The Woman Initiative

The loud, metallic rapping on my front door sent me skyward. I nearly hit my head on the open kitchen cabinet above me. I had been on edge for a while now, with no explanation as to why. Things had not been exactly ideal between my husband and me, but that wasn’t unusual.

When I met Harlan Tansey, he was a charming young rogue from Bessemer, Alabama, trying to make good. He’d landed himself a scholarship to attend law school at the University of Alabama and I was embarrassing my parents by turning down my Ivy League legacy to “slum it” studying English Lit at a state school. If they hadn’t perished when their company jet went down off the coast of California during my senior year, they would have likely disowned me. Instead, I inherited their company and fortune, neither of which I had any interest in.

Harlan and I hit it off immediately. After less than six weeks of dating, we married in a simple ceremony in the Irish countryside. It was the beginning of the end but I’d stuck with him because he had taken over the helm of my parent’s company and made it even more successful over the last two decades or so. The relief of not having to sell to strangers what my folks had built had been a blessing, but it would seem I’d paid for it with an immediate decline in marital bliss.

I shook off the thoughts and made my way to the front door to find an innocuous-looking cardboard box sitting on my doorstep. There was no delivery truck in sight, but I could see a large drone slowly disappearing into the air over the line of trees that sat across from my house. That explained the thunderous noise when it “knocked” on my door. Instinctively, I glanced over to make sure it hadn’t left dents in the wood but found none.

Carrying the box to the kitchen, I placed it on the table and went to finish pouring the coffee I had been brewing before its arrival. I walked back over, sipping from my cup and studying the simple white label on the box. There was nothing fancy about it—no logo or color—just a computer-generated sticker that had the name The Woman Initiative printed on it. Setting down my coffee, I fetched a box cutter from the nearby utility drawer and carefully slit open the top of the box, opening it to reveal the contents.

It was empty except for a small white envelope centered perfectly at the bottom of the box. I reached in to retrieve it and found myself touching something that wasn’t there. I mean, I could feel it. It felt like some sort of material as if there was a garment in the box, but I could see nothing at all inside the box. I hesitated before touching the envelope, unsure of what this was all about.

A simple charge seemed to run through my body as the non-existent material began to move against my skin. I attempted to jerk my hand away but it was too late. It swirled and curled up my hands and arms, slowly engulfing me. I gasped as I felt it spread over my head, covering my head and my face. I stood there in a state of shock, afraid to move.

I could still see. Whatever this way didn’t obscure my sight in the least. However, looking down at my body, I found that it was no longer there. I gasped and ran to the full-length mirror in the hall. My reflection wasn’t there. I reached out and touched the glass and I could feel it. I could feel myself touching it, but the reflection in it showed everything behind me as if I weren’t standing right in front of it.

“I’m invisible,” I said aloud, realizing how absurd it sounded.

It was true though, wasn’t it? I had touched something that had covered me and made me transparent.

I began feeling around for some sort of zipper or seam that might release me from this oddity but found nothing. It was as if I had been dipped into something and it cured around me like latex. I tried using the fingernails of my left hand to claw through the covering and make a hole in the material on the palm of my right hand, but it was impenetrable.

The doorbell rang. I glanced in that direction and then back at the mirror. I could hardly go to the door like this. I contemplated wrapping a scarf around my face and throwing on a coat but it was the middle of June. I’d look ridiculous. Better to just pretend I wasn’t home.

The doorbell rang again. I ignored it and went back to contemplating how I was supposed to get out of this thing. I mean, I could see. I could breathe, but I was going to have to eat or drink something eventually. I didn’t even want to think about having to go to the bathroom and not being able to get out of this getup.

The sound of a key in the lock turned my attention back toward the door. It was slowly opening. Had Harlan come back from his business trip early? It didn’t seem likely. He had just left yesterday for a week-long symposium in Houston. No one else had a key to the door though. I considered hiding but then realized that they couldn’t see me anyway. I stood quietly and watched as two men I didn’t recognize walked right into my house and began looking around. They were both tall and slender older men. They were distinguished-looking, actually. One had a shock of gray hair while the other was bald but they were otherwise fairly nondescript.

“She’s here somewhere. The coffee cup is still hot,” the bald one whispered.

“Looks like she got a package from some women’s shop or something. Probably in the bedroom trying it on,” the gray-haired one replied in a low voice. “Let’s get this over with. I’ve got another job to do.”

Another job to do? What kind of job? Were they here to rob me? If so, this might be okay. All my jewelry was in the bedroom. They could take it and just go. I watched as the two of them made their way back toward the back of the house. I stood quietly in a corner of the living room where they weren’t likely to bump into me. I assumed I still had mass even if it couldn’t be seen.

“Where is she? This is supposed to be an easy job. Come in, pop her and get out,” Baldy said as they crept back into the living room.

“Maybe she heard us. She might be hiding,” Gray replied. “You take upstairs and I’ll finish looking down here and out back. It shouldn’t take two of us to kill one little housewife.”

Kill? Did he say kill? Why would anyone want to kill me?

I felt panic setting in. What if whatever this was that I was wearing wore off while they are still here? I don’t even have a gun to protect myself. I began slowly edging my way toward the front door to get out while I could. My leg bumped against a table at the side of the sofa and sent a decorative glass bowl went flying off the edge toward the hardwood floor. I lunged forward to catch it but missed.

Footsteps sounded loudly down the stairs and from the pantry as the two men responded to the shattering glass. Baldy ran to the door, blocking my exit as he peeked outward to see if I had escaped. Gray stood looking around for signs of where I might have gone. My heart was thudding against my chest as I moved slowly toward the fireplace, my eyes on the poker sat in case I needed a weapon.

“Watch the doors while I look for her,” Gray said, making his way back toward the stairs and taking them two at a time upward. Baldy stayed behind, walking around the living room as I stood with my hand touching the top of a heavy poker.

I could hear loud thuds above me as Gray threw things around looking for me upstairs. After what felt like an eternity, he returned with a puzzled look on his face and began looking around the bottom half of the house, including the garage.

“I don’t get it. She’s here. Her car is here. Why can’t we find her? Is there a panic room we don’t know about? One that isn’t easily seen?” Gray muttered, no longer bothering to keep his voice down.

“No. Not that we were told,” Baldy replied.

“I guess we’ll wait her out then. She’ll either make a noise or try to escape eventually. We have all week if we have to stay here,” Gray told him.

“The hell we do. I’ve got other jobs to do. I told you that. You said this would be easy. You said it was in and out and we get paid,” Baldy protested.

“Suck it up. We’re paid when the job is done, whether it’s today or three days from now,” Gray growled.

Baldy grunted and walked toward the fireplace. I realized, a little too late, that he was headed straight for me. He was going to walk right into me! I felt the weight of his body against mine as he attempted to walk through what he thought was empty space and stopped, his brows furrowed together in confusion.

“What the hell?” he said, reaching out. His hand fell on my shoulder and he began to feel his way along my arm. I was frozen in place, but only for a moment. Without thinking, I lifted the poker and swung it at his head as hard as I could. It made a sickening thud against his skull and he collapsed onto the floor.

Gray was instantly on his feet, his face a mask of bewilderment. He reached out and grabbed for the space just above the poker, gripping my wrist firmly in his hand. He seemed to understand that I was there and couldn’t be seen, but his face still showed just how puzzled by this he was.

I let go of the poker and tried to struggle free of his grip but he held on. He pushed forward, knocking me off my feet and onto the floor without ever losing his grasp on me. Now he had me pinned to the floor with one hand still wrapped around my wrist and his body partly holding mine down.

“Get off of me,” I screamed suddenly.

It seemed to catch him off guard for a moment, long enough for me to move slightly, but his body weight was still pinning me down. Still, my free arm was close enough to grab the iron hedgehog sitting by the fireplace. It was heavy, but I managed to get it up and strike him squarely in the face with it. Blood began spurting from his nose and lips as he finally pulled away cursing wildly.

I rolled away from him and grabbed the poker again, bringing it down across his head and sending him to the floor on a heap beside his friend. I stood there, panting and frightened as I contemplated what to do next. I needed to call the police, but how did I explain my current state of being? I decided it didn’t matter. I picked up the phone and dialed 911.

I stood near the men with the poker, just in case either of them attempted to come for me again. I was having trouble wrapping my mind around why they were here. Someone sent them to kill me, but who would have done such a thing? It made no sense to me.

I was relieved as the sound of sirens filled the air outside. Car doors opened and slammed shut. The sound of footsteps descending on the house was a welcome relief. Still, how does an invisible woman speak to the police without them freaking out?

As if in answer to this silent question, I felt a sort of decompression around me. It felt as if I was vacuum packed and someone opened the port to allow air inside. I looked down and realized I could see myself again. The small envelope from the box fell to the floor in front of me. I reached down and stuffed it into my pocket just as the police arrived at the front door.

“Mrs. Tansey? Mrs. Barbara Tansey?” a voice called out. “This is the Huntsville Police Department.”

“Yes. Yes, I’m here,” I replied, feeling that was truer than it had been only moments ago.

“Are you okay? Is it safe for us to enter?”

“Yes. I think so. They are unconscious,” I called out.

The door opened and a half dozen policemen entered the house. Some busied themselves contacting an ambulance for the wounded men, one still unconscious and the other beginning to stir a bit, while two officers sat down with me at my kitchen table to take a statement. I eyed the open box sitting on the table briefly and then told them what I knew while paramedics came in and removed the two intruders, cuffed to gurneys and accompanied by officers.

“You might want to stay somewhere else while we sort this out. Do you have somewhere else to go?” one of the detectives asked.

“Yes. I can get a hotel if I need to but I think I’ll be okay here now that they are taken care of.”

“Are you sure? We just want you to be safe.”

“I’m sure.”

“Just the same, we’ll have patrol in the area stop by for welfare checks the next couple of days.”

“That sounds good. Thank you.”

With their interview complete and a small forensics team finished up with their evidence collection, the police finally departed, leaving me in the house alone again. I began busying myself cleaning up the broken glass and mess the two men had made of the house in their search for me. It was only after a bit that I remembered the envelope in my pocket. I pulled it free and removed the small typewritten slip of paper inside.

Your husband paid men to kill you. It was too late to stop them so we provided you with some protection instead. Please put this envelope back in the box and seal it. Place the box back on your porch for drone retrieval. Tell no one. Watch the news at six.

I stared at the note, horrified. My husband tried to kill me. For what? Money? He thought so little of me that he would send men to kill me for my inheritance. It all clicked into place. He planned it for when he had a solid alibi. He gave them his key so they could sneak in and left the alarm off when he departed yesterday, knowing I wouldn’t check it until I went out.

But who were these people? How did they know and what was in that box? Had it returned to the box or had it evaporated? I walked over and placed my hand inside but nothing happened though I could feel the material there. I put the note back in the envelope, dropped it in the box, and grabbed the sealing tape to close it back up. I paused for a moment and then retrieved a small card from the drawer of the small desk in our foyer.

I wrote thank you on it and dropped it in the box with the other envelope. Then I sealed the box shut and took it back out to the porch for retrieval before returning to my house cleaning. I was tempted to call Harlan, to let him know I was alive despite his efforts, but I decided to let him stew waiting to find out.

Just before six p.m. I made myself a fresh bowl of ramen and opened a bottle of wine, settling down on the sofa for dinner. I turned on the television and tuned to the local news station. I didn’t have to wait long, the very first report of the evening was some breaking news. Heather Jones was on reporting “on location” from the sidewalk in front of the Huntsville City Morgue.

“Only hours ago today, another body has been dropped at the entrance to the Huntsville City Morgue. Like the last two victims, the body has been stripped naked and had the initials TWI carved into the chest. Police are unsure whether this is the work of a serial killer or a vigilante, as the last two victims had recently been acquitted of sexual assault charges against local women in two separate cases. The latest body, which witnesses say was dropped by a large drone at around two p.m. this afternoon, has not yet been identified. We’ll have more details as they emerge.”

I watched in silence as she continued, feeling nothing. After years of having been treated like I didn’t matter, my husband had revealed just how little he did value me by trying to have me killed. I didn’t know who The Woman Initiative was, how they had found out about my situation, or what sort of technology they were working with that allowed them to make me invisible but it didn’t matter. Their existence would go with me to my grave, which was a lot further away now that I was apparently a widow.

I switched the television to a movie and went back to my meal, feeling more content than I had for the past twenty-three years.