A light cold rain outside of Morgan's Diner had people staying indoors on a Friday evening.  It was April the 5th, less than a month from Fiona's 23rd birthday.  Her co-workers planned on doing something fun this year for her birthday, but it was still too far in advance for that.  The weekend party coming was just an excuse to party.  Party sometimes meant nothing more than music, alcohol, and frolic however.

Morgan's didn't have more than 3 families in at any one time, and this evening was no exception.  The Bostic's and the Shepfield's were in this evening, it was little John Shepfield's birthday and he wanted some Morgan's Chocolate Mousse Pie for his celebration.  Old Man Morgan had a Helium Tank that he kept at home and had brought it out and had it in the back for balloons.  Morgan's cook, Bob Planter had hit the helium tank hard to sing happy birthday much to everyone's delight but afterwords had slipped outback under the awning to smoke a cigarette and sing Achy Breaky Heart to his own amusement.

Fiona Morrissey was leaning against the wall beside what served as the restrooms.  It was a blindspot, not visible to the dining are or the kitchen, so she'd discovered it was the perfect place to bring her purloined biscuit.  Sure, she could buy food at a reasonable discount, but it was just one friggin' biscuit.  Odds were that Old Man Morgan was just going to take them home to his treasured hound dogs anyway.  She licked the last of the butter from her fingers and wiped them off on the back of her black apron.

It had been slow for a Friday.  She didn't have nearly enough money in her pocket to cover the rest of her rent and provide her with beer money for the night.  She pulled out the wad of ones and fanned them out to count again, as if there might be ten or twenty more than there had been a few minutes ago.  Grim.  Just as grim as she remembered.  Didn't help that Steve Bostic had brought his wife and kids in that night.  She couldn't very well flirt with him with his S.O. sitting right next to him or his snot nosed rugrats sitting across the table.  She grimaced at the thought of cleaning up that mess.  Honestly, they'd paid for their toddler's dinner just to have it served up first class to the linoleum floor by the toddler's chubby little fingers and bad aim.  She shuddered to think about what their house must look like.

Fiona popped in the ladies room for a moment, leaning across the chipped porcelain sink to check her appearance.  She was an attractive young woman, something that was not lost on her or some of her regulars.  Her naturally red hair was pulled up into a high ponytail and tied tightly with a black scarf that offset the color nicely.  She wore just a bit more makeup than she should have to work, her lipstick a little too red, her eyes a little too kohled, but not enough to make her look whorish.  She wasn't THAT kind of server after all.  She teased them, she didn't please them in the men's room during the slow times like she heard some waitresses did at truck stops.  The diner uniform, however, could have been a little more complimentary.  The dress was cut in a rather boxy way and made of polyester that was just the right shade of pink to make her hair look brassy.  The collar, apron, and cuffs were made of stiff black material that was a monster to keep straight and ironed and looking 'professional' but at least they didn't show the food spills like the old white aprons had.  Content that she looked good enough to maybe still coax a five out of Steve Bostic and a few of the boys from the Gas Mining Company who'd be coming in over the next hour or so on their breaks, she washed her hands and went through the hall door into the kitchen.

A rig idled along the side of the road and came to a stop.  An older man hopped out and strolled into Morgan's and took a seat at one of the tables.  He clenched a pipe in his mouth but it wasn't lit.  He thumbed at the menu a bit.

Fiona came around the grill line and stopped behind the counter, eyes sweeping the dining room for a quick stock of her tables.  The new one caught her eye.  She pulled the pad out of her front pocket, picked up a roll of silverware and crossed the dining area with a silent mantra going through her mind.  Smile, Honey, you want to manage rent and beer money you're going to have to charm the pants off the rest of your customers tonight.

"Hi!  Welcome to Morgan's,"  She greeted the man with a warm smile.  "I'm Fiona and I'll be taking care of you tonight.  Can I bring you a warm cup of coffee to warm you up while you look at that menu?  It's wet and gloomy out there, perfect coffee weather."

"Hello, Fiona," the man smiled clenching his pipe tightly while he did so standing it at attention stiffly.  He was a thin older man with the lines of a hard life on his face.  He removed his baseball cap that read FORD across the front to reveal thin light graying hair.  "I'm Paul Sumsay, Webster County, West Virginia, pleased to meet you."  He held out his hand to shake hers.  His hand is rough, and looks to have seen as many years as his face.  "A cup of coffee would be great, Fiona.  Make it black and bring me one of those little creamer cups."  The man seemed genuine and had a warm personality.  The gregarious manner of the man attracted the attention of the youngest Bostic, and he smiled and waved at the youngun'. 

At the coffee machine, Old Man Morgan comes round the counter and looks into the back.  "Dammit, where's Planter at?  Fiona, can you pop out back and see if you can find Bob?  I thought he was just out the back door but I can't hear his blasted chipmunk singing anymore."  Morgan goes back out schmooze the Shepfield's and get more compliments on his Mousse Pie.

Fiona gave a small sigh.  If Bob was out back indulging in a more illegal kind of smoke without offering to share at least a single puff with her, Fiona was going to be extremely unhappy.  She gave the older man at her booth a smile and retrieved his coffee and cream, taking them to his table while being careful not to slop the coffee over the side of the cup as she put it down in front of him.  "I'll be right back, Mr.  Sumsay.  I gotta go outback and hunt down our wayward cook or all I'll be able to offer you is a grilled cheese sandwich.  I'm hopeless in the kitchen myself."  She laughed, winked, and spun around.  She didn't show her displeasure at her task until she'd ducked into the kitchen and the customers could no longer see her roll her brown eyes skyward and hear her mutter a few choice curses. 

Fiona took off her apron and hung it in the closet-like 'breakroom' as per county health code regulations.  She'd forgotten an umbrella in her haste to get to work that afternoon, so she resorted to a few trashbags; one to rip a few holes in and slide over her uniform, and one to hold over her head as a rain shield, and then she went out the back door.  It opened onto the back 'employee' parking lot.  She noted her hot pink moped in its usual spot on the grass between the grease pit and the dumpster, then glanced over at Bob's beat up F150.  No Bob there, not that she expected him to be in his car.  Bob had probably been smart enough to bring an umbrella to work, and if not he was probably blissfully high and no longer cared about getting wettened by the rain.  "Bob?"  She called.  "Bob, where the heck are you?  Morgan's looking for you and I've got a hungry customer.  Bob!"  She called a little louder, getting impatient as she trekked across the parking lot to the dumpster.  "If you brought party favors you better have brought enough to share with the whole class, Mister."

A wispy mist seemed to lead her in the direction she was heading.  The tendril of the flowing cloud-like substance curled around the dumpster and there she found Bob hunched over a small kitten.  He was petting the tiny creature's head and the thing looked pathetically drenched and was shivering.  "Sorry," Bob whispered.  The wispy tendrils of cloud dissipated into the drizzle outside.  "I heard this mewing and I came over to find this little guy.  We gotta do something, Fiona.  Put him in your apron to keep him warm or something."

Fiona was a little distracted for a moment, squinting at the mist that had gathered and dispersed all in a matter of seconds.  This was some weird weather they were having.  She hoped it didn't get foggy around the time she had to drive home.  A moped didn't fair well in rain AND fog.  She blinked and turned back to the night cook and the object of his attentions.  "Aw, poor baby, what happened to you, huh?"  She asked in a high pitched voice usually reserved for babies and small animals.  She knelt down beside Bob and beckoned the kitten forward. 

When the little ginger tabby had inched closer, within arm's reach of Fiona, she scooped it up and discarded the trash bag she'd been using as a rain shield.  "Come on, Bob, I have a customer that needs something to eat, and you're a necessary part of that.  We'll take the little guy inside, use some towels to dry him off, find a box he won't be able to climb out of, and we can hide him in the stock room until closing time.  Morgan never goes in there.  He'll be out in the dining room or in his office until he decides to go home.  And I'm sure we can sneak some food in there to keep the kitten quiet.  We'll figure out what to do with it after Morgan is gone and the doors are locked."  

It took her several minutes to empty out the box the  styrofoam to-go containers came in and make a warm bed for their little urchin using the sweaters and coats that often went unclaimed in the lost and found.  It took her even longer to dry the wet little kitten off and get it settled, then wash her hands and put her apron back on.  She certainly hoped none of her tables had noticed how long she'd been gone, and she hoped even more that Morgan didn't discover their stowaway in the stock room.

"Yeah, yeah," Bob said and followed her inside, picking up the orders and some flack from Old Man Morgan while Fiona organized the kitten who sneezed on occasion.  When Fiona comes from the kitchen, the trucker is there and lifts a hand to get her attention.

"Hope there's no trouble back there.  I've been on the road for a bit and I'm about to waste away.  Don't think I could drive another mile for a meal."  Fiona could see that traffic was picking up even before the gas mining guys showed up.  Outside a Yukon pulled up that belonged to the woman Morgan called Mama Cass.  Her three oldest boys were with her.

One of the boys jumped from the Yukon producing a large umbrella, which afforded the group protection from the shower. Entering the Cafe smells of coffee, apple pie mixed with sizzling steak greeted them.

Fiona waved at the new customers as they came in the door, dripping water all over the already muddy linoleum floor.  "Take a seat, guys, I'll be over in a sec."  She called, and then turned away from the door and focused all of her attention on her current customer.  "No, Mr. Sumsay, no problem here.  Took me a few minutes to track down the cook outside is all.  It doesn't look like there are many of places to hide back there, but you'd be surprised at how easy Bob our cook can disappear.  That, and it looks like it might be beginning to fog up out there.  Not sure.  So, what did you decide on?  I'll put a rush on it with Bob.  Least he can do after starving you the way he did."

The quartet slipped into an end bay; Phil positioned himself so he could see the full length of the dinner. Justin scooped up the menus, passing one to his mother and scanning a second before handing it to his brother who gave it the once over.
 
One of the Company guys meandered past them stopping at the Jukebox, slipping some coins into it and punching buttons. After a few attempts he glared at it.  “Hey honey, your two bit noisemaker just swallowed my quarter.” he announced, giving it a hearty shake.

"Chris. Chris! The hell!  How many times have I said, you break it you buy it?  Stop rockin' it around, you are likely the reason it is tempermental.  I'll get a screwdriver and we'll solve the problem," Old Man Morgan had over time developed a sour look that put fear into the hearts of wild beasts, let alone a young punk who could shoot water down a tube.

"No worries, sweetheart," Sumsay said with a smile.  "I'll have a steak, medium rare, and a handfull of fries on the side.  Don't put anything fancy on it.  I'll add the salt pepper and A-1 myself.  And if you've got some Coors in a fridge, I'd like a can."
A civic pulled up outside along with more Gas Company workers, the last of the bunch that would come and go this evening.

Hearing the car Justin's head spun round hoping to see that Yolanda had arrived. When more Gas Company uniforms emerged from it  he started to think this wasn't such a good idea. 

Fiona did as promised and put a rush on Sumsay's order, then went by to pick up the orders for the first table of Company men.  "Hey, Bob, I need a cowboy with spurs; one cow burn it, walk it through the garden and pin a rose on it; and two more cows, make 'em cry and paint 'em red."  She called as she put the ticket on the little carousel and spun it back to the cook.  She cast one glance at the other table of Company men, reminded herself that she needed the beer money, and got to work. 

For some reason that Fiona was always at a loss to understand, people seemed to always get hungry in waves.  The diner would be dead for an hour and a half, and the suddenly every table in the place would fill up in twenty minutes flat with no rhyme or reason.  Of course, these were the times that Fiona enjoyed.  It was good to be busy, running around like a crazy woman, counting her tips in her head as she dropped of drinks, took food orders, cleared tables, and tried to charm people at the same time.

She tired to show an equal amount of attention to all of her tables, but Fiona was well aware that her tips from the Company men would stand to be a lot higher if she managed to flirt shamelessly while she delievered their food and kept their coffee cups full.  The families were never as big a concern.  Some families tipped well, some tipped like it was still 1953.  A dollar did not a rent payment make.

At last, she had all her orders in, cups full, and a few minutes to breathe.  She took that time to check on their stowaway in the stock room and then delivered Mr. Sumsay's food and wandered by her other tables again to make sure everyone was doing okay.  It only took a few minutes for a customer to turn sour and cut her tip in half.  If Fiona wanted to have any chance of a good time over the weekend, she had better keep things running smoothly in the dining room.

Fiona, in her element, was moving fast and making people happy.  Bob was churning out the orders and the kitten in the back had fallen asleep in the box on a dirty light blue sweater.  Morgan had the jukebox open and was flipping through random tunes trying to get everything working properly.  Finally he closed it and Patsy Cline started in with "I go out Walkin' After Midnight."  The Bostic's and the Shepfield's were finishing up and trying to pay their check while a young lady and what appeared to be her brother walked in and joined the mother and her boys in the corner.

Fiona saw the joiners arrive and had to excuse herself from her other tables to stop by and pick up the order for the Mama Kass and her brood.  She gave the young woman a cursory glance.  Ah, the girlfriend.  She was cute.  Vaguely familiar, but not someone she'd memorized because of good or bad experiences in the past.  She hoped the girl's mother was wise enough to get her daughter a prescription for birth control.  Seems like she was seeing more and more teenage mothers every day.  Fiona would never understand a parent's need to remain so darn naive.  Of course, her mother had been the same way.  Fiona's first job had been the first year she could legally work, all so she could pay for her own birth control out of pocket and afford insurance for the fifteen year old Chevy Cavalier her father purchased for her on her sixteenth birthday.  Of course, insurance for that car had been dirt cheap.  It barely ran.  She'd been forced to tie one of the doors on with rope, pin the felt back to the ceiling with thumbtacks, and open the glove compartment with a ballpeen hammer and a screwdriver.  Made for an interesting traffic stop by the Staties, that was for sure.  She blinked herself back into reality as she finished the greeting she could spew on auto pilot from a great deal of practice.  Then, pen to paper, she awaited her table's response while watching the reflection of the dining room in the rain dampened glass behind them.

Justin couldn't understand the thoughts that rushed through his head nor the tension in his back and shoulders. After the others had placed their orders he glanced at the waitresses name tag which read Fiona "Miss Morrissey could I have a double burger, fries and a Sundae" he smiled "I think there's something wrong with the kitten" he added as an afterthought.

Fiona stared at him blankly for the space of several seconds, brown eyes flickering with horror, concern, and then suspicion.  The kid must have seen her outside with Bob.  Probably drove by and parked just as they were carrying the poor little thing inside.  Kid should mind his own business.  He was going to get her in trouble if he kept talking like that.  Of course, that's what she'd get for doing a good deed.  Save a kitten.  Get a write up.  "Whatever you say, Honey."  Fiona gave him a forced smile and turned around to turn the order into Bob.  Then, as an afterthought, she went to check on the kitten in the stock room.  It looked fine to her.  Still a little chilled, lonely and scared sure, but nothing too serious considering the state they'd found it in.  "Hey, now, you be quiet back here, you got me?"  She whispered, leaning over the box enough to give it a little rub behind the ears.  "No more getting me in trouble, Mimosa, hm?  Stay quiet, be good, and I might be convinced to take you home with me tonight.  Get me fired and we're both going to starve."  She gave it one more scratch and went to wash her hands before checking on her tables and Mr. Sumsay one last time before she dropped off that much loved part of the meal...the bill.

The kitten was warm but unresponsive.  Knowing duties called at the moment, Fiona delivered the bill to Mr. Sumsay.  "I didn't order this," he said at first.  A common joke, one that gets a courtesy laugh on a good night.  Mr. Sumsay looks the bill over and pulls out a well worn wallet and puts a number of bills on the ticket before returning his wallet to his pocket.  He takes a quick look at Fiona's chest to read her name tag and hands her the wad.  "Well, Fiona, thank you and you have a good night.  Keep the change."  A quick glance at the bills and Fiona could tell that he'd nearly doubled the cost of his meal.  On his way out the door, he lit his pipe and crossed the road.

Fiona was quickly back in the mix however and Shale Gas company men were finishing their own meals.  Morgan was busing a table which he generally disliked doing, but he was pointing at Bob Planter and telling him to get them orders fired and getting Fiona to pick it up and stop oogling her night's pay.  It was typical Morgan.  At the cash register, dropping the amount into the till, Fiona could see some other movement in the shadows up under the counter.  Something other than a bug or kitten or anything that registered in her mind.

Fiona glanced back at the counter with her brows furrowed.  Had she seen something or was she imagining things?  She was prone to those glimpsed nothings in her peripheral vision that her mind made into terrible somethings.  Spiders, strangers, shadow monsters, her mind made them all out of the light hitting something the strange way, laundry on a line, or a dust cloud floating by a blank wall.  She stared at the shadows there for a moment, seeking something.  God, please don't let the rats be back.  It was inevitable that restaurants would battle rodents and insects from time to time.  Insects came on the delivery trucks with the dry good, and rodents came inside when the weather was bad.  Still, if Morgan saw a rat in his restaurant he was going to give them a cleaning list a mile long and come down on them like a slave driver.  Her $4.50 an hour just did not seem adequate compensation for scrubbing baseboards on her hands and knees or scraping the greasy crud off the bottom side of the grill.

Bob deposited several dishes on the counter. "Party of six" he informed turning to start the next order.

Fiona shrugged off the strange half-glimpsed image and made two trips to deliver the food to the Kase's table.  She was a little apprehensive of the teenage boy, though.  She didn't need him getting her in trouble with the boss.  That, and she found herself watching the counter out of the corner of her eye.  She wasn't sure what she'd do if a mouse ran out into the middle of the dining room, but she'd do whatever it took to keep Morgan and the customers from seeing it, too.  Even if that meant dropping a whole tray of food and dealing with Bob's temper and Morgan's histrionics for the rest of the night.  Anything was better than the cleaning Nazi and the surprise health department checks.

As Fiona deftly placed the orders on the table, Justin couldn’t shake the thoughts about the kitten and tried to avoid her gaze. Her second trip caught him unawares, looking straight at her a sympathetic smile crossed his face before he dropped his eyes and subconsciously looked towards the place where the kitten lay. 

This kid was really beginning to give Fiona the skeevies.  He looked normal enough, but he was acting guilty and looking at the wall to the stock room like he KNEW she was putting her ass on the line for a little stray furball.  It had been a mistake to bring the kitten in the diner in the first place.  It would be just her look to get fired for the one and only time she took on some responsibility of her own free will.  And it wasn't like Bob was going to take that kitten home.  Nope, he was going to guilt her into doing it.  Luckily her landlady had never said anything about cats, just dogs, but still...that wasn't the point.  Fiona couldn't keep a plant alive, God help that poor kitten if she had to take it back to her trailer.  There was barely room for her in that thing.  She avoided the kid's gaze all together, checked on refills, and decided to start working on her closing duties.  Of course, that meant going back to the stock room for cleaning supplies, condiments, and seasonings to refill the tables and start disinfecting everything.  And that meant checking on that darn kitten again.  Mimosa.  Why'd she have to go and name it anyway?  Now it was going to be impossible for her to just send the thing back out into the parking lot where it belonged.  No, now her conscience was going to make her take it home with her.  Damn conscience.

Fiona closed the door, supposedly to get to the salt, pepper, and array of sweetener packets kept on the shelf behind it...but she really just wanted to get the kitten out of that box and make sure everything was okay.  Boy Skeeves in the dining room was giving her a regular case of the Paranoia.  She slipped off her apron again and walked over to the box, whispering to keep Morgan from hearing her.  "Hey, Mim, it's just me...you're not so good Samaritan.  Feel like trying to eat some chicken or something..."  Her voice trailed off as she stared down into the box and watched the completely motionless cat at the bottom.  "Mim?"  She asked softly, then reached out gingerly to pick it up.  It hung like a rag doll in her hands.  "Damn it, Cat, why'd you have to go and die on me."  She muttered, giving it's lifeless head a little scratch behind the ears.  "I may not have wanted a roommate, but I didn't want you to die."  If her voice cracked on those last few words, she was going to pretend not to notice.

The deep shadows near the floor moved in relation to the flickering bulb in the ceiling.  The lifeless body of the kitten felt odd, like a limp and heavy sack of fluid, its pink tongue barely poking out of its mouth.  Those deep and moving shadows on the floor shifted more than they should have and it brought to mind that same instance just a short time earlier.  Looking into the shadows, they seemed to have more depth than they should have like there was a way to crawl down inside of those shadows and disappear.

Fiona went perfectly still, her brown eyes lifting slowly from the cat to the darkened corners of the room.  How many times now had she asked Morgan to have someone replace those flickering flourescent tubes?  She'd lost count long ago.  And now, she had to be the one to close down the store with one whole corner of the stock room bathed in darkness.  It really was dark, too.  She squinted a little, trying to see into the shadows and make out the cleaning supplies that were stored in that particular corner.  Damn.  She'd never realized how much light that particular tube gave off.

Fiona had never been afraid of the dark.  Even as a child, she'd never required a night light or closet check in order to sleep.  She'd been fairly practical.  Never the type to spend hours hunting dragons in the basement or reliving a popular fairy tale in backyard.  Flights of fancy and overly active imagings were not something she'd had any experience with in the past.  Even now, her mind decided that the shadows that seemed a little too dark, a little too ominous were probably just the hiding places of more of her furry rodent friends.  They were not some deep dark abyss from which some nightmarish bogeyman might emerge.  No.  She might like to watch horror movies, but she was never going to be fooled into believing for even a second that she was living one.

Gently, Fiona placed the dead kitten in the box and covered it up with one of the spare towels she'd stolen from the diner's clean laundry.  Then, she turned back to face those shadows.  She had never let darkness defeat her as a child, she'd be damned if she let it freak her out now.  If there were rats hiding in there, she'd be better off finding them now rather than later.  Or worse, letting Morgan find them first.  She tied her apron back on and fished around in her pocket for her lighter.  She wasn't really a heavy smoker.  Mostly, she indulged at work so she had an excuse to escape the confines of the dining room for a few blisfful minutes of peace and quiet (except for the buzzing sound fo flies, that is) out by the dumpsters where she'd found Bob earlier that night.  Now, her lighter might have another use all together.  She flicked it once with her thumb and held her hand out as she approached the corner.

Fiona's carefully plucked and filled in red eyebrows drew together in a deep 'v'.  That was odd.  The lighter wasn't even making a dent.  It was probably almost out of fluid...or the darn thing was broken, which would be just her luck.  She took another step forward and held it out even further.  Nothing.  She closed the lighter and dropped it back into her pocket, staring at the shadows in silence for another moment.

"Fuck,"  She cursed again, shaking her head at her own silliness.  Ignoring the tingle running up her spine, she plunged head long into those shadows, determined to either flush out the rats or retrieve her cleaning supplies without wasting another minute on this stupid paranoia bullshit. 

Fiona ducked down and stepped past a darkened shelf to come to another darkened area.  Rustling whispers seemed to come from multiple directions and Fiona took another step into the depths of the shelves and found herself between another pair.  The dim distant light seemed just enough to cause her not to trip or stub her toe.  A rustling whisper behind her forced her to look back and it appeared as though darkened shelves went in all directions everywhere.  The little storeroom and discarded kitten were definitely not behind her any more.  If paranoia had been ignored before, not it might be a palpable presence right beside her as a step in any direction looked exactly the same.  Fiona was in some shadowy almost completely dark nightmare without escape.

Fiona turned in a slow circle as her mind grappled with what she was seeing.  This couldn't be real.  Where was she?  Where was the stockroom?  What the hell was making all that noise?  She edged back a step until she felt a shelf behind her back.  She didn't want anything sneaking up behind her.

Her hands began to shake at her sides as she realized that this was not a dream.  Her day had been too real, too detailed, too intense.  The rain had been cold and wet.  She wasn't asleep.  So that meant she was either insane and hallucinating...or all of this was real.  She honestly didn't know which would be worse.  Her whole body felt numb with fear as it crept down her spine, squeezing her lungs and making her breathing more labored, making her heart pound so hard and so loud that it was all she could hear for several minutes.  She was on the verge of a panic attack, and that didn't seem wise with the rats...or whatever they were...still out there. 

Fiona was well and truly terrified.  Her panic increased until she was on the verge of a nervous breakdown right there in her nightmare hinterland.  In that moment of terror, her overloaded mind reverted to pure instinct.

She screamed.  A long, blood curdling, soul searing, ear piercing shriek of terror that disappeared into the nightmare around her and did not echo back.  If she hadn't been so afraid, she would have been embarrassed by that girly display of inanity.  At this point, though, all she wanted was out.  Out of this bad horror movie and back into her boring, hum drum life.  God, if she didn't get back soon Morgan was probably going to fire her...funny how she could still worry about that at a time like this.

The vague whispers and scratches around her echoed softly up towards her, "Who is this?", "What is this?", "What do we do with it?", " Should we tell others?".  As Fiona's terror grew, the muffled sound of shelves coming down reached her and in her gut, in the back of her mind, she knew that something was coming to her assistance, something that was in some way a part of her.

The whispers disappeared to inaudible levels and a shelf crashed to the side and a giant black bull shouldered it out of the way.  It seemed to almost be made of shadow itself but the glistening nose and intelligent white rimmed eyes glanced sideways at her.  It snorted and stopped letting its head roll a little from side to side before jerking it up and shaking its body.  In the dim half-realized twilight of this strange place, the bull seemed to both be a part of the world and not a part of it.  Fiona felt the impression in her mind like she was saying something to the bull and to her own surprise she only uttered a single sentence that was both from her and not from her, but somewhere deeper within, "I only need to tell you where I want to go."

The sentence lingered in the stagnant air between woman and Beast for several seconds as she allowed them to sink in.  She didn't know where they'd come from, why she'd said them, but she knew instinctively that they were true.  Tentatively, she lifted her quivering right hand from her side and slowly reached out to touch the creature beside her.  She presented the back of her hand to the Beast's nose first, as if she expected it to sniff her like a dog might to assuage it's fears.  But the Beast wasn't the one who was afraid.  No, that was all Fiona.  Slowly, she touched her fingertips to its nose and let out the breath she'd been holding.  It was everything she expected, and yet everything she had feared at the same time.

The nose was firm, but somehow at the same time lacked a degree of substance beneath her fingers.  It felt almost as if she pressed or focused too hard on the Beast that had come to her rescue that it would somehow dissipate and leave her alone in this God forsaken place again. 

She edged forward a few steps until her hand could rest flat against the velvety soft hair that trailed from the top of his nose to his forehead.  "I'm losing my mind."  She murmured flatly, glancing into the Beast's big, eerily aware eyes.  "I can't stay here."  She added, as if she needed to give the creature an explanation.  "I don't know how we do this...how you're going to do this...but I need to go home.  Back to Morgan's.  To the stockroom where I'm supposed to be right now.  I can't afford to lose my job.  Please."  Fiona glanced at the dark landscape around her and fisted her left hand at her side to keep it from shaking again.  "Please, get me out of here."

The bull slowly and carefully moved forward shouldering a shelf out of the way.  It crashed to the side and the whispering skitters in the dark seemed loud only for a moment, "It escapes.", "It will come back.", "Who is the other?"  Turning parallel to a series of shelves, the lighting seemed to change slightly and through a narrow break in the shelves, one the bull refused to push through, a passage that seemed to be different than the rest.  The flickering buzzing singular florescence of the light of the stock room was there ahead of her.  The box in the middle of the room was missing, meaning someone had taken the dead kitten away. 

Fiona was able to fit in between those shelves and it seemed was able to walk into the stockroom.  Looking back, the image of the bull seemed a distant spectral dream.  Its glistening nose and white eyes faded and the normal shadowy corner of the room was all she saw.  Outside of the stockroom the lights of the diner were on but there was no noise.  At the angle through the door, a clock, carefully placed by bob long ago, indicated to Fiona that it was hours past closing time.

Fiona stumbled from her nightmare world and back into the reality of the stockroom.  She felt cold, numb, disconnected.  Her breathing was still ragged, her heart beat still erratic, and her limbs did not feel as if they belonged to her. 

She made it as far as the small corridor which led from the kitchen to the back door, break room, stockroom, and Morgan's office.  When her brown eyes settled on the clock, she felt her legs turn to jello.  Fiona reached out reflexively for something to steady herself, but her movements were awkward and all she managed to do was dislodge a stack of plates from a shelf.  They rained down on the brown linoleum with a might crash that resounded through the room like thunder.  Fiona fell with the dishes, wilting into a quivering mass on the floor surrounded by broken crockery.  Tears trailed down her cheeks from her big brown eyes like ice melting on the first warm day of spring.

She'd lost hours.  They were just gone, inexplicably sucked away by that nightmare world.  It couldn't have been real.  Things like that didn't happen.  Which meant she was insane.  She'd hallucinated everything and lost hours to some schizophrenic delusion.

She curled up on her side in the fetal position there on the floor of the diner's kitchen, her tears giving way to heavy sobs of helplessness and despair.  She was home, but things were not okay, and she was not strong enough to pretend that they were.  Things were never going to be okay again.

Less than a minute passed and Morgan came bursting into the room.  "Fiona!  Good God in Heaven where have you been?  Are you alright?"  Completely out of Morgan's character and with a strength that it didn't appear he possessed her reached down and scooped up Fiona off the floor and carried her into his office proper and set her down on the old ratty love seat that he kept in there.  One of the springs stepped to the side with a audible clang, the usual sound.

Bob rushed in and leaned against the door for a second before running out again.  He could be heard shouting, "She's back.  She's in here."

Morgan was kneeling down in front of her, "Did someone take you, Fiona?  Did you get away from someone?  Do we need to kick some bastard's ass?  Sergeant John and some other state troopers are here.  We can track whoever it was."  He held her up in a sitting position by her shoulders with strong hands.

Fiona's grief and terror began to slowly part to allow her self preservation instinct to kick in ever so slowly.  Morgan wasn't mad.  He wasn't going to fire her.  But she couldn't tell him the truth, he'd never believe it.  Not the whole truth anyway.  Her sobs gave way to hiccups as she clung to the older man's shoulder and tried to sort out the sane from the insane. 

"I don't know what happened."  She admitted in a whimper.  "I was in the stock room.  The light by the cleaning supplies, it was out...and it was dark.  I thought I saw something...heard something...but when I went over to look...I don't know.  I don't know, Mr. Morgan.  I was in the stock room and then...all I remember is being somewhere else.  Dark.  And there were voices.  People talking...but I didn't see them.  I don't know who they were or what they wanted...I remember screaming.  For help, I think.  I don't know.  But he came...he was big and black...he brought me back here.  Is he still here?  Outside?  I think they were going to hurt me, Mr. Morgan.  I don't think they were going to let me come home.  He saved me... I just can't remember.  My head hurts.  And my body feels asleep..."

Fiona's voice trailed off.  Her tears had long since run dry and although her breath came in shuddering gasps, her sobs had ebbed as she editted her experiences.  The best lies were those based in absolute truths.  She knew that, so she hadn't tried to invent any sordid details.  Fiona caught sight of the clock on the wall of the office and tried to make herself stand up without much luck.  "Oh God, Mr. Morgan, it's so late.  I'm sorry."  She wiped her nose with the back of her hand and tried to wipe the tears from her cheeks with her palms.  They came away smeared with eyeliner and mascara.  "I have so much work to do.  I have to clean and fill the condiments...and God, my tables.  I'm sorry.  I'm so sorry..."  She wasn't crying anymore, but her hands were beginning to shake even more fiercely at her side.  She wasn't sure why she felt so cold.

"Don't you worry about that none.  I'll do it tomorrow morning.  Just relax," Morgan said.  State troopers came in, all in all 3 men and one woman.  Morgan recounted what Fiona said with patience, allowing Fiona to repeat the vague details as necessary.  "I swear to you though, Jeff, when I went into that storeroom, I did not see her.  How the hell could I miss her?  You've seen the size of the place.  So someone had to have came and got her and some black guy brought her back.  I don't know if this black guy is savior or kidnapper with a cruel conscience though, if you know what I mean."

"I know, Morgan.  We'll take another quick look around, and fortunately she's back safe.  We haven't seen anyone coming or going, however.  Just as a precaution, I'll bring in a couple dogs tomorrow morning and scout the area."

The female trooper knelt down in front of Fiona, "Ma'am, if you believe you have been raped.  I will need to take a swab.  Do you feel any pain or pressure?"  She looks up at the men in the room who hastily left to allow some privacy.

Fiona shook her head, "No, nothing like that.  I don't think anyone touched me like that."  They'd been in the stock room and hadn't seen her?  Had they noticed the shadow?  Had they seen what she'd seen...or had that inky, black portal been meant only for her?  And if that was the case...why?  

Fiona's brows furrowed with concern as she looked over the female trooper.  "I don't think...I don't think I can take my moped home tonight.  I don't feel...steady enough to drive that.  I need...a ride.  And..."  she bit her lower lip hard.  She didn't want to ask this because she knew how ridiciulous it was going to sound.  "Could someone check my trailer?  Turn on the lights.  Make sure that there's nothing...no one,"  she corrected haltingly, "in there waiting for me?  I don't think I can go in that dark trailer on my own.  Maybe Bob or Mr. Morgan could if you all are too busy?"

"I'm okay to stay alone tonight.  I think.  As long as there are no shadows."

"That won't be a problem, at all.  I was going to suggest that someone drive you home.  I can do it myself.  We can load your vehicle into someone's truck and deliver it.  And I or another officer will be around sometime in the middle of the night to make sure that everything is still ok."

Morgan volunteers to bring the moped in his truck.  And loads it up while Fiona is allowed to get herself together a little more.  The police talk outside with Morgan and Bob for a little bit to get some more information on anything that happened that evening.

 ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** 

Fiona waited for the state trooper to go through her house and flip on every light in the trailer.  She didn't understand much of what had happened to her, but she was certain that the shadows had something to do with it.  So...it only stood to reason that she needed to stay as far away from darkness as she possibly could.  The troopers promised not to leave right away, in case she needed them after all.  And one of them would be back later.  They'd promised.

Fiona walked up the rickety porch steps and through the noisy storm door into her living room and tried her best not to look as terrified as she felt.  The police were going to be back to check on things.  That was good.  She wouldn't be entirely alone.  That didn't keep her from feeling entirely alone, though. 

Fiona shed her apron and tossed it onto the back of a violet floral arm chair.  Her entire living room was decorated in shades of violet and black, almost all of the pieces had been prizes found at yard sales or in thrift stores.  Only the couch was new.  It had been a Christmas gift from her mother to replace the one she'd been using since she moved into the single wide at Spreading Oaks Village.  It was a nice couch, but it was more Fiona's mother's tastes than her own.  She knocked off her slip-proof tennis shoes and kicked them over to the wall behind the door where her other shoes had formed a makeshift pile.

She started unbuttoning the work dress as she walked down the small corridor that led from her 'great room' to the rest of the trailer.  The hallway opened after only a few feet to allow for the placement of a washer and dryer directly across from the small bathroom on the left.  Beside the bathroom was the unused 'guest' bedroom that Fiona hadn't even bothered to furnish.  The end of the hallway was the door that led into the master bedroom.  She stopped before she walked into the master bedroom, rethinking her plan to change clothes.  Every light in the house was on, but her only clean night shirts were in a laundry basket in the master closet.  The police officers wouldn't have thought to turn that light on, and she was not about to try to reach into that dark closet to get a change of clothes.  She turned around to grab one of the dirty nightshirts from the basket beside the washer and changed out there in the hallway considering her options, not just for the night but for the future in general.  How long, exactly, could one run from the dark?  Probably not too damn long.

The night seems to have taken its toll.  The change in the hallway was cramped as only it can be in a single wide, but she managed just fine.  The sound of the police car pulling away from the place displacing gravel as it went eventually left her to the silence of the well lit place.  It would be difficult at best to sleep with all the lights on, but maybe with some well placed pillows or that night mask she could manage.  The weariness that she felt in her bones made it difficult enough to stay awake, and crashing just about anywhere would guarantee some sleep.

Fiona finally decided to take advantage of her empty guest bedroom.  There was no furniture in there.  She didn't see the point in wasting money on furniture for a superfluous room.  She kept clothes in the closet, but that was all the use she got out of it.  Tonight, the empty room with its lack of shadows was going to be a perfect place to sleep.  She tugged the sheets off the bed in a silly little dance as she tried to keep as far back from the darkness under the bed as she possibly could.  Armed with a pillow, a couple of blankets and a sheet, she shuffled into the spare bedroom and spread the bedding out on the floor.

The floor was hard, and the light was shining in her eyes, but she was so drained emotionally and physically that eventually her body won the battle with her mind and she drifted into an uneasy sleep.

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** 

Fiona woke in the early morning with a moan and a few choice curses.  Her whole body ached.  Every bone and muscle was screaming with agony from her night on the hard floor.  She heard a few unhealthy pops as she pushed herself to her feet.  She left her bedding in a disheveled pile on the carpet and wandered into the kitchen, groggily making coffee to wake her up.  With the satisfying burble of the coffee maker to indicate that soon she would feel revived again, she shuffled back to the bathroom to find the Tylenol to take care of the pounding in her head and her aching body.  "God, Fi, if you're going to feel this bad in the morning you should at least have a pretty damn good night to show for it."  She muttered darkly.

Fiona was looking at herself when she opened the medicine cabinet and saw the sparse interior of the cabinet.  The Tylenol bottle was turned backwards and she grabbed the childproof container and opened the cap with ease.  Pouring out a couple pills and snapping the lid back on, Fiona closed the medicine cabinet to look into the mirror.  The mirror however did not look back.  Instead, Fiona looked through the looking glass into a mirror image of her bathroom beyond.  The mirror was clearer than it had ever been, as though it was not there at all, as though she could climb through into that other world.

Fiona froze as still as a statue, staring straight ahead at her mirror.  Slowly, she turned around and walked back to her kitchen inwardly fighting the need to have another nervous breakdown.  She fumbled for a coffee mug.  Her hands were shaking as she tried to pour a cup of coffee but most of it splashed on the counter.  Throwing back the cup of hot coffee like it was a shot of tequila, she waited for the caffiene buzz to wake her up.  Why hadn't she been able to see herself in the mirror?  Was she some kind of vampire now?  Blood didn't sound suddenly appetizing, and she was standing in a puddle of sunlight from the small window above the sink, so that seemed unlikely.  It might be a dream, but it didn't feel like a dream.  How long was she going to be able to run away from the dark and mirrors?  Probably not long.  

Emboldened by a caffiene buzz and a determination to not spend another night in her guest bedroom sleeping on the floor surrounded by artificial light, Fiona pulled on a dirty pair of jeans from the basket by the washer and a pair of tennis shoes from the pile by the front door.   She grabbed the purse she'd dropped in the middle of the living room and went back to her bathroom prepared to face her demons head on.

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