Third person's POV
The next morning, Catherine woke up and decided to visit her father in the hospital hoping to fully forgive her father for what he did to her.
Though she'd turned out better and met amazing people who helped her grow out of her weariness. She still resents him for reasons mostly unknown.
She wants to say it hard to his face; what did I do to be sent away from you for that long?
She wants to say it sternly that she had just asthma but then she walked into the hallway leading to his ward and her anger subsided into longing for that fatherly love she had wanted.
She walks briskly hoping to see him coming back to life.
She wants to see his eyes again, the way they looked at her- the last seconds- before they closed yesterday. He looked at her with a sort of compassion she saw in him when he took her away.
His eyes dilated. Perhaps he knew she wasn't Elvira. Perhaps he'd wanted to say something to her.
Two nurses rolled away a gurney with a pregnant woman strapped in it. She's crying and blood gushes out from below her.
"Call the doctor. She's losing blood. The baby is coming…"
Catherine walks away thinking as their words slush through her like the bullet that pierced her father's skin yesterday. She holds in her tears and for the first time in months, it seems she's about to cry for another person again. She'd stopped herself from that last summer after a drunkard ran into the road hoping to die but the driver of the incoming Sedan stopped for him to pass. He broke the car's windshield and then said: I only want to die you fool.
"Hold it, girl," she whispered. " Strong women don't cry."
She smacked then laughed hard. She looks at her face in a mirror close to her father's ward, Elvira's eye primer is still on her. She dabbed her face knowing crying is part of expressing vulnerabilities. She knew that better but embraced it knowing she was about to lead a gang she knew nothing about.
"Hope he's getting better." She slipped through the door.
He's alone with cannulas attached to both his hands. One is attached on the other end to a bag of blood. The other to another bag of sapphire-like water. It's not looking like what she had seen in hospital wards while at her aunt's. His upper body wasn't apparent and the ventilator helps the silence to get grandiose.
Her phone rings.
"Hello, miss," the voice said. "You have to get here sooner before things get out of hand."
"What's it?…" Catherine asked.
"You have to get here." The caller hung up.
"Damn!," She said, hurrying towards her father. A nurse walks in holding supplies. She's blond and thinner than the one who spoke with her yesterday.
"Don't go near him. We don't allow that now."
"Alright. I'm his daughter. Was here yesterday."
"Oh! It's nice meeting you but you'll have to come back later. His condition needs to be stable."
"I hope he gets better soon."
Her phone rings again. She picked. The same voice.
"Miss, you have to be here now!"
***
Her car had been taken. She saw it move out the packing loot and drove away along the second wing of the hospital's other packing loot. The car nearly ran into an incoming Biscayne with velvet-colored rims and broken plate numbers. She swerved backward when it ran zig-zag in Infront of her before reeling away to the south.
The number called again. This time she listens closely and discovers they are in her office. The static sound wasn't constant. Someone is being beaten. Probably tied to a chair. The phone dropped on the other side. The voice went silent after a puff. She ran towards the south hoping to stop a cab.
One stopped.
She got in.
"You know where to go." She said, pointing her coordinate to him.
"Alright, ma'am," the driver said, turning down his radio. "Or I could turn it up?"
"Just drive!"
"Alright."
The wind whirl and her life seemed like one social whirl. Birds fly from the south towards the north. She sensed the tension, the force driving them away. She knew something strange was about to happen or was happening.
"Go faster, man."
"What are you saying? Can't you see an accident beyond us?"
She glanced out. The bridge is clogged and smoke flickers around blocking the already barricaded road.
"Someone should call the damn fire department."
"They did. Look over there you'll see them."
"Damn! So we can't go?"
"Yeah, but we can take that corner down Second Alley to get to the main road."
"Good. Please move this car."
Her phone beeps and a message drops. The number was hidden. She clicked it open and the cab ran into a stumblebum. He stood up and staggered towards the bushy road heading west. They have only been moving for another ten minutes.
"What is happening," She shouted. The message reads: You Better Be Here Soon!
She started coughing. The driver ran out.
"Sorry, ma'am. The cab ran into a lump barely hitting that lout. This road is under construction."
"You know that and you made us go into it. What a world." She coughed again.
The message came in again. She got furious, got down from the damn car and started running with the hope to get to the estate sooner.
The cabman smiled. He was part of the plan.
"She's gonna get trapped." He chuckled and dialed a number.
"Move south. She just left now. Furious as hell." He said into the phone.
"Then get in the damn car and come over." The voice from the other ended roared angrily.
"Keep it low, man. I'm coming."
He removed the lump and jumped in the car. His biceps move as he heaves towards the main road to get back to the hospital. He grabs the two-barrel double pistol hidden to the left side of his seat and kisses it like it's from a recap from a midnight show on kisses.
"You have work to do, man. We are so gonna get him now. My father will be proud of the son I've become."
*******
Catherine continued running hoping to reach home in time. The Google map assured her she should be getting home in fifteen minutes. She's tired. The messages kept dropping.
B"etter be here, You'll be dead soon"
Look at her…
"You have to continue moving, Catherine. You have to. A rude man like Alpha wouldn't want to start like this."
The path becomes clearer. She started seeing her house from the hilly road. Everywhere seems quiet. What are they plotting?
Their neighbors move around talking and some blond children ride on their bicycles towards the hill.
"What are these people plotting?" She said then ran into the last route.
She saw an old woman holding out her right hand to her. Her fingers are trembling with nerves almost popping out with green bloodlines. Her face is awestruck and craggy with sad wrinkles forming on one side. She holds a brown hound to her left. It sits in the grassy shade sniffing at something.
"Don't go that way, Catherine," she snarled. "They are coming for you. Don't fall into their trap. You have to go back."
She glanced at her then continued running. She's not the type to listen to some gypsy-like old woman holding a brown snuffy hound. But how did she know her name? She looked at her again before running into the alley leading to her house.
***
The cab driver throttles into his ward, his two-barrel pistol dragging behind him. He raised it and made a sign in the air then moved closer and opened fire on him.
"I'm done here." He smiled and walked out through another door opened to the outside. A noise came from within, he continued laughing, got in a car, and drove off.
"Hello, tell them to call in the others." He said as his car drove away.
******
Catherines phone rang again as she was about to walk through the front door of the house. Now the voice sounded different, deeper and bellicose.
"Go back to the hospital. We just killed your father."
The call ended before she said anything. She looked at her front frazzled. Her eyes drifted towards the window. It was written in bold gothic letters there too.
GO BACK TO THE HOSPITAL. WE JUST KILLED YOUR FATHER.
She broke down right there. Her thoughts ran from her. A father she'd wanted for long is now dead. Her brows flustered, her body thawed and tears flew down her cheeks. She rushed back into the street, down the alley, to the route, to get back to her father.
The old woman with her brown hound wasn't there again. They couldn't have gone far but she didn't see them. A bower is near. Perhaps they went into it.
She should have listened to her when she told her it was a trap, how could she fall into it.
*****
The cab driver continued driving, smiling, and listening to Bartók's sheet music. The road bends to another route. The music is coming from an ancient piano record.
"I have finally done my part. I so damn made it."
***
Catherine got to the hospital, the police vehicles were there scattered around. They rolled out her father's body in a bag, she rushed to them to see for herself. She tried reaching him but was pushed aside. The body was moved into a blue van. The sign on it, she thinks she saw in a brown notebook under his table last night.
"What is happening," she muttered.