Page 1 of Dark Visions

CHAPTER ONE

Aislinncursed herself for forgetting her umbrella as she ducked beneath one shop awning and then another, dodging the bone-chilling rain that pelted her face without mercy. She was already twenty minutes late for work, and to top it off, the barista had left her lid slightly askew, causing her to spill the too-expensive latte down the front of her new sweater. A sweater still unpaid for on her American Express card.

The headache, which inevitably came to her a few times a month, was slowly making its way to her frontal cortex. The pain undeniable. Having already been out three times this month for the same issue, she dared not call in, or Mr. Lewis would most certainly terminate her.

Since she was a child, Aislinn Carter found herself plagued by the inexplicable headaches, preparing herself at the first sign of onset. Her parents took her to see the finest neurologists in the country, and when they had no explanations, they took her to every other specialty known to man. The worst were the psychiatrists who were determined to find some deep hidden meaning or secret to the headaches that crippled her body.

Aislinn learned early on that telling anyone about the visions that came with the headaches would only label her, ostracizing her from others, or worse. The mental hospital when she was twelve was a turning point in her ability to cope with the episodes. It was simple. Don’t tell anyone.

The first vision occurred at the tender age of six. She was too young to understand its meaning and too afraid to tell anyone. Curled in the center of her small twin bed, she rocked back and forth with Mr. Bunny, praying for the images to stop. Images of blood and pain and death.

Her tiny brain couldn’t understand the horrific pictures that flashed through her brain, but as she matured, her understanding of the visions and their meaning became clear. Aislinn learned that she was seeing events in the near future, events she could stop if she remembered who she had touched or who had touched her during the day.

The sequence was the same each time. A weakness and dizziness followed a few hours later by the earliest signs of the headache and then the gripping terror of images she couldn’t control. Always death, always. Not once in her thirty-one years did she have visions graced with images of happiness or beauty. Only death.

Opening the door of the large office building housing Lewis & Zarrow Legal Firm, she grimaced as another pain slashed through her eyes as the startling florescent lighting hit her like a Mack truck. It was as if a vehicle with its high beams on was gunning straight toward her.

“Good morning, Miss Carter,” said Willy, the day security guard behind the desk. She winced and looked down at her soaked dress slacks, gripping the desk for support. “You okay, Miss Carter?”

“What?” she asked, staring up at him, blinking several times to clear her eyesight. “Oh, oh, yes, sorry, Willy. Good morning. It’s just a slight headache this morning.”

“You sure get a lot of those, Miss Carter. My wife always takes these migraine pills and lays down in a dark room. You ever try that?”

Willy was an older man, that truth be told, couldn’t have stopped anyone who wanted to get by him, but he was sweet and had worked in the building for nearly forty years. Mr. Zarrow’s father hired him personally all those years ago. He most likely knew where all the bodies were buried, all the secrets were hidden, and, more importantly, which women were wives, and which women were girlfriends.

“No, no, I can’t say I have, Willy. I’ll try that tonight.” Aislinn tried to smile at the old man and not be frustrated by his suggestion, but it was difficult with the onset of the pain.

“You do that. Have a nice day, Miss Carter,” he said, buzzing her through the secure inner door.

Aislinn entered the elevator and pushed the button for the twenty-third floor. Lewis and Zarrow covered two floors of the building, but her desk was on twenty-three, within a few feet of Mr. Lewis’s desk. He would know she was late – again – and he would reprimand her – again. She winced as the pain intensified, knife-like jabs forcing their way into her brain.

“Is this you?” asked the man next to her.

She looked up at him, her vision cloudy, and nodded. Stepping from the elevator, she shuffled to her desk, praying she would make it before she fell over. If she could just get to her music, the soothing music that would often alleviate the headaches, she might actually make it through this day.

Aislinn set her purse and tote bag on the floor. Taking off her rain-soaked jacket, she shook it slightly causing more pain to shoot through her skull. Hanging it on the small hook inside her cubicle, she plopped down in her chair and turned on the computer.

Come on, come on. Boot up!

“Miss Carter!” came the booming voice of Mr. Lewis.

“Sir,” she said quietly, turning in her chair.

“Miss Carter, we’ve had this conversation before. I pay you a salary; you show up and actually work. That’s how this business arrangement works.”

“Yes, sir, I know. I’m sorry, it’s just with the rain today, and I spilled my coffee, and my headache…” she trailed off, cringing at the stabbing sensations coming quicker.

“Again?! Really, Miss Carter, get your female issues under control, or you’ll need to find another job.” His condescending tone hit her in all the wrong places. Standing, she gripped his sleeve, turning him around as he tried to walk away.

“Mr. Lewis,” she said through gritted teeth, “I assure you this is not afemaleproblem. This is a constant mind-fuck of a headache. Now, I would appreciate it if you would not be so ignorant in your claims, or I may have to… have to…” Aislinn gripped his sleeve tighter, knowing what was coming.

“Miss Carter? Miss Carter?” Mr. Lewis’s face showed the first signs of compassion and concern as she fell to the floor. To Aislinn, it felt as though it were happening in slow motion. It always felt like slow motion.

The pain intensified. The shortness of breath came quickly. The loss of feeling in her legs overwhelmed her, and then it came as it always did. Without warning, without provocation, the images of death and blood, so much blood, and then blackness.

CHAPTER TWO

The tingling sensation in his arm notified him that the perp was close. He felt it when he touched him the first time and then lingered until he found the cause. Sensations had saved his life for the last twenty years, hell, probably more than that. He moved further into the dark alley and waited for the man to appear. Calvin Wall was a minor criminal with big aspirations. Those aspirations would end here and now.

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