Tip of the iceberg

      The metal door opened up with a “bang”. Carter was holding her gun upwards. She looked to her right and to her left and walked slowly, trying not to miss whatever she was supposed to found there. The day was perfect, almost no clouds in the sky and a shiny sun glistening above her head. She was wearing the uniform and sunglasses, as she was very sensitive to light. As she walked, more like a crab than like a human, the sound of several police patrols could be heard on that rooftop. They were possibly trying to contact Carter but she had left Johnson downstairs and had made him promise he wouldn’t let anyone in until she was done with the criminal. Johnson was younger and eager to help. He was kind of the ideal partner.

 Finally, Carter saw Frost sitting on the edge, looking at the office building in the distance. As she grew closer, she noticed he had no gun, no weapon to defend his life. She had a bad feeling about all of it and made a full stop when Frost talked in a loud and clear voice:

     - Your gun is not necessary. You can come closer but leave your gun somewhere over        that vent. – He indicated one pipe that had a cubic shape.

 Carter held her gun for a few more minutes until she realized the best thing to do was to follow his advice. She left the gun on one side of the small vent and then, slowly, walked up to the criminal. He didn’t stand or looked at her, he just spoke from his seat.

     -  I guess you are aware that I lured you to this rooftop?

 Yes, Carter knew that. It had been obvious from the beginning that he wanted to be caught, that he wanted someone to notice where he was and Carter had been the first and only one to realize what he had meant. Frost had sent a letter to many newspapers, each one very different but having a secret hidden among the letters. Being an avid reader, Carter was able to break Frost’s code and know where he was going to be next. However, she had made the mistake of leaving a note on her desk about it and now every member of the police was there.

     - Poor Johnson. He’s not that strong. – Said Frost, looking down.

 Carter got nearer and looked over the edge. She could see a large group of men dressed in blue and they seemed to be arguing. Her eyesight was not so good but she thought they were talking about how to get in. Johnson had probably locked the door, blocking their entry for some time. Frost was right, Johnson was too young, to new to know how to handle these kinds of situations.

 Frost finally turned around and looked at Carter. She pulled back a bit, scared by his scar. He had a large scar running from the left corner of his mouth to his ear. He smiled, which made him look insane, much more evil than she knew he was.

     - I am sorry. Enemies try to make their marks you know?

 He didn’t wait for an answer from Carter, who was too scared o say a single word. The man stood up fast, putting his legs with agility over the edge of the building and standing up, revealing that he had been seating on a big envelope, the kind they used at office for reports and so on. Carter’s scared face changed to a curious one. She thought, for a moment, that he was inviting to grab the envelope but then realized he was just taking his time and letting her see what he wanted her to see. He took the envelope and pulled out one random paper. Carter could see it had a big seal on top of the page.

      - This is from Saint Mary’s hospital. No that you should feel bad, but I have an                   incurable disease. They told me I could live my life normally if I take pills forever and       have the life of a monk. And I won’t have that.

 Frost looked straight into Carter’s eyes. She felt a bit hurt by then, as they were bloody, as If he had been crying for a long time. Maybe he had cried a lot, maybe he was thinking about his chances and that’s why he had decided to leave the hidden message. He just wanted someone to join him and to know how bad he felt or how sad he was. Although that didn’t really corresponded to a man that had activated a bomb in a very crowded mall less than one year ago. His disease, whatever it was, didn’t change a single thing about him and the justice system.

     - I have to take you in. – Carter saw him straight in the eyes too. – You have done too         much. You cannot get away.

     - Yes I can. You know that.

     - But you wanted someone here with you. Why do that if all you wan is to keep                  vanishing?

 At first, Carter’s hands had been trembling. But that had disappeared. She was not nervous or scared anymore. She had a job to do and she was determined to actually do it, even if it meant running back to her gun and kill the terrorist right there. She was supposed to respect his life but she couldn’t allow him to keep escaping as he had been doing for so many years. He had fled so many horrible events he had caused, he was very insane and unstable, a person that could be trusted. Frost could not really believe he had the cards to come on top this time.

      - You’re done Frost. Come down with me, calmly.

      -  No. I need to tell you something first.

 She walked towards him and he didn’t move. Carter proceeded to taken his arm and made him kneeled before her. He didn’t really complain, he just seemed exhausted, tired somehow. His scar turned a little bit redder and she was disgusted to see it so close to her face. She took out some handcuffs she had on her back pocket but then Frost did a very fast move, pushing her by a vey loud punch on her chest, leaving her with no air on the floor. Then he got near her and asked her for silence.

 Frost took out a cellphone from his pocket and dialed a number. He waited for a bit and then someone answered in the other end. He asked for someone named Carly and then he waited again. Carter could hear he had called to a hospital or a hotel, somewhere where rooms were numbered. He talked with Carly for a while, smiling a bit and laughing. Maybe she was his wife or maybe a very close friend. Was she doing all of this for her? It didn’t make any sense. And if it was true he didn’t want to come in peace, then why bother doing all of this.

 When he finished his conversation, he told Carter to get up. He helped her but she let go of his hand as fast as he could. She demanded to know what was going on. And he complied explaining everything he had to explain. It was a long monologue, with precise details like times and days and even places and descriptions that made al seem so real. Carter thought he was playing her again but somehow he seemed honest, more than any other person she had witnessed confessing such a big part of his life.

 When he was finished, he just smiled at her and told her to keep the envelope. Downstairs, they were finally able to open the door but it was too late for that. A body crashed into one of the police cars, scaring ever-single man and woman there. Frost had jumped a few seconds ago, running towards the edge and not even doubting for a second. He had planned it like that all along and he had chosen that building because he knew how the police would park, how long they would take to bring the door down, how much time his body would take from top to bottom and so many other variable that he had loved to unravel. That had been him, through and through.

 A few weeks later, Carter visited Saint Mary’s. She met Carly there. She happened to be only nine years old and suffering a very rare disease. The best doctors in the world treated her and Carter was told it had been a difficult process but that the child would live. She was Frost’s niece, his only living relative. The envelope also revealed his disease, which was revealed by the police in the media creating a wave of hatred and proof, the irrefutable kind, that he had been forced to do every single one of his evil deeds. So his death was just one step of many on a game no one knew they were playing.

Forgotten

   When she looked at her face in the dirty mirror, she did not recognize her own self. She touched her face, clean it with the few drops of water that came out of the sink and just looked at her hideous face. Somehow, time had deformed it, changing from those times in which she had known proper food and a stable way of life. It hadn’t been like that for a very long time and she even doubted that all of the past she remembered had happened. Maybe she had invented all of it from TV, which now she loved to watch.

 The motel where she worked was the perfect place for her because there was no pressure in getting anything done. Her boss was a very fat man that couldn’t even go to the second floor of his own business, so she could spent all of the time she wanted up there and he would only yell at her once she came down, not having changed the sheets properly or without cleaning all the bathrooms of the very old building.

 She had chosen her name to be Carrie. One night, she had seen that very scary movie in her room and had loved it so much she had decided to be named like that. Her boss agreed to call her that as it was better than calling her “girl” all the time. She was thankful he was only a very stubborn man, as maybe her luck would have been pretty different if she had fallen into the hands of someone else. After all, Carrie was not her name as she did not remembered anything from her past accurately, only parts and feelings, like the ones that indicated her she had changed physically.

 Carrie had been working there for more than two years, and she was much more experienced now that she had been in the past, so just imagine how bad she was when she first started scrubbing floors and fixing small problems that people had in their rooms. Not that many people came to this part of the world. The world was normally empty, only some cars that wanted to take a more scenic rout would end up in the motel. The rest took the highway, which was better and much faster. But Mr. Ray, the fat man, never even thought of changing the location of his motel.

 Apparently, it had been a family estate. So when Mr. Ray’s parents died, the motel became instantly his and he had been managing it from the age of twenty. Carrie secretly admired him because the place could be much worse bur Mr. Ray kept it afloat; although how he did it was shrouded in mystery. Not many people came in and he only had two people to attend to the twenty rooms he had available. Carrie was in charge of all the chambermaid duties, Mr. Ray himself was the repairman (even if he did not know what he was doing most of the time) and there was also and old man called Timmy, who was the one protecting everyone and everything within the premises of the motel.

 So most days Carrie would only clean half of the rooms, as the other ones were rarely used, and she mused about what her life had been before. Mr. Ray had convinced her that looking for her past could not en up well for her and at first she thought that he only wanted to keep her there, almost like a slave, but that wasn’t the case. He let her go to the nearest town, where she told the police of her situation. At first, no one believed her. And when one young guy decided to listen to her, he couldn’t anything about a missing woman fitting her description. She asked him to check again and he even let her try but there was nothing in there.

 When she finally gave up, the people of the police were kind enough to give her a new identity, so Mr. Ray was able to actually pay her and keep her healthy in his motel. With Timmy, they worked as a strange family but every time things were going too good in the motel, she was reminded of that past she had no idea about and started crying: what if she had been married? What if her parents were alive and missing her? What if she had been a mother? That was enough to make her cry all night and not making her able to sleep.

 One day, a young couple arrived at the motel. They wore really strange clothes and barely talked. As there was no one else in the building, Carrie tried to be very nice in order to get to know them better. She even made coffee for them and gave them some cookies she kept for herself. The strangers accepted the gifts, but she wasn’t really able to speak to them or looking at what they had in their suitcases. They would only open the door enough to have a short talk and that was it.

 Every day, Carrie attempted to talk to them and to do her job, cleaning the room. But she was never able to do any of that because they wouldn’t come out of the bedroom for anything. She knocked on the door, asking them if they wanted new bed sheets, water, coffee, their bathroom cleaned, candles… But the answer was always no. Only at night she would see the man walking out and driving off to town, then coming back with what appeared to be food.

 Those times the woman was alone, she tied to talk to her but Carrie realized it was her who was the crazier or weirder one. She wouldn’t even open the door to say the few words that came out of her mouth and Carrie knew she didn’t even stand by the door to say these things. It was very annoying after a while and they ended up staying in the motel for almost a month. Even Mr. Ray tried to talk to them once, but they only answered by paying a whole week in advance, so he didn’t insisted on asking them who they were and why they were barricaded in his motel.

 The man, however, was nicer. Carrie had been taken out the trash one night and she saw him arrive from one of his trips to town. He carried two bags with him and when she saw some liquid soap fell out of one of the bags, she just helped him and had a short conversation. He smiled a lot and it did not seem fake, it seemed like he really wanted to be nice but just couldn’t be fully nice in that moment. Carrie talked to him many times at night and she would only get some words but enough to know his voice and that the couple living there were loaded.

 Since they had arrived, they had spent a lot of money in food and probably other supplies. Besides, they would pay every week in anticipation and the car seemed to always have a full tank of gas. After the first two weeks, Carrie concluded that those two were running away from or with something, She even imagined they had killed people and the police should really know what was happening. But she was scared and decided to consult Mr. Ray before doing anything. He agreed and she called the young officer that had helped her search for her past.

 They decided it was best if they did it in the morning, as the couple would always make sounds later in the day, avoiding to be seen before midday. So the young officer arrived at the motel at nine o’clock and knocked on their door, announcing the presence of the police. At first, there was no noise, but as he kept knocking the door, there was a sudden strange sound. The officer understood the noise as something he had to respond to, so he kicked down the door (to Mr. Ray’s dismay) and shot one of the people inside and pointed at the other with the gun.

 Carrie came closer and saw the woman bleeding on the ground and the man terrified, fully dressed, by the window. They didn’t seem to have been sleeping; the bed sheets were in the exact same place Carrie had left them several days ago. None of them talked and when the officer attempted to call reinforcements with his radio, the man moved, causing the young man to be scared, shooting him several times. Carrie screamed and fainted.

 When she came to her senses, she was in the hospital. She had been taken there and Mr. Ray was in the next bed. Apparently the entire situation had been too much for him and he had a heart attack on the spot. Carrie did not feel bad, so she attempted to walk out the room but a police officer stopped her. It was a woman and she made her go back to bed. Carrie asked what had happened with the couple and the officer just told her that they had found them to be some kind of stalkers but that she shouldn’t worry too much about it, as she would get her answers pretty soon. So she waited, trying to sleep but unsuccessfully.

 The next day, she learned the young officer that had come to their aid was now facing jail, as there was no real proof the couple, which were dead, were any kind of criminals. However, they did found that they never slept in the days they were there, instead writing pages after pages about Carrie. They had taken pictures of her every day and, the strangest thing was that they had pictures that seemed to be her from a very young age. When looking one of the pictures, she cried because she couldn’t see herself in there. She was lost once again.

Payback

   Jean was on highway six and she was doing great time. The road went through the mountains, using tunnels and bridges, to a place with a much nicer climate and where she could finally relax from an exhausting week. Work as a nurse could be very heavy and opportunities to have a few days for herself were pretty scarce. So she decided to grab the car and ask her parents for the keys of the summerhouse they had on that region.

 She had not been there for several years, since she had started her career, and her parents were not big fans of going to a house were the weather was warm but there was no ocean or anything to look forward to. There was a pool though and Jean knew she would have to clean it thoroughly before making use of it. Her parents now owned an apartment by the ocean, so this house had been deserted for quite some time. The plan had always been to sell but no one really seemed interested.

 Driving was making her back hurt a bit, so she decided to turn up the radio and sing along, in order to male a distraction from her pain. She would sing clumsily after the lyrics were sung but it worked as it made her laugh and enjoy the trip. On every curve, she would stop singing, instead humming the lyrics and looking at the dark road. It was the end of the afternoon and she had been driving for about an hour. She was only about thirty minutes away from her exit went the unthinkable happened: another car rammed her.

 The hit from the back make her bob like one of those taxi dolls but her arms kept straight and the car didn’t move so much. She tried to look who had done it. For a second, she thought that maybe someone was having problems and it had just been and accident. But some minutes later it happened again and in a curve. Jean’s heart felt right in her mouth and she decided it was best to speed up in order to loose that insane driver.

 She gained velocity quickly and in a couple of minutes she had lost the car, a red car that seemed to old to be still in circulation. Jean noticed the exit was nearby and was trying not to miss it when a police car appeared out of nowhere and she was asked to park further ahead. She stopped the car on a restaurant just off her exit. Stepping out of the car, she fixed her hair and waited for the police officer to come and talk to her.

 With that air of superiority many policemen have, he told her she had gone above the limit some kilometers ago and that she had violated the top speed she could be driving on the highway. Jean answered that it was all fine but that they should also give a ticket to the owner of the red car that rammed her twice. She went to the back of her car and showed him the marks of both attacks. The man checked it closely, then grabbed his radio and alerted other patrols to be on the lookout for the red car.

 After he had given the ticket to Jean, she was able to go. Her parent’s house was just fifteen minutes down the road on a small plateau between two mountains. The place in itself was very nice but it was obvious people always wanted more and better things so they were all selling these all old houses in favor of newer, more modern ones in places not very far from there.

 Jean stopped the car on the entrance and used the keys to release the lock on the main entrance. She opened the door manually (it wasn’t a electric one) and then drove the car into the lot. She stopped the car just by the pool, closed the door and then took out the only suitcase she had brought along.

The place was very dark and moist, the humidity was incredible. She turned on the lights and was amazed at how much work she had to do that night. She only had three full days for herself there and she was to clean to leave everything as it was. So after leaving her suitcase in her parent’s old bedroom, she decided to grab all the cleaning products available and start scrubbing the floor, mopping them, dust the furniture, vacuum and a number of other thing she would have forgotten to do if she hadn’t been a nurse.

 She had gotten there around seven and now it was almost eleven and her stomach asked her for food. In the house there was nothing to eat, as they had always disconnected the refrigerator before leaving, in order not to let any electric appliances on the long periods of time they were not there. She had forgotten all about eating when she had grabbed the car, so she went outside and decided to head down the road, where she remembered some stores were located.

 They were small family-owned stores, the kind that sells things kids would like on a road trip. No meat or anything raw. No lunches or any form of cooked meals or even microwave meals. Thankfully it was open and the lady that tended to it remembered her. They had a nice conversation as Jean grabbed some yogurts, orange juice, milk, cereal, bread, ham and butter. She also grabbed some candy and a big bottle of soda. The lady asked her if she wanted help to carry all that to her house but Jean refused and told her she could manage.

 After dropping the soda bottle five times, she finally arrived to her house and ate a pathetic sandwich before feeling to tired to go on. She feel asleep in no time.

 The following day, she put on her swimsuit and ran to the pull, only to realize she hadn’t cleaned that. Someone, according to her parents, took care of it when they were not around but still there were many leaves. She grabbed that long pole they use to catch leaves and she started doing so, sweating like crazy, feeling more and more humid by the minute. As she was halfway through the job, she heard a car coming. She wasn’t expecting anyone so she didn’t looked up to see that it was the red car coming slowly down the road. It stopped a few meters away, far from her sight.

 Jean finally looked at the pool: it was clean enough and she just wanted to swim. So she did, for several hours. After that, she decided to lay down in a plastic deck chair and just dry away the water of the pool. It was right then when the two men driving in the red car entered the house and she didn’t heard a thing. They hid behind lush plants and behind her car. She had closed her eyes, tired again from all the exercise. One of the men was holding a knife, the other a gun. This last one raised his hand.

 A shot was heard all over the road and many neighbors looked up and down the street for the source. But they could only see a red car parked there.

 And also, a patrol car.

 The policeman, not the same one that had stopped Jean on the road, had shot first, wounding the one that was holding a gun on the side. He fell to the ground by the pool and his pain had made him drop the gun into the water. The other one was still holding the knife and was pretty agile, grabbing Jean by the neck and trying to suffocate her with his skinny arm.

 She fought back but he was stronger and much more crazy. The policeman was pointing at him but the knife was already too close to the skin and Jean decided to do the only thing she could thing of doing: she bit the arm of her attacker, that got distracted for a second. The policeman got the message and shot two times, both to the chest.

 In a matter of minutes, neighbors had called the police and ambulances. Both men were alive, one on much worse condition that the other. Paramedics also attended Jean, as she was coughing too much and she had a deep cut on her neck.

 She went back home that day, on the ambulance. She would ask someone to go down there and grab her car for her. She only wanted to be home. Jean thought of the men every second of the short trip, their faces mad with anger, the weapons and the feeling when she had heard the gunshot and then the man grabbed her. She felt so helpless and useless. They cured her wounds in a hospital and then released her, late at night.

 Once home, she sat on her bed stroking her neck wound and remembering where she had seen those men before. They were family members of a woman that had recently died in her care. Her husband had attacked her and those men were her sons. Jean remembered they wanted her cured instantly, like by magic and they pressured the doctor not to mention their father in the report. But he did. And Jean was too slow the day the woman went into cardiac arrest and died. She had not believed their word, as the woman had been fine just hours before.

 Jean couldn’t fall asleep anymore. And traveling to relax was definitively out of the question.