Oh, Canada (April 30, 2011)

[Hariasa]

Preparing for the trek to Canada was no small task. Stella needed to have her affairs in order before leaving on her trip.

The first step was relatively simple enough. She cleared out the bank accounts (now belonging to a “Miss Sabrina O’Connor) and got ready to head to the gym.

Stella changed into suitable workout clothes and took a seat at one of the bikes. She was no longer able to push herself, but she did not need to on the bike. She was only there to observe anyway. Soon enough, she found a suitable target.

Like Stella, everything about the girl’s appearance was average. She had wavy mousy brown hair, of nondescript build, neither short nor tall. Nothing stood out about the girl in any sense. She would be perfect.
When the girl left for the showers, Stella left straight for her car and waited for the girl to leave. A few minutes passed, and the girl headed for her car. Stella pulled out and followed her, making sure she left enough space between them that the girl would not suspect. Stella had done this so many times before that she could stalk a person in their sleep.

When the girl got to her apartment complex, Stella drove past the entrance. She circled around the block, giving the girl enough time to get to her home without realizing she was being hunted down.
Upon returning to the complex, Stella parked in a visitor’s spot near the dumpsters and walked over to a picnic table, carrying a large satchel.

She dropped the satchel on the table with a thud and began to rummage around. First, she pulled out a textbook titled Advanced Cellular Biology; next came the iPod and headphones. She opened the book to a random page and stuck in the headphones. Finally, she pulled out the last item, which she kept tightly balled in her hands.

Stella sat in concentration for a moment, then released the starling into the air.

The bird flew crookedly, having difficulty keeping its balance. Any bird in its condition would. Hours before, the bird had flown into a third story window of an office building near the hospital. The bird was killed on impact, its neck snapped and its left wing horribly broken. Thankfully for the bird, the truly dead do not feel pain.

Stella sat with her head down, buried in the pages of Advanced Cellular Biology. To the casual observer, she appeared to be studying intensely. Had there been a necromancer in the area, they would have instantly realized that she was seeing through her puppet’s eyes.

The crippled starling flew window to window, perching on railings and windowsills only long enough to glance into the apartments. It finally found what it was looking for, in building 2, apartment 203.

Stella smiled as she lifted her head from the book. Fifty yards away, next to building 2, a bird dropped from the sky. It must have flown into a window. Poor thing.

She still had a few hours to go until night, so Stella grabbed a bite to eat at the nearby McDonald’s. It had been years since she had a McRib. After sinking her teeth in, she came to the conclusion that it’s only sold as a limited edition sandwich to give people enough time to forget how incredibly bad it is.

When she had finished her attempt at a meal, Stella drove back toward the complex. She parked her silver Toyota Corolla a few blocks away. It was t he perfect car for either a sensible college student or an old woman. Stella was a little bit of each.

She stepped out of the car and lit up a cigarette. Stella had no fear of cancer; she could heal any damage right out the next time she touched another living being. The average-looking woman of average height and average weight walked the area, observing every fine detail. Her body was aging faster than she could keep up, but her mind was still as sharp as ever.

When she was satisfied that the rest of the world had gone to sleep, Stella began the next phase of planning. Unfortunately for the young woman in building 2, apartment 203, neither Sarah Callahan nor Sabrina O’Connor had possessed a passport before they died. Stella hoped that it would not be the case tonight.

The genius managers of the apartment complex had installed number keypads for entry to the buildings. Stella looked carefully at the keypad, noting which numbers were more worn than others. She tried 7193 first, but the lock did not open. Same for 1379 and 9137. She lucked out, though, with 3791. The keypad let out a beep and Stella heard the click of the lock. She was in.

Stella opted for the elevator. No use in tiring her old bones out. Apartment 203 was the second door on the right. Stella reached into her pocket and pulled out her trusty set of lock picks. They had served her well in the past; they would serve her again this night.

After a few minutes of fiddling, the knob turned and Stella could enter. A black cat ran off of the sofa to greet her. “Shhhh, shhh” she said to the cat, picking him up and putting him over her shoulder in a hug. He was such a sweetheart. Stella decided he would be coming with her.

Silently, Stella tiptoed to the bedroom where the girl slept. She was alone. In one way, that made Stella’s job easier. There would be only one person to take care of. On the other hand, she had been exerting herself more and more frequently, and could have used the energy. Using the cat never crossed Stella’s mind.

She crept to the side of the bed where the girl slept. With practiced precision, Stella’s hand shot out at the young woman’s neck, choking her trachea. While squeezing the breath away, Stella also began to pull, feeling the energy surge into her fingertips with each of the young woman’s waning heartbeats. When the last beat silenced, Stella felt refreshed. She glanced toward a mirror. About twenty-three, right now. She had gained at least a few more days.

Quickly, she searched the house for the one item she forgot. Something always went wrong. In the closet next to the front door, Stella found what she needed-a large suitcase. She stuffed the body into the case. Reluctantly, she gave the body a little bit of energy back, just enough that it could pulsate its muscles before rigormortis set in.

Stella hurriedly left the apartment with the suitcase, tucking the dead girl’s keys into her pocket. She drove across town to another apartment complex. There, she walked with purpose to apartment 7E, which she unlocked with a different set of keys. She set the girl’s body up in her own bed. It would be weeks before the apartment manager would start calling Sabrina O’Connor for the rent. It would be even longer before the utilities noticed they were not getting their checks. Hopefully, it would be long enough that no one would be able to tell that the eyes belonging to the body in the apartment were not brown, but green. But, of course, by that time, it would be too late.

Stella closed the apartment door, locking it with her spare key. She had left the key she had been issued, along with her car keys, on the table near the front door. It looked like she would be walking to her new apartment.
Thankfully, this new girl’s car was bigger than Sabrina’s had been. At least Stella could look forward to that. She pulled a cigarette out of her purse, lit it, and trekked back across town on foot in the soft light of early morning.

[Hariasa]

The morning sun was seeping through the windows when Stella returned to the dead girl's apartment. The black cat ran to the door and starting mewing at her. "You're hungry?" She searched through the kitchen to find some cat food. "What's your name anyway? Midnight? Shadow? Fido? Jimmy?" The cat continued to meow incessantly as stella prepared the meal. "*****?" The cat sat quietly. Cat responds to "*****." I'll be damned. She dropped the filled bowl on the floor, and the cat began to devour its breakfast. Stupid cat.

Stella was tired, but she still had some work to get done before resting. The girl's wallet was easy enough to find, and, thankfully, the picture on the license was a few years old, taken before the girl had lost considerable weight. After fishing through a few drawers, Stella found the girl's passport; the photograph was taken around the same time as the one on her license. Jackpot, Stella thought to herself. She was average enough to pass for almost anyone, but the girl's features were obscured by her weight; it made Stella's job that much easier to pretend that she was the girl.

It was around ten by this point, and Stella was exhausted. She had pushed herself to her limits. She needed rest. For some reason, she always felt terrible sleeping in her victims' beds. Even when staying in their apartments long-term, she slept somewhere else until she could get rid of the bed where the previous owner had died. This morning was no different. She laid down on the couch, facing away form the window. She pulled the blankets up, and ***** (going to hae to give it a better name) curled up in her lap.

[Hariasa]

Stella had slept well into that afternoon. ***** was still curled up where he...she?...had fallen asleep. "Yup, looks like you're coming with me," she said to the cat as she scratched its ears. "Going to have to work on your self-esteem, though. I think Shadow is a good name for you. Yes, Death and her little Shadow. Cute, right?" She chuckled morbidly to herself. "Time to get packing."

Stella and the dead girl, Shannon Quinn, were the same size, but not really of the same taste. She was able to find a few pairs of pants, two skirts, and a handful of tops that were conservative enough. Stella lamented the state of the current youth culture, an issue that she had with every generation following hers. This suitcase would be enough until she could go shopping; she had more than enough withdrawn from her own savings, as well as the savings of her previous victim, to get her through until she could find some type of work. Not that she knew what type of society she was getting herself into, but Dex had prepared her enough for this step. Dex...I hope his new legs are working well enough. I should have to get in touch with him if I survive. If this works the way he thinks it will, I will be stronger. Perhaps I would be able to find him even better legs! He's one of the good kids.

Next, Stella went to the bathroom. After a quick shower, she packed some of Shannon's toiletries. She threw the girl's toothbrush out, and hoped that its absence on the shelf would be enough to make whoever showed up next to think that Shannon had run away. Stella grabbed the suitcase and the bag of dried cat food and headed to the parking lot.

Shannon's car was bigger than the sedan that Stella used to drive. It was a clean silver hatchback, somewhat sporty with all-wheel drive, which would be quite useful in the Canadian winters. Stella placed her load in the back of the car and durned back for the hardest part of her preparations yet: Getting *****...er, Shadow...into the carrier. After a monumental struggle, the cat was ready for transport, and Stella was ready for a trip to the ER. "You ARE a little *****!" she exclaimed at the cat, who was plaintively crying from the carrier. "You're going to the back seat, she said to it. Once the cat was secured, Stella backed the car out of the parking spot and never looked back. After a quick stop at a gas station to fill her tank (no point in paying more to pump her own gas if it is cheaper in Jersey and someone else can do it for her), she was on her way.

"Thank God I overslept. No rush hour traffic, no people on the roads. I love night driving!" She exclaimed. Shadow meowed angrily back. "You're going to have to get used to it. We have a long drive ahead of us!"

[Hariasa]

Stella sped down the empty highway with the windows open, a cigarette in her left hand. She always wondered why her cohorts always drove so slowly. If you're this close to dying anyway, she reasoned, why not take some risks and go out with a bang? Better than dying of one of the diseases of old age; she had seen enough of that through her career, and refused to go that way. In all honesty, she refused to go at all.

Her mind wandered as she drove up the interstate. It eventually settled on the events from so long ago that brought her to this point now.


Stella had been discharged form the hospital, her abdomen stitched back together after having been ripped apart. Not only did she lose richard's son, but she would never be able to bear a child again. She was distraught and angry; Stella was not even given an opportunity to say goodbye to the baby she would never know. When night came, she snuck back into the hospital and found her way to the morgue. She crept through the dark room until she found the body she was looking for. He was impossibly tiny, yet perfect. "Made in the image of God," she thought.

Stella cradled the infant to her shoulder and cried. This child was the only link she had left to her Richard, her husband, and he, too, was dead. In a brief moment of clarity, she snuck back out of the hospital, child in her arms. She walked the streets in open mourning, not noticing the stares of the few passers-by that were out so late at night.

The old crone called out to her, breaking the wall of grief that Stella had set up as a barrier around herself. She never did learn the crone's name; in Stella's mind, that was the only title the woman went by.

"You lost your son. I am so sorry," the crone said to her. "Come inside, have some tea and rest your weary mind." The sorrow-numbed Stella followed, unquestioning.

"You would bring him back from the dead if you could, wouldn't you?" the crone asked.

"Of course. He is my son, my only son," Stella answered, tears flowing down her cheeks.

"Maybe we can. Sit here, tell me your story while I brew up some tea."

Stella told her the whole story, about her short time together with Richard before he was killed, how she learned she was pregnant, the accident, and what she knew of that had happened in the hospital. The old woman's remark on the possibility of awakening the dead did not register in Stella's mind; she took no notice of the putrid smell of the concoction the old woman was brewing.

"You have suffered more loss than anyone should be forced to bear," the crone commented, and placed her hand on Stella's shoulder. "You need to let go of the pain."

The old woman returned to the kettle and stirred its contents. "This should help you, more than you could hope. I have been waiting for someone like you to come along. Someone who needs my help." She smiled tenderly at Stella, like a grandmother. "Many of the ingredients are rare; some are now extinct. This is the last I have, and I have kept it locked away until I met someone who needed it more than I." She nodded to stella and poured the vile brew into a delicate porcelain teacup. "It would be bets if you drink it quickly. Some of the herbs will calm you; others will help you to think more clearly. And then there is this," the old woman shook an empty vial in her hand. "This will help you to act, to set your life straight again."

She handed the cup to Stella. Once you drink it, you will know." The young woman's guard was down, and she did not question the crone. She robotically took the cup and downed its contents in one swift gulp. It tasted of bitter herbs, dirt, and charred ash. Within moments, she fell asleep on the soft pink chair.

The crone stroked her hair and picked up the child from Stella's arms. The grieving mother had a vague recollection of the words "When you awake, you will learn. Sleep now," whispered into her ear.

[Hariasa]

When Stella awoke, the babe was lying on the table, with the crone standing above him. He was diapered, and his arms were moving, grabbing at somehting in the old woman's hands. Stella was in shock. It was a miracle! The doctors were wrong; the child lived!

The crone spoke to her. "You should practice on something smaller, first. Think on this mouse. Make it run." That seemed silly. You can't make a mouse run by thinking! What a lifelike toy, though...

"Try it. Just humor an old lady," the crone said. Stella concentrated on the mouse. What if she could make the mouse run? Its legs began to quiver, and it got up. She thought harder, and the mouse ran. She could make a toy mouse run! What if she could make it stop? What if she could make it sniff the air? The mouse moved with her thoughts. She felt as though she could see through its eyes. The spot on her forehead, at the Third Eye, tingled slightly.

You are a natural," the crone smiled as she handed Stella her baby.

It was no sooner than Stella remarked on how quiet the baby was that he began to babble. She wondered if he would recognize her as his mother, and he reached his tiny hands toward her face. She cradled the child to her shoulder and pressed her face against his. She would never let him go, never, except...

Except...

She could hear no heartbeat. The child had no heartbeat! Her eyes opened wide as she stared at the crone. She placed the baby down on the table and stepped back. What if he could kick his legs? What if he could wiggle his fingers? The premature newborn moved with her thoughts.

What if he could walk?

The child obeyed. He stood, almost falling over, and awkwardly walked down the length of the table, his oversized head lulling about on his shoulders.

What if he really were dead?

The child collapsed immediately into a heap. The illusion was broken.

Something snapped inside Stella. All of thehope, all of the joy, all of her prayers...all were hsattered. She screamed her rage at the crone and hurled the soft pink chair at her. The old woman was unnaturally fast, easily able to dodge it.

The crone laughed an evil, sick laugh. "Isn't that what you wanted? You can bring him back! You can have your child!"

"Not like this!" Stella lunged at the crone, leaping over the table like an animal. She was just as fast as the old woman was, and she knocked her to the ground. While she was not a large woman, Stella still had size on her side, not to mention youthful vigor and a mother's fury. She pinned the old woman down and choked the breath from her. As the old woman died, she felt the last of the woman's life force giving her strength.

Now it was Stella's turn to laugh, an insane cackle emanating from her throat. What if the old crone could tap dance? What if she could do a backflip? Stella concentrated all of her thoughts to the Third Eye. While it was blurry, she could see through the old woman's failing eyes. What if...Stella thought cruelly.

What if the crone could throw herself off of the roof of the building?

Stella saw the stairs going up the fire escape. She saw the handrail and the steps of the metal stairs. Soon, she saw the roof. She saw the back alley and the road at the front. She saw the sidewalk grow closer and closer, until she was jolted back upon impact. A dark smirk crossed Stella's face as she gathered up the child's body and ran out the back door.

And so began the journey, Stella thought bitterly, as the threw yet another butt out the open window. Shadow slept in her carrier as the hatchback sped toward its destination.