Hand-To-Hand
In the wink of an eye, Cat was on her feet and stepped out of the bathroom, away from Greg. She reached into her blouse and plucked the tiny glass vial from within. Greg staggered awkwardly toward her, reaching to try and grab it away from her or knock it from her hand. He was still weak and dizzy, however, and his vision and movements were impaired by the lingering effects of nausea. In another moment, Cat pulled the cap from the vial, brought it to her lips, and quickly swallowed its contents. Greg reached her and grabbed her arms just in time to see the triumphant smile on her face, before it faded away into oblivion, right before his eyes.
"Ha!" Cat laughed viciously, as she broke free from his grasp. "Mister smart guy! Thought you had it all figured out, didn’t you? Well, you thought wrong!"
There was no doubt in Greg’s mind that Cat had every intention of carrying out her threat to kill him. He knew from experience what to expect next. At this point, Cat was still vulnerable, being clothed and therefore partially-visible. But once she removed her clothing, Greg knew he would be defenseless against her. He had to move fast. Fighting lingering weakness and dizziness, Greg repeatedly grabbed at Cat’s now-invisible hands and arms, struggling for all he was worth to prevent her from disrobing, but she broke free from him and soon backed away from him, out of his reach.
He repeatedly lunged at her, and soon found himself chasing her now-empty clothes around his living-room, while she continued to backpedal him, her disembodied voice laughing and taunting him. Greg’s movements were slow and clumsy, Cat’s were swift and graceful. In seconds, she kicked the shoes off her feet and threw them in Greg’s face, further hindering his already-slow progress.
Adrenaline borne by terror drove Greg on. He rushed Cat again and again, grasping at her arms, her clothing, her waist, anything that was even remotely within his reach. Twice, he almost had her, and both times, she slipped away from him just as quickly, striking blows at him in the process. The empty sleeves of the blouse then reached down and violently yanked off the skirt, popping the button and tearing the zipper with a loud ripping sound. Another quick movement and the skirt was off and thrown into Greg’s face, momentarily obscuring his vision.
Greg yanked the garment from his face to see a headless, handless blouse floating in space directly in front of him, bobbing in the air, as though taunting him. He lunged at the blouse, only to receive, from out of nowhere, a vicious kick to his groin. He doubled over in pain, and Cat’s voice from the floating blouse began to hurl insults and rebukes at him.
"You!" Cat spat angrily, as the empty sleeves of the blouse reached up and yanked open the front of the garment, popping the buttons and scattering them in all directions. "You brought this on yourself! You just couldn’t let me alone, could you? You just couldn’t let things be and leave me in peace! No, you vindictive bastard! You had to go and invade my privacy! You had to trash my apartment! Out of sheer spite! You worthless, mean-spirited, miserable son of a—!"
The last word of her invective was replaced by another swift kick, this time to Greg’s side, narrowly missing the cracked ribs he had sustained from one of Cat’s previous attacks. He coughed and gasped for air as he staggered back from the blow. He looked up just in time to see the floating blouse flutter up and away from Cat’s transparent torso. A floating bra and pair of panties remained in the vacancy left behind…but not for long.
"It was always you, right from the beginning!" Cat went on, as the bra tore itself free and fluttered aside. "You couldn’t just leave things alone! You always had to spoil them! What a fool you are! What an idiot!"
The floating panties approached Greg, then suddenly writhed and twisted in midair for a moment, before dropping to the floor. With them went the last remaining visual clue of Cat’s presence. She was now completely invisible. Greg froze, motionless, as though listening for sounds.
Suddenly the collar of his shirt was grabbed roughly by an unseen pair of hands, yanking him forward and pulling him off-balance. "Don’t you see?" Cat’s voice screamed into his face at extremely close range. "Don’t you understand?? You’re the one who started all this! If you had just tried to get along, if you had just let things be, everything would have been fine! If you’d left me alone, I would have left you alone! Live and let live, you know? Don’t you get it? All I want from you is to be left in peace, that’s all!" The unseen hands released Greg’s shirt-collar, and a blow struck his temple, sending him reeling across the floor.
"But no!" Cat screamed, as Greg tried to escape the unseen attacker, scrambling away on hands and knees. "You had to invade my privacy! You had to steal my personal belongings! You bastard!" Again, the unseen hands yanked at Greg’s shirt-collar, and he received another blow, this time across the back of his neck.
Greg’s head nearly exploded as blinding, agonizing pain shot up from the back of his neck and into his skull, and he collapsed to the floor. He felt himself blacking out, and with every fiber of his being, consciousness and will-power, he fought against it, struggling to focus his eyes and regain his footing. Through dizzying waves of pain, he was aware of Cat’s angry voice, quite close to him. He then received a swift kick to the stomach, knocking the wind out of him.
"I was perfectly willing to forgive and forget everything," Cat’s voice said. "But not now! Not after this! This time, you’ve gone too far! This time, you’re not going to get away with it." The sound of another blow echoed through the apartment. "Why can’t you just leave me alone?!?" her voice screamed into his ear. "Why?!? Why do you have to go on making my life miserable?!?" Another blow followed.
This time, however, Greg finally reacted. Though he was still overcome by all the blows he had sustained, the instinct for survival finally took charge of his actions, and he reacted like an animal whose life was in mortal danger. He summoned up the last of his strength and lunged forward, blindly, unthinking, with his head bowed low and his arms spread wide, as though tackling an opponent on a football field. It was a useless, futile gesture, however, as Cat immediately saw what he was doing, and merely stepped aside, leaving Greg to stumble blindly past her.
"Oh, no you don’t!" Cat said, tauntingly, from somewhere to Greg’s right as he passed her. "Not this time! I’m not going to let you get close to me again! I learned my lesson after last time!"
Although it was futile, Greg lunged again and again, trying to judge Cat’s position by the sound of her voice, which continued to taunt and goad him, laughing cruelly as it did so.
"You really are a moron, aren’t you?" she said, dodging him once more. "You just never give up, do you? You never learn! When are you going to get it through that thick skull of yours that you can’t beat me!! Ever!!"
As Greg made one final attempt to tackle the invisible Cat, a large glass bowl floated up from the nearby china cabinet, rose high into the air, and came crashing down onto the back of his head, shattering into a thousand pieces. Oddly enough, it seemed to Greg that he heard the crash before he actually felt the pain of the impact. But only for a moment; waves of pain soon enveloped him, and the room dimmed slightly and whirled around him. Greg felt as though he were flying through the air at a high altitude, as though he were far above the petty problems that remained down below on the earth. The sensation was short-lived however, as he soon regained contact with the earth, crashing painfully against the coffee table, which collapsed and splintered beneath him.
Through a superhuman effort, Greg managed to remain semi-conscious. He tasted blood in his mouth and again felt nauseous. He opened his eyes, and although blood streamed into them, blinding him, he looked around and somehow ascertained that the front door of his apartment was only a few feet away from him. Gotta get out…! he thought vaguely. Gotta get outta here…! He tried to raise himself up with his arms, but his entire body screamed in agony. It felt as though every bone in his body was broken. Yet his survival instinct drove him on to attempt a fast dash for the door. He raised one foot, settling his weight onto it for one brief instant, before he heard another loud crashing sound, followed by more shooting pain on the back of his head. He didn’t know what Cat had hit him with, but whatever it was, it was hard; fortunately not hard enough to knock him out, but damned near.
Out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed a trophy he’d won in college suddenly fly up from the mantle, where it normally sat, arc briefly in mid-air for a moment, before flying headlong toward his forehead. He managed to duck aside in time to avoid the trophy hitting him square; it did strike a glancing blow however, opening his scalp. Moments later, other assorted objects from all corners of the room came to life, flying up from nearby shelves and tables, before also taking flight toward Greg’s head and body, striking him with great force, while Cat hurled the foulest abuse and obscenities with each object thrown. Repeatedly, Greg tried to dodge or duck the flying items, or raise his arms to try to shield against them, usually with only partial success. As soon as he had successfully shielded himself from an object thrown from one direction, another took flight from an opposite direction. Once or twice, he even tried to grab at the flying objects, but it was useless; just as he reached for them they dropped harmlessly to the floor.
Not all of the thrown objects were breakable; many were large, heavy and extremely painful when they made contact with Greg’s limbs and body. They continued to fly up and pelt him from all directions until, it seemed to Greg, that Cat had finally run out of objects to throw.
But months of living with the terror of Cat’s unexpected attacks had, to some degree, acclimated Greg to pain and fear. It no longer completely immobilized him as it once had. Instead, he had learned, inadvertently, to block out pain, ignore fear and carry on in spite of it. This particular facility came in handy at this particular moment, as, despite the rain of objects that bombarded his body, Greg’s progress toward the door continued, however slowly.
He finally reached the door, where he rose agonizingly to his feet and grabbed onto the doorknob. He just started to turn it when a pair of hands grabbed his neck from behind, squeezing tightly. As he had so often done in the past, he reached up to try to break their grip. But the long, slender fingers were strong, and held tight, digging deep into the flesh of his neck. It felt as though he were being strangled with nylon cords. The hands yanked him back and away from the door. He choked and gasped for breath, his arms flailing around helplessly.
In past attacks such as this, Cat usually released her grip right about this time. On this occasion, however, her grip remained firm, refusing to let go. Greg felt himself blacking out; his flailing movements becoming more frantic. His hands clawed helplessly at the air in front of him, trying to grasp at the attacker that wasn’t there. Vaguely, Greg somehow realized that Cat was behind him. His arms then tried to reach around in back of him, and with a couple of such movements, the strangling fingers seemed to loosen their grip slightly. As soon as they did, Greg took the opportunity to raise his left arm high and reach it around behind him, pivoting his body at the same time. The unseen hands loosened their grip even more, and Greg then brought his arm down hard, hooking it around a pair of unseen arms and locking them tightly. The grip of the unseen hands broke immediately, and Greg quickly countered with a powerful, driving blow of his right fist through the air in the direction he perceived Cat to be. The fist connected with something, with a resounding smack, followed by a brief wail of pain. The unseen arms immediately went limp and slipped through Greg’s grip, as the unseen body to which they were attached collapsed to the floor with a dull thud. The entire sequence of events took place in less than a second.
Greg made one final reach for the door, wrenched the doorknob and flung the door wide open. He staggered through the doorway and down the hallway to the stairs. The hallway whirled around him as though he were on a merry-go-round and the carpet beneath his feet seemed to rise and subside, like waves in a rough sea. Just then, he heard a loud, outraged scream from behind him, sounding more animal-like than human, and he tried to quicken his pace to the stairs.
He had just reached the top of the stairs and had taken the first few steps down, when his throat was again grabbed from behind by the unseen hands, only this time gripping even tighter, in a near death grip. Again, Greg choked and gasped, and again, he felt himself blacking out. The stairs seemed to bob and weave beneath him. Through it all, Greg was vaguely aware of someone calling out to him, as if from a great distance. It was, in fact, Cat, screaming directly in his ears: "You bastard! I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!"
Greg tried to repeat the earlier maneuver which broke the grip of the strangling hands, but it was difficult for him to get the necessary footing on the stairs. He tried again and again, flailing his arms, but he failed. He began to black out. This is it, the thought flickered feebly through his brain. This is the end, she’s won…
To Greg, it felt as though, like before, he was sailing through the air, only now he had the vague sensation of other people flying through the air toward him. A very large, indistinct shape gently drifted toward Greg like a great cloud. It then felt to Greg as though he had landed on a big, soft, comfortable mattress. Moments after, he thought he heard a quiet snap, like a dry twig breaking.
Greg then noticed something odd: The strangling fingers…suddenly weren’t there anymore, and he could breathe freely again. Soon after, he found that he could even think again, and gradually, he became aware of other details around him as well. The first thing he noticed was the sound of voices all around him, coming from all directions. The many voices gradually congealed into one very deep, rumbling, and yet very familiar voice, which seemed to be coming from the mattress. The voice was saying, "Come on, Greg; come on! Snap out of it!"
Greg then realized that the mattress was, in fact, Nick, holding him with one massive arm and helping him down the stairs. Greg opened his eyes, looked down and saw a small blonde woman approaching the stairway landing. She seemed strangely familiar, but Greg couldn’t quite recognize her. As Nick helped Greg down the stairs, the woman came closer. Her face was tear-stained, and although Greg still couldn’t quite place her, he had the vague impression somehow that she was friendly.
"Is he all right?" the strange woman said.
"I think so." Nick said. "Come on, Greg; come on, you’re all right now, you can make it." He gently guided his friend down the stairs, momentarily stepping aside an area of the stairway landing, as though avoiding something. The blonde woman then crouched down over the area that Nick avoided, and began to probe the air just above the ground with her hands.
"Oh, my god!" she said. "Oh, my god! This is her! She’s here! I can feel her! I can’t believe it, but she’s here!" Her voice sounded familiar to Greg, and little by little, he gradually recognized her as Norma, wearing her disguise.
Nick gently sat Greg down on the ground, then went over to Norma and likewise crouched down, probing the air with his hands. Greg’s memory began to return to him in bits and pieces. When he was able to speak, the first question he asked, in a hoarse, choked voice, was: "What the hell happened?!?"
"We tried calling you," Nick said, out of breath, as if he’d run a considerable distance. "I called Norma and told her what happened and asked her how the hell she let Cat slip by her—"
At this point, Norma glanced up and shot him a look of pure poison.
Nick ignored the look and went on, the words tumbling out of his mouth in a torrent. "Anyway, we compared stories, we got worried about you, and we—we—" his voice faltered. "All right, so we panicked, all right?" he spat out. "We tried calling you," he went on, after a quick breath. "To make sure you were all right. You didn’t answer the phone. We both had a real bad feeling, and right away, we expected the worst. So we both high-tailed it over here. Turned out our instincts were right! We got here just in time to find you on the stairs, grappling with—with her! I couldn’t believe it! I mean, I knew… right away, I knew what was happening, but—" Nick paused for a moment and took several breaths before he went on. "Anyway, I—I didn’t even think, I just rushed right in and—separated you two—and I guess she lost her balance or something and fell down the stairs... I—I mean, I tried to hold onto the both of you, but—she just—she just slipped right past me…" Nick’s voice choked at this point, broken with emotion.
It was then that Greg noticed a tiny puddle of reddish-brown liquid on the ground near the spot Nick and Norma were looking. Unable to rise to his feet just yet, Greg crawled over to get a closer look at it himself. The puddle appeared to be a slowly-growing pool of blood. Immediately, Greg’s stomach turned.
"Oh, my God!" he said. "Is that—is that—" his voice choked.
"Yeah, it’s her," Nick said.
"Is she…"
Nick extended a pair of fingers and held them toward a point in space, as though taking a pulse from an unseen blood vessel. He turned to face Greg. "No, she’s still alive." he said. "Barely."
"She’s—she’s bleeding!" Greg cried, a look of revulsion on his face.
"I know, I know!" Nick replied, matching Greg’s emotion.
"Where is she hurt?"
"I don’t know, I can’t tell! I don’t know if she’s got broken bones, internal injuries, or what!"
"Oh, my God, oh my God…What am I going to do? What am I going to do?" Greg crawled away from the puddle in horror, and leaned against the far wall.
Nick spoke softly, evenly, as he looked at the puddle. "Well, I don’t think Cathy’s going to be a problem to you anymore, that’s for sure." He let out a long sigh, and slowly rose to his feet. He then walked over to Greg, and crouched down beside him.
"We need to call the police." he said. "Give me your phone."
Greg stared stupidly at his friend.
"Your phone!" Nick repeated. "Your cell phone!
Where is it? Haven’t you got it?"
Finally, Nick’s words sank in, and Greg began searching his pockets. "Um—I—I haven’t got it."
"You haven’t—!"
"It must have fallen out of my pocket upstairs during the scuffle. Or
maybe I dropped it at her place or— Shit, I don’t know!"
"Okay, okay…" Nick said, trying to calm his friend down. "We’ll use your house phone." Nick turned and started up the stairs.
Greg’s eyes followed him dazedly for a moment, then drifted over to Norma, now rising from her crouched position to her feet. She stared, fixedly at the red-brown puddle on the ground. Her face had the strangest look to it, one that Greg had never seen on her before. On Cat, yes, but on Norma, never. Then, without warning, Norma suddenly went berserk, and began kicking furiously at the empty air, each kick resounding with a sickening thud.
Greg’s mouth dropped open. He couldn’t believe his eyes! Cool-headed, even-tempered Norma had suddenly and without warning gone completely nuts! "Stop it!!" Greg cried, scrambling toward her as if to stop her. She ignored him.
Nick also heard Norma’s attack, turned and sprinted back down the stairs.
"Norma! No!" he cried, pulling her away. "Stop it! Enough!" As he pulled her away, she continued to throw kicks at the unseen form on the ground.
"Listen to me, listen to me!" Nick shouted, trying to get her attention. "Stop it! Enough!! We’ve got her now, do you understand? She’s not going anywhere! We can let the police take care of her!"
Greg stumbled to his feet to try to help Nick restrain her. "Norma! Please! Don’t hurt her!" he cried. "Please! She didn’t mean it! She can’t help herself! She’s not responsible!"
Nick turned and stared at Greg in momentary stunned surprise at what he’d just heard; he literally couldn’t believe his ears. He then returned his attention to Norma, still trying to talk to her and get her under control.
But it was easier said than done. In her infuriated state, Norma was virtually uncontrollable, despite her diminutive size. With arms and legs flailing, she continued to kick and claw at the air near the puddle on the ground. It took nearly all of Nick’s strength to drag her out of range of Cat’s fallen body. He turned to Greg, and shouted:
"Greg! GREG!! Are you with me? Go upstairs! You make the call!"
Greg stared mutely at him for a moment, and Nick shouted at him again, stirring him.
"GO!" he shouted. Now! And get a rope or something, dammit!"
"A what?" Greg asked, dazedly.
"A rope! A rope!"
"What for?"
"What do you think?!? We’re going to tie her ass up!"
Greg stared blankly at his friend, now grappling with what appeared to be a five-foot-one-inch miniature tornado, and asked:
"Tie who up? Norma?"
"NO!" Nick barked. "CAT, you idiot!! Now MOVE!!"
The message finally penetrated Greg’s befogged consciousness, and he turned and scrambled up the stairs on hands and knees. As Nick continued to struggle with Norma, a soft moan sounded from the area of the floor near the reddish-brown puddle. No one heard it.
Greg made it to the top of the stairs, where he managed to stand on his feet again, although very unsteadily. He staggered down the hall back to his apartment, the front door of which still stood wide open. As he passed, the doors of neighboring apartments opened, and curious faces peered out at him. A few of these faces spoke to Greg, inquiring what the trouble was and asking if he was all right. He was oblivious to them however, scarcely aware of their existence, and he did not answer them. The curious faces quickly withdrew behind closed doors.
Eventually, Greg made it back to his apartment, which now resembled a battlefield after a great struggle. Broken shards of pottery, glassware and shattered furniture littered every square inch of the floor. Greg looked through the wreckage for his cell-phone, which he supposed must have slipped from his pocket. He looked everywhere, but he couldn’t find it. He then remembered his old phone, the one he had before he bought the cell-phone. He waded through the wreckage on the floor to the wall-jack where the phone used to be. But when he got there, all he found was the torn end of a telephone cord protruding from the wall outlet, and the shattered remains of what used to be his old telephone. He stared at it in silence for several seconds; then tears of helpless frustration began to roll down his cheeks. For a moment, he didn’t know whether to cry or laugh.
Get a rope…get a rope…get a rope… Nick’s directive continued to echo and reverberate meaninglessly in Greg’s rapidly collapsing mind like a broken record. As if through no conscious will of his own, he merely followed the instruction, going through the motions like a sleepwalker. Need a rope…where’s a rope? Gotta get a rope… The words continued to echo in his mind, ceaselessly, senselessly, as he wandered aimlessly about the wrecked apartment. Eventually, he found himself at the window. His eyes fell upon the curtain-cord; without a moment’s hesitation, he yanked on it, bringing down the curtains and curtain-rod, and pulled the cord free. Very carefully and methodically, he looped the cord around one arm, turned and left the apartment.
When he arrived at the top of the stairs, he looked down to see Nick and Norma huddled in the corner, slightly more controlled, with Nick holding Norma’s shoulders, still trying to calm her down.
"Here’s a rope," he said flatly, holding up the coiled cord. "I couldn’t call the cops. The phone’s busted. Sorry."
"Terrific!" Nick replied. "We’ll have to use the phone in the van, then…"
As Greg descended the stairs, he looked over to spot on the landing where the puddle of blood had been. Despite his deteriorating mental condition, Greg noticed something different about the area. As he approached it, he saw what it was and froze in his tracks. What had earlier been a small pool of blood was now a long smear, as if something had settled in the puddle and then had been dragged off.
Greg dropped the coiled cord and hurried (as well as he could manage) to the spot on the ground, where he fell to his knees. He reached his hands out, probing the air as his friends had done a short while earlier, as though searching for something. His movements, sluggish at first, became more rapid and frantic, as though he were waking from a deep sleep. But his hands made contact with nothing. Nothing but air.
"Oh, no!" he whispered. "Guys?" he said, turning to the puzzled faces of Nick and Norma, whose full attention he now held. "She’s gone! I don’t believe it…but she’s gone…!"
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