STILL BREATHING
"Got dammit, Colette, now you grab that branch, you hear me!" Leroy shouted up at Colette, as he struggled to hold her weight above his head. They were not going out like this, this was not going to happen to them, Leroy thought as he backed up against the tree trunk, his arms shaking under Colette's weight, as his mind willed Colette to catch hold of the small branch hanging overhead. He could hear the sound of something big crashing through the trees, and the noise, Lord it was loud. Leroy was just about to give up on his plan when he suddenly felt the weight of one of Colette's feet leave his hand, and then her weight shifted and she removed her other foot from his hand. Looking up, Leroy saw that Colette had hold of the branch and her feet were on the trunk of the tree as she slowly inch her way up higher, until she was able to get a better hold of the branch, pulling herself up. Leroy dared not linger around for a second longer, as he turned and took off toward the cliff, praying that Colette had remembered his instructions for her to climb as high in the tree as she possibly could.
Leroy didn't know how far or how long he'd been running but he could hear Colette screaming in the distance and the breathing of something big, coming up quickly behind him.


"Has anyone seen the Jackson's?" Pierre asked as he walked around the camp. Pierre had stepped back, away from the activities, counting the campers, making sure that all were present, but two came up missing, Leroy and Colette Jackson. Jean Luc was going to be pissed when he returned and found out that two of the campers were missing. The camp had been all packed up and they were ready to head out, except that the Jackson's were nowhere to be see.

"They left over an hour ago, in that direction," Stewart replied as he pointed toward the crop of trees.

"Thanks," Pierre said as he slung his rifle over his shoulder. "Frank, when Jean Luc returns, tell him that I am going to the forest to search for the Jackson's. Make sure that everyone is ready to go in ten minutes. I should be back before Jean Luc, but just in case, you and Jeffries keep everyone together and head for the landing site," Pierre said as he turned and jogged away. Pierre was almost at the edge of the forest when he heard his name being called. The heavily accented voice belonged to none other than Jean Luc.
"Damn, I'm in trouble now," Pierre muttered to himself. At first he was going to pretend that he had not heard him call, but he knew that Jean Luc would catch up with him sooner or later, so he just turned around and waited for him.

"How long have they been missing?" Jean Luc asked as he caught up with Pierre.

"One of the other campers said that the Jackson's left camp over an hour ago."

"When did you first realize that they were missing? I left you in charge, Pierre, that means you were responsible for everyone in the cam- what was that?" Jean Luc asked, his ears straining to pick up the slightest little sound.

"It sounded like a scream-"

Jean Luc held up his hand. "Shhh. Listen! This way," he said as he took off at a trot. They ran toward the sound of a woman's screams, Jean Luc removed his rifle from his shoulder and cocked it as he ran ahead of Pierre. Deeper into the forest they ran, shouting for Leroy and Colette. "Mrs. Jackson, Mr. Jackson!"

"Jean Luc, over here," Pierre called out as he bent over to retrieve something from the ground. "It's Mrs. Jackson's camera." They both looked around as Colette's scream pierced the silence, causing them both to dash forward again, heading for the large crop of boulders in the distance. Pierre stuffed Colettes' camera into his jacket, as he cupped his hand to his mouth and called out their names. Mrs. Jackson! Mrs. Jackson!" Pierre called out at the top of his lungs.

Jean Luc touched Pierres arm and pointed at the ground. There were scattered boot prints, along with bear tracks leading for the crop of boulders, but the screaming was now coming from behind them. They retraced their steps, twice, before Jean Luc decided to look up, and high up in one of the trees he could just barely make out a bit of color from Colettes' bright yellow snowsuit. Removing a pair of binoculars from his side pocket, Jean Luc quickly scanned the other trees in the area, but only saw Colette.

FOR THE LOVE OF MIA
Blair was dead. I lay in the hospital bed, my eyes red and puffy from the constant crying that I'd been doing. The curtains of the hospital room had been pulled back, and the view outside the window was of the California coastline. It was the month of December and the weather had changed drastically overnight. Where there had been blue skies and billowing cumulus clouds just the day before, now lay way to dark clouds verging on rain. The wind was blowing so hard outside that the trees near my room were beating a furious rhythm against the windowpane. What was going on outside didn't faze me at all, because the storm inside my head was far more greater than the one outside. Even without a mirror I was certain that the look on my face was one of pure pain and misery. Although my injuries had not been life threatening, anyone viewing my hospital records would see only what the admitting physician had written down, that I was recovering from a light case of smoke inhalation, a mild concussion, and multiple starches and bruises to my lower extremities. What wasn't written was the mention of my husband Blair, of whom I'd been married to for one wonderful year. Blair, who had died that night in that horrible fire, along with three other unidentified men who had invaded our home.
The memory of that night assaulted my thoughts, hard and furious, but I no longer wanted to think anymore, as I tossed my head from side to side. The walls of the hospital room seemed to close in on me, and my throat felt as if it was tightening up as well. The oxygen tubes in my nose only seem to make matters worse. Stealing myself against the nausea that usually followed whenever the tubing was removed, I reached up with two fingers, grasped the tubing between my fingers, and pulled it from my nose. I took several deep-calming breaths through my mouth, trying to quell the bout of nausea, as I turned to face the window again. I was mentally willing the nausea away, as my mouth filled with saliva as the bitter tasting bile tried to creep up my throat. I kept inhaling until the urge had passed.
Letting out a loud sigh, I searched the panes of glass for my reflection, as a single tear made its' way down my cheek. "Blair." His name came out in a croaking sound, my vocal chords raw and bruised from all the yelling and screaming that I'd done the night before. Blair's name was the first word that I'd spoken in over forty-eight hours. My chest tightened up, and the pain that I felt in my heart overshadowed the pain of my minor injuries. I quickly closed my eyes, trying to hold back the flow of tears as a bolt of lightning lit the darken skies. Blair, he was my love, my heart, my soul. A high whining sound filled the room, and I realized that the sound was coming from me, as my mind filled with memories of that horrible night, the very same memories that had prevented me from sleeping at night. I was alone again, as always, heartache, and tears usually the painful memories.
I thought back on that frightful night, and it still seemed so unreal to me, like a bad dream that never seem to end. I was at my wits end, persistently searching for details of that night, trying to come up with an explanation of why Blair had chosen to remain behind instead of escaping with me. How could it have happened? What happened to the smoke alarms, why hadn't they gone off? These questions and more circulated through my thoughts, but the most important question of all was, what had prevented Blair from leaving the house that night? The last time I'd seen him, Blair was alive and well, with a big ole silly grin upon his face, as he pushed me toward the hidden exit in the bedroom fireplace, which I never knew had existed before that night.

"Can't you give her something?" It was Macey, talking to the nurse you had ran into the room at the sound of my screams. Macey smoothed my hair back, and away from my face, and then I felt a much tighter grip on my hand, it was Sonny, forcing his strength into me.

"Mrs. Freeman has declined all prescribed medications, and Dr. Simon supports her decision. She won't take anything stronger than an aspirin."

"When will she be discharged?" Sonny asked sternly.

"I'm not sure, but Dr. Simon feels that Mrs. Freeman isn't ready to be released yet, but you will have to speak with him. She hasn't eaten anything since she was admitted."

"She's not going to eat. Have her sons been here to see her today?" Sonny asked as he squeezed my hand.

"Yes, they were here earlier but they left about thirty minutes ago."

"Mia has business to attend to. She needs to bury her husband. She needs closure and she needs to get on with her life."

I screamed at his harsh words, and tried to pull my hand away from his, but his grip was hard and tight, just like his words had been. Why was Sonny saying those things to me, oh God, how could you take my love away from me?

"Sonny! What are you saying?" Macey shouted.

"Macey, Mia is stronger than this. She needs to get out of this place and take care business, that's the only way she's going to go forward. Mia," Sonny said as he lowered his head level with mine, and looked into my eyes. "Mia, I love you and I don't want to see you do this to yourself. Blair would not want you to starve yourself to death. You have two wonderful sons that love you too, and they want to see their Mother healthy again. There is nothing that anyone else can do for you. This is something that you must do for yourself. I can hold you, and let you cry on my shoulder. I can love you, and I can even get you drunk," Sonny said, flashing a painful looking smile at me. "But, what you want the most in life, I cannot give you. My love, Blair is dead, and as much as I want to, I cannot bring him back to you. I can be with you, and help you heal, but I can't bring him back! Mia, you'e going home today! Do you hear me?" Sonny asked, wrapping his arms around me, as we cried together.

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Copyright by B.A. Osahor - 2001-2004