Excerpt of Relative Danger by June Shaw

A small light played up from the stage.

My quivering body made my purse shake against my hip. From the main landing, I peered down at the backs of rows of chairs. The auditorium, dark except for the stage's tiny spotlight, could seat hundreds. This rear hall was circular. Other doorways back here led down to more seats. The molded chairs’ seats were folded up, except for the broken ones. Cracked seats hung, creating odd geometric shapes. Chairs that alternated the blue and yellow school colors resembled a tremendous checkerboard. The yellow ones stood out, looking friendlier than the darker ones. Metal strips connected all of them. Between each wide section of chairs, concrete steps led down toward the stage.

Cougars had been painted on the walls outside it, facing the audience. The big cats appeared fierce, poised to charge. An American flag stood on the stage beside a podium. Up there was where Kat would soon make her grand crossing. I hoped.

My eyes adjusted to the dark, and an oppressive quiet pressed against my eardrums. I clutched a chair's rear. Rubbed my palms dry against it. “Someone’s upstairs,” my mind or throat whispered while my heart drummed. I stood on wobbly legs, feeling the doors closed behind me, encasing me in this tomb. Upstairs, my thoughts ordered.

My knees bumped against each other as I moved. I glanced at chairs stretched along the room’s rear. On which one did that young man die?

I backed out and darted to the stairs leading above. If I stopped, I’d turn around and dash away from the terror. I wished I’d worn running shoes instead of pumps. My shoes click-clicked on concrete while I made my way up the sinister stairwell, sliding my palm along the handrail for support.

I paused on a stair. Steadying my breaths, I glanced down through metal strips that supported the handrails. They resembled prison bars. I could see the entrance door. It was still shut, nobody coming inside. I wanted to run out.

Entombed in the tiny black cell, I inched up the stairs, the growing pulse in my throat tasting bitter. My scalp tingled as I neared the balcony, the glow from the stage below getting brighter.

Finally up, I paused. I was standing on a balcony.

Being up here wasn’t so awful, I told myself. Nobody was going to lift me up and pretend to toss me down, like my big cousin had. Satisfaction sprinkled through me. I’d done it. I had stood up to my anxiety about balconies.

Still, the air was scant, my legs feeling jelled. I made them take me down steps toward the handrail.

Scanning the area, I saw no one. But felt I wasn’t alone. A person could be hidden, stooped in the shadows behind those rows of chairs with raised seats. I peered at the stage, trying to center myself. Calm my breathing. I couldn't believe I was really up here.

I forced new thoughts. Many people must have keys to this place. Band director. Office staff. Coaches. Some teachers. Custodians. They all had reasons to be here at different times.

The person here with me now had a purpose.

The single light on stage created a spotlight on its center.

I glanced back across the balcony. Three rear doors were left open. I had come up on the left, but this wasn't the area where I thought I needed to be. With eyes trained on my surroundings, I crept toward the central section.

Nothing seemed unusual, I thought, moving all the way down to the rail, struggling against my body’s tremors. I scanned the rows of chairs I passed before exposing my back to them. A backward glance told me no one had come through a door.

Needing to stop my shuddering, I clutched the railing. Stared down across the dark auditorium. Focused on the stage. It looked ready for a performance. Someone would cross that platform. Maybe speak. Do another activity that would take center stage. The production might call for an encore. I envisioned it. Shoved the scene from my mind. Other lights surrounded that platform, I noticed. Small lights below it, some above. But only the single light shone, spotlighting the shiny wooden floor. I heard footsteps.

They came from behind me. Soft steps, slowed for my benefit.

I gripped the balcony’s railing. The feet moving behind me stopped. My hearing shot into high gear. Once again the person moved.

“Inspecting the stage for graduation?” a voice asked from the black void to my rear.

I didn't turn. Forced my voice strong. “I was just wondering how Kat is going to look out there.”

“I’m sure she’ll look pretty, as always.”

Breathing came closer. To my left and behind me. The darkness seemed to close in. Tapping sounded. The slightest tap-tap of something hard against flesh.