The Weird Travels of Aimee Schmidt: The Curse of the Gifted (41 page)

Dylan hugged Aimee tightly and gently stroked her hair. Zonker finally braved the chaos and slithered into the bathroom. Apprehensively, he crawled up to Aimee and sniffed at her face, and then licked the salty teardrops. Aimee patted the top of his fuzzy head and he sat down next to them. He studied their faces with worried eyes.

Dylan released his taut grip and peered down into her face again. “Geez, Aimee, whatthahell happened? Are you okay? I think I should call Dr. Miller.” He started to get up. “You kept screaming '
N
o'
over and over at the top of your lungs. One minute you’re in bed with me, the next you’ve disap
peared.” Aimee looked over at the broken handle on the door, then back at Dylan. “I’m sorry about the door, but you wouldn’t open it.” He continued to examine her with worry.

Aimee grabbed his arm to stop him. She started, “I’m
sooo
sorry, Dylan.” She knew she had to
make up something fast, and something credible. She was having a difficult time accepting what she had just gone through. No way Dylan could believe the truth. “I got up to pee, and somehow I squirted myself washing my hands, and I yanked my shirt off and tossed it under the sink, then boom, my head suddenly felt like it was gonna friggin’ explode, and everything went black. I guess I passed out…again.”

“Again?!”
he repeated.

“Yeah, I didn’t tell you before because I didn’t want you to worry, but I blacked out yesterday. Same thing happened. I felt it come on, and then woke up with Zonker hanging over me in the entry.”

Dylan sounded just like her dad. “Aimee, that’s not good. Damn, I told Mike I would take care of you. You’re gonna see Dr. Miller.”

Aimee sat up and eased back against the wall. Her attitude turned pigheaded.
“No! No doctors!”
she exclaimed. She paused for a few seconds, took a deep breath, then continued, “
This has happened before, and they ran endless tests and found nothing.”

“I don’t care. You need to be seen.” He was determined she needed to go immediately.

He glared at Aimee with his eyes narrowed. He continued to get up. Aimee held his arm firmly. Being stubborn wasn’t getting her anywhere. Her voice turned sugary. “No…no…please. I’m fine. Really. I promise, if I pass out again, or even feel remotely lightheaded, I swear I’ll go in.”

Dylan studied her face for a long moment. Finally, he held his hand out to help her up. She took his hand and he swept her up and into his arms. She felt safe. She molded into him instantly.

“God, Aimee, I swear…if something happens to you - Aimee felt him shudder - I swear it’ll kill me, and then what would Mike think of me.” He relinquished his squeeze and looked ardently into her face. His hypnotic eyes filled with sadness, the same sadness Aimee had witnessed in someone else’s eyes. Aimee returned the shudder, closed her eyes, then she felt his lips tenderly touch hers.

Chapter 16 Wormholes

Haunting dreams filled her nights the next couple of weeks. Aimee hated the night. Sleep brought only nightmares. They always ended the same. Right before she awoke covered in sweat, Aimee would see her - the young girl - and that terrified look she had seconds before she disappeared into the bright light at the end of the tunnel. Her eyes were consumed with more fear than they possessed after Aimee saved her near-death body from its grave. And as always, Aimee awoke loudly screaming '
NO!'
each time. Zonker bolted to the floor and waited nervously at the door to escape. At first Dad rushed into her room to check on her, but after a week her screams no longer stirred him out of his slumber. Now accustomed to the nightly interruption, he slept through her torture.

Dad was mending and behaving, and at least following most of the doctor’s orders. But he had a new worry - Aimee. His penchant to hover returned. Dylan broke his promise and squealed to her dad how he had busted through the bathroom door and found her on the floor. Just as Aimee had expected, Dad forced her to see Dr. Miller, and just as Aimee had tried to convince Dylan why she didn’t need to see a doctor, the tests revealed nothing. There wasn’t a medical explanation for what was happening to her, although Aimee imagined they could find an appropriate psychiatric diagnosis if she told them the
real
reason for all the constant drama in her life.

Just like with Jack Reynolds, Aimee spent hours cruising through Internet sites searching for clues about the victim’s fate. Nothing. It didn’t surprise her, though. One less victim of a killer not found would be just that…one less body to be discovered. The man with brown hair knew. He knew what happened that night on a lonely road near Seattle. He was eventually caught, and confessed
to lots of other murders, but nothing in the articles Aimee dug up revealed
their
story. She hoped he
would rot in hell with the secret.

The girl's fate tortured Aimee for days. Almost every waking moment her brain played and replayed the vision of her final moments. How could anyone live through being strangled and left for dead only to be saved, and then unmercifully tortured by the dark tunnel, and most likely sucked into a timeless void? Aimee failed her, just like Jack Reynolds. The guilt tasted nasty, and at a time she should be thinking of herself for once, and the incredible joy of being in love with Dylan, their upcoming graduation from East Medford, and their lives together next fall at UC, all Aimee could think
about was the girl…and how Aimee
really
sucked at traveling.

Up until now Aimee had always traveled alone. She wondered if it was all in her mind, or was
she the only freak in the whole universe burdened with this
gift
? Now she had no doubt it was for real.
She had traveled with another person who had witnessed the infamous dark tunnel. It never entered her mind that it could be remotely possible for the ungifted to travel. One of her greatest fears about her
gift
, even more than the possibility she could die, was leaving when she was with someone, but not
because she ever thought it was possible someone else could get pulled up into the tunnel with her. Whenever Aimee felt an impending journey coming she was scared someone might witness her travel and her secret would be revealed. Up until now Aimee had lucked out, but the young girl witnessed her sacred, mystical secret. Only she didn’t make it out of the tunnel with Aimee. No one else had ever seen her leave or return, so with the impossible now possible, Aimee wanted to...no, she
had
to believe the young girl arrived somewhere alive, perhaps in another time, but at least alive. Even blind faith eased the nasty guilt a bit.

All the research Aimee had done on time travel led to one conclusion; the
gifted
didn’t exist.
Lots of scientific geniuses debated theories about wormholes and time machines and parallel universes and a lot of other crazy possibilities, but nothing is ever mentioned about people who traveled through time to another place…except in novels or movies. But Aimee knew the truth.

Geez, why me,
Aimee thought while she clicked on another site for time travel.
Why do I have
to
be living proof time travel isn’t a myth? I just want to be a normal teenager, or at least a chameleon, and who the hell in their right mind would believe me anyway? It’s almost like saying I’m a witch or a vampire, but the truth is I’m not crazy. I really do travel. I have no one to share my secret with, and I feel so totally alone. I wanna know if I’m really the only freak in the whole wide universe. Am I like some kind of Big Foot or Nessie the Loch Ness Monster? Is there anyone else out there like me cursed with this horrible gift?

Lately Dad and Dylan both had taken up hovering over her. She guessed her behavior hadn’t convinced either that nothing was wrong, no matter how many times she told both she was fine. Only Aimee had been so absorbed with making sense out of nonsense she hadn’t paid enough attention to the one person who wanted her undivided attention - Dylan. Aimee's aloofness hadn’t escaped him, but she had become an expert at keeping everyone, especially him, clueless.

Dylan became Aimee's shadow, practicing the fine art of hovering to a perfection. Their relationship had become a hot topic of discussion at East Medford. He's the charming prince who is incredibly handsome, popular, rich, most likely to succeed, and could have anyone he wanted, but he's head-over-heels in love with a smart, but crazy chameleon. He dumps Miss “I’m Beautiful and Better Than Everyone” Peters for the crazy chameleon. Unbelievable! He no longer hangs with his jock buddies, instead choosing to spend all of his time with the crazy chameleon. Aimee couldn’t explain it. Just like Chels said, she must have some kind of magical hold on him, but he was passionately in love with her, and each day it grew stronger…deeper…almost surreal.

They stood on the front porch in darkness. A cool, June evening breeze swirled the sweet scent of newly mowed lawns and blooming flowers through the air. Dylan slowly drew Aimee into his warm body trying desperately to thaw her distracted thoughts. His tender lips finally brought Aimee out of her trance. She was stirred awake by his embrace.

“Hmmm,” he whispered after he pulled his lips away, “you finally
are
listening.”

She whispered back, unsure just what he had said before, “Of course, I’m listening. I just wanted to answer with my lips.”

“After next week we’ll finally be out of East Medford, and in another month we’ll be in Europe
…just the two of us.” He squeezed Aimee slightly when he mentioned
just the two of us.
She knew what he meant. They had yet to return to their interrupted afternoon the day Detective Woolsey showed
up at her doorstep uninvited. She had been too distant lately to revisit the thought of rekindling their first time together. Thank goodness Dylan was patient.

“You know, Dylan, we don’t have to wait until our trip to Europe,” Aimee continued in a smooth voice. Dad agreed to the trip, even though he really didn’t want to, or need to. They were adults, and in another week they both would be out of high school and ready to move on to Eugene. Aimee wrapped her arms around Dylan’s neck and leaned into him, her lips stopped about an inch from his. “I told you I was ready weeks ago. I don’t wanna wait any longer.”

He held her against him firmly, but pulled back just enough to look into her face. Aimee could feel tension in his touch. In the darkness, bathed only by the light from the street lamp, he studied her face. Finally, his body softened.

“Well then, this weekend instead of going to the big party after graduation, let’s have a party of our own. Why don’t we go up to Mom and Paul's cabin? Just us...you, me, and no one else. Hmm?”

“You don’t think Paul and your mom would mind?” Aimee asked, excitement finally returning into her voice. Weeks of perseverating over the recent journey had left her drained of the happiness she treasured when she was with Dylan, and it felt good to feel the electric current his touch stirred rush back through her body.

“Nope. I’ll ask, but I’m sure they won’t care.”

“Well, then, we won’t wait for Europe.” Her lips moved into his, and her tongue searched for his tongue. Aimee kissed him with more excitement than he had experienced in a while.

After a few minutes of making out on the front porch, he broke loose of her lips. “Damn, Aimee, if you keep kissing me like that, we won’t make it to this weekend.”

Aimee giggled. “Well, then, the best is yet to come. I guess this will just have to keep you satisfied until this weekend.” She kissed him once more tenderly, eased back and softly brushed away his hair from his forehead. She kissed it gently. A soft moan escaped his lips as their hands dropped.

“I’ll see you in the morning. Love you, babe,” she said as she stepped into the doorway.

Dylan backed off the porch, still looking at Aimee. He whispered, “I love you more,” then turned and speedily went out to his FJ.

Aimee shut the door softly so she wouldn’t wake her dad. As she walked past the den, Aimee could hear him snoring lightly. Aimee stopped to cover him with an afghan and turn off the TV, then headed towards her room to get ready for bed.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Dad said sleepily as she was leaving the room. She turned back to see what he needed.

“Dad, I’m sorry I woke you.”

“No, I musta just dozed off. I’ve been waiting up for you. Dylan leave?”

“Yep, just now.” Aimee sat down on the couch next to Dad waiting for him to continue. “So, what’s up?”

Dad scratched his head, cleared his throat, and then paused. Aimee could tell he was preparing to discuss something of great magnitude, but obviously not a topic he really wanted to broach. Finally he started, “Well, I’ve been wanting to visit with you for some time now, but you know, things have been a little hectic here lately.”

“Yeah, I guess. So, what’s so important that you needed to wait up for me?” Dad’s hovering hadn’t eased up since her little fainting spell. Aimee figured he wanted to pressure her some more about getting back into counseling. He thought the stress of graduating and moving off to Eugene to go to school was catching up with her, and she needed to see her shrink to get some fine tuning before she crashed. Aimee assured him repeatedly she was fine, and all she needed was to be left alone to deal with the normal chaos in her life.
Every teen finishing high school and going off to college must feel a little like they’re in a pressure cooker, right?
Aimee just needed to use her coping skills and she would be perfectly fine.

But that wasn’t the topic Dad had in mind this evening. He had something else more pressing. He scratched his shoulder, cleared his throat again, then proceeded, “Well…uh…a person would have
to be blind to not notice just how
close
you and Dylan have gotten…and well…”