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In Media Res

Billie Louise Jones

        Night sounds muted by the kind of slight drizzled that hardly counts for rain in New Orleans. Through the window, over the balcony, across the street, five or six voices talking all at once, contentious, though it was not clear what the quarrel was about. A fine edge of hysteria cut through the other voices, a jabbering shriek. The other voices then seemed to be arguing over how to calm the one voice.
    “Take it easy...You’ll be all right...Let’s just get to the car....”
    “There’s something in the apartment to counter...For Chris’sake, shut up!”
    Screams, wild shrieks out of the very torso, out of the terrified, primitive brain; banging on metal.
    The framed scene showed in a circle of light that wavered in the rain. Across the street, a girl had thrown herself over the hood of a parked car and pounded on the metal. There were shadowy figures, male and female, behind her. She screamed without a break, but it was not just screaming – she was trying for words, yet it all came out a jumble.
    A light went on.
    “Oh God, she’ll wake up the whole street!”
    “Do you want the cops to come?”
    “I got the stuff on me. I’m getting out.” A male figure detached itself from the shadowy group and ran around the corner.
    The others pulled her off the car and tried to walk her down the street. Her legs gave under her bonelessly. She sat on the sidewalk screaming, and some words were coming clear: “....want to kill me....something to stop it....die....”
    “Can you guys carry her?” A female voice.
    She was hauled up spread-eagle by someone at each arm and leg. They dogtrotted off into the night.

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