Periphery

By Jaime A. Heidel

    Claudine Meyers plopped down in her well-worn recliner with a satisfied sigh. Setting her slightly too full cup of tea on the small table beside her, she reached for the remote and turned on the 6-o-clock news. She was just in time to catch the handsome anchorman she’d developed a crush on over the past month.

A secret smile formed on her lips as she twisted the thin gold band around her finger absently with her right hand.

 

Charles had been dead nearly two years now. Though she still sometimes woke in the night missing him, the pain of his sudden passing had finally been replaced with a more tolerable, if not welcome, bittersweet ache.

 

She’d never admit this to her sixteen-year-old daughter, Theresa, but Claudine was thinking of dating again.

As if on cue, the floorboards above her head made a familiar creak as her only child moved around upstairs.

 

This time the smile that spread over her face was full of parental pride.

 

She turned her attention back to the TV.

The camera had moved in for a tight shot and as the anchorman looked up into the screen, Claudine was struck by the clarity of his dark green eyes.

She reached for her tea and as she put it to her lips, she sputtered.

A stark, sepia-colored photograph of a gaunt, pale man who looked to be in his thirties had abruptly replaced the good-looking anchorman.

Coughing, Claudine replaced her cup on the coaster and turned up the volume.

     …” Jack Conroy, thirty-five was last seen heading into West Rock on foot, though police suspect he will most likely steal a car for transportation. He is considered armed and dangerous and to be avoided at all costs. If you see this man, please call 911 immediately. Do not approach under any circumstances…”

     Underneath the mug shot were the words, ‘Prison Escape’ in large white block letters.

 

     Claudine felt a shudder pass through her body. She licked her suddenly parched lips and gazed with morbid fascination at the man on the screen.

     He looked as though he might have been high or drunk when the mug shot was taken. His thin, almost emaciated face made his dark brown eyes maniacal as they peered out from behind a thick veil of long, matted hair.

 

     On his lips, just under a slightly crooked nose, was the beginning of a smile that seemed like a dare.

     The newscaster went on to say that the man had been convicted of four counts of rape and murder and had been serving life without the possibility of parole. In the early morning hours, he’d escaped in the throes of a prison riot he’d instigated.

     Claudine remembered this case. The man had been put away less than a year ago.

 

     It had a been a little over a decade ago that she, along with dozens of her neighbors and friends, had actively protested the building of the new prison facility so close to their homes and schools but their voices went unheard.

 

     The prison had been built anyway, just five miles outside of town.

Everybody knew it was only a matter of time before something like this happened.

     Claudine blew out a breath she hadn’t even known she’d been holding. The menacing face had disappeared and was replaced by a pretty young reporter covering a robbery at a liquor store she didn’t recognize.

     The floorboards above her head creaked again and, moments later, the shower came on.

 

     Claudine took a sip of her tea. She was so glad Theresa was home tonight. At least she wouldn’t lose sleep worrying that her only daughter would become Jack Conroy’s fifth victim.

     She hoped they caught him soon. Five miles wasn’t that far on foot and they lived only one town over from West Rock.

     What had her sister said?

     “Believe me, Claude, if some lunatic does manage to escape from that place, he won’t be hanging around. He’ll want to get out of town. That’s the whole point of escaping from a place like that. Trust me, you’re better off living close to a prison then far away from it. The odds are in your favor.”

      Of course, that was easy for her to say, especially now, Suzanne and her partner had moved out to California two years ago, right after Charles had died.

     It had been terrible timing, but they’d already bought the house and couldn’t back out, although for the first three months, Suzanne had flown out to be with her sister nearly every weekend.

 

     She and Theresa had been meaning to go out to Sacramento and visit but so far, they simply hadn’t found the time.

 

     Theresa would be graduating from high school soon and would be the youngest of her class attending university on a full art scholarship.

 

     Claudine realized with a sudden pang that her little girl would be leaving the nest in only two more months. She’d be living alone for the first time in over twenty years.

 

     The football players on the TV screen blurred as her eyes filled with unexpected tears.

     She shook her head and forced a laugh, surprised at her sudden emotional vulnerability.

 

     Padded footsteps on the stairs told her that Theresa was heading down to the kitchen. She’d most likely fix herself a sandwich before heading back upstairs to study.

 

     Her daughter, for all her creativity, had a routine like clockwork and any interruption of it meant certain death for those who dared to cross her path. She wasn’t usually given to temper but she liked order and simplicity in her life.

     Claudine believed it was the loss of her father that had instilled this touch of OCD in her otherwise well-adjusted child.

 

     Well, if that was the worst of it, who could complain?

     “Hey, honey, you want some company?”

     Claudine rose from her chair and turned off the TV. She usually skipped the sports portion of the news. Grabbing her now lukewarm tea, she carried it into the dining room with her, intent on warming it up.

     The door to the refrigerator was standing open and she could just make out the top of Theresa’s head. Her thick mane of dark hair would most likely be sticking to her face, dripping water onto the floor.

     Claudine smiled.

     Theresa liked order, not necessarily neatness.

     She took a breath to call out again when the phone rang in the living room.

     “Hey, grab an apple for me, will you?” Claudine called as she turned to get the phone. “If this is Aunt Susie, I’m not going to be able to get near the fridge for an hour.”

     “Hello?”

     “Hey!” Suzanne called in her typical singsong voice. “How’s my little sis?”

     This was how she always greeted Claudine. Despite the fact that there was only a three-year age difference and both women were in their forties, Suzanne insisted on referring to her sibling as, ‘little sis’.

     “Hi, Suzie. How are you? How’s Joanne?”

     “Jo and I are great! She just got a new job with the ad agency I was telling you about and oh, you are never going to believe this…”

     A one-sided conversation was typical of a phone call between the sisters. Suzanne would talk and Claudine would listen. It was only when Suzanne was spent from gossip and the latest piece of celebrity news that she’d give the floor up to her sister.

 

     “Well, tell me about your day! How are things in good old Connecticut?”

     Claudine rolled her eyes. How could anybody be so chipper twenty-four hours a day? She glanced at the clock. It was only three-thirty in Sacramento.

     She frowned.

     “How come you’re not at the office?”

     “Jo and I are on vacation! I could have sworn I told you!”

     It was possible she had and Claudine had let it roll in one ear and out the other.

     She smiled sheepishly.

     “Right. I forgot. Sorry. Actually, something did happen here.”

     A sharp intake of breath indicated an exaggerated gasp from her sister.

     “You don’t say!”

     “Somebody broke out of Gatesville.”

     Silence.

     Claudine caught Theresa in her peripheral vision as she crossed from the dining room to the back hall.

     When she looked down, Claudine saw a freshly polished Granny Smith apple lying on the table behind her.

     “Hey thanks!” Claudine called with a laugh but Theresa was already out of sight.

 

     “Huh?”

     “Oh, I was talking to Theresa.”

     “Somebody broke out of Gatesville?”

     Claudine related the newscast. When she described the convict, a fresh chill crept down her spine.

     “He looks like he doesn’t have a soul,” Claudine murmured. “It was his eyes.”

     “Oh, that’s creepy,” said Suzanne. “Well, you remember what I told you? He’s probably half-way to Mexico by now.”

     When she took a bite out of the apple, her lips puckered around the fruit, eyes clamping shut reflexively at the tartness.

     “Do you realize that in two months, I’ll be living here all alone?”

     The words just popped out before Claudine could stop them.

     “Oh,honey!” Suzanne’s tone was sympathetic. “It’s going to be alright. She’s not going too far. The school is in Maryland, right?”

     Claudine sighed.

     “Sometimes I wish I could just freeze time right where it is and keep Theresa sixteen forever.”

     Suzanne chortled.

     “Not many parents would say that.”

     “She’s such a great kid, though.”

     “I know. You’re blessed.”

     “We should come out and visit you.”

     “You always say that but you never do it.”

     “I promise, as soon as I get off the phone with you, I’m going to ask Theresa to book plane tickets online. We can come as soon as she graduates.”

     “Alright, I’m holding you to it. You know…”

     The phone cut out.

 

     Dammit! Why does Suzanne always have to call me on her cell phone?

     Claudine replaced the receiver and waited, taking another bite of her apple.

 

     Something thumped upstairs.

     “Hey, you want to go to California?” Claudine called out.

<SPAN style=”FONT-FAMILY: ‘Courier New’”>

     She got no response.

 

     Her and that IPod of hers, no wonder she doesn’t hear anything I say.

 

     The phone still didn’t ring. That was strange.  Usually her sister called her right back when she dropped a call.

 

     “I guess I’ll just have to call her back myself.”

     Claudine had the receiver half way to her ear when she heard the noise at the front door.

     She froze.

     The doorknob was rattling.

     She stared transfixed as it began to turn.

 

     Her eyes flitted upward and she wondered silently if she’d be able to get herself and Theresa out the door in time…

     A dull thud followed by a sharp tinkling sound met her ears, putting her in mind of shattering glass.

 

     The newscaster’s warning flashed through her mind.

     “Jack Conroy is considered armed and dangerous and to be avoided at all costs. If you see this man, please call 911 immediately.”

     911.

     She had the phone in her hand right now!

     Claudine raised the receiver to her ear and had punched all three buttons before she realized she hadn’t heard a dial tone. She depressed the hook switch once, twice, three times but she still heard nothing but silence on the other end.

     A thrill of horror shot through her as she realized her conversation with her sister hadn’t ended because of a dropped call.

They’d been cut off!

Claudine felt the sour taste of partially digested apple fill her throat as she swallowed back the urge to vomit.

     A rough scrabbling sound at the door followed by a muttered curse unlocked Claudine’s feet from the carpet.

     She’d run up the stairs, grab her daughter and they’d call the police on Theresa’s cell phone. They could sneak out the back and…

     The door burst open and a thin, longhaired figure practically fell over the threshold.

Two boxes and one large bag slipped onto the floor along with a set of keys. When they hit the ground this time, the tinkling sound was muffled by carpet.

Claudine’s heart slammed into her chest as she stared wide-eyed and uncomprehending at the person before her.

Theresa frowned, the normally light blue of her eyes deepening.

Mood-ring eyes her mother always called them. They changed color whenever Theresa felt a strong emotion.

“H…how?” Claudine stammered. She staggered backwards away from her daughter as though she were a ghost.

“Mom, what’s wrong?” Theresa asked, abandoning her packages and crossing the room. “Who’s on the phone?”

Claudine allowed her daughter to take the phone from her hand.

Theresa listened a moment, a puzzled expression coming over her face. She turned her eyes back to her mother as she replaced the receiver.

“Mom, what is going on?”

Theresa’s tone was level now, all business.

 

“How can you be standing here?”

“What?”

“Theresa…” Claudine’s voice was barely above a whisper now as she leaned closer to her daughter, taking her carefully by the shoulders.

As if this physical contact had removed a hidden doubt that this was indeed, her daughter, Claudine felt her legs buckle and give way beneath her.

“Mom?” Theresa’s voice was rising on a note of panic. “Mom, what is it, what’s wrong?”

The floorboards above their heads creaked. Theresa looked up.

     “There’s someone in the house.”

 

     Before this sentence had fully emerged from Claudette’s lips, all the lights in the house went out.

The End

“Periphery” © Jaime A. Heidel 2007

All Rights Reserved