Whispers of Death (8 page)

Eight

    The darkness had completely taken over my mind as I tried to focus on something, anything.  I still felt Death's cold hand wrapped around my arm, and I tried to shake him off.  I fought back a deep sense of fear as I began to think Death had lied to me.  My eyes began to focus again, and I felt his grip loosen.  I squinted, staring at a small light that drew closer to me.  As Death released his grip, the light came into full view, and my thoughts were swarmed with different pictures.  I struggled to sort out what I was seeing.

    "Focus." Death's voice startled me.

    "How?" I said aloud.

    "You need to allow me to enter your mind," Death said from somewhere nearby.  "Concentrate on the light you see.  Find something familiar inside.  As you begin to see the image, your mind will relax, and I will be able to show you what I see."

    I still didn't trust him, but I tried to focus on one of the images.  As each picture changed, I found one that felt familiar.  A woman lying on a bed of white linen, her hair black as coal, her eyes blue as sapphires with skin like ivory.  I didn't know why this image felt familiar, but I was able to focus on it for a long period of time.

    "Very good."

    The sound came from inside my mind, and I nearly lost the image.

    "Focus!" the voice snapped.

    I concentrated on the image.  It became brighter and the colors more vivid the longer I focused on it.  The image began to change, and the woman's eyes became black, and she released an ear-piercing scream.  The image slipped from my view and was replaced by a graveyard.   People stood around a casket made of mahogany and trimmed in beautiful silver.  A man stood near the casket, his eyes red from crying, a single rose in his hand.  He gently laid the rose on the casket, and the image changed again.  I again saw the woman from the white linen bed, only this time she was dressed in a long white gown.  She stood near the bedside of two small children; she wasn't human anymore, but a spirit.  The same type of spirit that I had seen earlier that morning.  Her eyes were a dark blue, her body arched in what could only be described as pure agony.  She turned and stared at me, and I felt as if I could see straight into her mind.  She was in pain, not mental, but physical pain.  She dropped her head and sank to the floor, her pain resonating through my own body.

   My vision cleared again before another image took its place. I breathed heavily, the pain from the woman subsiding with the change.  This time I was in a dark room made entirely of some type of black shimmering stone. I searched the room, looking for a way to escape.  On the far side of one wall I found a tiny hole with an even smaller amount of light shining through.  I bent to get a better view and saw on the other side a dark figure holding a large silver-edged blade atop a beautifully carved wooden handle.  He held it carefully away from his body, almost as if he were afraid to touch the blade.

    The image changed again, and this time I was back in my own living room, surrounded by even more spirits.  Death released my mind, and I collapsed on the couch.  I gasped for air.

    "What was that?" My voice cracked and came out as a whisper.

    "That was my mind," said Death.

    I took another deep breath, trying desperately to calm my wildly beating heart. "Why have you shown me this?" I whispered.

    "What you have seen is the death and burial of a mother.  She was hospitalized after a car accident.  You witnessed as she took her last breath, as her husband said his final goodbye, and as she said goodbye to her daughters before pleading with me to relieve her pain."

    "Then why didn't you give it to her?  Why couldn't you take away her pain?" The anger was clear in my tone.

    "The next image you saw," he said, ignoring my questions, "was of Fear holding my most prized treasure."

    "Why didn't you help that woman?" I said, not caring about his most prized treasure, only why he didn't give relief to that poor mother.

    Death stared at me; I thought I saw for a moment a flicker of his own pain inside his black eyes. "Fear has taken my power, and you must get it back."

    My heart stopped. "Fear?  How can Fear take away your power?"

    The dark eyes of Death grew darker, and an image flashed through my mind.  A dark figure laced in shadow holding a large silver blade atop of a wooden handle.  The same image I had seen earlier.

    "Fear has taken hold of the hearts of humans.  It has become so powerful and so prominent that it has begun to take on the shape of man.  The image you see is that of Fear, and he has stolen my most prized possession."

    "The world has so much fear that it created life?" The question was mostly rhetorical, but as I said it aloud I realized I sounded completely insane and waited for Death to answer. "How can humans have created a living Fear?"

    Death moved around the room.  There were spirits everywhere, some following him, pleading. Others watched me, pain etched on their darkening faces.  None stayed for long before being replaced by new Spirits.

    "Humans have created Fear from many different things.  War, murders, dishonesty, pain, sin, sickness, money, power.  All have, in some way, caused someone to fear.  When you have so much fear resonating from person to person, a part of their soul gets lost.  That small piece of soul begins to seek another host, unable to survive on its own. It finds only other parts of peoples souls that are also full of fear.  They cling to one another, and Fear is born.

     "Fear is a human?"

    "No. Fear is not human.  It is not a solid form, but it has become so strong that it can now move and think for itself.  It knows that with more pieces of soul, it will become stronger."

    I could feel my phone vibrating in my pocket, but I chose to ignore it. "How can Fear take something from you if it's not a solid form?" I asked. My phone buzzed again in my pocket.

    "You need to answer that," Death told me. "Your son needs you."

    I inhaled sharply and grabbed my phone and quickly answered.

    "Hello?" I said

    "May I please speak with Mrs. Sable?" said the voice on the other end of the line.

    "This is she," I answered.

    "Mrs. Sable this is Ms. Cathy from the front desk at Glendale school.  Your son Hunter has had an accident on the playground." Her southern accent filled my ears as she spoke.

    I gasped. "What kind of accident?"

    "We aren't really sure, but we have had to call in an ambulance.  The teacher found him near the swing set; he had blood coming from his mouth and wasn't responding.  We think he may have fallen off the swings. He’s on his way to Northwest Hospital."

    "Why wasn't I called before?" I said angrily.

    "We have been trying to reach you, but your phone kept going to voicemail.  I'm very sorry," she said apologetically.

    "I'm sorry.  Thank you for calling," I said, hanging up the phone.  I quickly dialed Mark's number, only to get his voicemail.  I had forgotten that he said he would be in meetings most of the day.

    I quickly searched my phone for his boss's number.  My hands shook as I dialed the number.  It rang twice before his boss answered.  I quickly explained the situation, asked him to have Mark call me right away, and I ran for the door.  Death watched me, his dark stare never faltering.

    "If you take my son from me, I'll never help you!" I yelled as I slammed the door behind me.

    I jumped into my car, spinning my wheels as I sped toward the hospital. My phone rang next to me.

    "Amelia, where are you?" Mark asked.

    "I'm on my way to the hospital.  I should be there in about five minutes." My voice cracked as I talked. I hadn't realized I’d been holding back tears.

    "What happened to Hunter?"

    "They don't know.  They think he fell off the swings.  He was unresponsive when the ambulance picked him up." I cried.

    "I'm on my way.  I'll meet you there," he said.  "Amelia, you need to try and remain calm; you sound like you are about to lose it."

    "I know," I replied, unable to get out any other words.

   
Why is this happening
? I thought to myself.  My life seemed to have been flipped upside down.  From nightmares, to being haunted by Death, Spirits visiting me on a regular basis, and now my son was in the hospital.

    "If this is your idea of a joke, it's not funny!" I yelled to no one as I sped down the road.

    "I'm not laughing," came a reply.

    I screamed and yanked the wheel to the side, slamming on my brakes.  I wasn't sure where the sound had come from. I looked around and found Death sitting in my backseat.  I glared at him and got back on the road.

    "What now?" I asked. "If you haven't noticed I'm a little busy trying to get to my son."  The tone of my voice was sharp as I spoke to him.

    His dark smile gave me the chills, but he said nothing.  I turned up my mirror and took the last turn toward the hospital.  Mark was already there, waiting for me.  His office was only a few blocks away, so it was no surprise.  I took one last look at the backseat before getting out, but Death was no longer there.  I sighed and ran to my husband.

    "We are here to see Hunter Sable," Mark told the receptionist.

    She clicked a few buttons on her keyboard before turning to us. "Yes, if you will please come with me," she said, leading us down a long narrow hallway toward the Emergency Room.

    As we walked, I felt a strange sensation around me, almost as if I were being pulled toward something.  I tried to shake it off, but the closer we got to the emergency room the stronger the pull became.  I grabbed Mark's hand tightly.  He flinched.

    "Are you okay?" he whispered as we followed the nurse.

    I shook my head, searching the surrounding hallway.  There were many closed doors, several hallways, and doctors and nurses moving quickly from one area to the other.  Mark followed my gaze.  He must have understood, or thought I was just worried about Hunter, because he pulled me closer to his side and wrapped his arm around me.

    "Here you are," the nurse said, bringing me back to the present. "Hunter is just down this hall on the left.  He is with the doctors now."

    "Thank you," Mark said, pulling me toward the doorway where our son was.

    When we entered, Hunter was lying down on the bed; two doctors and a nurse were looking over his chart.  His eyes were closed, and he had a bandage around his head.  I ran to his bedside.

    "Hunter?" I whispered. "Honey, are you okay?"

    Hunter slowly opened his eyes and turned to look at me. "Hi mom," he whispered back.

    "Oh sweetie, what happened?" I asked.

    "Mr. and Mrs. Sable?" one of the doctors asked.

    Mark nodded and shook his hand.

    "My name is Dr. Young." he said. "Your son has suffered a concussion.  He said he was trying to do a trick on the swings and his hand slipped, causing him to fall.  He has a terrible headache, but he should be okay."

    "Thank you," I said. "I'm so glad he's alright."

    "Can we take him home?" Mark asked.

    "No, I'm sorry," Dr. Young explained. "We would like to keep him here for twenty-four hours to keep an eye on him.  He hit his head hard enough that it knocked him out.  He is lucky that was all that happened.  From what I was told by the Paramedic, he thought Hunter had broken his neck."

    My heart skipped in my chest. "Why did they think that?"

    "They said the way he was lying on the ground, they were sure that was what had happened.  He wasn't responding, and his heartbeat was very slow.  They got him here as quickly as they could.  As soon as we brought him inside, he opened his eyes and asked to see his sister," the doctor said, smiling. "We knew that he was going to be okay then."

    I smiled. "They have a very deep bond." I rubbed Hunter’s hair. He had closed his eyes again, but the nurse quickly had him open them again.

    "Sorry hun, you need to keep those eyes open for me, okay?" she said, shining a light into them.

    "Lia!" a female voice squealed.

    I knew that voice anywhere. I turned around quickly. Olive stood in the doorway, Peter at her side.

    "What are you doing here?" I asked, giving her a big hug.

    "Mark called us from his car.  We came right away.  What happened?  Is Hunter okay?" she said, rushing to his side.

    I quickly explained what had happened, and she tousled his hair.

    "You crazy kid.  Scared us all half to death.  I guess your Uncle Peter and I have to go get ice cream without you now." She teased Hunter.

    "Nuh-uh." Hunter squeaked. "You promised you would take me tomorrow."

    She laughed. "You think you get ice cream after giving me a heart attack?"

    He chuckled quietly. "I think it should be double now."

    "Oh ho ho, look who is taking charge now!" She laughed. "How about I get you some right now and tomorrow?"

    Hunter smiled crookedly. "Deal," he whispered.

    "Thank you," I mouthed.

   She just smiled and winked at me before returning her attention back to Hunter.  I leaned into Mark; my heart had finally returned to its normal pace.  He held me close as we watched Hunter tease his aunt and uncle about how much ice cream he thought he deserved now that he had been in an ambulance.

    "You okay?" Mark asked.

    Electricity shot through my body at the sound of his voice. He was truly my soul mate. "I don't know," I said truthfully.        

    Although my heart had returned to its normal pace, I could still feel the pull of something stronger, trying to get me to find it.  I could feel it now, calling to me.

    "I'm going to go call the school and tell them what is going on.  I will also need to go get Abby from school soon."

    "I can go get Abby; why don't you guys stay here with Hunter?" Olive said from behind me. "I have to go get superman some ice cream anyway."