She stood up, stepping out of the taxi, straightening her dress as she turned to look towards the source of the sound. The evening was warm without being a single degree to hot and it carried the mash of sounds easily from the well lit and well presented house that was crawling with its young guests. The house seemed almost alive as people danced across the windows and their silhouette's casting pantomimes across the carpet like grass. And the smell, the smell that's been toasting her nostrils all summer filled her euphoric anticipation for yet another night of complete and total satisfaction.
Her friends finished exiting the car and like a magnet had been switched on they all converged around her, around her like a star, Catherine Bella. The Taxi driver stole a glance at her and her exotic figure before slowly pulling away and out of existence.
She doesn't even know.
Like a finely skilled and choreographed Broadway production the four giddy friends laughed and tipped up the path and pushed through the front door and as If signaling for the mash of mixed sounds to consume them the volume heightened and swallowed them through the grand double doors and into the house.
The real host was toasting his journey into technical adulthood and as is required at such occasions his greater friend base and others who slipped by without solicitation were in the throws of ensuring two things; Firstly that the host was sensationally and undeniably intoxicated and secondly by only a margin, they followed in achieving identical intoxication. Many of the original party goers made way for the quartet through the corridors and hallways in the house like a channel forming in the great sea many moons ago. Many of these party goers too, impressed by brilliance of these girls stole more than just simple glances and lingered with nothing but shy desire.
And yet she still doesn't know.
***
At this precise point in time, crossing the city, heading on a magnetic bearing of 1250 mils a man is being chased, being chased like an animal being hunted. Behind him fractured cobwebs of red laser lights spasm in search for him. Behind the red laser lights the harsh white light of torches scour the darkening bush land as they search to find him. There are many of them, they are calling out to him, they are reaching out to get him but this is not what concerns him. He is not flailing, not running like a duck on dry land. He is not panting, nor stumbling and not even looking over his shoulder. His face is cemented with a look of nothing more than pure and intense determination. He knows his path, it's his job to know his path, he knows where she is and he knows that the people behind him know that he knows this. His camouflaged military uniform somehow still seems pressed and clean despite the appearance of his face. Bleeding bruised and in parts starting to swell he has already pushed past these inflictions as they do not concern him.
He needs to find her. It's a good thing that she doesn't know. His arms do not hurt when he skims past trees spewing bark into the scrub, his chest doesn't hurt despite pushing his lungs to their capacity. But that's ok, he knows exactly what his own limits are and he knows that this is when he functions the best, his mind is clearest and his body is responsive and ready. He is running upright, tall and proud. Arms pumping like pistons directly connected to his legs to deliver powerful strides time and time again. His core not tense, not knotted but relaxed and strong.
His fellow men, soldiers suffering the conflicts of battle, he has no time to mourn them now. It is unfortunate that they were not aware like he was. Not prepared and as is always the case, not as gifted with a grace of luck to enable them the same fortunate as he. Upon escape he did not bother with weapons nor survival equipment, he sprinted past the packets of provisions, boxes of flares and other communication devices with the same look he wears now and without even a glance back.
A boxed shape shadow indicates the military light service vehicle is exactly where it should be and as he rips himself through the open door the keys are exactly where they are required to be. In the ignition. The car explodes with life as the foot is planted, the wheels shred the gravel and spray debris back as the 4wd propels forward, speeding towards the city.
He cares not for red traffic light signals, nor for red octagonal stop signs. He doesn't slow to give way and he doesn't blink when some family's favorite pet cat wishes it had a greater sense of time or reflexes as it's head and neck are snapped back into it's spine by the front wheel. By the time the rear wheel rips the torso from the rest of it's body the car is already dead and ruing wasting it's prior 8 lives.
He uses the curb frequently, the oncoming traffic lanes if required and doesn't hesitate to give a speed camera nothing more than a reactive glance to the flash as he maneuvers the vehicle with precision and control into the increasingly more urban surroundings. He takes a second and nothing more to hope that he finds her first, that he is able to get to her before they do. There is a lot at stake. He reminds himself it's a good thing she doesn't know but he's not sure if he's trying to convince himself or reassure himself. Then he's mind is blank and clear.
***
In the main living room, the largest one, one of three apparent living rooms in the house, our Bella is like a butterfly bouncing between conversations with old friends, new friends, people she wishes weren't her friends and those other friends that you only ever see at parties like these. Always standing, too restless to sit, too much life to live, people to meet and things to share to sit down. No, this is her night, and she is total bliss fulfilling her youth with the people that make her happy. Around her the music from, somewhere, consumes her and her amico's with the right level of beat to keep their body's in motion, tapping, nodding, bouncing around. Next to her there is a long couch and like all couches at parties like this new love is being shared round and found between it's inhabitants, along the wall groups are talking and laughing. Laughing at something funny enough to warrant raised palms and reciprocated slaps. In the doorway, girls dressed in their best since their high school ball are shyly trying to be coy and naive to the advances of young males learning to prowl, who have much to learn if they plan to enjoy the spoils of a successful hunt. But the chase to the casual observer is amusing enough to occupy the remainder of her drink. She's savoring the taste before swallowing. Slowly closes her eyes and breathes in deeply through her nose filling her lungs with life. She begins to raise her arms and spin herself around to the music, her head swaying and her face is covered with her gorgeous smile. She picks up the pace, starts to send the dance into her legs and continues to smile with her eyes so shut but her mind so open. Her head is clear, filled with nothing but the moment as she lets herself fall onto the couch, a little too close for our newly acquainted lovers trying to play tug of war on second base. But she's too pre-occupied to care, and even if our young cupids expressed concern she doesn't care, she doesn't even know.
***
A small moth mistakes it's path for a safe one as it gets swept by the air flow and sucked over the surface of the speeding car's bonnet before it's whisked up the face of the windshield and erupted behind the car to be caught firstly in the smog of the sick car's exhaust and finally being finished off by the following car's radiator.
The moth's final moments did not even register for our man in green, driving a car of green through the dark streets lit only by the occasional set of streetlights and the moon. The full moon. Like a beacon showing the way.
The car screams to a halt at the back of a neighborly house. There are cars parked everywhere, people skirting about all over the place, but none of this concerns him. His boots make hard thumps as he exits the car and races across the lawn to the houses back door. He doesn't shut the door, doesn't even turn the engine off, in fact if the house hadn't been on a hill he wouldn't of even put the hand brake on.
This time the party goers do not part like the great sea, they have no chance to react as he brutally moves through the house with nothing more than a sense to total purpose and objective. These kids bounce far quicker than they can move, even the bigger kids stealing all the party's local lasses don't question the man's momentum and avoid as much of the oncoming crashes as they can.
He pauses for an infinitesimal period of time and takes a breath, a real breath as he lays his eyes on her, on the couch, laughing empty drink in hand. The people are all staring; the bloodied, sweaty man more than 12 inches taller than all of them and easily double their girth somehow attracts no screams, no shouts of concern or requests to leave. His entrance has had the exact effect required. Shock, and shock is flexing it's muscles as it grips all the room, all the house encountered.
***
She opens her eyes and follows her friends gaze, all her friends gaze, the whole houses gaze, even the gaze of the house itself. To him. Standing in the doorway, tall, strong and broad. She's confused, badly confused. How did he know I was here, why isn't he away this weekend, what happened to his face, why didn't he tell me he was coming, why didn't I know he was coming? Why don't I know? She was torn between jumping up to greet him and continue their kiss that was torn apart by time the last time they met. Something by the way he stood, the way he looked the way he looked at her made her nervous, made her scared. Very scared.
