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Jax trembled as an occasional shadow moved from the eerie darkness of an alley, but she kept running. Dark clouds bent on colliding with the earth appeared to be devouring the tallest skyscrapers. A thickening fog rolled in off the lake, obscuring buildings and muting the glow of city lights. She held on to the stitch in her side and moved closer to the street, so none of the malevolent creatures who haunt the night could reach out and drag her to some worse fate. Her feet splashed into a huge puddle formed by the indent of a drive as she crossed its apron; only then did she become aware that she had taken flight without her shoes. She stood gazing down at her bare toes bathing in the shallow pool.
As she caught her breath, and her senses returned, the emptiness of the street registered. Streetlights and traffic signals reflected on the empty pavement; an occasional taxi or car disrupted the surreal landscape. St. Clare Ave. sent shivers through her small frame; all the businesses, even the bars, were closed, their usually bright neon signs dead. A sense of urgency forced her on from the respite of the small footbath. She traveled a few more blocks before calling another halt. A bit more lucid, she investigated the sticky substance she suddenly felt on her skin. The foggy glow of a streetlamp highlighted the blood on her hands and arms. Red, all she could see was red! Her stomach pitched with the realization that she was covered in it, except for her clean, bare feet. She was losing the battle against her rebelling tummy when the strobes atop a CPD black and white added to her red nightmare. Jax lost what little food she'd eaten prior to the beginning of that night's ordeal. Clothed only in a huge, oversized, blood-soaked T-shirt and baggy shorts, Jax collapsed on the soggy tree lawn, beneath the revealing light.
She vaguely remembered the Cleveland police officers asking her, "Are you hurt? Have you been in an accident?" Even foggier was the memory of the trip in the ambulance summoned by the two concerned officers.
As she caught her breath, and her senses returned, the emptiness of the street registered. Streetlights and traffic signals reflected on the empty pavement; an occasional taxi or car disrupted the surreal landscape. St. Clare Ave. sent shivers through her small frame; all the businesses, even the bars, were closed, their usually bright neon signs dead. A sense of urgency forced her on from the respite of the small footbath. She traveled a few more blocks before calling another halt. A bit more lucid, she investigated the sticky substance she suddenly felt on her skin. The foggy glow of a streetlamp highlighted the blood on her hands and arms. Red, all she could see was red! Her stomach pitched with the realization that she was covered in it, except for her clean, bare feet. She was losing the battle against her rebelling tummy when the strobes atop a CPD black and white added to her red nightmare. Jax lost what little food she'd eaten prior to the beginning of that night's ordeal. Clothed only in a huge, oversized, blood-soaked T-shirt and baggy shorts, Jax collapsed on the soggy tree lawn, beneath the revealing light.
She vaguely remembered the Cleveland police officers asking her, "Are you hurt? Have you been in an accident?" Even foggier was the memory of the trip in the ambulance summoned by the two concerned officers.
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