Strange Girl

by Christopher Pike

  I fell to my knees and began to dig. The stink of the gasoline and the red rattle of the sparks inspired me to hurry. As far as I could tell, Bo could have a broken neck and a crushed spine and I’d still have to drag him out of the car. Otherwise he was going to be toast.

  “Bo,” I called when I’d cleared away enough snow to see him flopped around an air bag in the crumpled front seat. Trails of blood poured from his forehead and his breathing was ragged and wet but he was alive. “Bo, it’s Fred. Can you hear me?”

  He moaned in pain. “Fred? How are you doing?”

  “All right. How are you feeling?”

  “Like shit.” He coughed and a mouthful of blood splashed over his tan leather coat. He added, “I think I’m dying.”

  I chipped away at the jagged edges of the sunroof with my flashlight. “Nah. You can’t die yet. Janet’s pleading for me to rescue you and if I fail she’ll never speak to me again. You’ve got to help me help you get out of here. You’ve got your seat belt on. You’ve got to unlatch the belt. Can you move your arms?”

  Bo groaned mightily as he dragged his right arm over the swollen air bag. The damn thing was supposed to deflate after impact. “Where is it?” he gasped.

  I focused the beam on his bloody fingers. “Keep going. Two more inches. That’s it—your hand’s right on the latch. Can you feel it?”

  He sounded weak. “I don’t know. Sort of.”

  “Good. That means you’re not paralyzed, that you’ll make a full recovery. If you move your ass. Your tank’s gushing gas and someone threw a handful of sparklers in the engine. We’ve got maybe a minute or two to get you out of here before we’re both barbecued. Are you hearing me?”

  Bo fumbled without luck with the seat belt. The effort exhausted him and he coughed up another wad of blood. “It’s no good. Get away, Fred. Save yourself. I’m not worth it.”

  “Not an option. Janet’s waiting and she says I’ve got to save your ass. So here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to undo that latch and I’m going to pull you out. Do it!”

  Bo made one last desperate grasp at the seat belt latch and I heard it pop loose. Quickly, chipping away a few last jagged spikes of glass from the sunroof, I kicked with my right leg and propelled myself, headfirst, into the front seat of the Mustang. I could just reach the collar of Bo’s jacket. I got a grip on it.

  Unfortunately, I had another problem. My position was way beyond awkward. I was practically falling into the car. I had no leverage, nothing substantial to brace against to pull him out.

  “Are we there yet?” Bo babbled. He sounded delirious; he probably had a concussion.

  “Bo, I need some more help. I need you to push with your feet. Push with one of them if that’s all that’s working. But push now and push hard. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Great. On the count of three: one, two, three!”

  Bo pushed and screamed simultaneously. He probably had a broken leg; he might have had two of them. Whatever, the stab of pain seemed to reawaken him. His eyes popped open and he looked around at the mess he was in. Luckily, his shove had pushed him high enough to where I could wiggle back a couple of feet and still wrap my right arm around him.

  I used my left arm to press against the edge of what was left of the sunroof. It was lousy leverage but it would have to do. Bo began to move. Shards of glass dug into my palm but I chose to ignore them as I continued to pull him up and out. I had never felt such an urge to hurry in all my life. I smelled smoke. Something was burning and I knew we had only seconds before we would join it. The car was about to explode.

  I yanked Bo free of the Mustang. Using one hand for support on the side of the car and the other to drag him over the ground, I pulled him clear of the heavy powder and onto what I hoped was a sheet of ice. A pity I had forgotten about my lame knee. As soon as we moved away from the car, I collapsed beside Bo. He looked at me and tried to smile.

  “Thanks for saving me,” he said.

  “Don’t thank me yet,” I replied as I struggled to get back on my feet. It was lucky for Bo and myself that the girls chose that instant to disobey me. Suddenly they were by our sides. Janet fighting with me to pull her dad clear of the car; Aja struggling to keep me upright. Except for Aja we were all a mess, all in agony, but we didn’t stop working until we were a hundred feet from the Mustang.

  It was then the bomb went off; a mushroom of fire; and a shock wave so powerful it knocked us back on our butts.

  “Daddy!” Janet cried as she tentatively embraced Bo. “Are you all right?”

  I had not heard her call him “Daddy” in ages.

  Not even “Dad.” Not since she was a little girl.

  “Don’t worry about me.” He coughed, more blood spilling from his swollen lips. His breath was scary; a wet wheeze. It sounded like a death rattle. I suspected the impact had cracked a dozen ribs. He didn’t seem able to catch his breath. I tried rolling him on his side but he cried out. I rolled him back. His jacket was soaked red. He was bleeding from so many places. There was no question he had major internal injuries.

  Janet fretted over him but was afraid to touch him. “What do you need? How can we help you?” she said.

  Bo opened his eyes and looked up at his daughter, managed a feeble smile. More blood dripped from his mouth. “You’re here. That’s enough,” he gasped.

  Janet looked at me with pleading eyes. “How long before the ambulance gets here?” she asked.

  I checked my watch; it was broken. “Soon.”

  “That’s not good enough. He’s dying.” Her eyes went to Aja. “We have to do something.”

  Aja stood silent, her face calm in the orange rays of the burning car, staring down at Bo. She did not look at Janet, which pissed her off. Janet stood and grabbed Aja with her good arm and shook her.

  “Do something!” she cried.

  Aja stared at her but said nothing.

  I stood and pushed Janet back, wrapping a protective arm around Aja. “We’re not doing this,” I said.

  Janet gestured to her father lying on the road. His condition was deteriorating rapidly. I feared yanking him out of the car had not helped; that my tug had caused the sharp edges of his shattered ribs to puncture his lungs. He tried to say something to his daughter but couldn’t. His struggle to take in oxygen had become all-consuming. He kept sucking at air that couldn’t help him. The sad truth was he was drowning in his own blood. It didn’t matter that I was supposed to be furious with him; it was agonizing to watch.

  “So it’s okay for her to heal total strangers,” Janet said bitterly. “But because it’s my dad you’re not going to let her help him. Why is that, Fred? Huh? Is it because he doesn’t measure up to your moral code?”

  I pulled Aja closer. “You know that has nothing to do with it. Bo’s near death. Healing him could kill Aja. We can’t risk it.”

  “Liar! You want him to die because of what he did to me!”

  I went to speak and stopped.

  Was it true? Did I hate him that much?

  Janet turned to Aja, pleaded. “Can you do it? Can you save him?”

  Aja stared at her before shaking her head.

  Janet wept. “Why not? You did it for Mike. So you get sick for a few days. You’ll live. And he’ll live. . . .” She lowered her head as tears fell from her face. “You can’t let it end like this. You can’t.”

  Was she speaking to Aja? The Big Person? God? I wasn’t sure but I could have sworn, the way Aja was studying her, that Aja believed Janet was talking to herself. And that Janet was the key to what would happen next.

  Perhaps Janet sensed that. She raised her head and defiantly threw out a challenge. “You’re waiting for me to forgive him, is that it? If I do that, will you heal him?”

  I worried Janet might be right. I pulled Aja back.

  “Forgive him all you want,” I said. “She’s not risking her life to save his.”

  Janet pointed an ugly finger my way. “You’re not i
n charge here. She is.”

  I let go of Aja and took a wobbly step toward Janet. “You’re wrong. I’ll drag him back to the Mustang and throw him in the fire before I’ll allow her to heal him. I’m not bluffing.”

  Bo began to choke; he shook on the ground. He could cough blood out but he could no longer draw air in. His whole body began to convulse. The back of his head banged the ice. Janet hastened to his side, gripped his hands, trying to steady him. She looked up at me with scorn.

  “You let him die and I’ll hate you until the day I die,” she said.

  “Aja doesn’t owe you a miracle,” I said.

  Janet stood. “Maybe not but you do. How many times have you told me that you’re my best friend? That you would do anything for me?”

  Her words pierced me like a sword. Suddenly I felt unsure of what I was doing. But it wasn’t as if my resolve to protect Aja wavered. I knew in my heart how much I loved her; knew I’d die before I’d let her risk her own life. Especially to save Bo.

  Yet my doubt remained and it was odd because I suddenly questioned whether Janet had anything to do with it. I sensed a power gathering around us, an ancient force that was uninterested in my desire to save Aja or Janet’s efforts to guilt me. Something switched, inside and outside, and I suddenly felt as if we stood on a wide-open plain where no horizon existed. I sensed a huge presence approach, which should have been a comfort. Yet I felt lost and very much afraid.

  Janet moved close to Aja, reached out with her good arm, tried to take her hand. “Tell me what to do. I’ll do anything you ask if you’ll heal him.”

  Aja stared at her a long time.

  What she said next stunned us both.

  “Let him die,” she said.

  Janet winced. “What?”

  “He’s dying. Let him die.”

  “But you can heal him. You have the power. How can you say that?”

  Aja shrugged. “He sexually abused you. You were just a kid. Why do you want to save a man like that?”

  “Because he’s my father!”

  “So what? It’s not like he was a good father.”

  Bo choked hard and long; he coughed up so much blood.

  Janet grabbed Aja by the arm, went to slap her. But then her eyes met Aja’s eyes and she stopped. I understood that, why Janet halted, even if I had no idea what else was going on. I’d felt the heat and intensity of Aja’s gaze many times. Janet shook her head in disbelief.

  “What’s gotten into you? What’s wrong with you?”

  Aja spoke in a firm tone. “What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you? Why are you begging me to help a man you hate?”

  “That’s not true. I don’t hate him.”

  “Of course you hate him. You have every reason in the world to hate him.”

  Aja’s words hit Janet like physical blows. Janet groaned as if she were trying to ward them off. But I knew not to interfere even though it was hard not to. Aja was up to something—something I didn’t fully understand. Yet I could see Aja had transported Janet to another world, to her world, and that she was determined to do with Janet what she willed.

  Janet yelled. “Damnit, Aja, can’t you see? I’m trying to save his life!”

  Aja just stared at her. “Why?”

  Janet was as confused as she was hurt. “Why what? Stop saying that. This isn’t like you. You always help people. Please, you’ve got to help my father. He’s dying.”

  “And I told you, let him die. He’s not worth saving.”

  “How can you say that?”

  “It’s true, isn’t it?” Aja said.

  “No. You don’t know him. He’s a good man. He made a mistake but it wasn’t his fault.”

  “It’s always the pervert’s fault.”

  “He’s not a pervert!” Janet screamed.

  Aja turned back toward me. “Let’s go, Fred. I’m getting tired of this.”

  Janet dashed forward and grabbed Aja by the arm. “Wait! He’s not who you think he is. It wasn’t his fault.” She cried in desperation. “It was my fault!”

  The sphere of invisible power around us seemed to tremble. In a mad rush I recalled the conversation I’d had on the phone with Janet when I was in LA.

  “Are you saying you’re not coming back?”

  “I can’t.”

  “That’s crazy. You’ve got to finish out the school year. You can stay at my house. My parents would love to have you.”

  “No. Then everyone would know. And that’s the last thing . . . I hate that you know. I hate how you must see me now.”

  “Janet, you did nothing wrong.”

  “Didn’t I?”

  Aja’s demeanor suddenly shifted. She stopped and stared at Janet. “How was it your fault?” she asked gently.

  Janet lowered her head as if in shame. It was as if she had been broken. I had never seen her so wounded. Tears streamed down her face.

  “Because I let him . . .” Janet stopped, started again. “I let him . . . I didn’t stop him. I let him do it.”

  “Did you?” Aja asked.

  “Oh God, I don’t know what you want me to say! Yes, I let him do it! I let him do it because I loved him!”

  Slowly Aja shook her head. “Janet, you were a child. You were what? Six? Seven? Eight years old? Of course you loved him. He was your father.”

  Janet looked doubtful. “But I came back to him. Even after what he did, I came back to Elder to live with him.”

  Aja spoke with authority. “Your love for your father isn’t why he abused you. Your father abused you because of his own problems. You were never to blame.” Aja paused. “Love—your love, all love—it’s always good.”

  What Aja was saying—it was true. It was such an obvious truth. It pierced Janet like a living flame, burning away the deeply entrenched lies she had been telling herself for ages.

  Janet trembled. “Can it be . . . ?”

  “It’s true,” Aja said.

  “It wasn’t my fault?”

  “It wasn’t your fault,” Aja said.

  Janet shook her head. “I was only a child.”

  “Yes,” Aja said.

  Janet wiped the tears from her face. It did no good—more came. “All this time,” she sighed.

  “It’s done,” Aja said.

  Janet hugged Aja right then, with her one good arm, and Aja hugged her back. They held each other for a long time, before Janet finally let go and turned to stare down at Bo’s face. He had stopped struggling. He lay still, and for all we knew he was dead.

  “Can you heal him?” she asked.

  “If that’s what you wish,” Aja said.

  The decision had been given back to Janet, or perhaps it had always resided in her hands. That frightened me. I did not know what it meant. I did not know what was to follow.

  Janet stared up at the sky and shuddered. Then she looked again at Bo, staring hard at her father, before finally turning to Aja. One last time.

  “I want the Big Person to decide,” Janet said. “Just don’t . . . I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  Aja nodded faintly and stepped past her, before stopping beside Bo. Every fiber in my being cried at me to rush forward and swoop her up and carry her away from this dangerous situation. But I couldn’t move. It wasn’t my injured knee. It was the ocean that blocked my way—the endless ocean upon whose shore I could only stand and gaze out.

  I could beg Aja all I wanted not to heal Bo and it would make no difference. Right then, at that instant, Aja was the Big Person. Everyone was equally dear to her. I liked to pretend otherwise but she loved Bo as much as she loved me. She would give her life to save him.

  Aja looked in my direction and her eyes seemed to say that she was sorry but that this was the way it had to be. I wished I could have fought with her but all I could do was watch as she knelt beside Bo and placed her right hand over his heart and her left hand over his forehead. I heard her draw in a deep breath. I did not hear her exhale but I did see her eyes close and watched
as her head fell forward and the life seemed to drain out of her.

  • • •

  The ambulances arrived fifteen minutes later. By then Bo was sitting up and talking with Janet, not far from the burning front of the car, while Aja and I sat at the rear of the Mustang, near the flames, trying to stay warm.

  The paramedics were attending to Janet and Bo. She had a broken arm, after all, and Bo was obviously soaked in blood, although from what I could hear from the paramedics they couldn’t find anything wrong with him.

  I accepted their offer of a blanket and asked them to examine Aja. But she waved them away. She whispered in my ear that there was nothing they could do.

  “You don’t know that,” I said anxiously. “These people are trained. They’re practically doctors. They have drugs, all kinds of fancy equipment. They can shock your heart if it stops. Aja, please?”

  She shook her head wearily. “It’s too late for that.”

  “It’s not too late. It’s never too late.”

  “Oh Fred.” She sagged into my arms as I wrapped the blanket tightly around her. “Hold me, just hold me. That’s what I need the most.”

  I held her but inside my mind was screaming. “It can’t be too late.”

  She looked up at me, raised her arm, wiped a tear from my cheek. “I should have told you at the start. The days of this body were numbered.”

  “Why?” I said.

  “The Big Person doesn’t tell us why. But it knew. That’s why it sent me to your town. That’s why it sent me to you.”

  I swallowed thickly. “To break my heart?”

  “No. To love you. To be loved by you.”

  I couldn’t believe this was happening. “How long do we have?”

  “Not long,” Aja said, snuggling close to me beneath the blanket, my arms wrapped around her, clutching her, struggling to keep her from slipping away.

  “It’s not fair. I thought we’d have more time,” I said.

  “The time we had together was good.”

  “Did you know it would end tonight?” I asked.

  “No, not tonight. I’m like you with those mystery books you love. I try not to look ahead to the last page.”