The Weird Travels of Aimee Schmidt: Seeking Others

by J. A. Schreckenbach

  In seconds she could no longer outrun the water. It engulfed her, and like a riptide, carried her away. And as she was being swept away in the rushing water desperately trying to keep her head above the surface, Aimee crashed into a palm tree. Miraculously, she managed to grab ahold of it and not get yanked away. The water's power easily destroyed objects, but the tree stayed put, and she held onto it for her life. Stuff floated past. If she wanted to survive, she had to get out of the water. Letting go of the tree would be a death sentence. Aimee looked up. The tree was very close to the side of a parking garage. Its stem could provide her a foothold like a stepladder while she climbed upward. She hugged tight to the tree and slowly shimmied higher until the stem offered no more support. Aimee glanced down. The water was about twelve feet below, and she hung just above the second floor of the structure. She could reach out and touch the concrete wall with her foot. The water looked like it was rising. There wasn't a choice. Either she attempted to jump over the wall and land on the second floor, or she risked falling into the rising water, and most likely drowning. She had to jump. Aimee closed her eyes, said a quick prayer, opened her eyes, then leaped! Amazingly she cleared the wall except for her left shin, which hit the concrete side as she hurdled over. Aimee landed on the concrete wincing in pain, but thankful she landed on solid ground. A few minutes passed before she tried to stand. Her shin was bruised and bleeding, but nothing felt broken. She checked over the side. The terror below paralyzed her. Her heart raced. She had never experienced anything so frightening. Suddenly she heard something and she spun around. She could only see three vehicles, nothing else. But she could hear someone crying. Aimee searched the direction of the sound, then cautiously moved towards it. She stopped at the end of one of the three parked cars. Immediately she saw him; a young boy crouched in the corner crying. She looked around. No one else seemed to be here but the two of them. Slowly she started towards him.

  She asked as she took a couple steps, “Are you here by yourself?” Startled, he jumped up. He nervously scanned the area deciding how to escape. She stopped about twenty feet from him and said very calmly, “I won't hurt you.” They stood staring at each other. Aimee wondered if he understood her. She asked, “Do you speak English?”

  He said nothing.

  And then he bolted and took off running as fast as his short legs could carry him towards the other side of the structure. Aimee's left leg felt on fire, but she chased after him. He was fast, but she was gaining. In a flash he made it to the wall, then looked over the side. She came to a screeching halt.

  Aimee yelled, “No! Please get away from the edge!”

  He turned and stared at her like a captured wild animal.

  She started again, her hand extended towards him, “Please, I'm not gonna hurt you. I'm just gonna come a little closer.” Slowly, she stepped a foot towards him, then stopped. He never took his eyes off her. Then she inched one more step closer. He peeked over his shoulder. Aimee froze. “Hey, please let me help you,” she pleaded. He glanced at her for a second, then behind him again. Another step forward. He looked back at Aimee. The color in his face was gone. His eyes looked crazy. She recognized that look.

  But before she took one more step, he twirled around and started to climb over the wall. Like a bolt of lightening, Aimee sailed the few remaining feet until she was an arm's length away. He managed one leg over the edge and she propelled herself through the air. Their bodies collided and Aimee knocked him over the edge as she clamped her arms around his small waist. In slow motion, both of them started over the wall until her foot caught hold of the pipe railing attached to the concrete. Her body abruptly halted with her upper body hanging over the opposite side and the boy dangling upside down in her arms, flaying and screaming at the top of his lungs.

  Underneath his head about fifteen feet down, the raging water rushed back to the open sea carrying everything it managed to gobble. She couldn't let go. His life was in her arms, literally. Like a hooked marlin on a line, he thrashed wildly. But she was bigger, stronger, and more determined. She tightened her arms, only his swim trunks began slipping, and her arms started to slide away from his waist. Aimee gritted her teeth and growled. He screeched while his body slipped through her arms inch by inch.

  Aimee screamed, “PLEASE, PLEASE, GOD HELP US!”

  And instantly it happened!

  He slipped through her arms to his ankles, but magically her left hand gripped his left ankle, and her right hand glued to his right ankle. Abruptly, the wriggling halted, and in a flash, like he was a brook trout, she reeled him in back over the concrete wall. His little body melted into a lump, and Aimee fell to the ground with him. She immediately searched for a pulse. She whispered, “Thank you, God!” It was racing, but strong. She checked him over for injuries. Other than some red scrapes on his legs and stomach, he seemed okay. After a very long moment, he started to come around. Aimee restrained his arms so he wouldn't try to escape, or fight to protect himself. When he finally opened his eyes, he started to wrestle, but this time Aimee had the advantage. Her one hundred and twenty pounds kept him pinned. At last, he wore himself out. The struggle ceased, but the crying commenced. Aimee whipped him into her arms while he sobbed.

  She whispered, “It's all right.” Aimee didn't know if he understood, but he molded into her arms like he needed mothering. She held and rocked him forever until he cried himself to sleep. Gently, she laid him on the ground. She needed to assess the situation below them. The sun was setting, bathing everything in an ominous, red glow of destruction. She peered out into the town. Her breaths stuck in her throat as her gut somersaulted. She had seen horrible things on her travels, but nothing compared to this. Miraculously, the water level on the tree had stopped rising. A small ray of hope, she thought. Aimee decided it was too dangerous to leave the building, but the cars might help them survive. She checked the boy. He was still sleeping. Aimee flew over to the first car. It was locked. She searched the interior for anything they could use. Nothing obvious. She raced to the next car. It, too, was locked. Nothing looked promising. Darkness approached fast. She hurried to the last vehicle; a small pickup.

  Aimee muttered, “Eureka!” A cooler was in the bed of the truck. She flipped open the lid and a half dozen bottles of water floated in semi-cool water. Aimee grabbed one, untwisted the lid, and gulped half of the bottle. She wiped her arm across her mouth, then drained the rest of the bottle. Five bottles remained. No telling how long they would be stuck there so she had to conserve the rest. Aimee checked the boy. He now almost blended into the darkness, but he was still asleep. She put the empty bottle in the truck's bed, then tried the door handle. It lifted! The light instantly popped on. Aimee rapidly searched the console, then the glove box. Bingo! She found a flashlight. It worked. She used it to search behind and under the back seat. Score! A bag of pretzels and three apples were stored away in a shopping bag, and an unopened first aid kit.

  Aimee whispered, “Thank you, Jesus!”

  Suddenly, Aimee heard rustling. She grabbed the bag, the kit, and reached in the cooler and snatched a bottle of water. She stepped quickly over to the boy and sat down next to him. His eyes opened and the first thing he saw in the frail light was the bottle of water and an apple. He whipped the bottle from her hand, and like Aimee, he downed the water in seconds, then he grabbed the apple and ate it like a starving dog. He never peeled his eyes from Aimee. She opened the bag of pretzels and chewed one while she watched him finish the apple. She offered the bag and he took a hand full, and quickly they disappeared.

  He hadn't said a word to Aimee. She felt positive he couldn't understand her, so she doubted she would understand him, that is if he spoke. She certainly understood his body language. He was scared, confused, and obviously hungry. But someone sent her here to help him, a young boy, all by himself, alone in this garage. Aimee figured somehow he must have gotten separated from an adult, his family most likely, and landed up here stranded. She just wished he could tell her what
happened.

  Aimee finally spoke, “I guess you don't know what I'm saying, but you're gonna be okay. I promise.” She smiled, then reached over and gently touched his cheek. Finally, a smile slowly lit his face. They sat quietly munching on pretzels in the flashlight's dim illumination. Aimee held out her hand. He took it. She got up and pulled him up, then she picked up the bag of pretzels and they walked to the truck hand in hand. Aimee opened the truck door, then reclined the passenger seat. She gestured to him, “Your bed tonight, young man.” He paused for a few seconds, but understood her gesture. He crawled in. Aimee shut the door and stepped around to the other side. He watched her adjust the driver's seat. She eased in and shut the door, hit the lock button, and reached over and took his hand. Like magic, a silly kid's song from her childhood popped out of Aimee's mouth. He giggled. She chuckled, too, then ended with the prayer she said every night as a young child. In a few seconds, the boy's grip loosened, then he drifted off to sleep.

  She felt exhausted, only her mind wouldn't shut down. The horrific images of the dead and destruction, and people still alive, but being swept out to sea, swirled in her thoughts. Her brain hurt. Her heart ached. Her nerves sizzled. Suddenly she realized she had never stayed on a mission this long. Left to survive something like this was more than most adults could handle, but being a kid and waking up and finding Aimee gone would be the worse ending possible to this mission. She prayed she would stay just long enough to get him to someone who could help him find his family.

  Aimee sat quietly in the dark, listening to the young boy's breathing as he slept. He sounded at peace. She wondered what he was dreaming. After what seemed like forever, she floated off, too. A few hours later the rising sunlight peeked into the garage. It awoke her. Aimee checked her companion. He was still asleep, curled up in the seat. She sat up, stretched, then looked around the garage. It was just like it was the day before. They were the only occupants. She eased up the lock and quietly opened the door. The boy stirred, turned, and went back to sleep. Aimee slid out and walked over to the edge of the garage wall and looked out. She gasped! The water's destruction was visible everywhere. She checked below. The water marking on the palm dropped enough during the night for them to attempt to wade through it to higher ground. She raced back to the truck and woke up the little boy. He sat up and wiped his eyes, then quickly got out and followed her back to the edge.

  Another miracle!

  Off in the distance Aimee spotted people scurrying around. She screamed and waved her arms wildly. The young boy yelled, too, only in another language. They heard them and stopped. A man left the group and started their direction. He stopped about fifteen yards from the water's edge. He cupped his hands around his mouth, and in English hollered back, “Are you okay?”

  Aimee nodded.

  He continued, “How many are with you?”

  Aimee put her arm around the boy and yelled, “Just the two of us.”

  He ordered, “Stay there. We'll have a rescue crew come to you as soon as possible.”

  It seemed like minutes turned into hours, but like he promised, a couple men showed up with a rope. One tied the end of the rope to a pole and stayed at the edge of the water, while the other waded through the water holding on to the rope as he slowly crossed to the garage. Finally he reached the building and tied off the rope at the entrance. Aimee and the boy leaned over and watched him until he disappeared into the structure. The other man waited. In a fast minute the man, his pants soaked up to his waist, emerged from the stairwell. They both tore over to him. Excitedly, they hugged and cried.

  The nightmare wasn't over, though. Aimee had helped the boy, but for now he was alone. He still hadn't spoken. They didn't know who he was, or what had happened before Aimee found him. Alas, rescues like theirs had started all over the area. People were out searching for the missing. Aimee prayed, again, that they could help him reunite with family. Unfortunately, the pounding in her head started just as the man came out of the stairwell. It reminded her she was departing soon. They needed to move fast. Aimee quickly told the rescuer their story. The man took the boy's hand and asked him in English, “What is your name, young man?”

  The boy broke down crying, and for the first time, through tears and in perfect English with a hint of an accent, he answered, “Alexander Granholm.”

  Aimee couldn't believe it! She wondered, Why? Why didn't he talk to me?

  Tears flowed down his cheeks. He wiped them with his arm, sniffled, and told them his mother and father were escaping with him when his dad let go of his hand. He kept running, but the giant wave took away his parents, and he somehow escaped into the garage and made it up the stairs to the second floor and the water trapped him here. He stopped, caught his breath and pointed at Aimee. He said, “She saved....”

  Only that was it. She didn't hear another word. The tunnel captured her. And when she arrived back to her present, she was standing outside the store. She came back seconds before a bald, old man sauntered past in the parking lot pushing a basket of groceries. The man stopped and asked, “Are you okay?”

  Aimee nodded, then she whipped up her pack, found her keys and hit the unlock button. The man continued to watch her while she jumped in, backed, and sped out of the parking lot.

  The porch light was on when she whipped into the driveway, but before she cut the engine, Dad stepped out onto the porch. He didn't wait for her to get out. In a flash he was at her car door opening it.

  He started anxiously, “Aimee, where have you been?”

  “I went to Ashley's,” she answered. She realized she was missed. More questions ensued.

  “I called Ashley's and woke up her mother. Ashley said you left maybe fifteen minutes ago. James started calling you after Dylan couldn't get you to answer your phone, then both of them called and woke us up. We all have been trying to get you for the last five, maybe ten minutes. Why didn't you answer anyone?”

  Aimee bristled. She didn't like Dad's tone. His concern was changing to anger. She figured she had only been unreachable for less than a few minutes. Why all the worry for a lousy five minutes? she wondered. But she knew her track record would make anyone worry. The odd disappearances. The ghastly accidents. And the attempt on her life!

  “Dad, I'm fine,” Aimee started. “When I left Ashley's I went to the store to get some shampoo, and...” she paused, then stepped out, “...and the sprinklers came on when I was walking by the grassy area outside the store. I tripped over some uneven concrete trying to keep from getting wet.” Aimee stuck out her leg and rolled up the end of the jeans to expose the injury.

  Dad rubbed his jaw with his hand, then shook his head. He asked, “Painful?”

  “I scraped it, but it's not bad.”

  “Dang, Aimee, you get yourself into more predicaments,” Dad commented while he shut the car door and eased her backpack from her shoulder to carry it. “Go inside and put something on that scrape.” He walked behind her with his cell phone up to his ear. Before she went through the door, Aimee heard him talking to James.

  Zonker greeted her and trailed after her down the hall. Dad's door opened and Hannah, in a robe, stepped out.

  “Oh...hello,” Aimee greeted with surprise. “I'm sorry. I didn't know you were here.”

  Hannah awkwardly smiled, then replied, “I guess this evening's been full of surprises. Mike wanted to tell you about me moving in before you found out like this...” she paused, “...but it didn't happen as planned. I'm sorry. I imagine it might be a little upsetting to find out about the wedding...and now this, without a chance to prepare you.”

  Aimee started, “Dr. Morris...

  “Please, Hannah...” Dr. Morris interrupted.

  “No, it's okay...Hannah. What you and my dad do is your business. I'm really tired now. I'm gonna take a quick shower and go to bed. I'll see you in the morning.”

  Dr. Morris nodded, then stepped back into her room and closed the door.

  “Come on, Z Boy,” Aimee said wearily. He
beat her into the bedroom and jumped onto the bed, like he always did, and watched her.

  Aimee dug some clothes out of her suitcase and headed for the bathroom. She heard Dad coming in the front door so she ducked into the bathroom before he could start a conversation. Aimee had too much on her mind; the mission, Dad and Hannah's surprise wedding announcement, and now discovering they were shacking up together. Plus, Dylan had blown up her phone trying to reach her, and she hadn't been able to call him back so he worried James, who worried Dad unnecessarily about her not answering her phone.

  “Geez,” she moaned as she gawked at her ragged image in the mirror. This weekend was supposed to help her escape the stress she had been under since the spat at the barbecue. It certainly didn't start out relaxing. Aimee quickly showered and checked her phone when she stepped out onto the bathmat. Dylan sent a text.

  James called...said ur ok...at the house...please call when u get this...love dylan

  Hmmm...love Dylan. That's a good sign, she decided. She wrapped a towel around her hair, dressed, put some antibiotic cream on the injury, and quietly slipped out of the bathroom. Dad was waiting in the kitchen at the table. He heard her and started out into the hall.

  “Aimee, can we talk?”

  “Dad, I'm really tired. Can this wait until morning?” She didn't feel like getting into a long, dragged out discussion about her, or him and Hannah, or any other concerns.

  He replied, “I'd really like to talk now, if that's okay?”

  She sighed. “All right.”

  He walked into the living room and sat down in his recliner. Aimee followed and stood at the far end of the couch. “So, what's so important it can't wait until tomorrow?”

  Dad leaned forward, both elbows on his knees and rubbed his hands nervously, took a long breath and began, “I, actually both of us, want to apologize for not letting you know before about Hannah and me. Everything. The wedding, and Hannah moving in with me. It's just that I thought it would be better for us to keep the house and Hannah could sell her townhouse. She's had an offer, so we went ahead and moved her stuff out a couple weeks ago. Almost all of it is in the garage until we can decide what stays and what she wants to sell. Anyway, I want you to know that just because Hannah is living here now doesn't mean anything has changed. We're doing pre-nuptials. This is still yours and James's house. If something happens to me, it will go to you two. Understood?” Dad stared at Aimee waiting for a favorable response. She wasn't sure how she felt about it. She needed some time to process it all before she could answer.