Her head ached sharply, but she was okay. She needed to go pee, only she didn’t move. Instead she listened to Dad’s musical snoring. But the details from her accident returned. Aimee remembered the second after she crossed into the path of the baseball bat. James swung it with the force of a six year old gunning for a home run. Luckily, it only grazed the side of her skull. Her eyes flickered, and then they rolled back into her head. Her body suspended in space for a fraction of a second, then dropped to the ground.
Aimee didn’t know how to describe it to Dad other than she flew. How could she explain the impossible? Who would believe her? It was too strange for the fantasy world of a four year old; no witches on brooms, fluttering apparitions, or even angels.
Her travel, out-of-body experience, or whatever you called it, was scary, but at the same time exciting. The sensation of her body lifting from its limp shell, floating over home plate like a Black Hawk helicopter suspended in the air, was real. Every sense was magnified tenfold. The pain of the impact felt like a hammer pounding a stake into her brain. Aimee smelled the musty red liquid exploding from the tiny hole in her scalp, and she heard the whooshing of the birds’ wings as the crack of the bat hitting the ball startled them into flight. As her body crumbled across home plate, Aimee watched James gather her up and hold her in his lap. He screamed at Ryan, who was frozen on the pitcher’s mound, to find Dad. Her blood spurted on James, soaking his white t-shirt. Tears streamed down his cheeks. And Aimee saw Dad when he dashed into the backyard from the garage with Ryan a step behind. The wrench slipped out of his fingers when he saw Aimee's lifeless body. She watched him charge towards them, screaming hysterically at James. Every detail stayed etched perfectly into her mind’s subconscious.
Then suddenly, as quickly as the body had lifted, it got sucked out of the light back through the darkness and returned to her limp body. Any sane person would call it an hallucination, or her subconscious filling in the missing seconds, as Aimee's psychiatrist described it, but she knew the truth.
The horrendous headache that followed her accident finally subsided after several days. Dad had the doctor run Aimee through every possible test, poking and prodding only to find out she was a healthy four year old. Then when she was eight, Aimee started having severe headaches. Dr. Miller subjected her to more tests. Again more negative results. Dad fretted so over her that almost every time Aimee complained about feeling bad he toted her off to see Dr. Miller. Aimee was under constant scrutiny, as if any moment she might explode into ashes and blow away.
Fourteen years have passed since Aimee's first travel, and she still vividly remembered the terror in her dad's eyes when he saw her body draped over James’s lap. Only four years after Marie’s death, losing Aimee would have killed him, if not physically at least mentally. It would have been more than he could handle, and he would have given up, no matter how much James needed him. So, if Dad had a need to hover, then so be it. It was the least Aimee could do for him.
The pain of traveling was worse than any pain Aimee had ever experienced, but other than the miserable headaches, she was okay once she got out of the tunnel and made it back. Aimee tried to tell her father, but he wouldn’t listen to her wild tale. She didn’t know what was happening to her, but Aimee knew it wasn’t a dream. It was real. Her dad didn’t want to believe her then, and she knew this time wouldn’t be different. She couldn’t share her secret. She would have to go this alone.
Aimee arrived at the house not sure how she made it back. Standing on the front lawn, she stared at the house, her mind a million years from the present. I have to know more. What’s next? How long do I have before it’s time; today, tomorrow, next week? Damn hypnosis! It’s tampered with my valuable memories and I can’t recall the little details I so need right now. She was damp and chilled to the bone, and the cool air danced around her head licking at her brain. The fog that had concealed the buried memories had lifted completely. Suddenly, as quickly as it had triggered the dream this morning, with a vengeance the reality hit. The nightmare this morning was more than just a memory resurfacing.
It was a forewarning!
Chapter 4 The Gift
Dad was just leaving through the backdoor when Aimee bolted breathlessly into the kitchen. His eyes narrowed when he noticed her soggy sweats dripping a pool of rain water onto the tile.
“Rough workout?” he asked and tossed her a dry dish towel.
“Yeah, a little I guess,” she answered hastily, trying not to look at his face. Dad always had a way of knowing when something was wrong with Aimee. Parental perception? Or was it because her psycho drama history had left him constantly looking for clues she was returning to the dark side. “I have to get ready, Dad. Can’t be late for first period. I have that test this morning.”
“Well then, I’m heading out. Do good on your test, sweetheart. See you tonight.” He started to leave, but then shouted from the backdoor as Aimee hurried towards her room, “Hey, Amos, can you pick up a few things from the store after school?”
“Sure. What do you need?”
“List and money on the kitchen table. Thanks a bunch! Love ya.”
“Ditto,” she yelled back and continued down the hallway.
Aimee twisted open the blinds and watched her dad pull out of the driveway heading off down the rain-slick street in his little pickup. For a long moment she stared out into the street, her brain stuck in a fog. Finally her thoughts reverted back to where she was a few minutes earlier. She desperately needed to wrap her head around the missing piece to her epiphany. She was certain of one thing. The dream was real, but it was only the preface and the epilogue for something much more, something bigger than what was blatantly apparent. Like a flight, it was the takeoff and the landing, but not the journey. Aimee sensed someone had an assignment for her to accomplish with each travel.
Like a mission!
Something told her she was too young to comprehend the motive behind each travel she had experienced when she was a child. To an eight year old it seemed more like a scary amusement park ride. Even now Aimee was unsure why she had this gift, and where exactly it had come from, or how it was even possible, but she knew it was real.
Fresh images suddenly started to trickle into her thoughts and she slumped into her chair. Slices of each travel imprisoned in her mind started filtering through it, like the kaleidoscope she got when she was a kid, the beads falling together into a pattern then becoming distorted again with a turn of the tube. A vision from a past journey stopped and played in slow motion. It seemed like something horrific that had recently occurred. It played exactly like a story she had read in the paper a few months ago. A sick feeling instantly balled up in the pit of her stomach when she recalled the article. A young female hiker went missing in the Siskiyou National Forest last August. Her badly decomposed body was found in October when two backpackers came across it. She had fallen into a crevice, her leg broken and body trapped between two massive boulders. At the time of the news release Aimee felt a strange anxiety over the tragedy, but it didn’t trigger a recall so she didn’t know why it bothered her so much. She honestly didn’t remember having any mystical presence at the woman's disappearance, but now she knew she had been there with her when she vanished into the crevice. She had been with her as the woman veered from the trail to save time. She watched as the woman leaped between two boulders jutted on either side of the cavernous chasm and lost her balance. Aimee saw her fall backwards into her death pit. The woman didn’t know she was present, but Aimee was there. She knew where she lay injured until her painful death. And she didn’t help her. Aimee moaned, “I was with her and I didn’t help her!”
It had been the last journey before Aimee's breakdown, five years before the woman died. At the time it was too much to fathom, too surreal and way more than Aimee could comprehend. Her body shut down unable to process anything else after her collapse, then the visions from her journeys got snuffed away.
“How can this be happening?!”
Aimee screamed. Zonker jumped up from his peaceful slumber and looked at Aimee with a worried expression. Then swiftly it all began to make sense. No wonder everyone thought I was crazy! Who would believe my stories? Dad? James? Dr. Sanders? No one in this world and certainly no one in his right mind would have believed me. I musta confessed stories about being transported forward in time to observe events yet to unfold, and revealed journeys back into history to witness something that had already transpired, desperately hoping someone would believe me. These were things too outlandish to anyone who didn’t believe in the supernatural. Well, I don’t understand why I was chosen, but I know these journeys aren’t delusional, the word Dr. Sanders used. He was wrong. His years of training to diagnose the imaginary world some people live in, and then methodically and intentionally alter that world so he could bring his patient back to reality was all he understood. They didn’t teach these kinds of things in medical school. The mystical world doesn’t exist for him, and even when he listened to my stories, there was never anything sensible to make him believe. So I earned a nice, tidy crazy diagnosis followed by a colorful assortment of pills, mixed with a touch of hypnosis. Abracadabra…cured! It was unethical - even malicious - to tell me it was all in my mind. I may not be normal, but…but...omigod...I have NEVER been crazy!
Blood tinged her cheeks, then her hands balled into tight fists. Aimee was furious at his betrayal, his distorted attempt to defile what he couldn’t validate. The travels were not her imagination filling in the holes pierced in her psyche by her mother’s death. She wasn’t delusional! Aimee felt this within the deepest existence of her being and suddenly understood the necessity for absolute secrecy. She couldn’t risk having anyone doubt her sanity again. Telling others would interfere, and she couldn’t bear for her dad to be tortured again by her zealous attempts to convince him her imaginary world wasn’t make-believe. Aimee was all alone, and for now that would have to do. She may not understand this gift, but she had to try to figure out how to use it and not waste any more time.
Her mind raced. She needed to figure out what to do next. I need to skip school, she decided. I don’t know what to expect, but something tells me my journey will be soon, and I’ve gotta be ready. In a flash she was in, then out of the shower, her wet hair dripping down her back. She dashed into her room and booted up the computer. Aimee had to find out something about time travel. While she waited for the desktop to open, Aimee flew to the closet, flipped on the light, then started digging around the crammed clothes until she found the perfect outfit for traveling; a pair of faded blue jeans, a pink Oxford shirt, and a navy blue hoodie. She was slipping on a tennis shoe when her phone started to vibrate gently across the nightstand.
Aimee noticed BFF on the caller ID. “Oh crap, it’s Chelsea.” She impatiently answered, “Hey.”
“My tire is flat, and Brian won’t change it. Can you give me a lift?”
“I’m not feeling well…” She faked a weak cough. “…and I think I need to stay home and sleep it off.”
“You can’t miss the test. Dr. Morris has a friggin’ cow anytime someone misses an exam,” said Chels. “Besides, it’s too late for me to get a ride with someone else.”
“Thanks, Chels, for the sympathy. Yeah, okay, give me a couple minutes to get dressed and I’ll be down. Be looking for me so I don’t have to wait.”
Aimee snapped shut her phone and stuffed it into her back pocket. Dammit! She needed to reassess this kink in her strategy. How am I gonna go to school? Somehow I have to get through economics. I feel fine for the moment. Maybe an hour or two won’t matter. Quickly, she shut down her PC, flipped off the light, and grabbed her backpack.
“I’ll be back shortly, Z,” Aimee said. After digging the keys to the Bug from her backpack, she headed out the front door, locked it, then ran to the car to get out of the steady drizzle. She unlocked the Bug and pitched her pack to the backseat, then jumped in and cranked up the motor. Without checking, she threw the gearshift into Reverse and backed out onto the street. The motor whined bitterly as she sped towards Chelsea’s, but Aimee didn’t notice. Her mind was focused on something more important; the inevitable journey. I need to leave school right after economics. I totally suck at faking, but pretending to be sick seems my only option at the moment. Dad’ll get a call from the attendance office busting me so I better make it look convincing. The nurse’s office, oh yeah, that should work. I’ll ask Dr. Morris to let me go see Mrs. North after I finish the test. If something starts to happen, the halls will be empty so I can avoid bei…Beep-beep! A car behind Aimee honked. Her Bug was speeding down the left side of the street. She yanked it back into her lane and kept moving. Chelsea’s house was a couple more blocks, and East Medford High a mile down the road from there. If Chels doesn’t dawdle, we can be on campus before the second bell. A few seconds later Aimee whipped her car alongside the curb and tooted the horn a couple times. Awesome! For once Chelsea’s ready. Chels waved, then finished locking the door. Aimee shoved open the passenger door a few inches and waited for her to slide in. Within seconds, Chels squeezed into the tiny space. Before Chels could close her door, Aimee threw the car into first gear and jerked away from the curb.
“Geez Christ, Aimee, what’s the friggin’ rush?!” Chels grabbed the door handle to slam it shut. She dropped her pack to the floorboard, then frantically reached for her belt, fastened it as quickly as she could, and slapped the lock down. Instantly Aimee felt Chelsea's glare. She peeked over and Chels was staring at her with her mouth and eyes wide open.
“Sorry, but I don’t want to be late.” Aimee locked her eyes back on the road.
“For cryin’ out loud! We have five minutes before we’re tardy. Besides, you know Jana is the office aide in attendance first period. She’ll cover us. OMIGOD, SLOW DOWN! You’re gonna get us friggin’ killed!”
Aimee's car fishtailed onto the main drag heading to campus. Her pace immediately dropped to the speed limit with the thick traffic dictating her course. Chelsea’s hand finally loosened off the handle and she sighed heavily.
After a few seconds of silence she was back to her normal, bubbly self. “So, have you decided what you’re gonna wear tomorrow night?”
“Wear?” Aimee replied clueless.
“Yeah, wear! Omigod! Don’t tell me you have forgotten already?”
“Forgotten what?” asked Aimee again, trying to keep her irritation with the traffic moving at a snail’s pace from showing, and her attention focused on Chelsea’s conversation while at the same time still organizing the unfinished details of her plan to skip school.
“Dylan Townsend…helloooo! You know, your date tomorrow.” Chels sounded exasperated.
Suddenly Aimee's mind reeled back to her plans for tomorrow, and she grimaced. How could I have forgotten the date? “Of course I haven’t forgotten our date,” Aimee said, hoping to convince Chels that this was as much on her mind as hers.
“Well, you don’t sound very excited. I mean, it’s not like you have tons of guys asking you out. It’s just that this is Dylan Townsend, Aimee. Are you crazy? He hasn’t dated anyone since breaking up with Brandi, and half the girls at East Medford would do anything, and I mean an..eee..thing for a date with him, but he asked you.” She was annoyed that Aimee wasn’t giving this as much attention as Chels thought she should.
Wincing from the sting of Chelsea’s chiding, Aimee mulled her words through her brain. Are you crazy, Aimee repeated to herself. Chels was right to wonder. Aimee thought, I must be crazy. Her last year in high school and her social life was dismally bleak. Honestly, dismal was too kind. How could she forget about her date with Dylan? Even worse, how could Aimee possibly date anyone, much less Dylan, knowing what was about to happen? It was risky. Too complicated. Aimee shuddered when she thought about all the potential scenarios that could happen if they were together and it happened. Without noticing, Aimee gripped the steering wheel tighter, the muscles in her arms and hands tensing under the weight of the realization.
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As they turned into the student parking lot, Aimee shot a sympathetic glance back at Chelsea and shrugged. “You know, Chels, putting more pressure on me doesn’t help, okay? I guess I’m just trying to not make a big deal about this, you know, so I don’t friggin’ die on Monday when he has moved on to someone else. I reeeally like Dylan, but you know my dating history. You’re right. Guys like Dylan just don’t ask someone like me out.”
“Aimee, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just that, well, you are soooo aggravating. You’re gorgeous. And when you get out of your room long enough to do something besides study, you’re fun to be around, and even funny when you actually open your mouth and talk, and…” Aimee rolled her eyes. “No, listen to me,” Chelsea began, “Dylan would be a freakin’ moron to not see what an amazing person you are. He’s the one who is crazy if he doesn’t get completely blown away by you.” Her reproachful smirk changed to a coy smile as Chels continued. “Besides, if you let me help you get ready you won’t have to worry about him checkin’ out other chicks. Trust me. You’ll look so hot he won’t be able to think about anything but you.” Clearly Chelsea had made Aimee's date with Dylan a project - Help Aimee Get a Life. Aimee figured she better give in and let her work her magic. It was easier conceding with Chelsea than arguing. She was bound to get her way, always had.
“All right, Chels, you win. I have to admit I could use your help. Can you come around six tomorrow? Two hours should be enough time, don’t you think, to whip me into this spellbinding beauty?” Chelsea seemed content. She loved a good competition, and Aimee knew it was easier to allow Chels to win than to dig her feet in.
“Hey, there’s a spot.” Chelsea pointed excitedly as they cruised down the last aisle of student parking. Benny Cardenas was coming from the other direction towards them. Aimee darted into the space before Benny, killed the motor, and they grabbed their backpacks. Benny sat idling his oversized truck in the aisle. He stared at Chelsea and Aimee while they got out, and he didn’t look amused. Aimee smiled apologetically at him, then both sprinted to the main building.
The Weird Travels of Aimee Schmidt: The Curse of the Gifted Page 4
