Ruth Chapter 7

Vanace’s was a gorgeous glass building set in the shape of a crystal. It was an architectural masterpiece built in the 1980s and maintained at the breathtaking extravagance it was on the day that its doors opened.

That is, Ruth thought angrily, when its doors opened to the fancy folk. In order to even walk through the doors of Vanace’s and admire its expensive collections, one had to have a membership. The fee for an annual membership was not something Ruth or anyone Ruth knew could ever pay.

She glared at the entrance to the pompous jewelry store. How those greasy men from the warehouse ever thought they could get through those doors un-noticed, Ruth had no idea.

Over the past week, she had spent a lot of time pondering what they could have possibly been after, what they had paid with their lives in the pursuit of. Her hand wrapped around the pendant in her pocket and she found that she was walking straight towards the entrance. She would soon find out.

As Old Jack promised, today Vanace’s was throwing a gala. More of a crowd, less security. She pulled out the ticket Old Jack had procured somehow. The name on it; Mary Elizabeth Waterfield; was clearly not one that belonged to her in an itchy blonde wig, fake glasses, her best holey sweater and creased jeans. Inside there were a few men in red suits milling about amongst divinely dressed people.

In the middle of the store was a mouthwatering assortment of food centered around an ornate chocolate fountain. Her stomach grumbled and she remembered her constant hunger.

The man at the door looked suspiciously at her ticket. Before he could ask any questions, she put on a snobby face and grabbed it back from him, gliding into the main hall. Old Jack had told her to get her bearings first while he got into position, so she headed straight towards the food.

The store on a regular day was enough of an extravagance, too intimidating for an unkempt teenager to wander into. The walls themselves were made of this white silk material with glittering pendants and the entire ceiling was a shimmering glass. The fresh face of a beautiful midmorning sky looked down at her from above; somehow even the smoggy city looked better from in here.

She waded through a few more unreturned smiles from a bunch of men in nice suits and finally stood steps from the snack table, evading any of the employees or security. She saw ice cream from Lafayette’s Dairy Brewery, fudge and chocolate chip cookies from Grandma Shirley’s Bakery downtown, and finger sandwiches filled with the most precisely cut deli slices.

“Ow!” In her captivation, she’d stepped on someone. She looked down to see a little boy’s face, lips pouted in anger.

“You stepped on me,” he complained, propelling the hand that was playing with his toy truck to point accusingly up at her.

“I’m sorry,” she said. She sighed, having to force herself to stoop down and plaster an apologetic look on her face. “Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not! I’m gonna tell my daddy!”

“Okay, calm down. You’re fine.” She got up, thinking better of placating him. He would be her little pawn.

She made her way over to the snack table and grabbed a paper plate and napkin. She heard the boy get up and scurry off. That means he was headed to his daddy, who would talk to the manager, who would find her, realize she wasn’t Mary Elizabeth Waterfield, and call security. This would all work into her plan, so long as Old Jack created the distraction soon.

A woman in a blazer and a tight pencil skirt walked up to the table on the opposite side of her and her hand glided over the finger sandwiches. She was probably trying to find the healthiest option, preferably vegan or something. She looked the type.

Ruth grabbed three or four of the sandwiches and pretended like she didn’t see the woman’s raised eyebrow.

Five cookies. Unfortunately not enough time to sit and eat ice cream. A handful of truffles. Maybe two more finger sandwiches. The last time Ruth had eaten such quality food was at a wedding five years ago that she had attended with her second foster mother, Mrs. Robinson.

And then she heard it. The clicking pair of heeled shoes and jingle of keys of someone in charge heading her way, prepared to tell her to leave. She opened the flap of her messenger bag and dumped her plate in.

She turned around and right on cue there was a pretentious looking man with a high nose and thin, unkind lips behind her. His eyes had that hooded, “why am I forced to be looking at such mediocrity” kind of a look to them.

“Just leaving,” she said, almost mockingly. He didn’t even release how much easier he had made this for her.

“No problem,” he said. “I just have to confirm that you have a ticket and matching ID and I’ll send you right on your way.” Despite his sophistication, Ruth could see him fighting a cheap smile of satisfaction.

She was about to open her mouth to spew out a poorly formed lie when a large rock shattered through one of the glass ceiling sections entirely. The timing could not have been more perfect. The attendant’s focus was momentarily redirected to the gasping fancy folk, some who dropped for cover to the ground.

Ruth reached forward and ripped the keys out of the manager’s unsuspecting hands. She took off, farther into the store. She recognized the one belonging to the storage room behind a particularly short clerk, brandishing a large gold watch to a bored looking man.

“Somebody stop that delinquent!”

She could feel the whip of many heads turning to spot her as she ran full speed towards that door, sorting through the keys in her hand until she found the one labelled STORAGE.

She pushed through a stupidly-in-love couple standing in her way, ducked underneath a man handing a baby to his model-thin wife, and before she even fully comprehended what she was doing, she slapped her hands down on the glass display counter and leapt over it.

“Grab her!” one of the security guards, still running behind yelled to the unfortunate clerk next to her, still with the watch in his hand.

Before he even put down the watch, she threw in the key, unlocked the door and ran in. She promptly turned around and threw the lock - although she doubted that would keep her alone for long.

She hurried into what appeared to be a large storage closet. In a few moments, a sharp knock sounded behind her, no doubt from the nervous clerk.

He called, “Hey, open up, ok? You’re only in more trouble by resisting now. Hello?”

She ignored him and rushed through rows and rows of cabinets and stock frantically, hoping to find whatever it was that she was looking for.

The aggressive shaking of the door behind her subsided. They’d probably found a key. She didn’t have much time.

Boom! Was that a gunshot? Yelling, people screaming. Frantically, she ran through rows and rows of stock, further and further into the endless room as a slew of what she was certain now were gunshots went on.

Her heart sinking, she realized the room just seemed to be more and more storage space. She found herself running panicked through rows and rows of boxes.

And then, finally, she hit a wall.

Looking around she searched for something, anything despite a sinking assurance that she was stuck.

Suddenly, a glimmer of something on the wall caught her eye. It was a strangely familiar indentation in the wall. As she walked closer to it, she realized it was an indentation that she knew only one reincarnation of. A reincarnation that was now tucked into her pocket. Almost as if in a trance, she found herself poising her pendant just so, ignoring the wash open of the door far behind her. The pendant gasped into place, a perfect fit.

She felt the wall sink in under her hands, freeing her pendant and disappearing to reveal a slide beyond the wall, into darkness. Hearing the boom of footsteps quickly approaching now not too far behind her, she slid in, not very reassured when the wall reappeared abruptly behind her and left her winding downwards into complete darkness.

With a thud, her feet hit the bottom of the spiral. The thunder of footsteps or even gunshots were by now a distant memory. She was too captivated, anyway, by the slowly growing intensity of light somehow coming from her pendant.

Finally, she pulled off her necklace and examined it. Feeling the warmth of the metal, she realized that some sort of chemical reaction must have occurred when the pendant contacted the wall. In a few moments, it was bright enough to light her surroundings.

It seemed that the slide had brought her to the opening of a very long, dark tunnel. This must be the safe.

The light from her necklace climbed up the walls. She tried to make out how far the tunnel went on but it seemed that it had no end. She gulped.