The Spider Pt. 07

Heather finished the last of her coffee, swirled the cup around, and drank the sugar that had fallen to the bottom of the Styrofoam cup. Above her head, the cheap fluorescent lights buzzed away over the cafeteria of St. James City Hospital.

She crumpled her cup. Her break was almost over, and it was about time to start making her rounds again.

The man across from her, another nurse named Clarence, folded the newspaper he had been reading and slapped it down on the table. They were the only two in the cafeteria this late. It had just turned midnight.

"There was no blood found again," Clarence told her. "How the fuck does that happen? Someone kills these motherfuckers, drains the blood, and then takes the body and hangs it up from a tree, and no one notices any of this?"

"Right?" Heather responded, but she was tired of talking about it. The whole City had been talking about nothing else except these murders for weeks now.

And with good reason. Red Eyes, the newspapers were calling the killer. But that was just a guess. No one had ever seen the killer, or had any idea why he was killing the people that he was.

Criminals, all of them- pimps, muggers, rapists, mobsters. All the dead that Red Eyes had killed had that in common.

That, and they all were found ripped apart and hanging from something, trees, light poles, a flag pole, once.

It was fucking terrifying, if you thought about it.

Heather didn't want to think about it.

She had her rounds to make, she had four more hours to go before her shift ended. She had a lot of people who weren't dead yet to think about.

"Have a good night," she told Clarence. He just grunted, went back to his paper.

Heather smoothed out her scrubs and went back to work.

******************************

At about five in the morning or so, Heather got off her bus in front of a pharmacy. She had been having trouble sleeping, working the night shifts was her latest idea to get some sleep. It hadn't been working. She had been making a strong drink of vodka, and she still might, but she wanted something else that might help her sleep.

She didn't notice the man that got off behind her.

Heather walked around the pharmacy a little bit, buying some light groceries, finally making her way to the pharmacist. A few minutes later, he had filled her prescription for Dormien, which she thought might let her sleep, and possibly not let her dream.

That was the hope.

Heather turned around, exhausted, and not paying attention. She turned around, reading to see if alcohol was contraindicated with Dormien, and collided with the woman in line behind her.

"Oh my God," Heather said. "Sorry!"

But Heather had hurt the woman, even though she hadn't walked into her very hard. The woman was bent over in pain. Heather could see that the woman had her ribs taped up, bulky even under the woman's loose sweater.

"Are you OK?" Heather asked her, and the woman looked up, her pale blue eyes framed by long black hair. The woman coughed, but managed a weak smile.

"Yeah," the black haired woman said. "I'm OK. I've been through worse."

"I guess so," Heather said. She pointed to the woman's bandaged ribs. "Just bruised, I hope?"

"No, cracked," the woman said. "It hurts a lot. Mainly only if I breathe, or walk, or sit, though. So there's that."

Heather smiled, but she could see the effort that even such a small joke had cost the dark haired woman.

"Hey," Heather said. "You rest up. Sorry again."

Heather walked out of the pharmacy into the cold pre-dawn of early morning in the City.

She started walking down the sidewalk to her apartment, tired, looking forward to nothing more than some kind of sleep. The late night shifts hadn't made her tired enough to sleep, the vodka hadn't worked. Maybe this drug would work.

Heather needed sleep, more than anything. Sleep had been hiding from her since...

She was so tired that she didn't notice the man from the bus behind her, had no idea he was there until he rushed up and wrapped his arm around her throat. Heather tried to scream, but he had his forearm strongly against her windpipe.

She dropped her groceries, and grabbed the man's arm with her hands. She was no stranger to the City, and she knew that she had to fight, she had to claw, she had to bite. She was readying herself to sink her teeth into his arm and rip his flesh out with her teeth.

But then he held the knife in front of her face. A long blade, curved cruelly, designed for nothing more than opening up another human being. It shone in the cold light of the streetlight.

Heather froze from fear, looking at that weapon.

The man whispered in her ear.

"That's right," he said, waving the knife back and forth in front of her face. "You just come with me, over there, and I won't have to open you up all over this sidewalk. You get me? Open you up. You just come with Little Sammy and let Little Sammy have his way with you and you won't get cut. You might even like it."

Heather nodded, tears running coolly down her face as she watched the knife shine, struggling to breathe. Here it is, she thought. The City finally got me. After all this time, it's finally got me.

But all of a sudden, the hand holding the knife was pulled away from her. She could hear the man behind her grunt in pain.

"Hey, asshole," Heather heard someone say behind her. The man holding Heather shoved her down to the sidewalk, and spun around to face the intruder. Heather looked behind her, over her shoulder.

It was the woman from the pharmacy. She stood a few feet from the man from the bus, one hand of hers beckoning to him.

Come to me.

Little Sammy leered at her, small, and hurt. He smiled... she's hurt, he thought. She'll be even easier. He held his blade up in front of his face, and showed it to her.

Open you up.

The man from the bus took a couple of steps towards the woman from the pharmacy. Heather got to her feet, and fumbled for her phone from her purse. She flipped it open, and started to make a call to 911.

But Heather didn't need to. The man took another step towards the woman from the pharmacy, and then the black haired woman spun around, and with an indescribably fast motion, kicked the man from the bus on the side of his head. He stumbled once, twice, finally losing consciousness, his head clanging into the cold metal of a trash can as he fell.

He laid there motionless next to his terrible knife on the cold sidewalk, blood trickling from his mouth. A small crowd was gathering, call the police, someone was saying. Anyone have a cell phone?

"Holy shit," Heather said under her breath, getting back to her feet.

The woman from the pharmacy bent over and vomited on the sidewalk.

************************************

Heather held the woman close to her the entire elevator ride up to the woman's apartment. The woman's breath was labored, irregular, and clearly painful. She leaned on Heather as if her life depended on it.

Whoever this woman is, Heather thought, the woman is rich. No one who lives in this high rise has to work night shifts at a God damn City hospital, that's for sure, cleaning up after stabbings and overdoses. Probably some rich guy's wife.

"You need to go back to the hospital," Heather told the woman. "No way you should have kicked that man like that, Karate Kate. No way. You need another x-ray at least."

"No," the woman said. "No more hospitals."

Heather couldn't blame her for that.

The elevator door slid open, noiselessly. Sunlight poured into the hallway, dozens of stories above the city. The smell of live plants and fresh air filled the apartment hall, and Heather took a moment to look out over the city, the river meandering slowly through the center of it, going nowhere fast, unlike the teeming millions around it.

It's all so beautiful from up here, Heather thought. A whole other world.

The woman stumbled exiting the elevator. Heather put her arms around the woman's slender waist, and helped her, step by hobbled step, to the door of the woman's apartment.

The woman was having a hard time putting her keys into the lock. Heather put her hand on the woman's, wrapped the woman's hand up in a gentle embrace.

"Let me," Heather said. "Let me have the keys."

The woman gave the keys to Heather with a grateful look of her pale eyes.

Heather opened the door up, and put her hand around the woman's waist again, helping her hobble in. She led the woman over to a low slung Italian leather couch that overlooked a breathtaking view of the City.

"I'll get you some water," Heather told the woman. She took a step to get it, then turned around. "What's your name, sweetie?"

The woman looked up at Heather, eyes wide in pain and hope.

"Anna," the woman said. "My name is Anna."

"OK, Anna," and Heather went to the kitchen to get some water.

When she got back with it, she found Anna with her head in her hands, crying quietly.

"Hey, there," Heather said gently, sitting down next to Anna on the couch. "Hey there."

She handed Anna the water, and took the package from Anna's hands. Percocet. Heather opened the bottle and took one out, handing it to Anna.

"I'm Heather. Here. Take your pill... you'll feel better."

Anna looked up weakly, managed a smile, and took the pill. She gulped it down.

"I'm not usually such a terrible host," Anna said.

"That's OK," Heather told her. "Let's get you to bed. Let's get you some rest."

Heather took Anna to the woman's bedroom. Heather had Anna lift her sweater up, and removed it carefully. Heather checked Anna's bandages, looked for bleeding, found none. She checked Anna's pulse, it was fast, but slowing.

Anna rested her head on Heather's shoulder as Heather checked her out. Anna's breathing became less ragged, more shallow, more peaceful.

"You seem OK," Heather told her. "You shouldn't be alone, though. You really should go to the hospital... I know, I know. You won't go. You have a husband? Someone who lives here?"

Anna shook her head no.

"All alone," she said weakly. "I'll be fine."

Anna's voice had a distant quality to it. The Percocet was taking effect. A girl that small wouldn't be awake for long with that kind of dose, Heather was thinking.

"OK, honey," Heather said, and guided Anna down to the mattress.

Anna held on to Heather's hand as the nurse laid her down.

"Please stay," she implored Heather. "Please."

Heather didn't have anywhere else to go. She was tired.

"OK, sweetie," she said, taking off her scrubs. When she was down to her underwear, she climbed into bed with the smaller woman, and pulled Anna towards her. Anna buried her head in Heather's neck, putting her arms around Heather like a little girl might do.

The Percocet quickly put Anna to sleep, Anna's little snore told Heather that.

Her hair smelled nice, Heather thought. So that's what rich people's shampoo smells like.

Heather wrapped her arms gently around Anna. Heather closed her eyes.

She fell into a deep sleep, deeper than she had found in a long, long time.

****************************

When Anna woke up, she was alone. The sun was going down.

She was sad. She had been happy to have someone to talk to.

Anna closed her eyes again, and woke to Heather gently shaking her awake. Anna came to, still groggy from the Percocet, and smiled up at the nurse.

"I made you some eggs, sweetie," Heather said. "Not much else to eat in there. We need to get you shopping. You know the light bulb in your refrigerator is burned out?"

Anna pulled herself up to the pillows, reaching out for the eggs. They smelled good. She didn't remember the last time she had eaten anything.

Her face contorted in pain. It hurt to sit up.

Heather was shaking her head as she put a forkful of the eggs to Anna's lips.

"Don't push yourself, sweetie," she said. The eggs had cheese melted in them. Anna took the bite.

The eggs were delicious.

Heather fed Anna another bite.

"I got up a little while ago," Heather said. "I let you sleep. I was watching some TV."

Heather cut another forkful of eggs off for the hurt woman.

"You know that cop? The one that shot that kid? Black kid? And then all the riots broke out?"

Anna nodded, and took another bite of the eggs.

"He killed himself," Heather went on. "Threw himself off a bridge. His wife left him, he quit the police, and killed himself. He left some kind of note about how the kid he killed wasn't attacking him like he'd said, didn't have a gun. After all this time. So many people hurt because he lied about that kid having a weapon."

Anna finished off the last of the eggs. She felt better than she had since...

Better not to think about it.

Heather looked out the window into the dark evening sky.

"That kid that the cop killed was my brother," she told Anna. "Just so you know. Shawn. We moved up here from down south to make a better life for ourselves. I did OK, finished my nursing school and got on at City hospital. Shawn had just gotten on at a coffee shop, he was excited about it, thinking about taking some classes at the community college."

Heather shrugged.

"Instead he got pulled over, and killed by that shitbag cop. I always dreamt of settling up with that motherfucker someday, suing the police or something, making him lose his job since the police didn't do shit, even after all the riots. I actually recently paid some money to an attorney to start looking into a wrongful death case. I guess that's money wasted. But I mainly did it to feel that I was doing something. We all know the cops around here are as corrupt as shit and would have lied about Shawn all through court, broke my heart all over again."

She shook her head.

"What a waste. What a terrible waste it all was."

Heather stood up, stretched out.

"I've got to get home, honey," she told Anna. "You don't need to hear this. You just take your Percocet and feel better, get some sleep, and please see a doctor soon. I don't think anything is bleeding internally, but you never know."

Anna was shaking her head, though.

"Why?" Anna asked.

That was a good question. There was nothing for her at her apartment, just an empty refrigerator with half empty takeout boxes, Shawn's things still laying where he had left them.

"Stay with me this weekend," Anna said. "I can pay you. We can watch some movies or something. I'll pay you for your time. Don't go. Don't leave me."

Heather looked down at Anna. Anna's eyes were weak; she had sunk back into her pillow after the eggs. Her eyes were tired, and dim, and the only thing there was need for comfort.

Heather smiled at her, nodding, OK. Anna smiled back, weakly.

****************************

Heather had the shower running, nice and hot. Anna stood in front of the mirror, while Heather unraveled the bandages from her breasts and ribs. Anna grimaced in pain a couple of times, despite how gentle Heather was being, but she didn't complain.

Heather was struck by how much bruising there was. But there wasn't any fresh blood.

Anna bent reached for her panties, and started to bend down to pull them off.

Heather stopped her, laughing.

"No, no, sweetheart," she said. "Your feet might as well be on the moon, all you can get to them."

Heather knelt down, and hooked her fingers in the other woman's elastic band. She slipped Anna's panties down her slim hips, down her long legs, off her feet, life one, now the other. That's good.

"Go ahead," Heather said, and Anna took a hesitant step towards the hot shower. It was going to feel great to be clean again, to wash off the filth, and the hurt, and the fear. She opened the door to the shower, and stepped in.

The steam felt wonderful as it cascaded and wrapped around Anna's skin.

Anna slipped a bit, caught herself on the door handle.

Heather was watching. She reached behind herself, and unclasped her bra, let that fall to the floor. She slid her own underwear down her legs, and stepped out of them.

Heather opened the door to the shower, and got in. Anna smiled up at her, weakly.

Without a word, Heather turned Anna around, had Anna face the wall. Heather took the soap, and rubbed it all over her hands, and gently began to wash Anna. She rubbed the soap over Anna's back, gently over her bruised ribs. Anna lifted her arms for Heather to wash her armpits.

She had Anna pull her head back, and Heather took the second shower head from the wall and wet Anna's hair, washing it, running the long length with shampoo and then rinsing it out carefully. Heather had Anna face the wall again as she rubbed conditioner deep into Anna's hair, rubbing the other woman's scalp.

Anne leaned forward, and closed her eyes. She put her hands lightly on the wall in front of her for support.

Heather stepped forward, pushing her breasts into Anna's slender back. She began to gently rinse the conditioner from Anna's hair, in long, slow motions.

Anna smiled at the other woman, and reached for a razor on the little recessed shelf.

"Time to feel human again," Anna said. "I haven't shaved my legs in over a week. Haven't been able to get down there!"

Heather shook her head and took the razor from Anna's hand. Anna surrendered it quietly, the steam and warmth misting all around her. Heather took a bar of soap, and crouched down to wash Anna's legs, very gently, first one, then the other. She took the razor, and began to shave Anna's legs in slow and careful strokes, starting up at Anna's inner thigh and moving down in deliberate and precise movements down to her ankles.

Anna opened her legs just a little bit for better access, even though it hurt a little bit to do even that. She closed her eyes. The attention felt good.

When Heather was finished, she stood up and rinsed the razor off in the hot water from the shower.

"You feel a little more human, sweetie?" she asked Anna.

Anna smiled and put her arms around Heather's waist, and held on to her as tightly as she could. She rested her head in between Heather's full and soft breasts, and the two of them stood like that, in the shower, until the hot water ran to cold and forced them back into the real world.

***************************

Anna ordered in Chinese.

In not too long a time, the door buzzed, and Heather let the delivery person into the building. Anna told her to take some money from her purse and asked if she would pay the driver.

Heather opened up Anna's purse, and found plenty of money there. All kinds of cash, all kinds of denominations, just shoved in there randomly. She took two twenties and closed the purse, putting it back on the little table in the anteroom hallway.

When Heather got back with the paper bags filled with the Chinese, she found that Anna had hobbled up and made her way to the kitchen. Anna was pouring a couple of glasses of wine for the two of them, and she smiled as Heather put the bags of food down.

"Oh, no, sweetheart," Heather said. "No wine for you. Not while you are taking Percocet. Those two don't mix."

Anna frowned.

"Can I... can I have just a little bit, Heather? Just a little bit wouldn't be dangerous."

Heather shook her head at the other woman. Finally, she sighed.

"OK, Anna," she said, reaching out and taking both glasses. She poured half of one into the other, and handed the small glass back to Anna.

Anna smiled, gratefully.

"There you go, sweetie."

"Thank you, Anna."

The two curled up on Anna's couch, the leather smooth and supple, with a blanket over the two of them for warmth. Anna drank her allotted half glass of wine in small sips, savoring each little bit. The two of them ate the General's chicken, and sweet and sour pork, and the egg rolls.

Heather took out Anna's pill bottle again, and fished one out.