Couch T bellows orders to keep moving but my legs won’t obey. I know it seems bad, especially after all Mandy said but only one thing in her speech really stuck out. I only really processed one thing. She’d said, “It’s not like he tried to kill you.” But suddenly I absolutely know that he did. Derrick tried to kill me.
My mind flashes back to the accident again. The memory is always a jumble of shattering glass, spinning car, the smell of oil and blood, and laughter. Derrick laughed as the car spun out and then, as I’d slipped away, lying in a seeping pool of my own blood, he’d stood above me, laughing. That’s the detail my dream was trying to show me. Derrick stood over me, watching me die.
Gradually one more fragment of our conversation surfaces. Derrick tried to kill me and Mandy is now dating him. I shudder. Matt, Justin and now Mandy, one by one my friends are dropping away from me. At least I still have a chance to fix things with Justin.
The rest of the day is a blur. I have the vaguest impressions of receiving a failing grade on my math test, which I can’t really get worked up over. Mr. Maxwell, my math teacher has some thoughts on the subject. He holds me back after last period, giving me the concerned teacher speech. I peer at his big, bushy white eyebrows which are shot through with long dark hairs, like spines on one of those fuzzy caterpillars. His eyebrows move expressively when he speaks. Up and down, up and down as he emphasizes the points he’s making. Up, he is sympathetic about what I’m going through; down to tell me I have to apply myself. Up again when he offers me make up work, down when he warns he can’t give me a pass on my work forever.
I try to seem attentive, nodding and promising to do better but most of me is wondering if it will ever have a chance to matter. Will I ever get back to a place where my biggest problem is failing math? I can’t keep my eyes off the clock over the door. Still there’s plenty of time before the swim team’s practice ends, so I might as well make Mr. Maxwell happy.
Chapter 9: Relapse
The swim complex is at the rear of the school, down a long hallway that’s my favourite part of the new building. Tall windows line both sides, giving it a warm and sunny feeling even in the depth of winter. There’s benches every few feet so it’s a popular hangout spot, especially for the swim team.
Today the corridor is empty and hushed but it still has that sunlit, inviting feeling to it. At the end of the hallway, double wooden doors swing into the observation area for the pool. A small hallway breaks off to each side, leading to the male and female change rooms. I make my way through to the stands breathing in the cutting smell of chlorine. My inner alarm bell starts to ping softly in the background. I slow warily, trying to pin down the out of place feeling that’s creeping over me.
The pool lays before me, blue and still, too still. Where’s the swim team? I glance at my watch; there should be about ten minutes of practice left. Maybe they finished early? Holding still I listen for the sounds of laughter and chatting that should be echoing back from the changing rooms. Silence. Finally I hear footsteps near the pool. I pad down the short flight of stairs that connects the stands to the pool deck. “Justin?”
The wind whistles near my head and then my head explodes with pain, my vision burst into bright starbursts and my body rockets through the air, sailing straight into the pool. “Guess again,” a cruelly cold voice snarls as I smack face down into the water.
I choke and struggle, gasping in lungfuls of red water, gagging and vomiting it out, trying to push to my feet. A second blow spins me in the water. The cool blue water covers me, drowning me. I’m staring up through its shimmering ripples. A pole stabs at me through the water, pinning me against the bottom like a butterfly pinned into a sample box.
Matt’s face moves in sick swells, seen through the heaving water. I shove the pole away from me and kick off with all my strength, breaking the surface and gulping air.
Matt laughs, “I’ll say this for you; you do have fight in you. I was supposed to make your death seem like an accident, but you’re so unreasonably difficult to kill I think I’m just going to have to settle for murder.” He stabs toward me with the skimming pole. I try to evade it but my reflexes are sluggish and I’m numb all over. It strikes me in the shoulder, sending me reeling and dipping my head under the water again. I hold my breath and try to kick away from Matt, into the center of the pool.
“Why?” I gasp when I come back to the surface.
“Why?” He answers it thoughtfully, with a chilling calm. “Funny story, I wasn’t actually going to kill you at first, not part of his plan. But then you sided with the Ethereals and expelled me from my chosen body. Do you have any idea how much it hurts to be ripped out of a body?”
I’m farther away from him now but that means I have to tread water and it he might still be able to reach me with the pole. Not as well, but even a little hit might kill me now. The water around me is darkening to an inky purple as my blood mixes into it. Judging by the large space of clouded water around me, I don’t have a lot of time, either way. “No,” I stammer, “not why are you trying to kill me, you’re evil, that’s what evil does. Why were you trying to make it look like an accident? Seems like a lot of extra trouble to go to.” I stall, inwardly calling to Ephraim, praying he can hear me even with a Numina close by.
“Oh that,” Matt says it casually, almost as an afterthought. “I agree, a lot of extra trouble, you’re hardly worth it. Personally, I don’t care about keeping the bridge between the worlds open. I’ve got myself a vibrant young human body. I can feel things now, really experience them. And do you want to know the first thing I want to feel? Your lifeless corpse in my hands.”
He stabs the pole into the water before me, grazing my leg. Pain should stab through my leg but I feel only a horrifying numbness. I’m cold and his words sound hushed and cottony. He lunges again, but I’m losing consciousness so his movements look like stop motion. I see him stretch himself, leaning way out over the pool, I lose a second, then a weight is forcing me under the water.
Everything is blue and quiet and calm. And then I’m standing a little to the side of the pool gazing down at my own body, watching the life drain away. The pool is painted in swirling reds; it’s a gruesomely biblical scene. The body at the bottom of the pool fights, eyes bulging, mouth gaping open, fingers clawing. It’s much more violent than the last time I died.
I turn away from the scene, unwilling to watch those final moments of horror. Ephraim appears before me, his eyes terrorized and desperate. “No Becks! You have to stay! I can’t lose you. Please hold on. Please. Just fight another few seconds. I’ve got help coming,” he pleads with me, trying to take my hands and hold me to this life. His hands pass through mine, which have become as insubstantial as whips of smoke.
His voice is so filled with pain that I try. I try to hold onto him, but the whiteness of the ethereal realm grows around me until Ephraim is faint and distant. There’s a bright light ahead of me, and I walk towards it. That’s what you’re supposed to do when you die isn’t it?
A burst of energy knocks me back. Agony spreads through me. The numbing haze of the ethereal plane burns away and I see it as I did with Ephraim. It’s endless and I see everything simultaneously. There are legions of energy swirls that are somehow both alive and elemental. Impressions of volcanoes, earthquakes, harsh January nights and killing frosts batter at me.
It takes a second to process. Before me stands an army of Numina. They are shifting, swirling, waiting…for what? And the answer chills me. They were waiting for me to die. Somehow my death will open a way for these masses to swarm into my world.
“EPHRAIM!” I scream. I tried to run back to him but it’s was like running through water. Something heavy pulls at my legs, pulls me backward. My body, the pool, everything streams away from me and before me, a great shining hole is opening.
And then out of the whiteness Ephraim’s hands touch mine and he pulls me into his arms, tears running down his face. “Becks! This is the ethereal plane, not the
netherworld. How are you here, instead of the Netherworld?” He crushes me against him, “Never mind, I have you.” I feel his body go rigid against mine and guess what he’s seen. Still holding me he eases away from the throngs of Numina.
The whiteness drifts away from us and we’re standing on the edge of the pool again. Matt is still holding my body pinned against the bottom of the pool and impossibly, I’m still fighting, still flailing. How much time has passed?
“Hey!” An angry voice shouts. Justin comes charging out of the changing room, “What are you doing?” He slams into Matt, knocking him backward. The pole drops from his hands, but my body is still on the bottom of the pool.
Matt recovers quickly and rolls into a crouch, ready to fight. He’s larger, stronger and possessed by an evil spirit. Justin doesn’t stand a chance. “Help him,” I urge Ephraim.
Ephraim doesn’t respond but another cry and another ring out as other members of the swim team rush over to back Justin up. Matt curses, assessing the odds of the situation and runs. A few of the boys turn and chased him, the others, disappear.
Justin swings around and dives into the pool. He covers the distance to me in that one long dive, wrapping his arms around my body and kicking up to the surface. He heaves us both out of the pool and starts CPR. I watch his arms pumping up and down on my chest, watch him lower his mouth to mine, tilt my head back and breathe in. It isn’t working. My body is still cold, blue and oozing blood. Also, I’m still standing a few yards away from my body instead of looking up at him.
He doesn’t give up; he pumps and breaths, pumps and breaths. Suddenly I feel a tug and then the world slides by me. I close my eyes and when I open them again I’m in anguish. My lungs burn, my head throbs, I can’t breathe. Coughing, I vomit up the water choking my lungs. Justin holds me, helps me tip my head to throw up. “Becka,” he whispers. “Oh god Becka. I’m so sorry.”
“Why does everyone who saves my life apologize for it?” I manage feebly.
He’s crying, and shaking at the same time. “We have to get you to the hospital,” he says urgently.
“No!” I try to make it forceful but another round of coughing shakes me. I’m trembling all over cold, so extremely cold. My teeth start to chatter. Justin leaves my side, dashing into the office and coming back with a large rescue blanket that he wraps around my shoulders as he helps me sit up. My teeth are chattering so badly, I can barely talk. “Not the hospital- can’t protect me- anyone could be Numina- Ephraim can heal me- he’s my best chance.” I struggle to get out the most important facts. If he brings me to the hospital I know I’m as good as dead. Justin looks like he’s going to call an ambulance anyway so I add, “have to trust me.”
Either I’m lighter than I thought or Justin is a lot stronger than he looks because he scoops me up into his arms, blanket, soaking clothes and all. Held against his chest, my head on his shoulder, I drop into a semi-conscious stupor. The sensation of being carried goes on and on. A rush of chill air sends new shivers running down my body, the cold sinking in deep.
The next thing I’m really aware of is a blast of warm air on my face and the vibrations of a moving car. Justin’s arms are no longer around me but I can hear his voice talking to me steadily. I strain to tune in and make sense of what he’s saying. “-It’s that or the hospital Becka.”
“Emm-” I groan, trying to focus my eyes on him. Are we in my car? “It’s what or the hospital?” I ask groggily. The roaring pain in my head makes it hard to think.
“You’re awake! Good, now try and stay with me. We’re almost home, I’ll have you all warm, and bandaged up in a wink.” His voice is falsely bright and cheerful, which means that he’s scared witless but covering it for my sake. Too bad I know him so well; I really could use some cheering up.
He carries me again into his house and up the stairs. This time the sensation of being carried makes my stomach roll and the world spin in a terrible way. I’m grateful for the stillness when he lays me down on his bed. Distantly, I know Justin’s first aid skills are pretty advanced but it’s was one thing to see him perched on a lifeguard tower and another thing to lie prone before him as the patient. He runs his hands smoothly and carefully over my body. Most of it hurts, but my injuries aren’t really life threatening or I’d be lying face down in the pool. I have a long gash down my leg, some bad bruising on my abdomen and a long but shallow cut across the back of my head, and probably a concussion. It’s nothing that a few bandages and Ephraim won’t be able to cure. At least I hope so, because we don’t really have another choice.
With incredibly gentle fingers he wraps the cut on the back of my head, and then rolls up my pant leg to fix another bandage in place. But even though I’m not bleeding anymore I’m soaking wet and shivering. So I know the really embarrassing part is coming next. I’m too weak and out of it to undress myself so Justin quickly unbuttons my shirt. “Nothing to be embarrassed about,” he says gruffly, “After all, I’ve seen you naked before.”
“I was three,” I groan, as he peels away the shirt that is plastered to my wet arms. He has one of his own ready which he wraps around me right away, still the fifteen seconds of wearing only a bra in front of him are enough to candy coat me in red blush. Justin is also pink from the tops of his ears to the collar of his shirt, so I’m not the only one painfully aware of how almost naked I am, despite what he says.
I draw the line at letting him help me out of pants. It’s not easy, but I manage to struggle out of my sodden and heavy pants on my own. Once I’m in an old pair of Justin’s sweats and wrapped in his blanket, with my head bandaged up, I actually feel almost human.
He offers me extra strength Tylenol and I gulp them down quickly. And then he lets me lay down and dims the lights. He sits on the edge of the bed, sort of petting my hair, and talking to me. Mostly I just hear the rumble of his voice. Maybe I sleep, I’m not sure. Certainly, I drift in and out of awareness.
When I wake again Justin isn’t beside me. A stab of fear punches into me. I bolt upright. Pain shoots through me and my head spins, sending me breathless back against the pillow. “Justin?” I call frantically.
“I’m here. I’m here Becka.” He says immediately from the doorway. Light spills in from the doorway and I hear the clink of glasses and the sound of the television in the background, his family is home. His hands are cool and steady against my skin and I unconsciously lean into his touch.
He hesitates then pulls me carefully against him in a hug. “Scared the hell out of me Becka. I thought I’d lost you, again,” he says gruffly. He pulls back a bit, so he can look me in the eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. You tried to tell me, I didn’t believe you and you nearly died. This is my fault. Can you ever forgive me?”
I give him a weak smile. “You saved my life. I think that means you get automatic forgiveness. Besides, this isn’t your fault. It was Inteus. He’s the bastard that held me under water with a pole until I died. Plus, it was kind of a crazy story. I might not have believed me either, if I wasn’t living it.” My smile broadens a little.
He cups his hands around mine, blowing warm air on my chilly fingers. “I’m sorry for the stuff before that too, almost ruining our friendship. I should have known-” he catches himself and finishes quietly, “-better.” He isn’t looking into my eyes but he doesn’t really need to.
I lift one hand to his face, running my fingers along his jaw. His head swings up, surprise and confusion and just a glint of hope in his bright blue eyes. “That other stuff didn’t almost ruin our friendship, seriously.”
Justin doesn’t react right away. I can see him considering what I’ve said, weighing the possible meanings. “Becka, I’ve almost lost you twice now. It put a lot of things into perspective for me. You’ve been my best friend for, well I guess you’ve always been my best friend. You’ve been the one person I could always trust and always turn to. You know how much you mean to me.” He takes my hand back and looks me right in the eyes. The rest of it- the part
he doesn’t say hangs between us as clearly as if he’d shouted it.
I don’t know what to say, what to feel. My feelings for Justin are deep and complicated. Trying to shift from thinking of him like family to something else feels overwhelming right now. There’s a right answer to this though, a right way to respond and I desperately search for what it is, but my brain’s all sluggish and slow. The longer I wait the more hope seeps out of Justin’s face, like air leaking out of a balloon. “Justin,” I start without really knowing what I’ll say next. “You know how important you are to me…” My voice fades away weakly. I can see from the crestfallen expression on his face that I’ve gotten it wrong.
“It’s okay Becka.” He sighs. He changes the subject briskly, “So where is this spirit you told me about? A little absent when you were being drowned wasn’t he?” There’s just the slightest hint of bitterness in his voice.
I feel the air around us change. I know Ephraim was probably watching this entire time, but I’ve been too focused on Justin to feel his presence. I raise my voice a little, calling out, ‘Ephraim, you might as well manifest. I can feel you nearby.”
The air beyond Justin shimmers a split second before Ephraim is standing in the room. “I didn’t want to interrupt,” he says sheepishly. “You two were having a moment.” Turning to Justin he continues, “We need to do a better job of protecting her or the Numina will not only kill her; they’ll over run the mortal plane.”
Justin looks stunned, staying very still while he absorbs Ephraim’s appearance. “Okay. Let’s just say for a minute that all this is really happening, and I’m not completely convinced that it is, I think you better start at the beginning and catch me up. Who are the Numina and why do they want to kill Becka? Actually, scratch that. Let’s start with who, or what, you are.”
Ephraim pulls over Justin’s computer chair and settles in. He speaks to Justin but his eyes stay focused on me. “I’m an Ethereal. Put simply Ethereals are a part of the vital essence of the world. We are energy and spirit in their purest forms.”
Ether Page 11
