The Ninth Caller Ch. 03

Sofia opened up her eyes to a sea of black. As her eyes adjusted, she was able to start to make out vague shapes and images, but not much with any clarity. All that was visible in the gloom was an endless landscape of darkness spreading out in all directions. She had no idea where she was, nor any concept of the time, but one thing was obvious. It was the middle of the night and she was no longer in her hotel room. The darkness was too overwhelming, blacker than any night in her memory.

She shivered as her arms erupted in gooseflesh and her skin was pelted with tiny shards of ice. It was sleeting, and the icy downpour felt like razors slashing into her flesh. How in the hell did I get outside? Afraid to move, she felt the wintry wind whip up from behind her, blowing her skirt forward as her bare legs and feet started to go numb. It was colder than she ever could remember, and the frigid temperatures drilled down deeply into her legs causing her bones to ache in the cold.

Her heart raced in her chest, and when she inhaled, she found it hurt to breathe. The air was bitterly frigid and sucked her breath out, like she had suddenly walked inside an enormous freezer. Her chest ached as her lungs iced up. She closed her eyes, hoping this was all a dream. When she opened them again, her stomach dropped. It wasn't. A minute went by, and then two, and the wind only grew icier and more inhospitable. There was no choice now. If she wanted to live, she would have to move.

She took a step forward and winced. The ground was littered with twigs and rocks, made even more painful now that they were coated with ice and snow. Her perpetual habit of going barefoot was really biting her in the ass now. Behind her, the wind picked up even more and howled in her ears, roaring like a pack of wolves prodding her to move forward. Her shivers grew more extreme as her thin skirt flapped wildly around her bare legs. As one long convulsing shudder ran up her body, she knew she needed to move faster.

When she took another step her foot slipped and she stopped. She was standing on a steep downward slope. This was not good, as it would slow her up. Where in the hell am I? I must be in the mountains, but how? Holding her arms out in front of her, when her fingers touched bark she groaned. And in the woods too! This is crazy.

Some relief came when the skies brightened a little, and allowed her to start walking a little faster. It was hard to navigate in the darkness, but, as her eyes adjusted to the low light, it was becoming clearer. More of the landscape was revealed and she saw she was outside in the rural mountains. Questions bombarded her mind like the hail pelting her face. Is she back in Romania? How did I get back home to my beloved Carpathians? There was only one way to find out. She had to keep moving.

Her face, legs and feet were numb now. The sleet and snow ratcheted up in ferocity and the gale grew more violent with her every step. She faltered a few times and almost fell, but luckily righted herself at the last moment. Barefoot is no way to traverse the woods, and certainly not in winter. If she ever got out of this, she was going to reconsider her constant barefoot lifestyle. After an hour of trudging, she started to see more clearly as the sky above her grew pink. It was sunrise and she smiled; this, at least, was some sign of hope.

Sadly, the sun did not make it any warmer, but, at least now she could clearly see where she was walking and avoid running into one of the hundreds of trees that surrounded her. It was good timing too, because the cold was unbearable, and she needed to hurry. In front of her, framed by the white swirling snow, and stark lifeless trees, she saw an opening in the woods. She slowly made her way to it, her progress seriously hampered by the snowdrifts up to her knee.

Sofia was an experienced skier and hiker, and knew the signs of hypothermia growing on her body. She had to get inside a shelter, soon. The pain in her feet was gone, and this was a very bad sign. She was getting frostbitten, and if she did not warm up soon, she might lose her toes, or worse, her feet.

As she exited the thicket of trees into the clearing, she smiled and exhaled sharply, her breath clearly visible in the frigid wintry air. It was a road. Well, to call it a road would be a huge exaggeration, but it was at least something. It was more like a trail with two deep ruts worn down for truck tires, but, it would suffice. All roads lead somewhere, and that somewhere probably had people. And that meant shelter and best of all, heat!

She picked her foot up out of the snow and frowned when she looked down at it. It was just as she feared; her toes were all black, looking like a school of tiny dead fish were hungrily attacking her foot. Now things were very urgent. She had to get inside, and fast.

Sofia walked faster now. It was hard going in the deep snow, but because of the numbness in her feet, she felt no pain. It was a mixed blessing. It was like walking on stilts, part of her body, and yet not. The lack of pain allowed her to go faster, but, when she looked behind her, and saw the trail of blood she was leaving in the snow, her worst fears were confirmed. She had maybe an hour, but not much more, before she would lose her feet.

The whole time she had been slogging through the ruts in the trail, she had been walking on sharp, ice encrusted gravel. Their sharp edges bit into her tender soles like knives and tore her tortured feet to shreds. Normally, such pain would have prevented her from walking, but because of the numbness, she felt nothing. Her walk soon became a trot and then a jog as time was not her friend. Panic started to twist around her gut and squeeze.

Overhead, the sky grew steadily brighter; the deep purple dawn first turning pink before finally settling on bright grey. The snow was falling heavy now, and, if she were not gripped in terror, she knew it was beautiful sight. Big soft fluffy flakes danced before her eyes, and she smiled at one tiny bit of hopeful consolation. The soft snow was far more pleasant than the sleet. Sofia racked her brain, trying to remember if sleet turning to snow meant it was getting warmer, or colder. She couldn't remember, nor could she tell any change in the temperature herself, as her whole body was numb now. The pitiful shawl wrapped over her head gave no real protection from the weather.

She stopped to catch her breath, and grinned when she saw the path open up and the forest end. She was coming out of the woods..., finally! When she left the tree choked thicket, she inhaled sharply. Despite the cold assaulting her body, and the terror gripping her gut, and the fear of amputation boiling in her mind, she had to pause; the view was spectacular. The early morning sky was grey, and filled with a heavy, wet snow; the sky swirling with large fluffy flakes. Stretching out all before her in the valley below, she saw one grey and black mountain roll lazily into another, like a charcoal sketch come to life.

Her smile grew very wide when she saw the lights. It was a gorgeous sight, and a Godsend, and just what she most hoped for. It was a house. And not just any house, but a mansion, somehow a great wooden palace located out in this impossibly remote valley. Is it a ski lodge, or a hotel? It was certainly large enough to be either, but she couldn't tell. There was only one truck out front, a 1989 Ford pickup. To the left of the enormous house was a barn, but no other buildings. She hoped that the lights on in the house meant someone was home. Sofia shivered as an icy wind blew up from the valley and bathed her in a fresh frozen wash of snow and ice. Now that she was out of the forest, nothing stopped the gales buffeting her frozen face.

She trudged down the slope towards the enormous wooden lodge, hoping and praying someone would be inside. The lights being on were a good sign, but was certainly no guarantee. She already made plans to break in if no one answered the door, and spied several enormous windows that would make for good candidates for destruction. Hopefully she could find a rock or a brick to use to smash the glass, if it came to that. A few more minutes out here in the cold, and she was sure to lose her toes, and if not careful, her life.

Walking up to the porch, her stomach fluttered. The realization flooded over her like a sudden rainstorm. She was all alone, a single woman out in the middle of nowhere. A quick glance up and down the valley showed nothing but trees, so if the owner of this lodge was a bad guy, or some kind of perve, she would have no way of getting help. This was about as isolated as you could get, and her survival instincts made her nervous, but there was no choice. She need to get inside, so she knocked on the door. To her relief, it opened.

"Jenny!" the impossibly thin man said. "I knew you would come back. It is far too cold out, you know."

Sofia's stomach dropped. This guy seems to recognize me, but how? And who is Jenny? She did not know what to say, but smiled and deemed it best to play along. A crazy fucker in a blizzard may not be a perfect solution, but, it beat freezing to death.

"Come in this house this instant, young lady," the man said. "You look like you are freezing out there. You need to warm up. It is dangerous out there."

"Oh..., uh, yes. Thank you, I am very cold," she said. After the words left her mouth, her heart skipped a beat. Her voice sounded odd, like it wasn't her own. The voice coming out of her throat sounded like it came from another body. The accent was strange, and she tried to place it. It was a American accent definitely, a southern drawl with a twang. She had heard that accent before as a child, maybe from one of the bootleg VHS tapes of American TV shows she and her friends watched in Bucharest, but where... She squashed down all her fears and entered the house.

"You are a damn fool, Jenny," the man said. "You know we are miles away from the main highway. It was stupid to try to walk away. I told you I would take you home when we are finished."

"Uh..., yes, well," Sofia stuttered as her mind churned, the strange southern accent coming out of her mouth both terrifying and amazing her. Who is this man, and better yet, who does he think I am.

Sofia studied his face closely. It was odd, and a shudder began to build in the base of her spine, slowly growing like a cancer, radiating out her nervous system to the rest of the body. Something was off. His face was friendly enough, but it was not right. He was ill. She could see that. He was desperately desperately sick. He looked like one of those victims of the concentration camps in Germany after World War II, all skin and bone. His thin yellowed flesh stretched tightly over his skeleton and looked like it might burst out of its fleshy casing at any moment. But it was his eyes that bothered her most. His eyes were wrong; very very wrong. They were yellow. What is wrong with him? He didn't seem very menacing and looked kind of weak, like a strong wind would knock him over. Hopefully, she thought to herself, if this bastard tries anything funny, youth will overcome age. He was old, but not too old, maybe mid-fifties, she couldn't tell.

She followed him a little further into the cavernous foyer, and shook slightly. The tingling was back in her legs, and her toes ached. She sighed in relief. That was a good sign. Years of skiing in the Carpathians had taught her somethings, and this was one of those things. This meant the blood was flowing to her extremities again, and the pain was a comfort, not an affliction. The pain meant she would not need an amputation after all.

"You look completely frozen! We need to warm you up quick."

"Yes, thank you," Sofia said. "I am very cold."

"You know what you need, Jenny?" the man said. "You need a drink, and I have just the tonic. Nothing ever warms me up better, or faster, than my old friend, Wild Turkey."

Sofia smiled, and nodded. "That's bourbon, right?"

The man laughed. His thin reedy lips curled over his yellowed teeth as he chortled and was unnerving. When he ran his blackish tongue over his teeth, and glared so intensely into her eyes, Sofia fought the urge to flee.

The man cackled out his answer, "Yeah..., it's bourbon. It's the elixir of life, you know. Clickity, click, click, click! It'll warm you right up, and hey, it might even make our business later more, uh..., palatable, so to speak."

Sofia followed the man deeper into the house, her fear rising as her flesh thawed. Her senses were on high alert, and she sensed the danger, but, what else could she do. She had to get out of the cold. As they passed through the foyer, despite her concern, she could not help but gaze around in amazement. The interior of the home was as astonishing as the exterior.

This home was a palace, albeit, a rustic one. Thick wooden beams of oak held up the vaulted ceiling above them, and everything was covered in warm wood. She looked to her right, into what appeared to be a grand hall, and inhaled sharply. An enormous stone fireplace stood at the opposite end of the hall, and a roaring fire was blazing. It was very inviting. Even from fifty feet away, she felt the heat, and she had to admit, despite her stomach feeling as if it would drop out of her ass onto the floor at any second, the warmth felt good. Feeling was slowly returning to her body, and the goose pimples on her legs and arms started to subside, and her whole body was covered in that tingling prickly sensation that comes from frozen flesh thawing.

She and the man walked into the great hall, and he pointed over to a leather couch in front of one of those large windows Sofia had imagined having to smash if no one had been home. He said, "Have a seat. I will go get our drinks."

"Thanks," Sofia said as she sat down and watched the man leave. She was shivering now, and not just from the cold. A dark dread hovered over her like a wet tarp, and she knew she was living on borrowed time. She wasn't stupid. A woman alone in this house with this odd, odd man was stereotypical in its foolhardiness, but it was hard to move; the heat from fire just felt too good on her icy body. If she could only figure out where she was, she could plan her escape. Her brain churned but came up with nothing. It was too strange, and she could not even begin to imagine how she got here. She started to look around the room for a clue, and when she did, she caught her reflection in the mirror on the opposite wall. What the hell?

It was not her sitting on the couch. Who was that? The girl in the mirror was wearing a Spice Girl's T-shirt and tight corduroys, something Sofia herself might have worn herself back in the mid Nineties. The person sitting on the couch was a young girl, maybe twenty, but just. She had long blonde hair, and was chesty, but was definitely not her. The tingling sensation returned, but now ran into her arms, and not because of the warmth, but because of soul crushing terror. This reflection made no sense. Sofia lifted her arm into the air, and the reflection followed her actions. It was a reflection alright, but..., how was this happening?

The man came back into the room, and said, "Now, are you going to give me that private dance you promised?"

Sofia's mind went blank, as his words jabbed into her ears. This was it. Now the moment of truth had arrived. She started to speak, but then winced as her ears rang in pain. It was a noise, only it was louder than a jet engine preparing for takeoff. She grabbed her ears to block out the deafening racket. It was a bell, ringing loudly and growing louder by the second. The man just looked at her quizzically as she twisted her face and tried to block out the sound. Damn it, can't he hear that? What is that? What is happening here? Ring Ring Ring, the sound of the bell grew louder and faster. Finally, Sofia squeezed her eyes closed tightly to try and escape the infernal racket and everything went black.

She opened them again and found herself staring up at a blank white ceiling. She was lying in a bed, but it was not her own, and the ringing was continuing, but softer now. Turning over to her side, she saw the hotel phone on the nightstand and she picked it up the receiver.

"Miss Arcos, this is the front desk. You requested a wakeup call. It's 2 pm, as you requested."

Sofia cleared her throat and said, "Thank you," before she collapsed back onto the mattress.

*****

Juanita jumped when the phone rang. It was so strange. It was their land line, and lately, it never rang, everyone on earth but telemarketers seemingly having fully converted to cellphones. Since Frank's number was unlisted, and he registered with the 'do not call' registry, the phone hand not rung for months. She put down the mixing bowl, walked out of the kitchen into the foyer and picked up the phone.

"Knight residence," she answered. Listening carefully, she heard sparks and pops but no answer. She did not hang up though, as behind the white noise, she could sense someone was there. Someone trying to speak, but somehow being thwarted, gagged, restrained. "Hello? Who is this?"

"K-K-K-K" the voice finally said on the line. It was weak and seemed far away, a whisper adrift in the ocean of static. A desperate caller grunting, trying to speak but unable to move their lips.

"Hello? Who is this?" Juanita asked again. "Are you OK? Who is this?"

"Cli-click, Clickity, click-click-click," the voice said, a bit stronger now but muffled inside a metallic echo.

"What? What did you say?"

"Clickity, click-click-click! Clickity, click-click-click! Clickity, click-click-click!"

Rosario, roused by the call, trotted into the foyer and sat at Juanita's feet. As Juanita spoke on the phone, the little dog growled, the hair on her back standing up straight.

"Either say who you are, or I am going to hang up. This is a private line, and unlisted," Juanita said.

The static cleared before the dial tone interrupted and the line went dead. Juanita shrugged and hung up the phone. Whoever it was obviously had hung up. Wrong number, I guess.

"Who was on the phone?" Frank asked as he walked out of his bedroom into the foyer. "Honestly, it has been so long since the landline has rung, I forgot we even had that phone until just now."

"Oh, I am sorry, Mr. Knight," Juanita said. "I hope the call didn't wake you."

"No, I have been up for a while. I couldn't sleep so well," Frank said. Glancing down at Rosario, and seeing her growling and snarling, he pointed and said, "What's up with her?"

"Who knows?" Juanita said. "You know Rosario; she must be in one of her moods. I don't know if those new biscuits you bought agree with her." She paused and said, "It is only just past two, and I really didn't expect you to be up until later. I can whip up some breakfast for you if you wish, or, put on a pot of coffee."

"Nah, that's all right," Frank said. "I am going to run out and get some coffee in just a minute."

Juanita raised her eyebrow and said, "Starbucks again?"

Frank smiled, and sarcastically said, "How ever did you guess?" He bent down to pet Rosario who now was no longer growling but dancing on her back legs, leaping up on his calf as she begged for a rub of her head, or even better, a biscuit.

Juanita sighed and shook her head. "OK..., so, will you be coming back here before you go to the studio tonight?"

"Yes."

"Wonderful. I was planning on making your favorite, chicken Florentine, for dinner. I was preparing the batter when the phone rang. Should I prepare dinner for one, or—"

"—One!" Frank interrupted. "I have had enough lady drama for one week." He walked over to Juanita and put his hand on her shoulder. He smiled as he looked down into her large brown eyes. "I will be definitely coming back home before I head out to the studio, and it will just be me." He smiled as he added, "We can have dinner together, so you don't need to concern yourself with any..., guests today."