Page 4 of Traces of Kara

“Ma’am.” He nodded. Adrenaline coursed through his body. Roland walked with a bounce in his step. His plan was finally coming to fruition. His heart pulsed hard and fast against his chest. He tethered the grin of excitement that vied to stretch across his lips. He looked at the bottles of whiskey, wrapping his thick fingers around the largest one on the shelf, then put it back and grabbed four smaller bottles instead. The last piece to his puzzle.

Roland smiled at the cashier. “You know Marissa Greer?”

The cashier shook her head, avoiding eye contact.

Roland grit his teeth. Just like the foster system. Marissa’s three-year-old voice rang in his head. “You’re not scary, Ro, you’re regular looking.” Roland thought of the way she’d said it, urgently, like it was true. He rolled his shoulders back and lifted his cap off of his head, turning puffy lidded eyes and his gruesomely disfigured face toward the woman who’d entered the store.

“Marissa Greer? You know her?”

A man appeared from behind the freezers in the back of the store. “We don’t know a Marissa Greer.” His tone was stern.

Roland nodded. “Shame. Her birthday is in a few days.” He slipped his hat back on his head, and lumbered toward the door. “It’s gonna be a good one.”

The Brown Derby hummed to life, vibrating in a familiar, comfortable way. Roland drove toward the U.S. Route 11 bridge that ran between Falling Waters, West Virginia and Williamsport, Maryland, thinking of his plan. Marissa had appeared in his dreams and laced his every thought from the time he was a little boy. He’d used those thoughts to propel himself forward, secure a job, so he could one day find her and take care of her, protect her from the world of people who wanted to keep them apart. He’d always known one day he would find her again, and then they’d be together forever.

He parked the truck and checked the time. 8:20 p.m. He was right on schedule. Roland took the photograph of Marissa from his pocket, and rubbed his thumb over her hair. His heartbeat calmed. He stuffed the picture in his sweatshirt pocket and stepped from his truck and into the night, shoving the doll into his other pocket.

The burlap bag of supplies rested heavily over Roland’s shoulder as he walked along the murky water’s edge, reminding himself that not adhering to his usual routine was okay. He could handle it. Panic swelled in his chest and his heartbeat hastened. His forehead broke out in a sweat despite the evening breeze cutting across the water. Breaking routine was not easy for Roland. Born together, die together. He reached for the photo. The simple touch eased his panic, which morphed to anticipation as the magnitude of what was soon to come hit him full on. He walked along the grassy bank, toward the red blinking lights of the power plant.

Chapter Three

The tinny click of the time clock filled the small, barren office. In the past month, the workers had become complacent about the handshake meetings that were supposed to take place at shift changes. The handshake meeting—perfectly named for the passing of news from shift to shift, followed by a handshake—was a tradition carried over from the forties. Ever since the corporate office had announced the impending closure of the plant, and the skeleton crew was put into place, Kara and the others had felt the handshake meetings were unnecessary. She couldn’t have cared less if the crew before her left a few minutes early, and her boss, Jackson Darner, didn’t seem to mind that they’d let those meetings go. Kara was used to the desolation of the plant during the night shift. She barely ever saw the other three members of the crew.

At first, the idea of being an equipment operator hadn’t been appealing to Kara; but before she and Daryl had purchased her car, she’d needed a job that was within walking distance from her home, and in Williamsport, the plant was the only option. Daryl had wanted her close by, and he’d nixed the idea of her working in nearby Frederick, which was a larger town, but thirty minutes away. She had thought she’d work at the plant for only a short time, until something better came along, but as the tension thickened between her and Daryl, and worries of him cheating mounted, she grew fond of the solitary work at the plant.

Once she and Daryl had separated, remaining at the plant was a no-brainer. The pay was significantly higher there than it was in retail, which would enable her to save money faster and make her dream of leaving Williamsport come true. To Kara, leaving couldn’t happen soon enough. Despite the jolt she experienced when the gate locked each night, she actually found the plant relaxing. When she was here, she was away from her mother’s prodding phone calls, and reminders of Daryl and Kelly. At the plant, she could almost pretend she was somewhere far away. Almost.

Kara had always been a loner, a little shy. Even in elementary school, when they’d moved to Williamsport, she was too shy to go play at friends’ houses, which led to her being a bit of an outcast. Kara enjoyed her solitude. Her co-workers, Paige Reich, the Boiler Room operator for the last five years, and Joe Shane, the Crusher House mechanic, usually took full sexual advantage of the solitary nights, and holed up together after they completed the 7:00 p.m. equipment check in their areas. And Keith, the security camera operator, usually spent his time sleeping or watching a video on his phone.

The quiet evenings enabled her to complete her anatomy homework in peace. She didn’t even mind the physical work of clearing out the coal chutes and cleaning the equipment, but Kara had no desire to end up like the employees from the earlier shifts, most of whom were in their sixties and had been working at the plant since they’d graduated from high school. Everyday she worked, her bank account grew, bringing her one step closer to leaving Williamsport behind.

She glanced at the other two time cards in the metal holder secured to the wall. A note with her name on it was taped to the time clock. She snagged it and unfolded the paper, recognizing her boss’s rushed scrawl. Paul’s replacement starts tonight, 7:00. Sorry can’t be there for orientation, Nancy’s b’day. Show him around—J. Kara pictured meek Jackson Darner and his shy, plump wife, Nancy, their gray-haired heads touching as they leaned across the dinner table, gazing into each other’s eyes. She’d almost lost faith in relationships. Almost.

Paul Warren had quit last week, no thanks to her. One day he just hadn’t shown up for work. She hadn’t meant to cause trouble by complaining, but the way he looked at her creeped her out. And he was always making snide comments, joining in with the others when they made fun of Jackson, calling him Mr. Safe and Sane. Sure, Jackson was methodical, careful, maybe even a little dull, but Kara found those traits appealing. Her only regret was that she’d had to work two hours of overtime the last two nights to cover his duties as well as her own.

Damn it, Jackson. They needed the help until the plant closed, but the last thing she wanted to do was break in a new employee and answer all the typical questions: Why do they call that area the graveyard? Has anyone ever fallen down the coal chute? Why are there so many cameras? Why aren’t there lights everywhere? And her favorite: Aren’t you scared walking around this place at night?

Kara glanced at the clock. Great, he’s already late. The familiar beep and clank of the alarm, signaling a blocked coal chute, filled the air. She sighed. This night just keeps getting better and better. She dropped her jacket and bag on the table and reached for the gloves, goggles, face shield, and respirator mask. God, how she hated the respirator mask.

Clad as if she was going into surgery, Kara climbed the grated metal steps that led from the second story to the third, slipping the thick gloves onto her small hands. The alarm grew louder as she neared the chute, echoing two stories below off of the massive metal tanks and concrete floor. She looked down through the open ceiling, each footstep causing the catwalk to vibrate. When she’d first begun working at the plant, she’d had a difficult time feeling safe on the metal stairs that weaved their way from floor to floor like ivy up the walls. She used to cling to the railings, afraid she’d fall to her death. Kara’s diminishing relationship with Daryl had somehow strengthened her independence, yet fed her insecurities at the same time. Her tryst with Dean had underscored that insecurity, and she had been quick to nip it in the bud before it ate away at her resolve to get out of town, propelling her forward with more confidence. Now those stairs were a piece of cake.

Once at the top, Kara stared down the coal chute, her body shaking from the force of the coal vibrators, feeders, and pulverizers rattling below. She hit the red alarm button, temporarily quieting the beeps, which still rang in her head. She inhaled through gritted teeth, hefted the punching rod, and began the difficult task of trying to clear the rain soaked coal from the chute. Sweat beaded her forehead and soaked her armpits. She shoved and pushed with all her might, but the damn thing was packed tight. She withdrew the metal punching rod, leaning on it to catch her breath. Her face, covered in soot, grew tight as she realized how much Paul’s absence affected her. They’d had a system with the clearing of the chute. He cleared two clogs for each of the clogs she cleared. It was the one thing he’d done right. Where the hell was his replacement? She suddenly wished that cross-training was mandatory for plant employees. Jackson had explained when she’d first been hired that each job was specialized and each employee stayed in his or her own area. She muscled the punching rod back into the chute, cursing the rain that pelted the coal. Ten minutes later, her arms and chest were covered in thick black soot, her shoulders throbbed with pain, and the chute was still packed tight.

She needed air.

She walked outside, and stood on the catwalk overlooking the river. The chute could wait.

Chapter Four

Roland walked along the river, thinking about what he’d say to Marissa when he finally saw her. He envisioned her maybe being startled at first, but then her excitement would take over, and she’d throw her arms around his neck, embracing him so tightly, he’d barely be able to breathe. He could see the power plant stack above the trees. His final destination was near.

For months Roland had struggled with the logistics of how he and Marissa could be together. Maybe they’d move to a town where no one knew them, or perhaps they’d fight the police and stand up for their right to be together. They were brother and sister, after all. Wasn’t it odd that they’d been kept apart for so long? Roland thought about Mr. Lowrey, and how he’d told him the protection order had been necessary. Memories of those brief moments when he’d finally found Marissa flitted through his mind. It was a few years after they’d been separated. They were six, and he’d been on a field trip with his class, visiting the local zoo. She’d been standing with that tall blond kid. Jealousy had stolen his thoughts. His body remembered the anger he’d felt. His muscles grew tight and the hair on the back of his neck prickled. He’d only meant to scare the kid, and he hadn’t been trying to hurt Marissa, as the police had claimed. She’d screamed—at the cops, he was sure—and when they finally tore her from his grasp, she’d pretended she was hurt, feigned her fear. He knew why; if you didn’t obey the police they put you in bad places. He found that out a few years later when he’d broken the bedroom window where Marissa lived. It was after that he’d lost track of her. They’d stolen her away and didn’t even tell him where they’d taken her. Juvi Hall sucked. They’d watched him like a hawk after that.

Mr. Lowrey, the son-of-a-bitch, had filled everyone’s heads with lies about Roland. But Marissa loved him. She’d told him so. Roland’s blood simmered as he thought of Mr. Lowrey’s rectangular head, his thinning grey hair strewn like strings across his forehead. Roland shook his head, as if he could shake the memory loose so it would fall away. There was no other way, he reasoned. Someone would always stand between them. Not this time. Roland knew how to bond them for eternity, and their birthday was the perfect time. Born together, die together. Forever bound.

The grass receded from the water’s edge, leaving thick puddles of mud. Roland dragged his boots along the grass, and walked further up the bank, into the small forest of trees. He scratched at his hands, and reached for the photo. Marissa. The wet leaves shuffled beneath his lumbering gait. The hum of the power plant grew louder as he approached the fence. High Voltage signs hung from it.

He made his way along the edge of the fence, stopping to reposition the supplies he carried. Roland leaned against a tree, looking up at the red blinking lights of the stack. Massive generators roared atop the building’s roof. Roland knew each of those generators well. He’d spent the last eight months stealthily weaving his way through the plant, laying the groundwork for his plans. Once he’d found a way in, the rest was easy, and the last few weeks, there were hardly any employees around. He’d found a room in the bowels of the plant. He’d staked it out, watching it for weeks before setting up his supplies. He smiled at the thought. It had been so easy. Something shuffled in the forest and Roland spun his head around, scratching his face on a branch. Blood oozed from a thin line just below the mangled skin of the scars that warped his face. Damn.