Taboo Descendants and the Multi-Dimensional War

Solitude.

I blinked deliberately and shielded my eyes from the salty breeze that caused them to water. Through my tears, the shadows danced against the concrete pillars and floor. The parking garage seemed darker than usual and it took my eyes a moment to adjust to the extreme contrast between the hospital’s bright interior and its dark exterior.

I invited the darkness. Where most people feared the night and the shadows it brought, I relished it as the only place in this world where I felt truly alone.

As I approached the first row of cars on the ground level of the parking garage, a peculiar thing happened. An eerie sensation of terror washed over me like a bucket of ice water poured down the back of my shirt.

But why?

The answer lay within me. I knew that someone, somewhere watched over me.

I froze and looked around, but saw no one. Despite the fact that every hair on my skin stood on end, I moved forward. From car to car up the center aisle, my pace more hurried now, I searched for my blue chariot somewhere amongst the other vehicles.

I will be safe inside my car. I just have to get there in one piece.

Again, I felt an intense gaze, this time on my back.

A gazelle in a field of tall grass, I knew my time was nigh. A lioness lurked unseen. I could feel her preparing to launch herself at my back, but I could not feel my keys anywhere inside my seemingly bottomless purse. I looked down.

At that precise moment, two things happened. I found my keys in the corner of my purse and I heard my car alarm go off in front of me and to my right.

Positive that I had not hit the alarm button, I had no idea how the noise had been triggered. My heart pounded inside my chest.

I pulled my keys out of my purse, pointed them at my car, and hit the alarm button firmly. The offensive sound was replaced by a deafening silence.

I could not see anyone in front of me so, I did what everyone hates to do, but feels like they must. I turned my head slowly and looked over my shoulder towards the elevators. No one occupied the space as I had expected. I sighed in relief.

When I turned back, however, a man stood directly in front of me. I screamed as I walked into his chest.

He and I stared at one another, both speechless.

He broke the silence by asking, “Are you okay, Madam?” His gentle voice was firm and unusually proper.

I made the grave mistake of looking into his eyes. They were the color of a cloudless Florida sky.

“What?” I managed to choke.

He answered with a smile, “I wanted to know if you felt well. You looked as if you were having a bit of trouble.”

“I was fine before you popped up out of nowhere,” I quipped, snippier than I had intended.

Under normal circumstances, I addressed strangers in politer tones, but upset, flustered, and embarrassed, I had not expressed myself in the most cordial manner.

How could I be frightened so severely by such a handsome face? I wondered. For this time, I could not help but notice.

He was the most attractive man I had ever laid eyes on outside of a photoshopped fashion magazine. He stood a bit taller than me, about six feet in height. His shoulders were strong but gently rounded, as was his jaw line. His complexion was slightly lighter than mine but had a yellowish undertone. He had raven colored hair, dark as the new moon, but shiny, thick and straight. And his eyes. If they had been any bluer, I might have mistaken them for two robin’s eggs.

“I must apologize,” he crooned. “I did not mean to alarm you. I only wanted to assist you in any way that I could.” He sounded sincere.

I nodded, conceding.

He flashed an iridescent smile that caused my heart to flutter. Taking my hand in his, he peered straight into my eyes, beyond them even. His topaz gaze penetrated my emotional defenses. Dizzy with lust, I forced myself to look away.

“Well, no,” I stammered. “I just meant—I don’t need your help. I— I’m fine, thank you.”

I finished stuttering with my eyes diverted to the concrete floor of the garage.

Momentarily brave, I chanced another look at him.

He stared at me as intently as one would the Mona Lisa or Venus de Milo. I glanced in the general vicinity of my car.

He purred, “You are so striking.”

That got my attention.

My eyes snapped back to his and I found myself lost in the blueness of the Caribbean Sea. How I wanted to be engulfed in the cooling hue of his irises.

“Please,” he breathed, “I must know your name.”

“Kaya— Kaya Jerito,” I stammered, dumbfounded.

What is happening to me?

I had absolutely no idea why I had just blurted my name out to a stranger. For all I knew, he could have been a rapist or a serial killer.

Though logic should have dictated in this moment, my emotions made the final decision. I blamed the erratic limbic system of my brain, but somehow, he felt right to me, familiar.

Perhaps, my limbic system is malfunctioning, I reconsidered.

“Would you like to join me for a cup of coffee?” he proposed. “My shift does not start for thirty minutes.”

He smiled again showing a perfect set of brilliant, white teeth. My eyes darted back and forth between them, his tan skin, and his blue eyes. The contrast made my head spin.

“What was that?” I stammered. I became seemingly dumber by the second.

“Would you like to accompany me to the café for a drink of your choice? My treat.”

Yes! I’d love to.

“Umm, no. Thank you, though.” I heard myself say the words but did not know why.

“I apologize if I came off as too forward. A woman as captivating as yourself must be married.”

“No—not at all.”

“Do you have a significant other then?” he speculated sadly.

“Umm, no, I don’t, but I have a son and I need to get home to him.” I said this more to myself than to him.

I did not want to risk another second with him. I could not handle it much longer. I had never met anyone like him before. He intrigued me to no end and that worried me.

I proceeded to step around him but accidentally brushed his shoulder with mine as I passed. Neurological electricity shot through my entire arm as I breathed in a most enticing smell. The breeze wafted his essence over to my nose and I took in a most alluring scent of green tea and citrus, my brain overdosing on endorphins.

I felt as silly as an eighth-grade girl in the presence of my crush. Only this time, the boy actually knew that I existed and reciprocated my interest.

My car was only a few steps away.

I looked back and bade him good night as I walked forward. I made a concerted effort not to trip as I floated on a cloud of elation. I had not felt this was in years.

“I will see you again soon—tomorrow, perhaps?” He called to my back.

I reached my car and opened the driver side door, having already unlocked it three steps back.

“Sure,” I said over my shoulder.

“I will make sure of it,” he hummed seductively.

I looked back at him as I ducked into the car. He flashed me another sweet smile.

I could feel my cheeks warm as my pulse continued to race. My ears might as well have housed a Jamaican steel drum band for the amount of effectiveness they served.

I closed the car door, started the ignition, and sped off into the night feeling lightheaded, but beyond joyful.

I left my room and did not speak much to my mother and son beyond “Good morning” and “How did you sleep?”

My mind preoccupied with the handsome man I had met the night before, I operated on autopilot.

I could not easily forget the memory of his smile.

My mother, who knew me better than I knew myself, sensed trouble. The last man that occupied my heart had nearly shattered it beyond repair. She had vowed to protect me from further heartbreak by all means.

I could not hide from her when it came to emotions. She could sense them from a mile away, even longer, as I learned in college. The stronger the emotion, the longer her range of detection.

As an undergraduate at Florida State University, I started dating JJ’s father, Timothy Derrick Jones, commonly known as T-Rick. A fellow Hialeah High School graduate, he had been our prom king, captain of the soccer team, and voted “Most Popular” four years in a row.

When we started dating, I thought it was a dream realized because I had admired him since elementary school. The reality was a dating illusion comprised only of staying in rather than going out. No one knew ever saw us together.

Truth be told, I simply served as T-Rick’s sex partner. Nothing more, nothing less. In retrospect, I knew he kept me around as one of many sexual options.

My mother would call me the morning after every night I spent with T-Rick asking me if I felt okay. I sensed that she could feel my despair and desperation from nearly 500 miles away. I longed for her comfort and her love, but I could not bear to confess what I had become, someone’s secret lover.

No, that term sounds too romantic, albeit kinky.

I functioned as his whore. I thought about Cat from the police recording. At least she got paid for her services.

Consequently, due to shame, I flat-out lied to my mother for over a year. After that year, I embellished the truth. I admitted that I dated here and there, but I shared no names and provided no details.

My mother had disliked T-Rick from the moment she met him at our middle school graduation. I knew that she would not approve. In the first semester of our junior year, T-Rick flunked out of school and lost all of his scholarships. He was forced to move back to Miami a failure.

During Christmas break, I told my mother that I was pregnant. Five months and starting to show, I knew I would need to see a doctor. I had not been home since Easter, so no one there had known.

When I broke the news to her, my mother screamed at me, furious and hysterical. She demanded to know the father’s name. She wanted to confront him.

I never told her.

My son, JJ, did not even know. When he began to ask about his father, I told him that his father’s absence did not define him. I told him that the important thing was that he always strived to be the best person he could be, regardless of the cards he had been dealt in life.

I, too, had grown up without a father.

“Mom, may I have some orange juice?” asked JJ.

“What?” I stammered.

Reality had knocked once more. I stood in the kitchen in a daze. We had five minutes before we needed to leave.

“A little OJ, please?”

“Sure, Son. Whatever you want.”

As I walked to the elevator from my car, my head swam with the images of my knight in shining armor and his sparkling smile.

He had singlehandedly forced the sensation of fear from my heart. The moment I had looked into his azure eyes, I had forgotten what I had experienced as I walked through the garage alone. I would have forgotten my own name if I would have looked at him much longer than I did.

To my surprise, Charnesha waited for me outside my office door with a sternly serious look on her face. I immediately cursed myself for not paying attention to the public radio news as I usually did every morning.

“Were there more deaths?” I asked though I already knew the answer. “I didn’t listen to the news this morning.”

The stagnancy in the air reeked of tragedy.

“Yes. Wait—when did you stop listening to the news? And of all the weeks!” She rolled her eyes as she finished.

“Sorry. I didn’t know it was a felony to be uninformed.” Though it should have been in my situation. My expertise was vital to solve this case.

I looked away from her glare, ashamed that I had let myself get so distracted by a little imagination and an attractive man.

I looked up into her eyes to get a sense of her mood. I could tell she was not happy and had a lot to say, so I opened the door and invited her into my office.

She sat down in her usual spot, as did I. She did not speak immediately, so I decided to start things off with an apology.

“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t watch or listen to the news this morning. I got distracted.”

“Really, how?” The sarcasm was heavy. Unconvinced or unimpressed with my short explanation, she merely stared at me.

I took a deep breath and told her what had happened in the parking garage the night before.

“And that’s the whole story,” I finished.

“Hold on,” she said somewhat livelier than before.

Despite her concern with the situation at work, her personal interest had been piqued. She had not heard me speak about any male this way in all the time we had known each other. A decade had passed since Charnesha and I had met in medical school at the University of Florida.

“Who’s this guy?” she asked as she began her inquisition, “What’s his name? Does he work here?” I nodded. “What does he look like? Is he fine? Better be fine—”

“Slow down,” I pleaded with a smirk, amused by her avalanche of inquiries. “I don’t know who he is, but he’s definitely dreamy and, yes, I do believe he works here.”

“Which department? What’s his job title? He better be running something.”

“Oh my gosh, Chica,” I chuckled, “I don’t know. Stop asking me about it, please,” I laughed again. “I’ll probably never see him again.”

The grin on my face faded at the prospect of being right.

What if last night encompassed all the experiences I would share with the handsome stranger?

“What makes you so sure?” Charnesha did not give up so easily.

“I’m not. I’m just not getting my hopes up for something that doesn’t matter either way. Besides, he’s way too good looking, if you know what I mean.” I said the last part without looking at her. She hated when I said things to doubt or degrade myself.

She would have really hated me in high school. She would not have even spoken to the middle school version of me, my low of lows.

Eager to change the subject, I decided to ask a question of my own. “So, what did you want to tell me?”

She had the look of a deflated balloon as my question brought her back to her original train of thought, which was apparently more morbid.

“Oh, that,” she said solemnly. “Something shocking happened last night. I need you to come with me downstairs.

“There’s someone you have to see.”

To my great surprise, our journey ended at the Morgue Bureau.

“The morgue?” I whispered in anguish. “Why are you bringing me to the morgue, Charnesha. You know I don’t like dead bodies.

“Nearly dead, okay—preserved brain specimen from cadavers, okay—but when they’re completely dead and still have a face, I don’t want to have anything to do with them!”

She ignored my melodramatic rant and checked in with the nurse’s station.

After a few silent minutes of contemplation and anxiety, a man whom I did not know and had never seen before in my life, walked out from behind the double doors separating us from the no longer living. I did not claim to know everyone that worked in the hospital, but I remembered most of their faces from various gatherings.

“Who’s the new guy?” I asked Charnesha in a whisper as the stranger slowly walked towards us.

“He works in the Broward County Medical Examiner’s Office. Our Morgue Bureau had to call for reinforcements because of the amount of bodies that they’ve had to examine—” she spoke from the side of her mouth and was not able to finish before being addressed by the medical examiner from Broward county.

“Dr. Queens, Dr. Jerito?” asked the medical examiner, we nodded. “Follow me please.”

We walked through the double doors and into what seemed like another dimension. This place felt drearier and colder, filled with many stern faces.

I attempted to make eye contact with the workers in the morgue, but every face, both familiar and unfamiliar, rushed past us without seeing us, their minds on their tasks.

Perhaps we existed in parallel dimensions, sharing a physical space but unable to interact.

Who is in the “real” world and who living in an alternate reality?

As a doctor and scientist, I believed in an afterlife. Energy could neither be created nor destroyed and our souls were made of it.

We followed the Broward County medical examiner to a refrigerated room, the frigid waiting room of the afterlife.

Tables completely filled the rectangular space, lined with white sheets of varying shapes and sizes. Some larger, some smaller. Miami had become a small war zone.

I shot a deadly look at Charnesha, whose eyes found interest elsewhere.

Of all the places in the world to bring me, why would she bring me here? I wondered.

Saving and improving lives proved to be my life’s passion, but once that life had become lost, my job ended. I had failed.

A violent chill rushed down my spine. Many more chills followed. Though they were not entirely due to the nearly freezing temperature of the room, the draft did not help.

We snaked through the narrow aisles eying the motionless bodies all around us. I half expected one of those white sheets to rise ominously or a gnarled hand to grab onto the hem of my lab coat.

Of course, none of these things happened. At least, not in this realm.

My eyes began to water as I thought about the countless dozens of sons, daughters, husbands, wives, mothers, aunts, uncles, and fathers lying stiffly in front of me. Somewhere, someone was missing their strength, their guidance, and perhaps their sole purpose for living.

I thought, Some heartbroken soul could be prepared to join their loved one in the afterlife in order to face the unknown together.

This thought brought me back to the reason I was here.

I began to feel as if the purpose of this visit would turn out to be personal, not professional.

What loved one would I be asked to identify? Whose face would the examiner unveil from under the white sheet?

The medical examiner came to a stop at the head of bed labeled V12-21. I scanned the shape of the body intently as if to identify the person by the shape of their sheet alone.

The medical examiner’s hand slowly reached for the rim of the sheet. I shrank back, not prepared to know the identity the deceased. I became afraid.

The sheet peeled back slowly, the face revealed.

My worst nightmare had come true. The neurological killer had struck too close to home.