Chasing Before (5 page)

A nurse comes in with a food tray.
Time to jet.
Nate takes out his wallet, extracts a dollar bill, and writes his number on it with the Sharpie. “If you need anything, here’s my cell,” Nate tells Neil. He places the bill on top of the tray. “Looking forward to getting to know you better, Felicia.”

This time her smile is solid. Neil even cheers up, probably only because Nate’s leaving.

When I come back to myself, I feel woozy. “I—I think I need to sit down.” My legs give out, and I sink to the ground.

Neil jumps to my side, frantic. “Why? What did he show you?”

I can’t do anything but stare at my sandals. Grammy said they were impractical, but I liked the way they showed off my pedicure. I always wondered if Grammy broke down when I died. I never saw her cry. I didn’t even really think she was capable of it. I couldn’t imagine it, in any case. And now there’s Nate’s memory. If it’s real, and Neil and I survived that car accident, then it puts
everything
into question.

But we’re dead now, or we wouldn’t be here. Megan’s hand is on my forehead, like she’s checking my temperature. She’s asking me if I’m okay. I want to scream, I’m not
okay, Megan! I don’t remember that hospital room. I don’t remember anything after the crash.

I swipe at Megan’s hand. Shoo her away like a fly. I need to concentrate on remembering. The girl Nate saw in this memory could be me, other than the short hair, except that she acted like some fragile waif waiting to be saved by a prince. That must be how Nate sees me. I’ve never been able to see myself through Neil’s eyes. When I relive joint memories with Neil, my own point of view takes over. It’s too strong because I remember the scene too. But I don’t remember this, so that must be why I relived the memory from Nate’s point of view even though I was present.

Nate kept going on about a mystery girl. Gracie. I have to ask Neil about her. I look up at him, and see him pushing Nate again. “What did you show her? Tell me now!” he demands.

Nate chuckles. He seems to be heartily enjoying himself. “See for yourself, Little Brother.” He offers his palm to Neil, and in the few seconds it takes for the transfer, Neil spasms and shakes.

“What kind of trick is this?” Neil sits down next to me, and I lean my head on his shoulder. “We didn’t die?” he asks. He sounds as stunned as I feel.

Finally I come out of my daze. “If we didn’t die in the crash, when did we die?” I ask Nate.

Nate shrugs. “How should I know? We lost touch. I had my own problems.”

“But you have more memories of us? After the crash?”

“The memory I shared is one of many,” Nate confirms.

“But why don’t I have them?” I ask in a small voice. What happened to mine? And more important, how can I get them back? If Nate’s memory is real, then my death was a lie, and I don’t know what to believe anymore.

“Show us the rest, then.” Neil tries to grab Nate’s arm, but Nate slaps him away.

“Level Three is all about detachment.” Nate’s tone is preachy, like he has finally decided to act like a mentor or something. “What happened on Earth doesn’t concern you anymore. I was wrong to show you what I did.”

Neil scrambles up, using my shoulder as ballast. “You’re only saying that to rile me up.” He glares at Nate as though he’s three seconds away from punching him. We’re attracting curious stares from our fellow students. I want to see the memories too, but it’s pretty clear Nate won’t show us any others.

I stand up and step between Neil and Nate, and kiss Neil on the cheek and take his hand. Then I whisper into his ear. “We need to talk. Alone.” To Megan I say more loudly, “Thanks for the tour.”

“Oh, it’s not over yet.” Megan takes hold of both Neil’s and my free wrists so that we form a tight circle. “I have so much more to show you.”

“Can we pick it up later?” I ask. “Neil and I are going to go back to our rooms now to rest.”

She gives us her glinting, gap-toothed smile. “Sure thing!”

“Separate rooms? Really?” Nate breaks in, waggling his eyebrows.

Neil merely scowls at him, and Nate grins widely and winks. “Ah! I get it. Want to keep your options open, eh? Can’t blame you. The afterlife has a lot to offer.” A couple of girls walk by as if on cue, and Nate salutes them.

Neil trembles beside me. He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. “You don’t know anything about us.”

“If Felicia gets lonely, she can room with me.” A mischievous smile lights up Nate’s face. Now that I’ve been inside his head, I know he probably can’t help himself.

Neil tenses up again. His brother loves to push his buttons. I squeeze Neil’s hand. Long, long, long. Short, short, long. It’s the only Morse code I learned from Neil. It’s the letters
O
and
U
, short for “open up.” And, curiously, it was also the password for opening all the doors in Level Two. We used it as a signal after the fall of the Morati for when we wanted to make a swift exit from a conversation and for when we wanted to be alone. Not that there was any privacy after all the hives disappeared. Endless fields of wildflowers are pretty, but not practical for long-term habitation.

Neil understands my meaning immediately and squeezes back. The strength of our connection makes me giddy, and I throw my arms around his neck. “Neil’s the only roommate I’ll ever want.”

Level Three may not be the safe haven we expected, but at least I’m here with Neil. We smile at each other, and he angles his face closer to mine.

The ground rumbles beneath us. A flash of light sears my eyes, and an impossibly loud boom explodes my eardrums.

The force of the explosion rips me away from Neil and throws me facedown into the grass, splaying my arms and legs. My head feels water-clogged, as though if only I could surface from this pool of confusion, I might be able to make out what the muffled voices around me are shouting.

Where am I? Where is Neil?

With effort I twist my neck to look for him. Looming large in my field of vision is a severed leg, the orange kneesock soaked in blood. Megan. As I dry heave, the leg fades away. Megan is gone.

This is not really happening. It can’t be.

Through the blur of my tears, I can just barely make out Neil. His eyes are closed and his mouth is open. A giant beach-ball-size rock crushes his leg. Then I scream.

five

“NEIL.” I CHOKE OUT HIS name. I can’t understand why he doesn’t open his eyes. I need to get closer.

Behind him lies the still-smoking ruin of the records building where we first entered Level Three. Everyone who can move crawls away from it. I reach out my arms, dig my fingers into the ground, and pull my body toward Neil an inch at a time. My muscles groan with the effort, but I won’t stop. Neil’s life is at stake.

When I reach him, I try to push the rock off his leg, but it won’t budge. All I can do is cradle his head in my lap. He bleeds from a gash in his temple, and I search desperately for something to staunch the flow. My dress is torn and dirty, but I tear off a scrap from the full skirt, rip the hem,
and press the clean side against his wound.

He’s not breathing. But of course, in the afterlife, breathing is a habit, not a necessity. I run my fingertips over his eyelids and eyelashes, and then squeeze his shoulders with the little strength I have left.
Don’t die. Don’t die. Don’t die
. If I lose Neil, I don’t think I can go on.

Libby gets up right in my face. She shakes me, and all I can think is,
Where did she come from?
Her lips are moving, but no sound emerges. She seems to repeat the same word over and over. It finally dawns on me that she’s mouthing the word “healer.” She gestures at Nate and two guys dressed in black. The three of them lift the rock off Neil and carry him away from me.

“Take me, too,” I croak out, but they ignore me and rush off. I try to lift myself to my feet, but my limbs don’t respond.

“He’ll be fine, and so will you.” Libby must be yelling, but I can barely register her words.

That’s when I notice the blood. The falling debris banged up my arms and torso. Libby is as pristine as she was before, and miraculously, she doesn’t have a scratch on her. It doesn’t seem possible that a blast that ripped Megan’s leg off does not affect Libby at all and leaves Nate still strong enough to lift a boulder. Or maybe Libby wasn’t in the records hall at the time of the blast. Was Autumn still there? Will I lose my best friend and my boyfriend on the same day?

People stream around us, and it is like I’m in the middle of an action movie with the mute button activated. Libby
touches my forehead and enunciates, “You can hear fine.” I’m blasted with sounds of anguished moans and frenzied shouting as more people in black and gray descend upon the injured.

Libby’s up again in a flash, directing the crowd. I follow her gestures, hoping for some insight into where they’ve taken Neil so I can go to him when I’m able to get up. But so many panicked people run in all directions that I quickly lose sight of Libby.

My gaze flickers across a roman profile and shaggy blond bangs, and a sudden euphoria lifts me out of my worry and exhaustion. Julian! Julian will know what to do. I bite my lip, hard, when I realize it’s not only Julian’s competence but also his closeness that I crave. I can’t afford to think that when Neil could be dying. I crane my neck back and forth trying to catch sight of that distinctively messy blond hair again, but it’s gone. Maybe it was never there. Maybe it was merely a figment of my overstressed mind.

But it’s not my imagination that Autumn heads straight for me, and she appears to be in perfect health. That’s one blessing I can count.

“Felicia! I’ve been looking all over for you.” Autumn sinks to her knees and inspects my cuts with deft hands. “Are you in pain?”

“They took Neil somewhere. Megan died in front of me.” I touch my hand to my chest, over my heart, where it hurts more than I could ever put into words.

“Megan?” Autumn whispers. She sags into me and sighs
into my hair. “She was always so eager to include everyone. She wasn’t here for more than a couple of months, but she made such an impression. I can’t believe she’s gone.”

But gone where? I thought the one advantage of dying was that you’d finally know what happens to you after you die. But here I am, dead, and I’m still in the dark as to what comes next, if anything. A better place? A worse place? Or no place at all?

We don’t say anything for a few moments. Autumn’s grandmother, an early widow, always used to tell us that grief needs room to breathe. And here, in the midst of all this chaos, we form an island of calm, letting the sorrow sink in deep.

Finally Autumn pulls away, drawing in a ragged breath. “It takes most people a long time to adjust to their afterlife bodies. You still believe you can bleed. That you can die. It’s something you have to unlearn.” She tucks a strand of her blond hair behind her ear. “Watch this.”

She pulls up a pant leg and slips a knife out of a sheath strapped to her shin. Arcing the knife downward, she jabs it into my middle finger, causing a pinprick of blood to well up at the tip.

“What was that for?” I scowl up at her as I suck on my finger, tasting the metallic tang of blood. I’m surprised she even carries around a knife, considering the way she died, stabbed to death in my bed. Maybe it’s a coping exercise they’ve assigned in her training. I wonder if they know she goes around cutting people.

Then Autumn positions the knife so that it’s pointing straight at her heart.

My eyes widen as I realize what she plans to do, and I reach my arms up to try to stop her. “No! Autumn!”

It’s too late. She plunges the knife in, and I look at her, horrified, expecting a gurgle of red to stain her shirt and for the light to dim in her eyes as she falls over.

But she simply pulls the knife back out, flashes the clean blade in front of my face, and returns it to its hiding place.

It’s horrifying that she is so casual about stabbing herself after all this carnage.

“Everything you feel, every physical reaction you have—it’s all because you believe it can happen. You’re still programmed to believe it can happen from your time in Level One. On Earth, you get cut; you bleed. You fall; you break a bone.”

Very carefully she pulls me to my feet and drapes my arm around her neck to support my weight. We pick our way through the debris, heading away from the chaos and toward the dorms. “It’s funny, though. You understand you don’t need to eat or drink, of course, and that’s why you’re not starving or thirsty. But your body’s hit with trauma, and
wham
—you react like you still have a functioning and tragically fragile system.”

For most of my stay in Level Two, I was too drugged to feel anything at all. Then as the drugs wore off, I began to register pain. The drugs probably blocked my natural reactions to physical trauma. But there was also the man
whom Julian punched in one of the hives so that I could use his memory chamber. The drugs didn’t stop him from falling unconscious immediately. Obviously, what your mind makes you believe has a lot of effect on what happens to you in the afterlife. “But you’re above all that now,” I say. “You don’t bleed.”