Saturday February 27, 1993 11:08 p.m.

Mira finished tying a double knot in the last black plastic bag full of empty bottles and various other bits of floor debris. She was always surprised at the amount of garbage the other kids left on the floor. If anything, she had expected the cold weather to detract from the weekend nightly draw. But no, they came out in an even fuller force, as if they all crowded together for warmth and just needed the space as an excuse to crush up against each other for heat and sensation. As an added precaution, she carefully lifted the now hefty bag and placed it into an empty one. Mira was a firm believer in double bagging even if Lester just thought it was a waste of money. The last thing the Phoenix Ballroom needed was a raccoon problem from bags coming open and leaking even more beer leading a trail from inside to the back. Nonetheless, the idea of drunken raccoons amused Mira, considering they probably wouldn't find much else to consume other than stale beer soaked in the floorboards.

As she tiptoe-waddled her way out the narrow back emergency exit door, Mira also remembered that Lester thought that recycling was a waste of money too. If not that, he usually just dismissed Mira's requests to get recycling pickup and a green bin for the back alley as simply "playing into a fad." Lester could be funny like that sometimes. Still, he kept mostly to himself and didn't really talk to anyone, let alone people his own age. Mira knew her parents didn't like Lester all that much, but for whatever reason, they still let her work there even if "nothing but degenerates" frequented the local hangout and show venue.

The back alley didn't have the same simplistic grace of the front. For one thing, nobody bothered covering up the red bricks with the gold clay used for the front facade. Being exposed to the weather and various other abuses only caused the grey concrete mortar to crumble between the bricks. Even though it was dark, the flickering overhead light outside swayed, casting an arc of pale gold light onto the walls. Even if it hadn't rained, it was always wet back there. Something dripped from the roofs and walls into puddles on the cracked pavement ground. Whatever that "something" was, it usually smelled awful. Sometimes Mira couldn't help but wonder if the apartment building behind the Phoenix didn't have any proper indoor plumbing, so people just threw their waste from the roof and out the windows. Then again, that particular apartment building had been built years after the Phoenix first took hold as the center of the small downtown area.

As Mira stood in her own wavering pool of light, she peered down the rest of the dark alley for any signs of life. The last thing she needed was a heart attack from some random raccoon or squirrel crashing around in a dumpster down the way. Or worse yet, she didn't want to get caught off guard by some homeless person or something worse. She always got a sick feeling when she went back there these days despite how it had been when she first re-discovered the place of her birth. Nobody ever gave her any grief about the fact she was born in some stinking back alley to a homeless prostitute. Even then, Mira didn't know if her mother was really a prostitute and that was how she got pregnant or even worse, was raped by someone in an even more sick state of mind than she was. For all anyone knew, the parents she lived with were her real ones. They were real enough to her, considering. Still, Mira always had the strange feeling that everyone knew there was something not quite right about her.

So it seemed, the coast was clear. Mira shrugged and hoisted the heavy plastic bag inches above the ground with both hands, took a few meandering steps in a circle, building momentum as the bag swung higher and higher, and released. The bag crashed against the brick wall just a few inches away from the dumpster and fell to the ground with the tinkling sound of broken glass.

"Shit." Mira was always terrible at the hammer throw anyway. As her coach once told her before the days of sexual harassment lawsuits, she was all legs and nothing else.

Shuffling a bit, further ruining her favorite pair of running shoes long after she retired them from track seasons due to wear, she made her way over to the plastic bag over in the shadows. Mira gingerly picked it up with both hands, trying to make sure she didn't puncture the bag any further and lifted it slowly in the air, feeling the strain in her arm muscles as she shoved it up into the dumpster. Once again in the ebbing pool of light, she felt oddly warmer. Mira knew that she should have worn her actual winter jacket instead of merely relying on her favorite green hoodie to get her through the thirty seconds of taking the garbage out. For one thing, she definitely heard enough of that kind of talk from Lester and her parents. Usually, when she ran wherever she needed to go, she was warm enough to not bother with a coat. Still, if anything predictable, Midwestern winters are temperamental. The only thing you could be sure of concerning the weather was that you'd probably need to be wearing much more than you had in your closet.

Turning around for the back door, Mira soon realized that it may take a bit longer than the usual thirty seconds or even the minute it took since she had missed the dumpster. Maybe it had closed behind her by accident. No, that couldn't be right. She would have heard it if that was the case. In any case, she would have heard it since the damn thing was so heavy and loud that it would never escape notice. Besides, there was usually a cinder block propping it open, especially when Mira was taking out the trash "just in case." Of course, she understood why Lester didn't like her taking out the trash so late, but she always insisted. Lester really never was one for argument, even if it was something as silly as that.

"Lester!" Mira slapped her palm against the steel door. "Open up!"

She paused a moment and realized he probably couldn't hear her so she balled up her hand into a fist and pounded on the door. "Lester!"

Still no response.

"Come on Lester, quit being a dick!" Chances were, Lester was up front counting money or cleaning up. Still, there was a chance he could hear her, right?

"This is ridiculous." She sighed and rolled her eyes at no one in particular. Mira knew she could always go down the alley and around to the front of the Phoenix and be let in through there. Still, she didn't want to go down that way just yet.

"Lester! Open the damn door!"

A squeak alerted her overhead, where the streetlamp suspended on the cord hovered and wavered even more than usual. Was something climbing across the wires? Mira peered up, but the barrier between light and darkness blocked her from really seeing much of anything. As she rubbed her eyes, she saw green and blue afterimages. At least that was what she told herself as far as the random shapes moving around in the distant darkness were concerned.

A faint scratching sound caused her to turn her head to the right end of the alleyway. What the hell could that be? Most likely, it was rats, but that explanation offered her even less comfort than she originally thought it would.

"Ucch, Mira. Quit scarin' yourself, kiddo." She said to herself, much in the same way she figured Lester would if he was there. Then again, if he was there, at least he'd be able to open the damn back door or at least walk her back out front.

Yet the squeaking and scratching noises continued.

"Lester, please open the door." At this point, she could barely get out a whisper. Now Mira was simultaneously thirsty and terrified, almost as if she didn't want anyone else to hear her in case Lester still couldn't.

She closed her eyes. "Please open the door."

The sounds only seemed to get louder with an even more creeping sensation all around her, like something was almost touching her, but kept passing by her rapidly. Now even her throat went completely dry as her mouth tasted bitter from the acrid smell all around her. How could her mother have stayed in this place? It was abhorrent to even think of that strange woman as her mother. She felt her calf muscles twitching as if attempting to get her started in running away even as she was sinking to the ground with her face behind her knees as she hugged her legs and sat on her heels.

Now whatever it was really was touching her. Its hands felt more like claws as they rushed through her hair and traced her neck. It would have been so much simpler if she ran. Why couldn't she just stand up and run now. Whatever this thing was, it was at floor level. She could easily spring up and run away. Why wasn't she moving? Now it was tearing at her sweatshirt, knocking her on the ground so she fell on her side.

Trembling uncontrollably, Mira sobbed. Why hadn't Lester just opened the door? He was usually in the back to check up on Mira at the end of the night, especially when she was taking out the garbage. Why hadn't she just gone around the building to the front? Or, why hadn't she just run home or caught the bus? Lester knew when she usually left and it wasn't like he used a time clock anyway.

Now she felt the hands at the waistband of her pants. They scratched and clawed at the fabric as if with more of an animal sense of instinct instead of any human awareness of clothing with buttons or zippers. No. Nothing human could do that. Nothing human could do that to her mother or to her for that matter. No. She couldn't let this happen. She was not like her mother. More importantly, she was not her mother. Yet even as she tried to kick, she felt nothing. It was almost like she wasn't moving at all. No.

Think.

No.

What could she do?

No.

Just say it.

No.

Just get up and run.

No.

All she could do was lay curled up and feel the terrifying rush around her. All she could do was shut her eyes tightly and see the light fading beneath her eyelids as the overhead lamp wavered continually.

She felt herself being pried apart. Maybe there was more than one, pulling at each of her limbs as she opened up. This time she screamed, a high, shrill and dry sound from the pit of her sickened stomach up her throat and out, like metal against metal or glass against metal in a car crash.

Mira heard a loud slam and footsteps running toward her.

"Mira! What the hell happened? Are you all right?"

"Leave me alone! Don't touch me!" She kicked and flailed around before opening her eyes. It was Lester. The door had slammed shut behind him. "Lester?"

"Yeah, it's me." Lester helped her to her feet and held her tightly. "I'm sorry. How long have you been back here? I couldn't hear a thing, or I would have been here much sooner."

"Lester, you didn't see anyone back here, did you?" Mira asked warily, looking up at his face.

"No. All I saw was you lying on the ground crying and screaming." Lester pulled back. "Let's get you home. I'll drive you if you want."

"Ok."

Neither of them spoke a word on the drive back to her house. Nor did either even mention the incident after that.