10:37

by Jacqueline Druga

  10:37

  By

  Jacqueline Druga

  10:37

  By Jacqueline Druga

  Copyright 2017 by Jacqueline Druga

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any person or persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Thank you to Paula Gibson and Kira for your help and encouragement on this one.

  Cover Art by Christian Bentulan

  www.coversbychristian.com

  This book is dedicated to the memory of Linda Korman, a devoted reader of all my books.

  ONE – THE FALL

  “Don’t chew on your eraser, Dawson.”

  That was the last thing Dawson Montgomery heard, or something like that. It was a bit more, his third grade teacher never gave just a warning, she didn’t stop there, and it wasn’t that simple. It was always a warning, followed by the why and then the consequences.

  “Don’t chew on your eraser, Dawson, you’ll swallow it and choke. Then what? The whole class will have to stop just because you have a fidget problem.”

  He never liked when she did that, and it always seemed as if she did that to him a lot. Singled him out, drawing attention to him, and embarrassing him.

  Dawson embarrassed easily, especially in school, he didn’t know why. Maybe because he had a hard time with things. Math was a breeze, but reading and answering questions about what he read didn’t come fast, or easy. He had to think. That meant hand to his forehead causing his dark blonde hair to stick straight up, all while biting on his pencil.

  That was what he did that morning while doing his seat work. He read the story, it was dumb. However, Dawson wasn’t dumb, he just didn’t answer correctly when it came to things he didn’t like. He was convinced had the story been about wrestling or monsters, he’d get every answer right.

  Not when it came to a story about a boy named Sam who had to help his farmer friend carry a pail of water. Dawson didn’t care much for the story when he read it and answering the questions was even harder when the teacher yelled at him every fifteen seconds.

  What Dawson wanted to do was tell her to stop, but that meant sitting out recess.

  Recess.

  He wasn’t really great at telling time, but he knew once that big hand swung up to the twelve, the bell would ring and it was lunch.

  He couldn’t wait.

  Dawson looked up to the clock. It was half way there, little hand on the eleven, big hand just passed the six.

  “Dawson, don’t bite that ...”

  She scared him. He was concentrating, and when she did that, he bit the erased clean off into his mouth.

  Instinct caused him to immediately spit it out, but he wondered if he actually did. All of the sudden, Dawson couldn’t breathe. His throat closed up as if something was in there, his skin felt on fire, and everything went blurry around him. Every inhale was impossible. No air could get into his lungs.

  There was no noise, Dawson couldn’t move. He couldn’t scream for help. It was the one time he wanted his teacher’s attention. She didn’t seem to notice. Heart racing out of control, Dawson didn’t have time to panic, everything went black and his head dropped to the desk.

  <><><><>

  At first, Morgan Welsh tried to be calm and rational, but as soon as she heard Craig’s voice on the speaker phone, she lost it … again.

  “Fuck you. I mean it, fuck you, you’re such a fucking asshole,” she verbally hit him.

  “Yeah, that’s nice, Morg. Real nice. You done?” Craig asked. “No hello first, before you bitch me out?’

  “No.”

  “Then why call?”

  “What am I going to do, text it to you?” she asked.

  “That’s what most people do.”

  “I fucking hate you. “

  “Jesus, Morgan.”

  Morgan hated that Craig remained calm, unrattled. She was angry, beyond that actually. Morgan was an ever changing wheel of emotions. Happy, sad, angry, bitter… it wasn’t anything medical, it was all marriage related. It was out of her control, and she hated when anything was out of her control. Her job and entire life was under her thumb. From what she did in the workplace to how she paid the bills … Morgan had it intact, until the day she grabbed Craig’s phone by mistake and learned her marriage was the one thing she didn’t have a realistic grasp on.

  How it slipped from her, she didn’t know.

  Married life was done, suddenly Morgan was thrust into a different way of living and she, like many others, strongly disliked change.

  “What do you want today, Morgan? Aren’t you supposed to be at work? Oh, wait, are you late again? The every punctual, never make a mistake Morgan, is screwing up her job?’

  “It’s your fault,” she argued.

  “Okay, I’m game. How is your being late my fault?”

  “I went to check the bank account. You’re spending our money …”

  “My money.”

  “Our money!” she blasted. “While it is a joint account, while we are still married, it is our money and you’re spending it on her.”

  “I’m not spending it on her.”

  “You’re lying again.”

  “I’m not lying. I’m spending it on me so I can enjoy spending time with her. Does it make you feel better?”

  Morgan hated the way she felt, enraged. Why couldn’t Craig just be happy with her, why did he have to find someone else? While she lived under a fantasy that all was well in the Welsh marriage, Craig had been seeing a woman in the next county.

  “The only thing that will make me feel better,” Morgan said. “Is if you drop dead.”

  The moment she said that and did the power house ‘end call’ she felt her chest collapse and all air escape her.

  Suddenly every pumping ounce of her blood burned as it ran rapidly through her veins.

  Was it a panic attack, heart attack? It couldn’t be. Morgan had never had one, yet she was choking. She couldn’t take air in, or let it out.

  Her eyes widened, and with the instant thought to hit the brakes or pull over, she instinctively grabbed for her own throat. Her hands were off the wheel a split second when she felt the hard jolt and bang as a car slammed into the passenger door. It spun her vehicle into the next lane facing the opposite direction.

  Even in her duress she was still semi aware enough to see she was on a one way collision course with a truck speeding her way. Losing consciousness, Morgan gripped the wheel and turned it. She traded one impact for another. She was like a billiard ball bouncing from one car to another. Morgan never felt it though, her head dropped to the steering wheel just as she entered the vehicular game of pool.

  <><><><>

  It didn’t even make sense, Judd Bryant thought. He understood his producer wanted an awesome looking music video, however he was still scratching his head over what the heck a construction site had to do with his newest song. Not to mention he was afraid of heights and now they wanted him on the ninth floor of a shell of a building, strumming his guitar and singing, “You dropped me like a bad habit.” It was dumb. He just didn’t get it. No one really watched music videos anymore unless they had some sort of hook. They didn’t do a music video the year before and his song “Craving Carrot Cake and Karen’ stayed at number one in the country charts for eight weeks

  “You’ll take the crew elevator up,” his manager, Ben said. “Stand on the ledge and just strum and sing”

  “No, absolutely not,” Judd told him. “Get a stunt double.”

  “Judd, chicks love a guy who does his own stunts.”

  “Which is why they call them doubles, so no one knows”

  “‘Man
you’re sad. What happened to the fearless country boy?” Ben asked.

  “Fearless?” Judd laughed. “I may be country, but I have never been fearless. Ever. I don’t even swim. Seriously Ben, this is insane. Even the camera guy has a stunt double.”

  “That’s called a camera drone.”

  “Yeah, he’s not up there filming, even he can see it’s insane.”

  “It’s perfectly safe. If you want, I’ll come up there with you and stay out of the shot.”

  “You’ll balance on the beam with me?” Judd asked.

  “There’s not any balancing, the entire floor is finished up there.”

  Judd placed his hands on his hips and looked up to the structure. It wasn’t his thing, it really wasn’t. He didn’t like getting in front of a camera. An audience was different, he was confident playing guitar. When it came to heights he wasn’t. Despite his celebrity status, Judd was a man of simple means. He didn’t like conflict and he hated letting people down. After a few minutes of staring up and some debating, he figured what would it hurt.

  “Okay, fine, but if I fall...”

  “You’ll sell a million records.”

  “Asshole!”

  “Grab your guitar big guy, these workers don’t have all day to wait for us to get done.” Ben gave a hand signal to the director that all was good.

  “I’m pretty sure they’re fine with just standing around,” Judd lifted his guitar, paused for a second, then called for Ben. “Wait.

  “What?” Ben asked.

  “Here.” Judd handed Ben a bottle of water.

  “I’m not thirsty.”

  “No, I need you to spill it behind me.”

  “What?” Ben laughed the word.

  “Spill it behind me. It’s good luck.”

  “Spilling water behind you is good luck?”

  “It’s an age old Serbian custom.”

  “You’re not Serbian.”

  “I’m pretty sure with the way the world is a melting pot, we all have a little Serbian in us.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “I do,” said Judd. “Two percent. I did one of those DNA things. So, please.”

  Ben grunted and took the water. “You know it’s not spilling, it’s pouring.”

  “It’s okay,” Judd said.

  Disgruntled, Ben walked behind Judd and poured some water. ‘There.” He handed him the bottle. “Feel better?’

  “Much. Want me to put some behind you?”

  “No. I’m fine. I don’t believe in superstitions.” Ben walked away.

  A construction worker waited to take them up using the temporary elevator on the outside of the structure. Judd kept thinking about how if he fell, there was no surviving it.

  Once up the floor, Judd didn’t feel so bad, even after the elevator lowered. The building was only missing walls.

  He placed his guitar on, and out of habit, strummed it a few times.

  “Okay,” the director yelled through the megaphone. “Wait for my call. You should be able to hear the music, strum along, I only need a few good shots.”

  Judd gave a thumbs up. Then noticed Ben walking near the edge. “Get back.”

  “I’m fine. It’s not as high as I thought.”

  “It’s high enough. Now get back. You’re in the shot anyhow.”

  “I’m ...” Ben grew silent.

  With his back to Judd, Ben didn’t move, then his hands shot up and Judd watched his elbows flap.

  “You trying to be a bird.”

  Ben didn’t answer. “Ben? You Okay?”

  He turned slightly to face Judd. Ben’s face was blue and his hands clasped his throat. He made eye contact with Judd, then tipped to his left and fell over the edge.

  “Ben!” Judd charged forth, stopping just at the edge. “Someone call 911!” For a split second, Judd believed he had seen the worst thing in his life. In a panic, he peered over the edge, not only did he see Ben, but the director and then the body of a construction worker fell from above him. It fell straight down, fast and lifeless, then another fell.

  Was he having a nightmare? What was happening? Sounds of metal against metal, car crashes, bang and booms rang out all around him.

  Judd’s heart raced out of control and he opened his mouth to scream, nothing came out. He couldn’t breathe and it wasn’t from lack of air. It was like in a second the world ended, and he was the only one still standing.

  TWO – WAKE

  Gasp!

  The air entered Dawson’s lungs and, head still on the desk, he opened his eyes with the large breath that revived him. He was confused, didn’t know what was happening. He remembered choking or not being able to breathe and that was it. Things were blurry. He expected to be scolded by the teacher for falling asleep. He was afraid to lift his head. Would she believe he fell to the desk and it wasn’t in his control? Even if she did believe he choked, she’d then yell at him.

  Dawson had to face the music.

  He sat up.

  The only sound in the room was the ticking of the second hand on the clock. Slowly he looked around. What was going on? His classmates all had their heads laying on their desks, he didn’t even see his teacher. Slowly he stood up. It was a prank, he thought. They were pranking him because he fell asleep.

  “Guys,” he said. “Guys it’s not funny. You can stop.”

  No one moved. The class room was silent.

  “It’s not funny!” He shouted. His stomach twitched and his hands shook, he was scared. Extending a hand he reached out to Melinda. Her head was down, eyes open and she had a blue look to her.

  How did she do that? How did she look like that?

  Dawson was young, he never claimed to be smart, but he knew the second he touched Melinda that she wasn’t joking.

  Her skin was cold and she didn’t move.

  In a panic, he kept pushing her. “Wake up,” he said. “Wake up.” He moved her harder, yet she didn’t respond. Dawson didn’t stop, he shook and shook her until a frightening reality hit him. Melinda wouldn’t wake up and neither would anyone else in his classroom.

  He spun around to race from the classroom and he saw the blood on the floor. A huge puddle seeped out from the side of the teacher’s desk.

  When he stepped closer, that was when he saw her

  His teacher. She lay on the floor, her color was like Melinda’s and a pool of blood not only encircled her head but flowed out like a river.

  Knowing he had to get someone, Billy fled the room screaming, “Help.”

  He raced out of the class room screaming, then a thought hit him. What if someone did it? He heard the news, he knew people did bad things like that at school. With that thought, Dawson quit screaming. He stopped running and moved quietly. When he did, he passed another class. His head slowly turned to his right and he saw the same thing. Everyone in that classroom was the same way.

  He picked up his pace trying not to slam his feet on the floor. It didn’t matter, the halls were so quiet, every move he made echoed. The office wasn’t far, at the end of the hall actually. He had to let the principal know. She would help.

  When he was near enough, he peeked to make sure he didn’t see any bad guys and he shot full speed around the bend into the office.

  Dawson didn’t even cry for help. He saw Miss Molly the secretary with her head on her desk and the principal’s legs extended out of a doorway behind her.

  His little heart beat so fast and his entire being was consumed with a fear that no adult could ever experience. Tears formed in his eyes and then fell rapidly down his cheeks.

  Scared, but knowing he had to try, Dawson reached for the phone and dialed 911.

  It rang and rang, no one answered.

  He thought about hiding, waiting for help to get there, but he was afraid the bad person was still inside.

  After peeking out of the office, he raced as fast as his legs would carry him, down the hall and out the double front doors.

  As soon as he blasted outside,
he knew.

  In front of the school, two cars were crashed and the sound of their still running motors were the only noise. A man and his dog lay on the sidewalk, not moving.

  It wasn’t just his class or his school, it was everywhere and in his confused and frightened state, Dawson did what any child would do at that moment. Emotions took over and he sat down on the curb and sobbed.

  <><><><>

  Morgan floated. At least she felt as if she did. Flashes of light came at her as if she were sailing through space. She moved quickly and was even conscious about it. After feeling the last impact, she was lucid and aware.

  “This is peace,” she thought. “I am at peace. Thank God.”

  She figured her anxiety attack or even coronary, was the reason for the car crash. She hoped no one else was hurt or killed. As she floated she didn’t even know why she was angry in the first place, why she was upset? It didn’t matter. She felt free and at ease.

  “If this is death, then I am good with it.”

  She didn’t feel pain, none at all. Before the accident, something caused her to ache all over, something emotional, but that was gone.

  Morgan was flying.

  The lights grew brighter and she believed, any second, she would see her mother, her father and her sister.

  All waiting on the other side. Waiting to greet her. She moved even faster, then suddenly something changed, something was different.

  A pressure filled her ears and in an instant the bright lights left, it all turned dark and a sharp pain hit her chest. With that pain, her eyes opened and she sat back quickly with a wheezing breath that was deep and loud.

  Morgan would have sworn someone hit her with a defibrillator had she not been alone, her face inches from a bloody and deflated air bag.

  A car horn blasted continuously, but it wasn’t hers. It was in the distance. She tried to move, but even moving an inch, caused sharp pains everywhere. Her head especially throbbed and there was something heavy and wet on her eyes, causing her vision to be blurry. Slowly she brought up her right hand. Her entire arm shook as she brought her fingers across her eyes.