Run, Run, Rosemary
Rose had decided to cut her Thursday short. The paintings she’d been working on in her studio were all mid-process, which meant they needed several days to rest before she could begin the next steps in the restoration. And it seemed silly to begin a new project at 3pm, when she likely wouldn’t have time to do anything consequential before she inevitably tired out and needed to head home.
So Rose had turned off the studio lights, made sure all the doors were locked, and headed out early. She was a firm believer that leaving work early now and then was perfectly healthy. It’s not like her boss would complain, seeing as Rose was her own boss.
The subway station was nearly empty. A few late-lunch stragglers were scattered around the platform, tapping their feet and checking their watches. Rose pulled on her headphones and let herself get lost in a cello concerto.
A warm gust of air rustled Rose’s dress when her train pulled up to the platform. She boarded last, not wanting to shove through the business-suits that crowded the doors before they even opened.
The train doors were closing behind her when she heard a shout over the music in her headphones. The business-suits didn’t look up from their phones but she glanced back to see a man rushing to catch the train, his arm waving frantically in the air.
Rose shoved her hand between the closing doors. They sprang apart again, just long enough for the man to hop through.
He was breathing hard and his tie was askew, but he took a moment to look at Rose and smile. She smiled in return when he mouthed a word that looked like “thanks,” then turned and took a seat close to the doors, setting her tote bag in her lap.
The train lurched and the panting man flopped down into a seat halfway down the car.
Rose looked out the window, watching the cement train tunnel blur by, counting down the stops until hers. She was halfway home when a shiver crawled up her spine.
The train pulled away from another station and Rose glimpsed herself mirrored in the window. Her eyes scanned across the reflection of the train car. Everything seemed alright. Most of the business-suits had gotten off at the National Mall and now it was just her and that man she’d held the door for.
Rose took a steadying breath and smoothed her dress across her knees. She checked the reflection one more time, just to prove to herself that things were fine. But as her eyes moved over the glass she caught him.
The man sitting halfway down the train car was staring at her. Goosebumps prickled across her arms. Reaching inside her tote bag, Rose tapped on her phone to pause the concerto. She left her headphones on. The green power light blinked slowly, mirrored in the window. She had no intention of turning the music back on, but blinking light signaled to others that she was oblivious to her surroundings. She was not.
Rose never turned her head. She watched the glass as he watched her. It didn’t appear he knew yet that she’d caught onto him. Her stop was soon.
With sweaty fingers she rifled through her bag, though her eyes remained on the window. One hand tightened around her keys, instinctively reaching for the wooden dove that was no longer there. A bolt of panic ran through her before she remembered to school her expression.
Logically, she knew that the keys themselves were a far better find than a silly wooden figurine, but her fingertips longed for the familiar touch of worn down polish.
Rose tucked the keys between her fingers and squeezed tight. She counted each of her breaths, keeping them even and as steady as she could manage. The slight static inside her headphones helped clear her rushing mind.
The train pulled to a stop. Rose’s stop.
She hiked her tote up over her shoulder, keeping her hand hidden inside of it, and got up. The man got up as well.
Rose walked at a normal pace. People mingled around the train station. She didn’t want to turn and check if he was there but the back of her neck prickled with awareness. Rose took the wrong exit out of the station.
Out on the sidewalk she took a left, heading away from her apartment. It was a warm summer day. Goosebumps covered her arms.
Rose passed by unfamiliar shops, grateful for once for the tourists meandering down the street. In the reflection of a flower shop window she saw him again. She took a right at the corner, further from her building.
Her eyes flickered constantly across the street, checking the shop windows to see the sidewalk behind her. He turned the corner after her, matching her pace. Rose squeezed the keys tighter between her fingers.
The crosswalk light on her left was counting down. Six seconds.
Rose darted across the intersection. The streetlight turned green. Cars sped by behind her. She ran.
The unfamiliar streets blurred in her peripherals. Rose didn’t wander this far from her apartment very often. But she’d been counting the blocks. She knew how to get home.
She ripped the headphones off her head and stuffed them in her bag, never slowing down. A quick look behind her revealed an empty sidewalk. Rose ran faster. The skirt of her dress tangled between her legs. She yanked up the hem as she ran. Her tote bag smacked awkwardly against her side but it was a small nuisance.
Rose’s side cramped. It felt like a spike was digging into her spleen but she didn’t slow down. She rounded a corner and her building came into view. The keys between her fingers trembled.
Rose shoved the key into the front door lock and barreled inside as the hingers creaked loudly. She slammed it shut and yanked on the handle to make sure it was fully locked. Finding that it was, Rose rushed to the stairs. The elevator was old and too slow.
She took the steps two at a time, sprinted down the hall, and disappeared into her apartment just as soon as she could get the key in the lock.
Rose locked the deadbolt behind her, along with the thumbturn, and the chain. It didn’t feel like enough.
Rose sank to the floor, breathing hard, her back against the door. She laid aside her tote and keys on the floor and rubbed at her sternum. She tried to even out her breathing, tried to listen for noises out in the hall.
She sat there for a long while, breathing and listening, her heart calming slowly. As she came back to herself the aches in her body became apparent. Her side was still cramping dully. Her shins were on fire from running. The fingers of her right hand stung. Little strips of flesh between her fingers had been skinned away by the keys she’d gripped too tightly.
They were small injuries. Inconsequential. She was alive, that was enough. Though, her psyche felt more flayed than her fingers.
It took a bit of time, but finally Rose got to her feet, put her keys and tote on the hooks by the door, and stepped into the kitchen. She opened the fridge and reached for the half-eaten chocolate cake inside. The fork she’d left on the cake plate was cold from being refrigerated but that didn’t stop her from piercing off a bite and shoving it into her mouth.
The cake tasted too sweet. Rose held the bite in her mouth, feeling for a moment like she would throw up. Her fingers tightened on the fridge handle. Rose swallowed down her nausea and her cake, tossed the fork back onto the plate, and shut the fridge.
A muffled buzzing caught her attention. The tote bag by the door was lit up gently from the inside. Her phone vibrated with an incoming call. She let it ring.
Rose crossed out of her little kitchen into the living room. The curtains rustled gently around the window as the air conditioning kicked on. Rose stood at the window’s edge and watched the street below. People walked by occasionally but none of them resembled the man from the train. She drew the curtains closed.
She desperately needed a shower.
Rose peeled off her dress before she even made it to the bathroom and threw it onto the floor of her bedroom as she passed.
The shower was blissfully hot. Water stung the bleeding skin between her fingers but she grew used to the feeling quickly enough. When her skin was red and her fingertips were wrinkled, Rose turned off the water and wrapped herself in a silk robe, not bothering to towel off. She knew the fabric would get water spots on it but couldn’t find it in herself to care.
She clipped her hair up out of the way to dry and went to the kitchen. Now that her fear had faded, hunger was setting in.
Out in the living room Rose first pressed her ear to the front door and then peaked from behind the curtain at the street below. Still finding nothing, she turned on the TV, tossed the remote onto the kitchen counter, and dug around the cabinets for dinner ideas.
She decided on stir fry, something simple. Rose pulled out an onion, bell pepper, and a bag of broccoli that she was embarrassed to have kept in the freezer so long. She turned to grab the rice from another cabinet and caught a glimpse of the TV.
The news was on. Live footage of a smoking, crumbling building. Rose fumbled for the remote to turn up the volume.
“—minutes ago, three helicarriers took off from the Triskelion building and opened fire on one another,” a female reporter’s voice spoke over the footage. “One of the aircrafts has since crashed into the Triskelion, the other two have sunk into the Potomac river.”
The screen switched to a close-up shot of people running and stumbling out of the smoke and rubble. Fire engine and police lights lit the scene like a grotesque rainbow.
“Officials are not yet certain why the helicarriers were deployed or why exactly they were turned on each other. Rescue teams are hard at work evacuating the area. As of now, the death toll is uncertain.”
Rose turned off the TV. The remote clattered on the kitchen counter. She squeezed her hand into a fist, wishing for a familiar sting of pain on her palm.
The tote bag by the door quivered gently as her phone vibrated with another call. Rose wasn’t hungry anymore.