Wearing a navy octagonal beret hat, Carolyn glowered at the rectangular mirror along the wall. Her gaze shifted from her waxy face to a painting reflected in the corner of the mirror. Carolyn had never noticed this before. Sophia must have hung her new painting on the wall this morning before Carolyn woke up in Sophia’s bedroom. Turning around, Carolyn sidled up to the painting, avoiding Sophia’s pajamas.
It was a painting about the annual hot air balloon race at St. Louis’s Forest Park. Four orange hot-air balloons were entangled as if they were embracing each other. Looking at the black, starry stain in one of the balloons, Carolyn touched her mole, which had a similar shape, on her right breast. Pulling up her bra, Carolyn felt Sophia’s cold, purple-manicured fingernail sting Carolyn’s mole on her breasts. Hearing her heart pump fast, Carolyn reached her hand out to the painting, chasing the bloody red color streaming down from the entangled balloons. Snaky flames were quivering from the lowest balloon, engulfing the adjacent basket. On this tilted basket were two passengers. A stolid, mustached man was shaking the shoulders of a brown-haired, pale woman, who leaned against the handrail, apparently asleep. Carolyn gasped. The man on the basket was Nick, Carolyn’s boyfriend. Then, the woman who was about to be engulfed by fire was Carolyn herself.
Her eyes rolled upward, resting on the ominous letters that were painted on the unscathed hot air balloon, flying toward snowy clouds.
ENJOY THE LAST DAY OF YOUR LIFE
Footsteps from Sophia’s slippers echoed from the corridor. The door to the bedroom swung open behind Carolyn.
“Are you going now?” Sophia said in a husky voice, staring squarely at Carolyn. Sophia wore a stark rose jumpsuit. “Are you really going to ride a hot air balloon with him? Not with me?”
“I’ve said it, Sophia and I’ve said it a number of times. I have a boyfriend,” said Carolyn, averting her eyes.
“You forgot your water bottle,” Sophia pointed to a stainless, charcoal water bottle left on the bedside table. Carolyn stepped back and picked it up. She felt the lid of the water bottle close harder than usual.
“I know you always get thirsty when you go to high places. whether on an elevator or airplane,” Sophia laughed.
Putting her beret on top of her head, Carolyn swept past Sophia gripping the edge of the bedroom’s door.
Sophia turned back and shouted at Carolyn’s back. “I found your BF on Instagram. I’m gonna post that painting about you and your BF on my Instagram this afternoon and tag both of you on the post!”
Carolyn stopped, a bead of sweat running down her forehead. Looking askance at the wall of the corridor, she felt her pulse quicken. The wall was covered with dozens of paintings that described women who were about to die in different situations. A college student who mysteriously fell asleep on a yacht in Lake Tahoe, being overturned by a strong gust of wind. A 34-year-old pharmacist who suddenly lost consciousness and uncontrollably drove her Toyota to the Mississippi River from a bridge. All of them once came to Sophia’s apartment. All of them once walked along this corridor. Carolyn sidled into the entrance, closing her eyes for a few seconds. Despite the silence, Carolyn felt as if all the women in the paintings were shouting at her. “Don’t go to the Balloon Race! Go home, don’t go out!”
“Carolyn, I’m an artist who can predict the future. I know everything about you!” Sophia shouted as Carolyn grabbed the doorknob of the entrance door.
Back-kicking the door closed, Carolyn tugged her hand into the pocket of her trench coat, grabbing the keys to her BMW. Starting the engine, Carolyn rummaged in the door pocket for her police badge. Does Sophia know everything about me? As her BMW slowly pulled out from the garage, Carolyn glanced at her golden police badge on the knee. It was stenciled with her real name “Kate Dutton.” While she was driving down the street in Clayton heading for Forest Park, her phone rang. It was a call from her boss Aaron, who was overseeing Sophia’s apartment from a gray SUV parked nearby.
“Kate, well done,” said Aaron quietly. “I’m going to follow Sophia. This serial killer must drive to Forest Park in order to kill you. Be careful. We’ll figure out how Sophia kills people.”
***
It was five months before that Kate met the mysterious artist Sophia Brown by using the fake name Carolyn. At the “Young Artists Exhibition” held at the Saint Louis Art Museum, Sophia stood in front of a futuristic, cyberpunk painting. It described the nightscape in Times Square. Cyborg angels with fan-shaped wings emerged from purple billboards, aiming their silver spears at an Asian girl who was crossing the street, sipping a Diet Coke. In front of this painting, Kate found herself crumpling the exhibition ticket in her sweaty palm. Aaron’s words during the meeting at the police station echoed in her ears. All the models of the women in Sophia’s paintings were killed within three hours after she posted her paintings on Instagram. The Asian girl in the painting was found dead in a dark alley in Chinatown. The medical examiner ruled that she had overdosed on a psychedelic drug. However, they also found a suspicious substance in her body: acetaminophen, the active ingredient in painkillers. Looking at Sophia, who was smiling at her, Kate remembered Aaron’s low, growling voice. This artist named Sophia Brown was in New York City that day to sell her work at Christie’s auction. This killer met this Asian girl using a dating app. This Asian girl didn’t overdose. The killer must have injected the drug into her body in a certain way. Kate, you’ll meet her and try to be her partner. Then, try to find some form of poison or any method of killing in her apartment. The next moment, Sophia was shaking hands with Kate. “Thank you for coming to see my painting. What’s your name?”
“I’m Carolyn,” said Kate in a quivering voice. “I’m fascinated by your work. You’re good at creating chaotic, grotesque imageries.”
“Thanks. If you’re interested, please come to my gallery downtown,” said Sophia in a cheerful voice, handing a flyer of her gallery to Kate.
A week later, Kate visited Sophia’s gallery, which exhibited her eleven paintings. All of the paintings depicted the ongoing death of young women. Sophia stood on the stool in the middle of the gallery without visitors. She stood up, a mysterious smile flickering across her made-up face. Sophia remembered Kate’s fake name.
“Carolyn, I’m happy to see you again! You’ve been the most loyal fan of my works here in St. Louis!”
Sophia tumbled down the stool and pulled out a small, framed picture from her cotton bag on the floor. She handed the picture to Kate. It was a colorless sketch of a swan, perched on the broken roof of what looked like an exploded factory. The swan craned its head, drinking water from a puddle between the debris.
“What’s this building?” Kate pointed at the building, half of which exploded and exposed the innards.
“It was supposed to be the Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant. This swan was going to drink the contaminated water out of fear. All the living things have no other choice but to follow their instincts before this sort of cosmic horror, knowing they will all die by quelling their thirst with poisonous water,” Sophia giggles, staring at Kate. “Since you came to my gallery, I assume you like horror paintings. If you like it, I can give it to you. I lost interest in completing this sketch as a painting. To be honest, I’m not good at dealing with historical tragedies such as this.”
Kate didn’t hesitate to receive it. This seemed to be a great starting point for establishing the relationship with Sophia. Kate could invite Sophia to lunch or dinner in return for this picture.
“Thank you very much, Sophia,” Kate looked up, encountering Sophia’s blue eyes. “Maybe we can chat about art later, Sophia. I live in Richmond, so we can catch up afterward. Can I get your contact information?”
***
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The new painting on the Great Forest Park Balloon Race! Who will go to heaven today?
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September 15
The notification of Kate’s phone popped up. As her BMW pulled up to the driveway in Forest Park, Kate opened her Instagram account under her fake name “Carolyn.” Sophia posted her painting of the hot air balloon race, tagging Kate’s account. Touching her phone’s screen with her thumb and index finger, Kate enlarged the female figure on the hot air balloon. As Kate had seen in Sophia’s bedroom this morning, the female figure was herself, wearing the same green sleeveless T-shirt, her eyes closed. Nick was shaking her shoulders, his tears trickling down his brown mustache.
While Kate was trudging up the grassy hill of Forest Park, she sent an email to her college friend Sally from her private Gmail account. Yesterday, Kate prepared the draft to which she attached a zip file containing a document and a dozen of pictures. The zip file was protected with a password. Taking a deep breath, Kate sent the email. “Hi Sally, if something happens to me this afternoon, look up the license plate of my BMW. That’s the password for the attached file. Then, please send this file to my boss Aaron Smith. Thanks, Kate.” Kate found herself reading the last sentence of the email aloud. An African-American boy who was walking with his parents looked back at her, shouting back, “I’m not your boss or Aaron Smith!” Kate didn’t respond to him. She took a deep breath again. The tasty smell of tacos and burritos filled her lungs. Macklind Drive was full of food trucks blowing long, drifting smoke from the ovens.
Squeezing through the spectators around family picnic areas, Kate reached the balloon launch area where a hit pop song reverberated. Among fifty hot air balloons participating in the race, Nick’s 75 feet tall hot air balloon stood out. On his orange balloon, the painted Gateway Arch in St. Louis was waving like water. It was the place where Kate and Nick went on a date for the first time. And they were planning to hold a wedding ceremony in a hall below the Gateway Arch. Recognizing Kate, Nick jumped out of the wicker basket and hugged her.
“I’ll protect you, Kate, no matter what. You only need to crouch down in the basket throughout the race,” said Nick, tossing her handbag into the wicker basket of the hot air balloon. Clutching the handrail of the balloon basket, Kate took a deep breath. Nick caressed her back.
“Don’t worry, Kate. Wherever the crazy artist will try to shoot you, there aren’t many vantage points around here. Other cops are chasing her now, right?”
A week ago, Kate reported to Aaron that Sophia had purchased a new gun. She also knew that Sophia practiced shooting at a gun club in St. Louis for years. Thus, Aaron was guessing Sophia would kill Kate by shooting — one of the women described in Sophia’s painting was once gunned down from behind while she stayed in a cabin in the Ozark Mountains. The police detected that the killer shot her from a tree branch 370 feet away.
“Yes, Aaron is following her in Forest Park. He’ll arrest her right when she touches her gun.”
The small door of the wicker basket closed with a sharp snap. Nick started the burner. Kate felt the hot air engulf her body. The hot air balloon swelled, and the dazzling sunlight transfixed the canopy. The floor of the basket started to shake.
Would I regret that I lied to my boss? Kate reported to Aaron that she couldn’t find any poison in Sophia’s apartment. It was a lie. In fact, she found a suspicious substance in Sophia’s paint. Kate brought it back to her apartment and identified it as acetaminophen and other poison, utilizing the medical equipment she secretly brought out from the police. All of Sophia’s works were painted with lethal poison –– the proof of her crime resided in her works exhibited at museums and sold at auctions. Nonetheless, Kate didn’t want to arrest Sophia immediately because she wanted to know if Sophia also tried to kill her.
A gunshot reverberated. Their balloon was engulfed by a tidal wave of spectators’ uproar.
Kate crouched down, leveling her gaze at the tiny space between the handrails of the basket. Nick tapped her shoulder. “Kate, it’s just the starting gun marking the beginning of the race. Let’s go!” Nick accelerated the burner, squinting at the sky and determining the direction of the wind.
Soon, Kate felt the wave of the spectator’s roaring retreat. Her phone vibrated in the pocket of her jeans when the balloon soared up fifteen feet.
“Kate, I let you know before you lose cellphone access,” Aaron’s deep voice reverberated in the basket. Nick turned back and gazed at her phone. “The killer sat down on the grass of Central Fields, close to the junction between Union Drive and Theater Drive. She set up an easel to sketch the balloon race. I think it’s camouflage. She must conceal her gun in her cotton bag. Be careful of the north side. She’ll shoot you from that direction.” Aaron hung up.
“Kate, you should crouch down the whole time.” Nick hugged Kate from her behind to protect her.
“No!” Kate pushed him back. “If I hide under the handrail, it’s not worth coming here. I need to entice Sophia to shoot me sometime during this race. We’re gonna arrest the serial killer today.” Kate stepped toward the front of the wicker basket.
“I don’t know if the crazy artist is really trying to kill you today,” said Nick gruffly, gazing at the parachute valve to check if it was closed properly. “If she wanted to shoot you, she shouldn’t sit down casually in Central Fields. Let’s get to the safest place where nobody can aim to shoot you.”
A crisp breeze rustled Kate’s brown hair waving on her shoulders. Just like a baby uncontrollably shaking his head in a cradle, their balloon was trembling, drifting toward the next hot air balloon and touching it. The wicker basket they were riding on tilted for a second. Kate clutched the handrail and swallowed hard. Kate’s eyes skated over their own hot air balloon. The end of the silver Gateway Arch painted on the balloon was smeared with a starry black speck. Her heartbeat raced. She tugged her hand inside her T-shirt, checking the location of the starry black speck on her breast. The other hot air balloon, which collided with Kate’s hot air balloon, bounced away and caught a diagonal air stream. It flew away toward the east side of Forest Park. Kate looked at this opponent’s balloon illuminated by the sunlight. Like a pirate flag, a skull with crossbones on the waving balloon was laughing at Kate. This hot air balloon shot up toward the wispy clouds. The pilot of the opponent’s balloon flipped Nick and Kate off, sticking out his tongue.
Kate darted her gaze downward. The green ground, the parked cars, the white canopies of tents, and the overflowing crowd fell away. Her eyes were careening all over the landscape stretching below her feet. The silver, snake-like water slid swiftly along the river encircling Forest Park and then stuck out forked tongues in the fountains of the lakes. The wind rustling their hot air balloon shrilled like the movement of a snake’s tongue.
“Go away!”
Suddenly, Nick shouted at a black, tiny shadow over the hot air balloon. Kate leaned over the handrail and looked it up. A blue-winged warbler was parched there. As Nick shouted again, it flew down toward the lake. The warbler must be thirsty. Kate thought, feeling a bead of sweat trickling down her own forehead. It was hot in the wicker basket due to the burner.
“We’ll descend in a little bit! There’s a good downward wind.”
Nick turned down the burner and slightly opened the parachute valve. The hot air balloon stopped in midair for a split second, and swiftly drifted downward. Kate’s handbag placed inside the wicker basket tumbled down. Her telescope and water bottle rolled toward Kate’s feet. She picked up the telescope and aimed it at the north side of Forest Park. It took 20 seconds for her to find the junction between Union Drive and Theater Drive. Her eyes flickered over a baby in a stroller on a pathway, over his mother throwing a ball toward her greyhound running on the grass, to the gray SUV parked along a driveway and Aaron glaring at somebody on the grass inside, and then to Sophia wearing the rose jumpsuit and sketching the balloon race in front of the easel. Sophia was absorbed in her drawing and did not raise her eyes at all. What is Sophia drawing? Maybe, she’s drawing burning hot air balloons falling toward all the spectators in the park. Kate swallowed the saliva that accumulated in her mouth. She felt dizzy under the burner of the hot air balloon. Kate’s gaze through the telescope was fixed on Sophia for minutes, expecting to see Sophia aim her gun at Kate. However, Sophia did not avert her eyes from her canvas. Sophia, you fool! You can’t shoot me because you love me.
Putting aside her telescope, Sophia remembered Aaron’s voice. “We must find her method of killing.” Aaron argued that Sophia’s past girlfriends were always killed by shooting or overdosing. Kate didn’t agree. Kate believed that Sophia used an old, traditional way of assassination: mixing poison in a drink. Kate read an NYPD report about a homeless man who died by drinking a Diet Coke bottle from a dumpster in Manhattan’s Chinatown. This was near the place where the Asian girl’s body was found. If only they had checked the DNA in her saliva attached to the Coke bottle, the connection would have been revealed. It must have been Sophia who mixed enough acetaminophen to kill a horse.
“Nick, everything is alright.” Kate hugged Nick, who was steering the hot air balloon. “Sophia failed to kill me this morning because I refused to drink the coffee she made. Sophia can’t kill me! We’re in the sky, close to heaven!” Kate’s loud voice was drowned out by the gust bringing their hot air balloon toward the goal point. Kate continued to speak loudly close to Nick’s ear. “I’ve already found the evidence of her killing. I found poison in her paint and will send it to my boss this afternoon.”
Both looked up at the sky. Dark, thick shadows covered their head.
The hot air balloon with the skull and crossbones, entangled with two other hot air balloons, fell toward Kate and Nick’s wicker basket.
“Hey, I’m sorry! Somebody shot my hot air balloon from somewhere. There is a hole in my balloon.”
The opponent shouted upward. His voice trailed off as the fire from the burner spread toward the other two hot air balloons. The pilots in the two balloons, who were trying to undo the ropes that were entangled with the skull-painted balloon, screamed. The snaking fire engulfed their wicker baskets. One of them jumped off the basket, falling 700 feet to the ground. He had no other choice. Kate looked downward. A wave of shock ran through the crowd in Forest Park.
“No worries, Kate!” Nick fully opened the parachute valve. “The fire will only assail those who are above us. We’ll descend soon.”
“But it’s so hot.” Kate picked up the charcoal stainless water bottle rolling on the floor of their wicker basket. While watching the three burning hot air balloons fall apart, Kate opened the firmly closed lid of the water bottle. As she raised her chin to drink the water, she looked at the starry speck on their hot air balloon. It really looks like the mole on my breast.
Soon, she felt drowsy. A cold veil enveloped her eyes. Hearing her water bottle drop onto the floor, Nick turned back at her. Under her eyelids, Kate saw the fire licking all four balloons.
[Image Credit : Photo by Ethan Air on Unsplash ]
by 
Aiden Dufort
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