To Walk Into Vertigo Christina Rex ‘24 Leon stepped from the shotgun seat of Clément’s Packard. With his jaw clenched, he stopped to remember the ominously short note that led him to this moment, staring down the front of an abandoned factory off the coast of Sicily, presently complying. Clément was devastated when he came to deliver the news of his young daughter, Madelle’s kidnapping. That look of absolute ruin --he was by now quite used to it. He had seen that face many times in many desperate faces, but he never could have guessed that he would one day see it in his own brother’s. The piece of flimsy paper with this address was crumpled as he clenched it in his first; he couldn’t believe someone would use a child to get to him… it was disgusting. Alone, he continued through the heavy rain and dark to finally reach the entrance of the building, stopping for just a moment at the french doors to calm the nerves that were building up inside his chest. He couldn’t help it: apprehension seemed to always set in during a moment of stress, always. As he stepped inside, he surveyed his surroundings: nearly pitch black, isolated, and long evacuated. No wonder they chose this place for her pickup; you may never see them again. He searched for a lightswitch in the foyer, but, to his dismay, the power had been shut down completely. Likely a result of the storm brewing outside in the cold, he reasoned. As he moved cautiously through the darkened halls, he kept on high alert, still unsure if the emptiness was a sign of relief or worry. The silence was deafening. He heard nothing but the occasional gust of wind and rain thrashing up against the windows and the slight ticking of the clock hanging on the wall of nearly every room he passed. It was like one of those few moments you will experience when life seems to be unreal and somehow dreamlike, like swimming in the rain at night or staying overnight at the hospital. The light-headed vertigo of unsteadily feeling his way to the elevator made him almost sick, but he continued on as the light became scarcer. Finally seeing the elevator doors, he stepped inside, choosing the second floor, just as the note had proposed. He was so nervous and thrown off balance that he could have sworn he was going to pass out. As the doors parted, Leon’s eyes adjusted to the dark of the larger windowless room to reveal Madelle, alone, her near lifeless form slumped against the back wall, shadows distorting her face. He zeroed in on her, clearly recognizing her dark hair was matted, her clothes the same as she had last been seen in; her breathing was weak, yet definite and steady. He fell to his knees and rolled back the girls’ shoulders to hold her. She was weak and falling in and out of consciousness. He made it a point to reassure her of his good intentions as he picked her up and rested the five-year-old against his chest. Leon felt tears well in his eyes and a smoldering resentment built in his chest. She was truly the most innocent among them. She had done nothing wrong and would never comprehend that these doings had nothing to do with her; they were merely done out of spite for others. He froze for a heartbeat, looking back at the elevator with the child in his arms. He reasoned that taking the same elevator down may not be the wisest choice, as he had taken his eyes off of it for one moment too many to be comfortable. Choosing to obey
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