just fine. And Dr. Sarah Taylor aka 'The Blond Bitch' is…history!"