Rose saw the young man as he came toward her from across the room. At first she had been surprised and then flattered when she noticed him staring at her. Now though, these pleasant emotions were turning to panic. It wasn’t her imagination; he was definitely coming toward her.
Sarah, her roommate, had dragged her to this little college bar. Rose was not the ‘bar’ type. She was not the ‘dance’ or ‘movie’ type, either. A little bowling was okay; a rainy day with a good book was better. Even studying back in the dorms was preferable to this. Sarah, of course, had abandoned her nearly as soon as the music started, just as Rose had known she would. In all fairness, Sarah wasn’t to blame; she was pretty and popular wherever she went, always the life of the party. The good-looking guy dancing with her certainly seemed smitten. Rose’s desperate eyes pleaded with the back of Sarah’s head to no avail. There would be no help coming from that direction.
The young man was nearly to the table she was hiding at. Rose stood quickly, almost knocking her chair over. She felt butterflies flit about wildly in her stomach and the music pound in her ears, as she hurriedly retreated toward the ladies’ restroom. He reached out with one hand saying something incomprehensible over the din in her head as she blindly ran, pushing past the couples blocking her route. Mumbling her excuses plaintively to all surrounding her, she finally, after what seemed like hours, broke through the crowd and entered the bar’s smelly, barely-heated restroom. She locked herself in a stall and collapsed on the stool. The music came in through the cement-block walls muted to a more tolerable level. She felt her heart begin to slow, the thumping, little-by-little, fading at her temples.
“Now, what did I do?” she thought ruefully while her panic gradually eased and was replaced with the usual embarrassment she felt after another one of her social blunders.
Standing in the center of the room, feeling the awkwardness of the situation and positive that all eyes were on him, Karl thought to himself, “Stupid little twit!” He knew all about Rose’s extreme shyness. He had watched her for weeks. He knew what time she got up in the morning, when and where she ate lunch, what classes she had on which days, even how late she stayed up hitting the books. He had been amazed when he’d followed the girls to this loud little dive. He was surprised Sarah had gotten Rose to come along; he wouldn’t have believed it possible if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes. He even thought maybe there was hope for Rose yet. So, he’d patiently stared at her for an hour, smiling whenever she looked his way, trying to signal his interest and harmless intentions.
Now this! He wasn’t trying to hurt her. Why was she so scared of him, of all people? He only wanted to protect her, to take care of her.. He knew that she could appreciate him and would understand all the stupid problems that he dealt with in this inept world. She’d have the admiration and respect for him that he deserved. He knew that she was the girl that he’d been waiting for. Now this had to happen. Maybe he’d tried to move in too quickly? Obviously, he’d spooked her. Chastising himself for scaring the delicate little flower (you can’t rush girls like her), he decided to leave and try again, slower, on another day.
Karl stepped back out of the way, allowing Sarah past him to the door of the restroom. Turning, he fought his way through the crowd and out to the parking lot. From there, he drove to the closest liquor store and picked up a bottle of Southern Comfort before driving back to his apartment.
Sarah had looked around just as Rose nearly sent her chair crashing. Startled by the frightened look on her friend’s face and the speed with which the girl made her escape, Sarah excused herself and went after her. After a split second of hesitation, the guy she’d been dancing with followed along behind, determined to keep his prize safe from the advances of the many men that had seen an opportunity and were starting to block her way. He caught up quickly and was soon directly behind her. A path opened up then that allowed Sarah access to the door.
“I’ll wait here for you,” he told her over the roar of the rock music.
“Thanks,” she yelled back.
The relative quiet in the ‘john’ was a let down to the thrill that dances and bars always gave Sarah. She enjoyed the rush and the pounding of her heart in rhythm to the music’s beat. The excitement she felt made her eyes flash and sparkle and her cheeks flush with a natural blush that was more becoming than any of the makeup she used. She loved to dance. She loved to flirt. Friday and Saturday nights were the best part of college. Even the sorority she had been accepted into barely made life tolerable during the school week. Her parents had hoped that she’d develop a serious interest in something, in anything other than partying. So far though, she’d just found a different place to play. Still, they hadn’t given up hope yet. Who knew? Maybe she’d find a rich man or a hard working young doctor.
“Rose? You in here?” Sarah called.
“Yes – over here,” Rose said, opening the stall door.
“What’s the matter? I saw you take off like a streak,” Sarah questioned, concern showing in her pretty eyes.
“Oh, nothing. It just got too noisy, and crowded all at once; and I think I want to go back to the dorm.”
“Why? Can’t you have a little fun? Remember what we agreed when we talked about ‘all work and no play’? Bradley has a friend, if you want to dance,” Sarah said, knowing it was a waste of time and feeling her concern turn into irritation. Sometimes, no most times, her roommate could be a real drag. Always, she was afraid of people; always, she wanted to stay in the room; always, she was the third cog whenever she brought somebody around. Oh well, she’d tried. She wouldn’t do it again. She could just stay in that room and mold, for all she cared!
“I’m sorry, Sarah. I just want to go back to the room. I’ve got homework,” Rose lied, her eyes misting over.
Sarah’s anger dissolved at the sight of her friend’s tears. “It’s okay, Kid. Do you want to take the car or a cab?”
Rose smiled at her through her wet eyes. “I’ll take a cab. I don’t want you getting in a car with some guy you just met.”
“Sure? Brad will take me home. He’s a nice guy. Really. And…I’m sure his buddy’s nice, too,” she added, not even resisting the little dig that sprang from her lips.
Rose knew that Sarah was exasperated with her, so she said, “Just call me a cab, will ya?”
Sarah pulled her cell phone from her jeans pocket and called the Yellow Cab number. They would have a car there in five minutes. She was kind enough to even walk with her to the exit and then hug goodnight at the door when the cab pulled into the parking lot. Bradley, Sarah’s latest well-trained puppy, was rewarded with a dazzling smile when, at that moment, one of her favorite songs began to play. All eyes followed the young woman as she swayed her way out to the dance floor. Playing it up for her audience she didn’t look back as Rose turned and went out the door. Rose smiled to herself and shook her head at the rapid abandonment, then went out to her cab in the below zero Michigan night.
#
The next morning Rose slept in until 8:00 a.m. As with most Sundays, she was careful to make as little noise as possible. She looked longingly at the pancake mix, but knew that the smells and rattle of pans would awaken Sarah. And Lord knows, she wouldn’t think of doing that. That girl was ornery if she didn’t get her beauty rest. Rose resignedly got a bowl of cold cereal and an apple. It wasn’t like the Sunday breakfasts at home. Mom always went all out. There would be ham, eggs, fried potatoes, and pancakes or French toast sitting on the checkered tablecloth, the bowls heaped to overflowing. Being a farm-fed country girl, she thought she’d starve to death here some days. Most college kids were too poor to eat. Up here at Northern in the U.P., she was certainly no exception.
There was a lot that she missed, being away from home. The blissful quiet, the slower pace, and her time being her own were all part of it. Although she knew that her parents loved her and wanted what they thought was best for her, she didn’t miss them or their anxious hovering. They were always trying to change her, to make her more outgoing and popular like her older sister. They seemed to be maybe a little bit afraid because she was different. They couldn’t seem to understand that she was happy with herself and even proud of her unique talents. As much as she suffered with college life it was still preferable to what she went through at home. Even now they pestered her with “What had she done?” And “Who had she met?” They were thrilled with her social roommate’s parties and flirtatious attitude. They really had no idea that Rose was really not lonely and sometimes resented the intrusion people made upon her life. She enjoyed her solitude.
Sarah wouldn’t get up until noon. Rose decided to go to the Learning Resource Center (the college’s fancy name for the library). The semester project was due next Thursday, just before spring break. Of course she’d finished quite a while ago, but she now considered changing it and wanted to do more background work. She was thorough and deliberate with everything she did, homework was certainly no exception. Rose smiled, anticipating the peaceful atmosphere of the library as she grabbed her jacket and went out the door.
Karl had drunk half of his bottle before passing out in his clothes. He woke now bleary-eyed with a throbbing headache and his stomach lurching unpleasantly. This morning he was mad at the world and thinking of the little mouse that had run from him to hide in the ‘john’, he shook with anger. The tolerant, patient emotions of the night before were gone, replaced with an unreasonable rage. The bitch had made a laughing stock of him in that bar! He reached over for the bottle and took a large swallow. It burned all the way down and brought tears to his eyes. When he could breathe again, he started cussing under his breath. “Stupid bitch! That stuck-up stupid bitch thinks that she’s too good for me!” She’d made a fool of him. Gone were all of last night’s gentler, more protective emotions. This manipulative tramp needed a lesson. She needed to see that she couldn’t do this to him and get away with it. He pulled his brand new Ruger 22 pistol from the bottom of the underwear drawer. Lovingly he stroked the handle and rubbed the barrel against his chin stubble. “Need a shave,” he thought vaguely. He tucked the gun into his waistband and pulled his shirt down covering it. After taking another bracing swallow from the bottle he lurched to his feet and headed outside for the common area between the science building and the library.
Bradley took one last quick glance in the mirror. Things were finally going his way. “That Sarah! She’s really something,” he mused happily to himself. He pulled his heavy coat from the closet and walked out of his housing unit. Another cold day, but the sun was shining as bright as his mood, and, after all, spring would eventually come. Watching his breath swirl in a cloud in front of his face, he crossed the street angling across the parking lot toward the freshly plowed open space of the common area. He needed to go to the New Science Facility and check on some of the slides that he was culturing in the lab.
Sarah woke with a start. Her alarm clock, set by habit, was incessantly beeping. Badly startled, she jumped up, fearing she was late for class. Her heart beat loudly in her ears as she swiftly pulled on a ski sweater and low-riding jeans. Gradually a glimmer of intelligent thought crept through her panic and she began to calm. “Oh yeah. Today’s only Sunday.” Feeling foolish, she sat for a few seconds on her bed. Then, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep, she decided to head to the coffee house for a breakfast sandwich. She quickly fixed her makeup and bundled up warmly in her fur parka and matching mittens and boots. The University Center was all the way across campus, several blocks away. She looked forward to the exercise; it would loosen muscles tight from last night’s dancing. And she would burn enough calories that she could treat herself to a big bagel with egg and cheese. Little ice crystals were floating down, sparkling, making a mist as bright as diamond dust. She was glad she’d gotten up early this pretty morning. Maybe she’d run into somebody she knew at the coffee shop.
Rose pushed through the library door, noting the suicide poster that greeted her stating “Call 1-800-FOR-HELP.” The deep snow and terrible cold were a shock to students not reared in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula and some had trouble adjusting to –30 degrees for extended periods. The board of the college was fully aware of the isolation this caused some students in addition to fears of being away from home for the first time, so had set up a separate committee to help them cope, with 24-hour lifelines and counselors available.
Rose walked over to her favorite table and took her usual chair. She liked to be in the corner facing the door with her back to the shelf of fiction entitled “G-H-I.” The librarian smiled and nodded to her. She smiled shyly in return and opened the notes to reread her report. The assignment was to critique an author and to write a short synopsis on your favorite of his writings. She had chosen Ernest Hemingway’s story – For Whom the Bell Tolls. Her dilemma was that she liked a lot of his writing; choosing only one was what made it so difficult. Still, she happily determined she would finish the project today.
Bradley stopped on his short walk to talk with Jeff and Dave on their way into the coffee shop. The security guards had finished the morning’s snowplowing, another job on their long list of job requirements. This year would be a record breaker for snow in Marquette. Both men were cold and in need of some hot coffee and a donut or two.
Bradley knew most of the employees on campus by name, after nearly three years there studying Pre-Med. He casually mentioned that he would be going to the lab and that he had a key, and not to be alarmed if they saw the lights on. They wished him a nice day and went on their way.
At about the same time, Sarah entered the open space near the library. Still watching the glittering snow dust she nearly collided with a man who suddenly stepped in front of her. Her eyes widened and her breathing caught in her throat when she saw that he was holding a gun. He motioned her into the library. Feeling a desperate panic clutch at her chest, she obeyed.
It took Sarah a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the dimmer indoor light. Her pausing just inside the door infuriated Karl. He shoved her from behind nearly knocking her over. At once the librarian stood and scowling started a step toward them. Karl showed his weapon and cocked the hammer back. His bravado gone, the young man obediently moved back to his seat and sat down.
Rose had recognized Karl as the man from the bar when he took his first step inside. She knew instinctively that he was there after her. She quickly stood and moved silently around to the rear of the first row of books, sneaking undetected into the far corner. Once there she flattened out and melted into the wall. She flowed into the space between the paneling and the cement blocks of the outer wall of the building. Previously, she’d learned it was easier to slide into an object rather than to just leap into it, as the jarring that usually resulted could be painful. Using cautious skill she eased into the row of hardcover books that sat at head height at right angles to the outside wall. Carefully staying just under the bindings, she moved cautiously from book to book. She knew not to move into the pages. It was too dangerous.
Karl looked over to the table where the girl had been sitting. He saw her purse and notebook lying open with her chair pushed back. Uttering a curse, he pushed Sarah toward the front desk. She fell sprawling. The young man there knelt down and put his arms around the frightened young woman. At the same instant the noise of a shot echoed loudly throughout the building. Sarah screamed and the librarian convulsively jerked her back farther behind his desk. Little pieces of ceiling tile dropped dustily to the floor. Karl cursed again, knowing that he had only five more shells in what the old timer’s called a ‘wheel gun’. Apparently, it had a hair trigger. He cocked the hammer back again, this time more careful with his finger placement.
“Don’t move, or the next one goes through you!” he yelled at the two crouching in terror, and then he started for the aisle that Rose had disappeared into. His head was really killing him now. The cold outside had numbed it briefly; now it was back with a vengeance and adding to his fury.
Outside the science building, Bradley was startled with the noise of a gunshot. His vision was pulled to the door of the library. The shot had come from there. Darting to the west side of the entrance, he cautiously peered in, and immediately fell back behind the jamb. A wild looking man was brandishing a revolver in the air. He was yelling and his attention focused on a guy and girl huddled on the floor. Bradley cautiously peeked again and watched as the man began to walk toward the rear of the building. Slowly, careful not to make a sound, he eased open the door. He saw the cowering couple stare desperately at him. Praying that the armed man didn’t notice and fearing the worst, he was relieved to the see the back of the man disappear around the corner of the wall of shelves. Bradley put a finger to his lips and motioned the couple out quickly with his other hand.
With a terrified expression on her face, Sarah obeyed without a sound, the librarian right behind her. Only then did Bradley realize that the girl was Sarah. His heart in his throat, he half dragged and half carried her toward the guards that were approaching from the far side of the lot. The noise of the gunshot had alerted them to their worst possible fear, a college shooting. The guards had their weapons out, and were inching their way forward cautiously.
“Rose is…in there…He’s after her!” Sarah sobbed in broken snatches. The two guards looked at each other with horror and dread plainly written on their faces. Jeff quietly ordered Bradley to get the others out of there, and then followed Dave as he stepped through the open door.
Karl took three steps around the corner of the row entitled “G-H-I”, stopping abruptly as he stared at the outside wall at the end of the shelves. “Where’s the little bitch at?” he thought in confused anger. “I know she was right here!” He listened for her breathing and thought he heard a rustling noise coming from the middle of the row. He inched down the wall holding the 22 magnum pointed up, ready. A faint whisper stopped his slow movement. Leaning forward he attempted to peek over the books on the shelf in front of him to see through to the other side. He heard faintly a cruel, malevolent laugh. He paused, staring in unbelieving shock, because there, immediately in front of him, was Rose (or a transparent version of her), staring back at him, laughing that horrible laugh from the binding of a book. The color drained from his face and he moaned in frozen terror. Suddenly translucent hands grabbed his shoulders and pulled him off balance and forward. Unsteady from leaning in and the outrage there in front of his incredulous eyes, his knees were weak and refused to hold him. He fell forward, losing the weapon as he slipped, frantically grabbing for anything solid. The gun crashed to the floor along with some books from the shelf. There was a distant splash and a spray of water spurted down forming a puddle that spread in a slow incessant way across the floor.
Dave and Jeff heard the loud, echoing crash as they were nervously entering the building. At the sound, Dave ducked and slid behind the librarian’s desk. Jeff reversed quickly and went back out the door, flattening against the outside of the building, his heart pounding in his ears. He watched with envy as the librarian and the girl that Bradley had a protective arm around, ran to safety in the direction of the coffee shop. Taking a deep breath, he peered around the door, nodded at Dave, and then both men cautiously inched their way toward the first row of books.
“I’m looking for a different job, if I get out of this alive,” Jeff thought shakily. “Yup. This is not the job for me. What am I doing here? It’s not right. I don’t like this! Oh, God help me,” he babbled to himself in jerky snatches of barely coherent thought. They reached the first aisle and holding his breath, Jeff quickly glanced first left and then right. There a girl was sprawled on the floor in a puddle of water, books heaped in disarray, and a Ruger 22 pistol was lying three feet from her, still cocked and ready to fire.
“Where is he?” he whispered to the shaken girl.
“Gone. He’s gone,” she said numbly.
Dave helped the petite young woman to her feet and assisted her back to the table where she had been sitting as Jeff quickly searched the rest of the building, looking out the two exits in the back without seeing any trace of the assailant. By then faint sirens could be heard in the distance. The cops would be here soon and they would turn the whole thing over to them. "None too soon for me," Jeff thought, feeling a surge of relief.
Later that day, the police searched Karl’s apartment, which they found easily by the prints he had left on the weapon. He had had a minor skirmish with the law years before. There they found a large number of pictures of Rose taken without her knowledge. These were pinned on the wall of the suspect’s bedroom. Apparently, he had stalked her for a long time. An A.P.B. was put out, and the incident made the six o’clock news. Everyone was thankful that no one had been hurt. Karl wasn’t found.
Karl treaded water for several hours. He had managed to get out of his winter coat quickly, although awkwardly, swallowing several gulps of salt water in the process. The boots were easier; they slid off with a good kick. When he had first fell into the water he had been in such shock that he’d nearly drowned before instinct took over and he began swimming. He’d thought he’d seen a small skiff with an old man in it out of the corner of his eye, but when he quit strangling and could finally breathe there was no one there.
He treaded water, turning all the way around, as he’d searched the horizon of water and sky for anything visible. There was nothing, just undulating waves and an empty blue sky. After the first hour he had given in to his terror and screamed until he could scream no more, then he sobbed until he was drained and exhausted. After that he just drifted along with the endless rolling waves.
“Where am I? Which way do I go? How---?” The last question brought him up short. He realized that there was no one to answer any of these questions, so he had simply floated along in the middle of this deep, purple sea. Once some yellow gulf weed floated past. That was the only break for hours in the cold, miserable monotony.
How did he get here in what must be a tropical sea? That single question filled his thoughts excluding everything else until he was afraid he was going crazy. Maybe he was mad. Hadn’t he hallucinated about an old man? Finally, the realization that survival was the most important thing right now ended all thought.. He had to survive. If he did, he would figure it out later. Now he floated, moving his arms and legs only enough to stay buoyant and warm, conserving his strength.
In the early evening a school of flying fish dipped and flitted on their way past. The first one to break out of the water startled him so badly that he screamed and thrashed, splashing waves of the cold water and nearly submerging himself. As the next two flew past he understood what they were and watched more calmly as the rest flew by, churning up the water. He saw the silver flash of a tuna jumping after the smaller fish, another, and yet another. One jumped near enough that he saw the bullet shaped back and the gold of its sides flash in the dying rays of the sun. He was so intent on the amazing spectacle of the hunt going on all around him that he missed the first high dorsal fin as it knifed silently through the water. The one he did see petrified him. He felt the most extreme, painful kind of terror as it glided past; close enough for him to see its smooth blue back and ghostly white belly. Another shark came up behind him and tentatively bumped his hip. He felt the large, hard body slide, cat-like, along his leg. The roll of water left behind in its wake bowled him over sideways. He splashed frantically, futilely trying to get out of the creature’s reach. Then, with paralyzing dread, he watched as the nightmarish monster made a slow circle, lining up for the final rush. A primal scream burst from his lips. The sound carried only a brief distance over the waves.
Rose allowed the kind young man to help her up off the floor. After jerking Karl past her into the pages of the volume, she had fallen forward out of the book’s binding and down to collapse in a heap on the library’s commercial carpet. She had lain there, catching her breath and building her strength back from her efforts. The young security guard (he said his name was Dave) led her back to her seat. She heard the sirens that would bring the police to investigate. She would be questioned and hopefully they would believe that she had had nothing to do with the man’s disappearance.
Dave stood beside Rose as she sat at the table looking through her notes. He wondered at the young woman’s calm and apparent courage when she smiled, lost in the pages of her work. She was an amazing girl. Most women he knew would be hysterical, still sobbing from their ordeal. Maybe he knew the wrong type of women. He looked again at the pretty little coed with new interest. Fascinated, he watched as she took a pen and changed what was written underneath the heading “Favorite Story”.
Rose scratched off the title - To Whom the Bells Toll and replaced it, scribbling underneath in bold letters - The Old Man and the Sea. She had made her decision; to be honest, it had been made for her. She had a new favorite. She smiled a small, self-satisfied smile and began writing. This was the Hemingway story she would use for class and she had a lot of work to do.