Into the Shadow

Into the Shadow

by Indigo Giordana-Altu

The blasts created rhythmic of reverberations from the bronze statues that loomed at the four corners of Independence Square. Five bullets for an unarmed homeless man… a man who was someone’s son even if he did live on the streets. Fear makes people do dreadful things. Fight or flight is in everyone and many fight to the finish without so much as a blink Badges do not change the fact that they are human with impulses that they had not been trained to suppress.. Prior to that moment when the reactive screams rose higher than the clamorous sounds of traffic, the area had been full with its usual morning scuttle of sharply dressed corporate armies. They moved in droves toward their office buildings. Some had stern faces, already wheeling and dealing on smart-phones. Others traveled in small clusters, laughing and sipping their high-priced morning brew. They had a unified cadence as they marched with their work badges swinging at their hips or lightly batting against their chests on a lanyard. From the clerks who couldn’t make ends meet to the executives who earned in excess, they all felt the power of simply being able to say they work in Uptown Charlotte.  Very few things could humble them or remove them from their fog of routine. As a large group stood in wait for the light to turn green, a few impatient ones dodged traffic. Drivers had no qualms about showing them they were just as rebellious and would hit them if they didn’t move. When those who were waiting finally had their chance to walk, a guttural scream jolted them all. 

“Help me!” a raspy voice yelled out.  

He smelled like a landfill and was unkempt. They were used to beggars but this was different. There was blood all over him, from his woolen hair to his hands, and tattered clothing.  One thing that most of them had expertise in, was avoiding the homeless population which had swelled to nearly fifteen-hundred. Adding in one who could have a blood-borne pathogen on him intensified their repulsion. A frenzy ensued as the vagrant reached out toward one person after another, leaving bloody prints on their clothing. The crowd dispersed in escape of him. People in cars honked their horns to push them all to clear the road.

Still grasping at people’s arms and pleading for help when he reached the sidewalk, he ran toward the waterfall park on the corner where all the benches had been removed so people like him could not sit at it. He entered the water and began scrubbing himself madly as he mumbled about shadows. Several of the herd moved on but the enraged ones whose clothes had been ruined, stayed in fueled anger waiting for the police to respond to their calls and arrest him. They had no idea that they would witness the cold blooded murder. In the statements, most of their recounts matched.

“Police! Hands up!”

He did not stop his scrubbing.  There were no visible wounds and his brown skin was becoming cleaner than it had been in months. They knew this because he was always Uptown asking for change to get something to eat.

“Stop! I said hands up!”

The man stopped his scrubbing and slowly turned around. His eyes stretched to bulging as he saw what they did not see approaching.

“She’s coming,” he yelled, “We have to get out of here!”

He slowly raised a trembling hand to point at what lurked and stepped forward looking above and beyond them. That’s when they seized him.  He was resistant and pushing back against them. People yelled out, begging the police to calm down but it was too late. The shots rang out right after his last words, “You’re too late. She’s already here!” That part became a puzzle in the days of the media overload and protesting because the knife they claimed he had was never found. No one knew who the she was that he spoke of but experts suggested it was nothing significant and typical of dementia. The county health department had all of his information on record. Most of what he said didn’t make sense. If only they had spared his life they would know his side of the story. They would understand that it was not an absence of sanity at all. She was coming.

Her skin was a rich black tone with the sheen of custom chess pieces. Surely it is how her mother decided on her name, Ebony. She did seem rather imperial. Her walk was always with upright posture and her head lifted just high enough for her rounded nose to be on a slight tilt up to the sky. Her thick natural tresses cascaded to the center of her back at the width of her shoulders. It was massive like a lion’s mane. She was what some may call a girly girl and frequently wore long colorful cotton dresses that shifted as she walked. The light material alternated between a gentle cling and release of the material against her ample buttocks that were only slightly more plentiful than her bosom. She was gorgeous, and she knew it, but she refused to focus on that side of herself. It is what made her all the more infectious to be around. She was more common than her looks made her seem; a native North Carolinian with a smooth southern accent, a big smile and hearty laugh. For her, every stranger had potential to be a friend and her kindness was for everyone.  She did not hesitate to introduce herself by name and strike up conversations with anyone who was willing to reciprocate her positive energy. She would sometimes sit with homeless people on her lunch breaks and share a meal. It was an anomaly but seemed natural in a city that has been mistaken as safe by visitors and uproots. 

The city’s mirrored skyscrapers were its nucleus and it was hugged by lush landscapes, flowing creeks that provided sightings of cottontail rabbits, deer, turtles, and singing birds… all the relaxing attributes of the country that people love to run off to. It was an inviting scene that that was built on the idea of having a lot. Locals were torn between loving it and knowing its streets were overrun with crime. Drugs, rape, murder, robbery, and assaults of all manners happened around the clock. Life there was often a disillusion. This along with the racial tension now bearing its long hidden truth made each day a challenge. 

Ebony was often judged and faced with hateful people who made sure she knew she was unwelcome. She was raised in one of the roughest neighborhoods in the area and still lived there. Where they saw ruin, she saw life and potential rejuvenation of the whole community. It was her mission to be a part of its change ever since her parents were victims of a double-homicide when she was only seven years old. Her grandmother, who was already sheltering her family when it happened, easily became Ebony’s caretaker and instilled values in her that caused her to operate at a higher frequency. She worked to draw in peace no matter where she was.  At this stage in her life, Ebony could easily live in any side of town she wanted to with her earnings from the accounting firm and the inheritance from when her grandmother passed. She just didn’t want to be anywhere else. She had many unsolicited visitors who wanted to buy the house that her grandmother left to her but she also knew that she would not stand for being a part of the gentrification process that was taking over the city. She would renovate the house but never sell. Ebony had always dreamed of bringing the village concept back and was certain she could succeed. She just needed to figure out how she wanted to do that.

She happened to be thinking of this very thing when she was pulled out of her daydreaming and coffee sipping by Brandon, her co-worker. She had been thwarting his advances for quite some time. His presence made her cringe because she knew she had no romantic feelings for him and did not want either of them wasting their time. She was growing tired of his pursuit and offering him polite rejections, to include basic office policy that forbade it. He, however, affirmed that if they are meant to be together no policy should stand in the way. 

“Good morning, Queen,” Brandon said in a silken way.

She couldn’t quite explain it even to herself but she resented it whenever he spoke to her and referenced here as Queen. She wondered where he had even come up with the habit. She thought surely it was TV or some poorly written interracial dating book he chanced upon.

“Brandon, I have told you before. No matter what you feel, you need to keep it professional.”

He laughed with admiration dancing beneath his hazel eyes, “Sorry, couldn’t help it. You look stunning as usual, Ebony.”  He passed her some files.

“What’s this for?” Ebony questions while thumbing through the documents.

“The intern screwed up the reports. Mr. Riley needs you to fix them before he flies out to Japan tonight,” he said sympathetically.

“So, he wants me to finish something that usually takes weeks by tonight?  I told him not to let the intern handle this. Why would you put a newbie in charge of something so important?”

“Ebony, don’t forget that years ago he did the same with you. He trusted you and you nailed it. He has been pleased ever since. You know how he loves hiring from your alma mater. I guess he assumed that since you both graduated from the same university, you would be on the same playing field,” he said.

“Clearly that is not the case at all and I am not fooled. He is only so adamant about hiring from my alma mater for his proof of diversity and the tax credits that come with it. You either have it or you don’t regardless of the university or your race. By the looks of this, we should send her back for a class or two.”

Imitating a British accent, Brandon responded, “It’s only a mile away. Shall I void her diploma and summon the trolley to send her back, Your Highness?” 

As much as Ebony wanted to correct his behavior she laughed instead, instantly releasing some of the stress associated with what she had to achieve.

“There’s that smile. I will gladly stay late and help you out if you like,” Brandon uttered.

“No, that won’t be necessary,” Ebony firmly stated with a bit of distrust in his motive for offering to stay. As far as she was concerned, she wasn’t about to join the ranks of the sluts who abuse the offices after hours and even if she were tempted, it definitely would not be with Brandon. 

“At least Riley will be on PST for a while. That buys me some time to submit it. Tell him I will have it ready by the time he needs it and I will take time to do some re-training for the intern later this week.”

“You seriously don’t have to take this on alone. It’s no trouble. I would just be stuck in the traffic to Ballantyne like I always am. It won’t make any difference for me to wait so you can get out of here at a decent hour,” he added.

“No, you get going. I’m glad I don’t have to go that far. Ten minutes and I am home.”

“Yeah, I guess that is the only good thing about it,” he said. Ebony could sense his distaste for her community.

“Excuse me?”

“I get it and all. I can see what you are doing. You are waiting for the turnover, right? I would never have that kind of patience. No, Sir. No bullets flying over my head at night.  I saw on the news that a gun fight turned into a full on chase and they ran through someone’s house. Scared the hell out of that poor little girl they interviewed. No way would I be able to deal plus I know I’d stick out like a sore thumb.”

Ebony gave him a cold hard stare but softened it since it was not in her nature to skip reflection in conversation. She knew deep down that he was speaking what he was taught about her area. He must only the bad things. And there is some truth to the idea that he would stick out. It’s not like the community doesn’t have white boys but they really are different than him. She thought to herself that she has to figure out a way to publicize the positive attributes of her neighborhood.

Breaking the awkward silence, Brandon continued his thought, “Wise investment, though… Down the line, the value is going to be through the roof. When you are done flipping it, let me know. I have plenty of friends in realty. Or we could just keep it as a rental property when we get married and you move in with me.” Brandon gives a hopeful smile.

Ebony rolled her eyes, “You still live with your parents. I think you need to go back to your desk and finish what you’ve got to do before it’s time to clock-out.  Ballantyne awaits you and I will be just fine.”

“Suit yourself but if you change your mind, let me know,” he chimed.

The minutes ticked on quickly. Before she knew it, cubicle by cubicle emptied out around her. Each person gave her a work weary goodbye and wishes for a great weekend. She suppressed her envy, returned their well wishes and was inspired to speed up her work. She eventually found that she was there past the last member of the cleaning crew leaving. As she sat in near darkness with the blue light of the computer screen burrowing into her eyes, Ebony knew that she had made a mistake in not taking the help and agreeing to take on such a near impossible task. Her vision was blurring, her head throbbed, and she was feeling beyond sleepy. For a moment, she pictured herself submitting a resignation and living on her inheritance. She had enough to live comfortably for at least twenty years without working and longer with the right investments along the way. How nice it would be to not have to report to work ever again. I’d give anything for that.  Ebony felt a twinge of irritability but snapped herself out of that thought. She reminded herself that she was no quitter. Surely she just needed a break. Once she walked the city and had a bite to eat, she would be back on target. 

It was like a huge weight was lifted when she stepped out of the building. The night air was crisp. The Queen City was coming to life with people from every socioeconomic level, milling about and searching for their next good time. The weekends were when Charlotte’s diversity was most apparent and it was always beautiful when people just let it be. Ebony wasn’t much for the club scenes but she did adore the theatre. She wished she could join the lines of people waiting to get in to see the musical. She had a season’s pass but seemed to always be busy and not make it. She wanted to avoid the depression that came with that thought, so she took a deep breath and crossed the street. Ebony liked eating at the restaurant at the hotel since it was small and quiet. They were always nice to her and never treated her as though she didn’t belong. Just outside of it, a homeless man asked her for money. She reached in her purse where she kept a special cash fund just for giving and handed him ten dollars but kept moving in her haste. She did not notice that the money she gave him passed right through his hand and he disappeared. The bill flurried along the sidewalk until it clung to the base of a bus shelter where a child walking with his parents quickly saw it and claimed it with celebration.

Once inside the restaurant, Ebony was immediately seated. 

“Working late again?” The waitress asked.

Ebony recognized her from being served by her several times before… Samira.

“Unfortunately, I am.”

“Sorry to hear that. I certainly know the feeling. When the nights are nice like this one, it’s certainly a killer to have to work. Well, at least you get to dine well. Not all of us can.”

Samira, in the same breath, slid her finger back and forth against the back of her hand to indicate their shared race. “One day, I will be like you. Sisters like you inspire me for sure.”

“You’ll get there. Just keep working hard and being smart with your money.”

“Yeah, that’s what my cousin Brandon says all the time. He works across the street.”

“Brandon? Not Brandon Holloway?”

“Yes. You know him?”

“I do. We work together but…”

Samira searched Ebony’s face and knew what she was thinking. She chuckled.

“No worries. We get that all the time. His dad and my dad are brothers. He just came out looking like his mom, blonde hair and all. The funny thing is that his sister looks more like me. Don’t tell him I told you this, but he came out so white that his family nickname is Tofu.”

Ebony bursts out laughing, snorting a bit, and tells Samira that she would have never guessed at all. 

“Brandon doesn’t tell anybody that he is mixed because he said he gets to find out how people really think about us when it comes to race and money. He was raised in North Charlotte, so now he has been on more than one side of things. You should hear the things he says that those people in Ballantyne say. Wait, you aren’t from Ballantyne are you?”

Ebony was still trying to wrap her mind around the fact that anything about Brandon was African-American. She felt like an idiot for assuming anything about his background. She didn’t like when people did it to her, so why had she done it to him? She surely planned to address it when she got a chance. Ebony was like a movie on pause, so Samira got her attention.

“I’m sorry. I was just rambling and didn’t mean to get too personal. I know you are hungry. What will you have today?”

“Oh, no, it was no problem. I will have the pan seared scallops, harissa-spiced beets, and butternut squash risotto. Just a glass of water to drink and can I get the barbecue caramel popcorn to go please?”

“Sure thing,” Samira said as she turned away.

“And, for the record, I am from the West side, not Ballantyne.” Samira smiled with a look of pride and went off to enter the order. 

Ebony could still see the theatre patrons from the window and drifted in thought. Some of the thoughts were angry and she kept telling herself to not be angry. Her grandma had taught her to be resilient. As she stayed lost in her musings, a dark silhouette rushed past the window. She jumped and knocked her water over. Samira quickly came to her. 

“Is everything alright?” she asked with genuine concern. 

“Yes, I am fine. I just thought I saw something and it gave me a scare. My eyes are still tired from the computer.”

“What was it?” Samira asked while cleaning the mess.

“I don’t know. It was a giant shadow of some kind, like a man but bigger.”

Samira lightheartedly stated, “Girl, maybe it was the hotel ghosts. I heard it’s haunted but they swear it’s a friendly ghost.” She gave Ebony a reassuring pat on the back. “I’m going to see if your food is up.”  

No sooner than Samira left, Ebony saw the immense shadow again and it lingered. She looked at it and looked behind her to see if something in the restaurant was casting it. When her eyes returned to the window, it was gone. As she continued to wait, she suddenly felt quite cold. Tiny little bumps formed all over her arms and she rubbed them to warm up. When her food was brought to the table, she asked Samira about turning up the thermostat and was surprised when she was informed that it was already set at seventy. As she ate, she contemplated the times when her grandmother used to talk about the unseen world. She always mentioned hairs standing up on her neck and cold in her bones. Now she wondered if what Samira said was more than a joke. She took out her phone and checked it out in the search engine. Sure enough there were stories about the hotel, The Great Depression, suicides, and even a random discovery of bones in the 80’s.

Ebony found the bit of history strange. In all her years, she had never heard about it. As she read, she almost thought she heard a voice whisper in her ear. She looked around but rationalized it all again, blaming her fatigue. Again, she fought her anger about being out working that late in the first place. When her meal was complete, she left Samira a fifty dollar tip with an encouraging message at the bottom of the receipt. Ebony always did things like that. She wondered if she didn’t tip as high, would people be as nice but she never tested it out. She always hoped that her reputation for tipping wasn’t the only reason they were kind. When she left, she could smell rain in the air. As much as she loved a good rain, she took the bus that day instead of using her car. She didn’t bring an umbrella. Again, frustration welled up until she shifted her mindset. She thought maybe she could beat the rain if she worked fast enough. She looked around so she could give the popcorn dessert she ordered to the homeless man but he was nowhere in sight. So, she opted to leave it on the bench for him. She rushed back to the office, not waiting for any lights to change and nearly got hit by a car. Hurry had gotten the better of her senses. Her flowing dress as she rushed made her look like a model in a photo-shoot. In fact, a local photographer noticed it and snapped the shot. There was one thing that Charlotte was never short of, creative people.

Ebony amazed herself with her progress but it was more than late when she finally finished. Once she received confirmation of receipt from Riley, she left. She was infuriated that he simply replied Got it. No thank you whatsoever. Her usual private pep talk wasn’t working. She didn’t want to take it personally, but at that point she did. When she left, she saw that she had been right. The rain was pouring down over the city and the streets were desolate. The nearest bus shelter was across the street at the science museum. At that hour there was no traffic. So, she went for it. As she was running, she got an eerie feeling. She felt like she was being chased. She looked over her shoulder, saw nothing, and kept going. When she got to the shelter, her dress was clinging to her body. She scanned the bus schedule and saw it would be a twenty minute wait. As she brooded about it, she stared at the homeless couple sleeping soundly on the bench. Coming out of her own emotions, she felt sorry for them and guilty because she was going to a home but they weren’t. Ebony tapped them to wake them up.

They shooed her away but she was persistent. She explained to them that she was going to rent them a room to sleep in. They weren’t very trusting of Ebony but still went with it. She escorted them to the hotel and told the manager on duty that she was putting them up for one night. The manager tried to refuse at first but Ebony argued that she was renting the room in her name and they had no control over who she decided to have as guests. The manager reluctantly obliged, assigning them what he knew was the least coveted room in the hotel. He also gave the couple explicit instructions about what they could and could not do when morning came. They thanked Ebony and she went on her way.

The rain was still beating down heavily. Ebony went to the side of the building and stood under the triple awning. She decided that she would order transport instead of waiting on the bus. She considered that her attempt to not pay for Uptown Parking was one of the dumbest ideas she ever had and that she could be at home. All at once, she was upset with parking prices, work, and herself. Ebony took out her phone and used the app to get the ride. It alerted her that it would be there in fifteen minutes. Even that length of wait frustrated her because it meant home would be up to half an hour away. She was no longer in the mood to be positive Ebony. As she stood, a gust of wind blew through and it tore the awning off of the building. It took her by surprise and she ran for cover at the front of the building only to be stopped in her tracks by the shadow figure. She looked up with the rain pouring over face, nearly blinding her as it broke down hair products that had started burning her eyes. The shadow grew larger before encircling her and dragging her up the side of the building as she kicked and screamed without the awareness of anyone. Ebony could feel cuts tearing into her body from the bricks. At a point, her face hit the wall. A few of her teeth were knocked out and hit the ground below, flowing down a stream of rain water and into the gutter. What was happening to her was both real and unreal. For the first time in a long time, she had no control whatsoever. Before she knew it, she was ten stories high and thought for sure she would be dropped to her death any moment. With blood and saliva dripping thickly from her swollen mouth, she prayed a deep heartfelt prayer for her life. Midway through her words she lost all feeling as she was vacuumed through a closed window, defying all the laws that science could come up with. She landed in a room that was partially illuminated. The couple she had helped was in the bed. 

Ebony yelled out, “Save me.”

The man stirred in the bed but did not wake. Ebony started to stand up but was yanked by her ankles into a corner that was all shadow. She tried again to call out but found her voice was no longer there. In the corner, she went through a metamorphosis. Her body broke down into a chunky liquid composition. The bloodied sludge moved like a snake across the floor, over the walls, and onto the ceiling where it hovered and slowly dripped onto the couple. Feeling the dripping, the lady nudged her husband telling him to call the manager because the ceiling is leaking. She turned over, shifting away from the drip and cursing about the hotel. Her husband thought it was silly of her to be upset. Being homeless, a leaking ceiling was far better than being outside and he was grateful for that. Nonetheless, he obliged. He sat up and slowly walked over to the light switch. He flicked on the light and saw the pulsating mass of blood, flesh, and shattered bone. He screamed and yelled for his wife to get out of the bed. She turned over asking him what all the fuss was about when she looked up and saw it. 

Before she could let out a scream, the mass fell over her and the man instinctively ran towards his wife to rescue her. The shadow appeared, blocking him. He tried to move but could not. The mass consumed the woman and left no remains. When it was done, the shadow released its hold on the man. He backed away as the mass took on a new shape before him. The change was Ebony yet not her at all. She seemed like more shadow than human or monster. It was reminiscent of a cluster of eye floaters. The man tried to attack the formless thing. It spread apart and changed into a vortex, spinning out the blood of his wife all over him. He was mortified and ran out of the hotel into the daylight. He was confused about how so much time passed that it was now morning but had no time to dwell as he ran out into the streets sobbing. His heart raced. Though he couldn’t see her, he could feel Ebony’s pursuit. Whatever she was, a demon or the devil itself, he needed to get away. He needed to warn people.

All that was Ebony used to be was now gone and she would never know why. Her change left no mortal processes within her. The last anyone knew of her was that she turned up missing on the same day that the homeless man had been murdered by the police. They had thought it was him until the blood on his clothing did not turn up as a match to Ebony’s but his own and that of his wife. The only details the police had about Ebony was that she was a good citizen who worked late that night, ate at a restaurant, and treated a homeless couple to a hotel room. During the all call for information about her, even the random photographer shared his picture of her that he said he kept even though he had declared it unusable for his project. “Too many shadows,” he commented. 

Ebony had become something altogether new. Changed into darkness by her internalized anger, she moved throughout Charlotte like a violent bacteria, gruesomely murdering people who also harbored dark energy. They developed profiles based on the bits and pieces of information they gathered over time but turned up nothing. The whole thing had become another blight of the city’s reputation. The police thought they had a serial killer on their hands and called in the FBI who would come to find that they were up against something more. So long as there was anger, shadows and death would surely follow.