Reckoning (25 page)

If only I had the Jeep. I remind myself to tell my mom later that this is a prime example of why I need my own set of wheels. Although my dad promised that we could look into getting something else at the beginning of next year, it doesn’t help me now. My glance slides to the window. Lovell is the last person I want to ask. But, at the moment, I don’t have another choice.

Hurrying to the living room, I look out the window. Lovell’s Ranger Rover is gone. Great. He doesn’t leave his house for weeks, and the one day I need him, he’s gone. For some reason, that doesn’t surprise me.

With no other options, I call a taxi.

_________

Forty minutes later I’m in front of Rachel’s house. I pick up her car keys, along with a sheet of paper containing addresses. Resisting the urge to go in and check on her, I head to her car, resolving to call when I get back.

Carefully placing the flower arrangements on the passenger seat, I push the car door closed. Although I’m worried about Rachel, I feel good. The weather is beautiful. I have an awesome boyfriend. And the visions have vanished, disappearing just as mysteriously as they started. I feel more hopeful than I have in a long time.

Twirling the key ring around my finger, I walk around to the driver’s side, an unusual bounce in my step. I open the door and look up…and that’s when I see them. And the world crashes around me.

The scene flashes across my vision in nightmarish high-definition, burning into my brain with gut-wrenching, realistic clarity.

Exiting Cold Stone Creamery.

His arm draped across her shoulders.

Her laughter as she dips her finger in her ice cream, offering him a taste.

The smile on his face as he sucks her finger clean.

Walking across the parking lot to his truck.

Unlocking the door.

Her head lifting to kiss him, before she slips into the passenger seat.

The door closing.

I stare, transfixed, unable to breathe. The keys drop from my hand and clatter onto the pavement. And that’s when he turns and looks at me.

Rick.

His eyes widen in surprise. Hurt and anger burn with fiery intensity in my gut. Bending down, I grab the keys and practically leap into the car. My hands are shaking, but I manage to get the key into the ignition. I put the car in gear and exit the parking lot, my heart shattered, my mind numb. I glance into the rearview mirror. Rick stands by his truck staring after me, his earlier surprise replaced by confusion and something else I don’t pause long enough to identify.

I have no idea where I’m going. All I know is that I have to get away. I drive aimlessly and mechanically, stopping at red lights, slowing in traffic, turning right, turning left. Every action done without conscious thought.

I can’t get it out of my head. The image of her. Impossibly blonde and tan and fit, with legs ending somewhere around her neck. The two of them together. The laughter. The kiss. Hurt and anger and jealousy consume me, weaving into a tighter and tighter knot in the pit of my stomach. My breath comes in quick gasps. My eyes burn with unshed tears.

My cell phone rings. Without looking at the number, I reach down and turn it off.

Gripping the steering wheel tighter, I press down on the accelerator.

_________

I don’t know how long I drive before I realize I’m heading uphill on an empty two-lane road. Disoriented and confused, I stare out the window. I have no idea where I am. Dark pine trees stretch into the distance on both sides of the road. Massive boulders and rocky outcroppings flash between thick branches. The soft light of early evening casts long shadows across the road. I drive slowly, winding through the trees, trying to establish my bearings. I must have headed west into the foothills. But nothing looks even remotely familiar.

Looking in the rearview mirror, I breathe a sigh of relief. I can see the downtown skyline in the distance, small and indistinct. But where am I? Just ahead, a yellow sign indicates an upcoming tee in the road. Braking, I come to a stop. To the left, the road appears to snake further into the trees, before disappearing around a curve. To the right is the same vista of towering pines, but the road appears to descend back down the hillside. I glance at the GPS, but there is nothing but a black screen. Since my best hope of finding my way back is squarely tied to losing elevation, I take a right.

I drive through the trees, trying to focus only on getting home, but hot tears fill my eyes. I beat at the steering wheel. “Damn you! Damn! Damn!
Damn
! I trusted you! You just had to do it, didn’t you? You
bastard
! I wasn’t enough.” A sob breaks from my chest, waves of humiliation and self-loathing sweeping over me. A thousand images run through my head. Driving in his car. Sharing popcorn at the movies. Listening to music. Dancing in the rain. Talking. Laughing.
Trusting.
I’d been so willing, so accepting. So naïve.

“You are such a friggin’ idiot, Kat,” I whisper. Tears slide down my cheeks, dripping from my jaw.

The earlier sunshine is gone, replaced by a vast stretch of ominous clouds. The sky darkens, and I turn on the headlights. Thunder rumbles, deep and menacing. Fat raindrops splatter against the windshield. I press the accelerator as the rain becomes heavier. The windshield blurs and I flip on the wipers. A flash of red races by my peripheral vision, and I realize that I’ve just run a stop sign at sixty-five miles an hour. On an unfamiliar road. In the rain.

I ease off the gas and force myself to take a deep, calming breath. Remembering my promise to Rachel, I glance at the passenger seat, hoping the flower arrangements are still intact. I gasp. The seat is empty. I look at the back seats. No vases. No flowers. Nothing. Did I deliver them? The last thing I remember is standing in the parking lot, staring at Rick. Rick and his stupid, giggling, tanning-bed-junkie, lick-this-off-my-finger, girlfriend.

Frustration washes over me, and fresh tears fill my eyes. I should have known better. I should have known it would all come crashing down. Why did I ever believe I could have a normal relationship? Rick probably sensed there was something freakish about me from the beginning, and that’s what drove him away. Maybe I had just been fun for a while. A distraction, someone different. The middle school crush nothing more than curiosity that quickly fizzled as the uniqueness wore off.

Wiping angrily at my cheeks, I try to concentrate on driving. I need to get back to town, back to Rachel, back home. And, if possible, to forget this day ever happened.

The road curves to the right and that’s when the ringing starts in my ear. Soft and insistent. I open and close my mouth, as though I’m relieving the pressure during an airplane descent, but it doesn’t help. It grows louder. I rub my ear, trying to ignore the faint whispering beneath the high-pitched hum.

Please, this isn’t going to happen now.

The wind has started to blow and I can see the tops of the trees swaying back and forth. Dark, heavy clouds roll across the sky. A horrible, eerie, nauseating sense of déjà vu creeps over me.

A jagged bolt of lightning cuts through the clouds, followed by a deafening crack of thunder. Filled with nervous tension, I turn on the radio, but there is nothing but static on every station.

Fear starts to gnaw at my gut, and I clutch the steering wheel tighter, leaning forward for a better view.

The road veers right and I can finally see the city spread out below me. I breathe easier, knowing I’m headed in the right direction. If I can find my way back to the highway, I’ll be fine. Just ahead, there is a break in the clouds, a barely visible patch of pale blue, and I pick up speed, hoping I can outrun the storm. The road curves again and I’m engulfed in trees, the already dim light darkening even further. The rain comes down harder. Ahead of me I can see the road emerging from the trees. I push on the gas.

The buzzing and whispering grow louder, rising to a painful pitch. Grimacing, I grip the wheel, my knuckles white and strained against the black leather.

“
Ignore it. Ignore it,”
I chant
.

Odd shapes begin swirling around the trees and the whispering forms into words. A strange, unearthly voice that is both feverishly high and coldly deep slithers over my skin.

“
…time…”

“It is time…”

“…will be taken…”

The words, sinuous and insistent, slice through me. Time for what?

Something pushes against the side of the car, like a sudden fierce gust of wind but more solid, and I struggle to retain control. Desperate to get away, I push harder on the accelerator. The car rocks again and something dark and shadowy flies past the window. I scream and slam on the brakes, careening around a curve. The tires squeal. My heart pounds painfully against my chest. The shadow sweeps by the other side. The voices grow louder and louder.

I start to shiver. The noise is building and building in my head, and I lift one shaking hand from the steering wheel, pressing it against my temple, desperate for it to stop. But it just intensifies, sending a white-hot arrow of pain through my head. My vision blurs. I can feel the energy draining from me, and I slump against the steering wheel.

“
NO
!” An unfamiliar voice breaks through the buzzing and shouting in my head. It is deep, reverberating with power and authority. Although I look, I can’t find the source. Maybe it’s just in my head, too.

Without warning, a figure emerges from the trees and stops in the middle of the road. With a gasp, I slam on the brakes. The figure turns a white face in my direction. I have a brief, startling flash of recognition before the car spins out of control, the tires screeching as they try to grip the wet pavement. Something slams against the driver’s side, pitching me sideways. I feel a jarring pain in my chest, then everything goes black.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

The sun inches over the rooftops in a blaze of yellow and orange and soft pink. I watch as the sky grows lighter, the pale pearlescent blue of early morning growing to a deeper azure.

It has been four days since the accident. I’ve been sitting in the swing on the front porch for hours, huddled beneath a blanket, a cup of peppermint tea, long since grown cold, in my hand. I’ve spent most of the night thinking, questioning, searching for answers. But I still don’t have any.

After the crash, I’d woken in the hospital, a sickening headache pressing against the inside of my skull. A large, purple bruise ran the length of my right arm. The doctor said I would be fine, and after a few hours of observation, sent me home. Since I can’t remember anything after the accident, I’m unable to answer the questions I’m bombarded with from every angle – parents, police, doctors, nurses. They all want to know what happened. I can only shake my head and say that I don’t remember. Fortunately, the paramedics were able to fill in some of the details. According to them, someone in a car behind me had seen me skid off the road and stopped to help. When they had found me unconscious, they’d called for an ambulance. In the end, the accident was attributed to severe weather and wet roads.

But I know better. I just can’t explain it.

Too restless to sit anymore, I shrug off the blanket and go inside. Changing into a t-shirt and sweats, I slip on my running shoes.

I peek into my mom’s bedroom. “Mom?” She stirs and turns her head toward the door. “I’m going for a run.” She mumbles something in reply, but I don’t stay long enough to hear it.

Stepping outside, I stretch briefly, then jog the three blocks to the park. It feels good to move, the early morning quiet soothing my jangled nerves. With the exception of one other runner some distance away, I am alone. The air whistles past my ears and I’m glad I didn’t bring any music. For once, it is easier to empty my mind without it. I run, the slap of my shoes on the path keeping time with my breath. I round the corner and jog past the parking lot and picnic tables. The sun rises higher and I can feel the thin sheen of sweat breaking out across my forehead.

I hear the sound of a car, tires crunching slowly over the gravel, the engine cutting off. A door closes with a soft thud, making my arm muscles jerk involuntarily. My ears have become so alert that even normal, everyday noises seem amplified.

“Kat?”

I stop, frozen by the sound of his voice. Rick.

“Can we talk? Please?”

I slowly turn, my chest rising and falling in swift succession as I try to catch my breath. What the hell is he doing here? He’d been calling and texting for days, but I’ve ignored him, refusing to answer.

“What’re you doing here?” I stare at him, a jumble of conflicting emotions coursing through me.

He steps forward, walking slowly towards me. My heart contracts, which makes me even angrier. He is wearing silky blue and white athletic shorts and a gray Nike t-shirt. His hair is it’s usual tousled blonde mess, and I immediately want to run my fingers through it. How can he still have that effect on me, even now? He stops a few feet away from me. He looks tired and strained, his brown eyes filled with…what? Pain? Regret? Embarrassment? I can’t tell. And I tell myself I don’t care.

“I was hoping we could talk,” he says, his fingers clenching and unclenching around his key ring. “I’ve been trying to call you, but…you never answer. And you haven’t responded to any of my messages. And since I know you like to run in the park in the morning, I thought I might find you here. This is actually the third morning I’ve been out here.”

He smiles, tentatively, as though hoping I’ll be impressed by his persistence. I stare at him, without expression.

“Anyway, I just really wanted to explain.”

“
Explain
?” I say, a giant wave of anger starting to form in the pit of my stomach.

“Yeah. About…well, you know.”

“No, I don’t know, Rick.” I take a step forward. “Why don’t you tell me?” The wave rises higher, gathering strength. “Tell me the whole story about how she’s just a friend. Someone you’ve known for a long time. Someone you were just giving a ride to.”

He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Kat…”