But she did see a stranger, and she of course understood that a stranger meant danger, and she grasped now that Mommy yelling for her to run was because this stranger meant danger...
As the man turned slowly in her direction, Katie turned and sprinted down the hall to her bedroom and ducked inside, closing the door as quietly as she could.
Had he seen her?
She looked for a place to hide — there were really only two choices: the closet and under her bed. When they played hide and seek, her mommy always looked in the closet first. Under the bed was her best choice. More than once, Mommy had failed to find her there.
She dropped to her knees, breath coming in ragged gasps now, tears running down her cheeks, though she was barely aware of that; then she shimmied under the bed, and tried not to move.
Quiet as a mouse, that was something her grandma would say. Quiet as a mouse.
She knew of better hiding places in the house, but that would mean trying to get past the stranger, and she knew if he saw her, she was in trouble.
Under the bed would have to do.
The springs her roof now, Katie prayed to God that the man wouldn’t find her, and that her daddy would come home. She hoped her mommy was all right. Mommy was on the floor and maybe the man had hit her. But Mommy would be all right. She had to be! Katie would be all right too, if she just stayed quiet as a mouse. This was as far as her mind could take her.
Daddy, she thought. Please come home... please...
When she heard the bedroom door open, she again clamped a hand over her mouth to keep the fright in. Fear gripped her now; she was shaking, nearly uncontrollably. The door was behind her, to her left. She could hear the man coming in — he was not rushing. It was the same way Daddy checked on her when he thought she was asleep, but wasn’t.
Only this wasn’t Daddy.
The closet was to her right and soon she could see the man’s black shoes under the edge of where the bedspread hung down.
He opened the louvered doors one at a time, and poked around in there, among her toys on the floor and the neat hanging clothes. When he shut the closet up, her breath caught in her throat and maybe, maybe, a tiny sound came out.
She was sure he would look under the bed next, that his stranger’s face would be inches from hers; but he didn’t. Instead, he walked around the bed, circling behind her and crossing the room to her desk and the small table where she kept her snow globe collection.
When he stopped before the table, his feet still in view under the bedspread hem, she felt something that wasn’t fear — something that, had she been older, might have been described as a sense of violation.
Her snow globe collection was her most cherished possession, and the stranger was looking at them, maybe even handling them. She felt her face redden but made herself stay silent, knowing that his finding her, and touching her, could be far worse than him touching her toys.
Please, Daddy, please come home, she prayed.
Then the stranger’s feet turned again — was he walking out of the room? Without finding her? A hopeful wave washed over her, but still she stayed quiet as a mouse. Then couldn’t see his feet, couldn’t hear him, didn’t know where he was...
Cold dry hands grabbed her ankles, and yanked.
The scream, the pure animal cry that escaped from her, seemed to echo off the walls, and engulf her whole world. She grabbed at the carpeting, but the nap gave her nothing to hold onto and anyway he was too strong, dragging her.
“Mommy!”
Once he had her out, he took her by the arm and brought her to a standing position, but the sudden force caused her to stumble and fall. He bent down close, his face a blank mask, his eyes staring right through her.
As he pulled her to her feet again, not roughly, not gently, Katie wondered if it was possible that this man wasn’t a human at all. Adults didn’t look at kids the same way they did other adults, but they did have life in their eyes, and this stranger did not.
As he swept her to her feet, Katie thrashed and kicked, but the stranger was too strong.
“Mommy! Mommy!”
Her throat burned, the tears streaming now, her breath uneven as she tried to fight and scream at the same time, the shrill sound of her cries hurting her own ears.
Then the stranger dragged her into the kitchen and set her on the floor, almost gingerly, next to her mother.
Katie saw two little holes in her mother’s chest, Mommy, with blood on her mouth, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling, her eyes without life, like the stranger’s.
“Mommy!” Katie shrieked one last time, and she tried to shake her mother back to life, to no avail.
Katie looked up at the stranger, who was pointing something at her now — a gun. The ones her daddy had were bigger, but this was like the ones on TV. It looked like a big black squirt gun.
Beyond the gun, the man’s face remained blank as he aimed.
Katie’s eyes widened and her tears stopped and even her fear fled. Then she said something. She didn’t know why she said it, but she said it: “Now I lay me down to sleep...”
A flash filled her vision, and she fell backward into darkness. Her last thought — would Mommy be waiting for her, in Heaven? — ended when her head touched the floor.
It was all the Messenger could do to get out to the truck before he broke down. He was weeping as he drove away from the house where his most recent message had just been delivered.
“Got too close,” he whispered. “Got too close.”
In town, he made sure he was obeying the speed limit as he slowly scanned the darkening business district for a parking lot.
Finally, he saw a city park, down a block on a side street, which he turned onto, coming around on the far side, near a ball diamond.
No one was around.
He locked the pistol in the glove compartment, and got out of the truck. He’d walked only a few steps when he felt the bile rising in his throat. He had only a second to check for passersby before the vomiting doubled him over.
This had been bad. This had been the worst one.
The only thing that allowed him to carry out his missions was knowing that those who received his messages were just the delivery system — symbols, not people. That had gone blooey at the Hanson house. The little girl had nearly touched the inside part of him. Nearly? No, she had touched him.
He stood, wiping his mouth, and shook his head. It could never be like this again. He would have to be sharper, smarter. He couldn’t risk this sort of thing again. He might not be able to do what had to be done.
The little girl’s hysterical screaming rang in his ears, and he felt more coming up. He bent over just in time as he retched again.
Wasn’t supposed to be like this. All his work, all the time he had put in, couldn’t all be undone this easily, could it? That screaming little girl...
He looked up and down the quiet street. Nothing moved. Silence, blessed silence in this park. A block over, a dog barked. Somewhere he heard the revving of a car motor in a garage, someone obviously working on it.
His life had been like this once. Blessedly silent, boring even, until they ruined it...
He couldn’t stop delivering messages until someone made it better, until someone heard his pleas for help.
If it took delivering a hundred more messages to make the world pay attention, so be it. But he could not have another one like tonight. No more like tonight.