Head of the Snake

Cars pass me by. The cracked window leaves me a constant stream of cool fresh air that blows my long wavy auburn curls from my face. I take a deep breath and sigh out. The nerves are taking me over. My mother, who is driving, takes notice.

“Joanna, you aren’t nervous, are ya?” my mother asks.

After some silence, she continues with, “You’ll do great, you’ve prepared for so long. It’s been awhile since you’ve had a job-yes, but you’ve worked hard to get here. I just know that this is your big break.”

I barely attained this job at the mayor’s office in Leadsville, MT, thanks to my superior communication skills. 

This is the only employment I have received since I exited school last year. 

The car comes to a squeaking halt within the local government’s parking lot. I grip the door handle and emerge from the car.

“Wishing you good luck sweetie!” My mother calls out.

“Thank you, I will text you afterwards for pickup. We can talk about how it turns out on the way home, thank you, again.” I respond.

It is not that I resent my mother exactly, more that her face was the reminder of how I failed her, how I failed myself. Needing to move back in with the folks was the college grad’s ultimate blow. I should have had a fancy career and little debt by now. Instead, I have tens of thousands of dollars in school debts. 

I smooth the sides of my beige business suit near my hips as I sigh out regarding my thoughts. My black heels clack each step I take. I lift a black briefcase on my left, enclosed were documents, paperwork I had to take home and fill out to bring on my first day. 

I start walking up the main entrance steps. People in business suits start to buzz around me. The local government building is impressive for a backwater town. It is placed within a forested area like most of the buildings here. There are four Corinthian columns adorning the veranda. 

One large revolving door acted as the main entrance. I think this strange and slightly unorthodox for a government building. 

The weather at this point seems to reflect my thoughts, doubtful, as though it may storm or clear up depending on the upcoming events. This job means paying off debt, but I am still reproachful towards it. I had assumed I would be off in D.C or New York City by now, not the boondocks of Montana.

I push through the front door and hold onto it slowing it down for a handsome man wearing a light blue tie and gray suit who was entering in behind me. I attach myself to him by feigning that I was flirting. This sort of behavior usually helps me to feel less awkward and more natural during stressful situations. It is not like I am being serious, acting like that makes me feel like I am an actress and this job interview is my role. 

Play the part, this is how professional-normal people act, I belong here-I shall be fine, I tell myself.

I emerge onto the lobby floor, the state flag paints the surface of the lobby in a large circle. I see the scenery of nature and the inscription “Oro y Plata,” meaning gold and silver. Very suiting-seeing as how our early ancestors took all the wealth from the Native Americans.

I waltz up to the primary desk and begin talking to an employee, “Hello, I am Joanna Pitman, I am here for the secretarial position.”

“Why hello there,” a woman responds, “may I see your required paperwork?”

I hand her the papers from my briefcase, this woman was of an elderly generation, but had a glint of excitement in her eyes as if she had a dozen stories to tell.

“Ah, yes, all good. You start immediately. Right this way!” the woman says.

“Oh, uh, no introductions? I thought-“ I try to respond.

“No time. Mayor Malin is very busy, you have to type reports, set schedules, and basically be personal squire to the mayor. Got that, sweet cheeks?”

“I-I guess so, where is my desk?”

“Right here,” she says as we finish our brief walk. “Here’s your guidelines, ask me any other questions you might have and I can get back to ya as soon as I can. Good luck, darlin’.” 

I do my best to keep my speech smooth during this anxiety filled situation “no um’s when you speak publicly” professors told me in school. 

My desk is positioned in a large hall outside of Mayor Malin’s office. 

It is of a dark wood material with the Montana State flag plastered upon the front like everything else in this rustically polished place. I take a seat in my swivel chair and spend the next several hours simply sorting files, editing schedules, and the grammar-do not get me started on the grammar. 

“Who even made these notes before me?” I ask myself. 

After some time, I finally discover the lady’s name from before, I flag her down before she started walking in the opposite direction from me.

I ask her, “Edna, what happened to the last secretary? All these files were hardly edited. The grammatical errors were astronomical.”

“She wasn’t exactly the brightest one I’ll give you that, but she up and quit one day, no two-week notice or nothin’. Strange and disrespectful if you ask me,” Edna responded. She walks away and I brush off any other questions I had.

Some time later, I get up for coffee and to stretch my legs. Steam arises from the pot. The smell is sweet, yet strong and bold. The coffee machine tells me it is 8:00 p.m, it shocks me. Employees usually leave at around 6:00 p.m. Is it wrong to stay this late? Will I get rewarded? I wonder to myself. 

When I return to my desk, I notice a desk nameplate wedged under the computer’s CPU. “Jessica McArthur” it read. 

I decide to do some research and take a break from all of this work I had been doing. My research came up with dozens of women, but one stood out.

“Mysterious disappearance of Jessica McArthur on March 18, 1992. Mayor dismisses it as a cold case.” I find this strange. Why would the mayor just dismiss it so quickly? Unless he was involved of course. My mind races too much, maybe I read too many murder mysterious? After all, things like that just did not happen here.

A picture accompanied the news article I found. My mouth opens slightly, she had auburn hair and pale skin. She looks so similar to me, and why would the mayor wait this long to hire a new secretary? The last girl did not even do her job well, Edna said so, I think. I decide to peak into the mayor’s office, perhaps there is something in there to give me more evidence for my accusations, or maybe I am simply dead tired and delusional.

The door to his office creaks open, unlocked was a sign that he had nothing to hide. I am probably wrong about all of this, I think. I search through his desk drawers. Gum, a yo-yo, papers, pencils, pens, and a Rubik’s cube. Great job Joanna, even if he was some murderer, he would not leave them in unlocked drawers. Just go home, I tell myself peeved by my own stupidity.

I almost close the drawer until I hear a commotion from the closet dead ahead.

“Hello, Narnia?” I inquire.

The sounds remain faint still. I close the drawer and straighten myself up. I walk towards the closet and try to open the door, but it is locked. Where is the Scooby-Doo hidden book-lever? I think. A searing pain enters my finger as I trace the closet.

“Damn! Splinter, you would think a mayor could afford a coat of varnish and sandpaper,” I state satirically. A small amount of blood drips onto the right door handle; the door drifts open now. Peering in, there is a staircase leading downward. Curious, I ponder. Yes, Joanna, walk into the creepy hidden chamber that seems to magically open. I take a few steps into the closet, the noises grow louder until I distinguish a human voice.

“Almost time now-almost. Soon the sacrifice will be complete,” said a voice from below.

A large wall lines the steps, so all I can gather is a voice and nothing else. 

That is enough for me, no way would I be the oaf running down there screaming “hello?” at the obvious murderer. I return up to the office as quietly and quickly as I can. I go straight for the mayor’s phone.

“Hello? Security?” I ask tapping the desk line, but to no avail.

Dammit, there should be security in a government building, right? I almost argue with myself.

I do not cry about it and dash for the three most important digits, 911.

“911 what’s your emergency?” A male operator’s voice answers.

“Hello, my name is Joanna Pitman. I am in the mayor’s office uptown, I found a suspicious cellar and heard a man’s voice say something about a sacrifice being needed tonight,” I respond. At that moment, I realized I had no valid evidence to make this a priority, what do I say, I think the mayor is evil? No, I would have to bend the truth.

“I have reason to believe this is an intruder, I saw no one enter and it is after hours, he migh-“

Just then, I hear steps coming from downstairs.

“I have to go-he is coming,” I whisper to the phone.

I leave the phone off of the receiver, maybe they could do that call tracing technique the government did in old A-Team show. I rush to my desk and grab everything of mine. I race off to the front door and come to a sudden halt within the next minute, the transition from the hallway to the lobby went from carpet to linoleum. I remove my heels as to not make a sound. I then run to the front door, locked as expected. Idiotic revolving-good for nothing door! I complain, irritated.

I hear footsteps nearing, I run to the lobby desk dropping off my belongings and grab a pair of large scissors to cut slits into both sides of my skirt. A figure rounds the corner from the hall.

“Clever girl, I could have sworn you would travel back this way,” he said eerily. “No matter, I sent the security guard home. He needed a night off, told him the alarm would be good enough. It all ends… Now!”

I assume this was the mayor. He was of average height with gray receding hair. He wore a plain black suit and had a smirk accompanying his monotone drawling voice. I open the scissors and whip them straight at his chest with all my might. It bounces off of him and leaves a tiny rip in his suit. 

He laughs as I sprint to my left straight towards a maintenance access staircase. He power walks behind me.

“That would have worked in the movies!” I tell myself.

“Joanna, isn’t it? No need to run, we only just met. I need to know if my sacrifice is well worth the time,” he says following me up the stairs.

I rush up three more flights and burst through a door at the top. I slam it behind me knocking a potted plant in front of the door.

“Not like that will do much,” I comment.

I run straight over to a wall dead ahead. To my right is a large curved rail that overlooks the lobby floor. The mayor flings the door open with almost no effort.

“Why? Why are you doing this?” I gasp incredulously.

“Well, he demands it, you see,” he responds. Just then he turns his head downward. When he looks back up at me, his eyes are as pitch black as the night sky. Hair on the back of my neck stands on end, my eyes widen and I clench my fists tightly. I could feel my heart beat rise. He pulls out a jagged looking old dagger. His eyes are almost smoking. Are they?

“Once a year, I need to fulfill my ‘quota’ so to speak,” he says walking closer to me as he looks down brandishing his dagger. 

As he did, I see a fire extinguisher to my right tucked behind a pillar. I inch towards it as my fingers search for its release from the wall.

“Nothing personal Joanna, you can understand the importance of accomplishing one’s job, can’t you? I looked at your file, perhaps your mother will miss you, but no one else,” the mayor mocks. He is cut off any further comments by a smack in the face from the fire extinguisher I found. I pull the lever and release the substance on his face. He bellows forth a cry striking the extinguisher with his knife. 

I block what I can with the container until the knife punctures a hole in the side swarming the air with it’s insides. It stains my nostrils with its scent. I cannot see a thing, so I begin running towards the staircase to escape. However, Mayor Malin grabs my right arm from behind me before I get far. He swings the blade and I block it with the extinguisher, but too late. The blade penetrates the lower half of my forearm, I feel my ulna snap which grants the air with my piercing scream. I lift my right leg striking the mayor’s left knee. He falls down.

I dive down and grab the recently fallen extinguisher with my right arm. The mayor stands with a malice glint in his eyes. 

With all of my remaining strength, I uppercut his jaw with the extinguisher. He wobbles backward from the force toppling off of the railing and down onto the lobby floor. It takes a few minutes for my breath to calm down. I start to notice an intense throbbing in my left arm and my hands are shaking, I am not sure how long I have been staring past the guardrail viewing the remains of the mayor. I cannot seem to recall looking down at him, but he has not moved an inch since he fell. I start to snap out of it and wake up from my daze. Red and blue lights flash in the distance.

“Hmm, about four minutes, right on time. But how will I explain all of this…? Looks like I am in for a long night,” I say out loud.

I check my cell phone which has a couple of messages from my mother.

“Almost ready? You’re working awful lame.” Read one.

“I thoubt you got off at 6:00? It’s 8:00, let me know how much later you’ll be working, okay?”

I chuckle at my mother’s spelling mistakes and feel a warmth rush over me. I had never wanted to return home so desperately before now. But it was definitely deserved. I just defeated something vile and evil, I am ready for anything now. And that is what transpired on the night of August 21, 1994.