Dying to Return (The Station #3)

by Trish Marie Dawson

  CHAPTER 10

  The laugh that comes out of me is almost animal. Sort of if a dying hyena and a mockingbird had offspring - that’s what I sound like. With tears in my eyes, I begin to choke on the air in my mouth, sucking it in like a drowning person, swallowing it in painful gulps. It can’t be a pretty sight.

  Rush has his arms crossed at his chest during my uncontrollable outburst, waiting patiently for me to stop. I can’t. The laughter roils out of me in waves, each new set clenching my insides and filling my head with an achy pressure. I knew hurtling through space with Rush like a cosmic football would come back to bite me in the ass. I don’t need a mirror to know that my eyes look like his - one blue, one silver.

  “This can’t be happening,” I wheeze between fits of giggles. The floor beneath us is bright white, typical Station architecture, but I’m ignoring it and the room we’re standing in.

  “We could go back, see if that fixes things?” There’s no hiding the irritation in Rush’s voice.

  The laughing stops. Abruptly. I straighten up and point at my face. “I’m sorry, but did I just lose an eye?”

  He throws his hands up in the air and glares at me. “I didn’t do this on purpose, Piper. And it’s never happened before,” he snaps.

  “But you travel alone most of the time, don’t you?” I’m angry now.

  “Yes, but…I don’t know what happened, Piper. I don’t know how to fix it either.”

  “Of course you don’t. I lost an eye, Rush!” I scream the words so hard spittle flies out of my mouth. The electrical current between us whips and coils between our chests audibly.

  “You did not lose an eye. You make it sound like you’re blind! I see just fine. It’s the color that’s changed, is all.” He takes a step forward with both hands on his hips, clearly upset with my reaction.

  “Oh, is that all?”

  We face each other with the same anger. But the source comes from totally different places. I was planning to return to the Station and resume the life I had there. Without Rush. Now I’ll have a piece of him on my face every time Sloan looks at me. Every time anyone looks at me.

  The tone of his voice softens and he risks reaching out to touch my arm. “I don’t think it’s that big of a deal, really. Please don’t be angry with me.”

  All I can do is glower, so I turn away from him and pout. True teenage fashion pouting – with my arms crossed and a scowl on my face that could melt ice. That’s when I realize where we are.

  We are not alone. Oh crap.

  ***

  A petite woman with stylishly cut shaggy brown hair sits behind a white metal desk, watching us with wide eyes and an open mouth. She’s wearing a black spaghetti strap top with heather-grey sweats and no shoes or socks. For a moment that feels like forever, we stare at each other until she closes her mouth and loudly clears her throat.

  “Umm,” is all she can manage to say.

  “Kristie, can you please let the Mentors know I have arrived. We’ll need a private place to talk,” Rush says with an air of authority.

  The pretty girl jumps up out of her chair, nearly tipping it over and scrambles around the desk, nodding at us. “Of course.” She pushes on the wall beside the desk and a doorway opens. I didn’t notice it before. There aren’t any other exits to the round room that I can see, either. Just the two of us and the lone metal desk remain in the room once the woman is gone.

  “What is this place?” I ask Rush. I still have my arms crossed at my chest.

  “It’s a special arrival room, Piper. Just for me.” He sighs and crosses the space to the desk, placing one hand on the top. A moment later Kristie returns and smiles nervously at us from the doorway and beckons us forward with a wave of her hand. Her perfectly manicured nails are painted a dark red. I’m not sure why I find this disturbing, but I do. It means one of the last things she did before killing herself was get a manicure.

  As we near her, the energy between the three of us shifts and a jumble of thoughts drift from Kristie. The only one I’m able to hold onto clearly makes me cringe. She’s terrified of who we are and can’t wait to hand us over to the Station Mentors.

  “Thank you, Kristie,” Rush says to her with a nod as he steps into the brightly lit hallway.

  She’s careful not to touch either of us, and closes the door behind me with a soft click. I get now why I hated him the first time we met. He isn’t here to make friends.

  The hall reminds me of my own Station – boring white walls and milky floors. Sterile. Clinical. The ceiling is curved rather than flat, which gives the space a tunnel-like feel.

  “This way, please,” Kristie says, directing us to our left. We follow the quiet padding of her feet and I’m beyond grateful to be wearing more than my pajamas this time. What I don’t understand is that no one else passes us in the hall. We are completely alone. Where is everyone?

  The room we are led into is just like the previous one in size and shape, except the walls shimmer like glitter and the Mentors of this Station believe in sitting on furniture. White benches curve in a wide arc around the center of the space, creating a large circular seat. Kristie leaves us without a word.

  “Now might be a good time to talk, while we are alone?”

  I toss a quick glare at Rush over my shoulder. Not eager to make significant eye contact any time soon. The loss of my eye pisses me off, petty, I know, but I can’t let it go as easily as he has. When I shrug my shoulders in a nonchalant way, Rush forces out a long breath and sits down on the bench, patting the space beside him.

  “I’m good here,” I mumble.

  “That’s fine,” he says patiently. The fact that he could wait all day for me to break first only upsets me more, because he knows I can’t stay mad forever.

  I blow the air out of my mouth and stare upward. Something is different. Something that has nothing to do with Rush. I can’t immediately grasp what it is. I’m not comfortable. I itch at the waistband of my pants, tugging the material away from my skin and my finger brushes against the indent left there by the seam. Yanking my shirt up, I look down to see red lines along my hip and it takes me a few seconds to figure out why they are there.

  “Rush…”

  “Yes, Piper?” He’s instantly at my side, looking down at me from his tall height.

  “Why is this here?” I turn to the side so he can see where I’ve lifted my shirt and tugged my pants down, exposing my bare hip with the pink indent lines.

  I ignore the blush on his face and focus on his smile instead. “I think that’s from your pants, Piper.” He’s struggling not to laugh at me.

  “I know it’s from my pants,” I bark at him.

  He’s not getting it. I shouldn’t have a mark on my skin from my clothes. My body’s not real in the Station. I mean, I’m here, but pain, discomfort, indents from clothing – all of that goes away now. Right? “What’s it doing there?”

  Rush sticks one of his long fingers inside the seam of my waistband and tugs. The material snaps off his finger, striking my skin hard enough to sting. It’s my turn to blush at the fact that he got an eyeful of my backside.

  “Ouch! Why’d you do that?”

  “To help you figure it out,” he laughs.

  “Figure out what?!”

  Instead of an answer, the door opens and I’m slammed with the thoughts of three new people. Two women, both in their mid to late fifties enter first, followed by a thin man a few years younger. The tallest woman sports a blonde up-do and smiles, opening her mouth to say something when it hits me.

  My body is still feeling.

  With a sharp inhale of breath, I snap my waistband against my skin again and jump at the sharp heat when it strikes me. The whole room stops moving to watch me pat my body from head to toe, giggling like mad when I realize I can feel every limb – every inch of skin beneath my fingertips.

  Rush…

  He moves toward me again and places a hand on my shoulder. Do you understand now?

  My
body. It’s like it was back on your planet. Like it was…before. It doesn’t make sense. But I’m all here. Alive.

  Of course. Consider it a parting gift.

  I’m left stunned when he breaks away from me and approaches the tall woman with blonde hair first. They make no attempt to touch each other but it’s clear she knows him.

  “Andurush. It’s a pleasure to see you again. It’s been too long.” Her shocked look fades away though she sends a curious glance in my direction. Her thoughts convey mixed emotions that center around the fact that she doesn’t trust me and thinks I’m a little bit mad. I don’t blame her.

  “Nora, the pleasure is all ours,” he says. Rush turns to face the other two Mentors. “Sophia, Stuart,” he nods.

  “Who have you brought with you?” Nora asks. She tucks an invisible lock of hair behind one small ear and avoids looking straight at Rush.

  Sophia and Stuart have crossed the room and taken a seat on the bench. They don’t seem happy that we are here. Rush beckons me to follow him and answers Nora’s question as we all settle onto the white cushions.

  “This is Piper. She is my charge.” The room hangs heavy with the sound of our breathing. It’s so quiet that I can hear everyone blink.

  “Hi,” I finally say.

  Stuart snorts out a laugh and then bites down on his lower lip after Sophia glares at him. He has a kind face. His gentle expression matches the soft frays of his cotton shirt and worn jeans. Unlike the women, his mind doesn’t blast information at me like wayward arrows; his only thought at the moment is that a being from beyond has used a slang term as a greeting.

  “Oh, no,” I laugh, smiling at him. “I’m like you. I’m from here. I mean, not here, but Earth. I’m a human girl.” And I sound like an idiot. Even Rush glowers at me. Not exactly how I was supposed to make my introduction.

  Stuart is confused and looks between Rush and I with interest. “I don’t understand.”

  “Piper is from another Station. Though she is a Seer such as myself, she is not family.”

  Family. The shorter woman with straight hair the color of brushed steel assumed I was Rush’s sister because of our now uniquely matching eyes. I laugh. Again, not appropriate. Sitting up straighter, I slam my mouth shut. Rush can do the talking from this point on.

  He takes my silence as an invitation to do just that. “I have come to show Piper your Station and how it works. I hope this won’t be too inconvenient?”

  All three Mentors shake their head no. Stuart is the youngest and least experienced of them. And also the most curious, but he keeps his questions to himself. His brown hair is parted on the side and combed back behind his ears. The blonde, Nora, seems to be the one in charge. She reminds me of Edith in that respect, though they are nothing alike in personality.

  She stands and motions toward the rest of us, “Shall we then?”

  ***

  Once we leave the building I’m shocked with how similar yet different this Station is from my own. The buildings are all in the same places, with the same names and bustling about of people in various night-time attire. But one thing is obvious – there’s no fountain in the center of the Station. No meeting place that I can see.

  Oh, there is. Rush interrupts my thoughts.

  I tune him out, flipping my switch as we are given a tour from one building to the next. Consignment, Admissions, Training and Staff departments. Through the sea of people that mill around from one place to another, I can’t see the furthest corner of the Station.

  “Do you have a place for your children?” I ask Stuart.

  “Yes, the Ones Department is on the other side. Very close to the Station waterfall.”

  “Waterfall?” I gape at him.

  “Well, yes. It’s small but efficient. A very calming place. Would you like to see it?”

  “Heck yeah! I mean…yes, please.”

  Rush sets his face in a hard grimace but Stuart beams at me. I know he likes me, as I remind him of his younger sister. I also know how he died. It is not a way I would want to go. Too painful. There’s also a dark heaviness inside Stuart that won’t leave him, because at the very last minute he changed his mind. He chose life. But the nurses at the Psychiatric hospital couldn’t put out the flames fast enough. It took him two weeks to die from the self-inflicted burns that covered his entire body. Stuck in a coma for those long days, Stuart was aware of what he’d done, and what was coming. The pain of life was far less than the pain of death, but he didn’t know that till the end and there was no way to go back. Not in flesh.

  He was a Volunteer, one of the most successful of this Station for three decades before recently becoming a Mentor when his own moved on to the next phase. Stuart was a fighter. He knows what it’s like to be at the end of the rope, and crawl back up one hundred times, only to slide back to the bottom, where he dangled for most of his adult life. And it wasn’t until he let go that he realized he could have reached for a different rope all those times. It is what makes him an amazing Volunteer and Mentor. He won’t give up on anyone else like he did on himself. I like Stuart.

  With him in the lead, we make our way through the Volunteers and staff members, passing by the entrance on our way to the Ones Department. An elephantine barn door, the color of polished bone, stands alone in the bright-white nothingness. Unlike the metal gates of my own Station, this mountainous door seems daunting and unwelcoming. I’d hate to be on the other side, wondering what was beyond it.

  It’s a feeling inside me that snaps my head forward. I can feel the children. The One’s building is the only place in the Station that pulses with happiness and life. Emotions rush toward me with such force that tears pool around my eyeballs, making it hard to see one foot in front of me through the blur. Rush takes my hand, and I grasp it tightly.

  “I love this place,” Stuart says quietly.

  I don’t want to go in so we hover by the window. From outside the building I can hear a tangle of young thoughts. Mostly of confusion, worry and self-doubt. Children as young as eight play together inside the rooms, yet their thoughts aren’t all innocent and happy like their smiles are. Someone is talking to me – Nora or Sophia but I ignore the voice because another is yelling inside my head. A girl. A girl of only ten years old. She’s hurting. Even here in the Station, she is in pain. I think she’s stuck here.

  Rush, do you feel that? Can you feel her?

  Yes, Piper. I do.

  Where is she? I want to see her. I don’t think she’s supposed to be here, Rush.

  And when you find her, what will you do for her? This is her way-station, remember? Her in-between place. We aren’t in charge of her beyond.

  Ignoring him, I push past Stuart and through the double doors into the small lobby. The colors of the room fade down into a glittering silver as I pass the lobby desk with a startled Intake Specialist.

  “The girl…Holly. Where is she?”

  The Mentors are speaking behind me – both in voice and mind, and I tune all of them out, making the girl’s voice the only thing I truly hear. Without waiting for a response, I push by the now angry female Specialist and into the playroom. In the corner, rocking herself like a damaged toddler is Holly. Her raven hair fluffs out around her head in a bushy mess, and the hollow look in her grey eyes is frightening. Children should never look this broken – this empty.

  “Holly?”

  The other children in the room stop playing and stand still to look at me. Moments later they are gone, ushered out of the room by the furious Specialist who has more than a few unkind words. When the door shuts behind me, the bright walls fade down to the same liquid grey as the lobby. I’m left alone with the girl.

  She stops rocking and looks up at me. Her voice is timid and shaky. “I was too scared.”

  I kneel in front of her and tuck a section of hair behind her ear. “Scared of what, sweetie?” I know the answer, but I want her to be able to say it.

  “They couldn’t tell me what was next, if it was bad, you
know? No one knew. So I couldn’t go. I wanted to stay here with my friends,” she sniffs. “But they’re all gone now. And something’s wrong. I can’t leave anymore.” There are no tears; she just continues to rock herself again. The pain is not a physical one, so a hug or kiss won’t make it go away. I understand now what Rush meant. What can I do to help her?

  I pick through her mind a bit, like I would as a Volunteer and a memory pushes up to the surface. She was seven years old and the first good boyfriend her mother had ran down the street to stop the ice cream truck for her. Except a passing motorist stopped him instead, running over his limp body twice before fleeing the scene. The driver was never caught, and the man that could have been Holly’s new dad one day died twenty seconds before the ambulance arrived. Before the police roped off the area and Holly’s mom beat her, she took a quarter from his bloodied hand and shoved it in her pocket, where it stayed every day for the rest of her short life. She never knew where the other coins went, even though she looked for weeks along the street, being careful to avoid the dark stain in the intersection.

  “Holly. You still have the special quarter, don’t you?”

  She stops rocking to peer up at me again, questions lighting up her pale face. “Yes,” she answers quietly.

  “Can I see it?”

  It is produced from the side pocket of her jean shorts immediately and placed inside my palm. The metal feels warm in my hand, and I turn it over to study it, as if I’ve never seen a coin before.

  “Don’t lose it,” she says.

  “I won’t. Can I borrow it, just for a moment?”

  “You won’t lose it? It’s the only one I have. It’s my lucky quarter.”

  “I know. And nope, I won’t lose it. I’ll bring it right back to you. Will you wait here for me?” She nods and smiles shyly and by the time I reach the door, she is back to rocking in the corner.