The Wake-up

It was 2 a.m. and Jackson bolted up in bed, disoriented from his slumber and the literal darkness in the bedroom. Unsure of why he awoke, Jackson tried to calm his beating heart by reminding himself that his nighttime stirrings increased whenever his wife, Abby, was away on business. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself but then heard what sounded like rustling papers downstairs. True panic set in as he grabbed the baseball bat he kept at his bedside and cautiously descended the stairs.

His home office was to the right of the hallway with no lights on, but the sound he heard was most definitely rustling papers. Jackson, generally not the bravest of men, lifted the bat and got ready to swing, adrenaline pumping through him. He flipped the light on while yelling the only thought that came to mind, “Get out of here!” To Jackson’s surprise, no one was there. Apparently, the one time he was ready to face some real danger, the intruder was his printer spewing out blank pages. Lowering the bat (and his pulse), Jackson stood for a second and stared at the printer in slight bewilderment since he was positive he had turned it off at the end of his work day. He quickly dismissed his concern and took a much-needed sigh of relief.

Jackson entered the living room and headed straight for the bar to pour himself a glass of bourbon. Abby was not usually approving of his flair for hard liquor, but he assured himself that even she would approve of him swigging a bit to relax. Just as Jackson had raised his glass for the first sip, the hair on the back of his neck rose and he was certain someone was watching him. Bat still with him, he slowly put the glass down. A slight click sounded like someone had unlocked the front door. Adrenaline on the rise again, Jackson gulped the rest of the bourbon, lifted the bat again and walked slowly towards the front foyer. He thought of Abby and how happy he was she was out of town but also was incredibly frightened he may never see her again. He got to the end of the living room and turned to the foyer, just as the neighbor’s cat, Samson, jumped from the outside windowsill. Jackson blurted out some choice curse words towards him from behind the glass while Samson stood on the front porch taunting him with the, “whatever” attitude. Jackson walked up to the front door to ensure it was indeed locked and decided if he didn’t immediately go back upstairs to bed, he would surely have a fight with the coat rack next.

With every creak of the steps as he went up, he swore he heard other movement. Jackson chuckled and chalked it up to watching too many crime shows he and Abby liked to binge watch. He climbed into bed and surprisingly fell asleep fast, but was restless throughout the night. He had a vivid dream that he was woken up in bed from muffled scuffling around the bedroom. He could not make out faces, but could see shadows of what appeared to be two people fighting. Slight grunts and what sounded like body blows were paralyzing him with fear. In the shadows, Jackson saw what looked like one perpetrator take the other down with a loud crack, possibly breaking the victim’s neck. The survivor stood up and looked at Jackson.

As the shadowy figure approached him, he could not see a face, but determined the silhouette was that of a woman. She inched her way closer and closer, barely making any noise with each step. Jackson reached for his bat but it was not there. All he could think to do was cover his face and hope she believed he had not seen anything. Just as he was sure she was right next to him, the alarm clock on his phone blared. Jackson opened his eyes to the sun streaming in on what seemed to be a beautiful day. He quickly scanned the room but all seemed to be in place and there was no dead body was on the ground. Jackson chuckled to himself again, but then heard someone in the bathroom. He got up and grabbed his bat which was indeed not next to his bed, just like in his dream. He not only lifted the bat this time, but he swung with all his force as the bathroom door opened. Abby ducked with lightning quick reflexes and screamed. Jackson stopped from raising the bat again but was so confused and on edge, that he slumped to the floor.

Abby ran to him and asked what the hell was going on. All Jackson could do was drop the bat and hold his head in his hands. His wife shook him a bit and made him look at her. Once he focused on her with eye contact, Jackson felt safe again. He then rattled off the night’s events and how his dream felt so real. In fact, he started to scan the bedroom again, wondering how his bat was moved and quickly looked under the bed for a body. As Jackson stood up, he looked bewildered and told Abby their dresser definitely looked out of place, as if it was slightly moved. She smiled and said, “You must be imagining things again, honey. That active mind of yours always seems to be in full force when I am away on business.” Jackson nodded and went into the bathroom to splash cold water onto his face. He noticed a faint red color in it, almost like blood.

He looked at his wife who was staring at him motionless, almost horrified by his discovery. She quickly rebounded though and smiled while holding up a bandaged hand. Abby stated she so hungry when she got home, that she went to cut up an apple but the knife had slipped and sliced her. Jackson accepted that explanation, as Abby was known to be clumsy with bruises, scars and frequent bandages to prove it. He walked over to her, gave her a hug and said he would go downstairs to make them breakfast.

This time when Jackson came down the stairs, he was in a much lighter mood and smiled at knowing all was back as it should be. He walked by his office and his eye caught something. He saw the edge of a paper peeking out from under his desk. He knew it must have been a casualty of the printer fiasco from last night. Jackson picked the paper up immediately realized this one was not blank. He froze and stared in disbelief. Was he still sleeping? Was he hallucinating? There, printed on the page, was a copy of a passport page and it was of Abby, only she had red hair instead of brown and her name was Sasha Kabarian. Also, it was not a U.S. passport. Jackson turned in horror to see Abby was standing there, holding a gun pointed at him. She smiled, shrugged and said, “I am usually not so careless.” Jackson opened his mouth to speak but Abby lunged at him and all went black.