The pitting sand, the slicing rain, the rusted truck, and Jack, his lifeless body…it all evaporated. And the warm, sultry air that had beat her around ferociously was replaced with the too familiar ice bath. The black tomb tightened its grip around her while Aimee spiraled through its inner depths. A crushing pain shot through her chest. For a fraction of a second she was acutely aware of the torture being inflicted on her body, and then it was gone. Her mind drifted away from her while she dropped through space. Nothing registered until the final second when her right side whacked against the Bug’s gear shift, then she flopped back against the driver’s door. She whipped back and forth once again before she slumped over the steering wheel. A horn blared loudly outside her window. Hysterical screams. The wailing of the horn again. More screams. And then Benny Cardenas stood beating on her window trying to get her attention. Aimee looked up. Blood was smeared across the steering wheel.
Aimee stared out the side window at Benny. His face was ghostly white, and his lips mouthed voiceless words at her. The window had blood spread across it. She reached up and lightly raked her fingertips across her head and felt wet.
“Ouch!” she cried. Aimee stared at her trembling fingers covered with red liquid.
Suddenly she realized what had happened. She had been in a wreck. Every inch of her body felt on fire. She forced open the door, and immediately Benny towered over Aimee, bombarding her with a million indiscernible questions. Voices, shouts, screams, and her name filtered into the cab, jabbing her confused mind. She pulled her feet out of the car and wobbly planted them on the ground.
In the background Aimee heard a siren wailing. Benny’s pickup was wedged into the back seat of her tiny car, the frame crushed in like a beer can that had been stomped on. Benny’s arms swallowed her and gently pulled her out in one tug.
“Aimee, I’m soooo sorry! I honked, but I guess you didn’t hear me. Are you okay? Oh, holy crap, man, I’m so friggin’ sorry...” Benny freaked after checking the damage. He kept muttering senselessly while Aimee eased her weight against the side fender of his truck. Her brain couldn’t register his gibberish.
“I’m fine. I’m fine,” she muttered and winced through her lips. She clamped her arm across her chest to cushion her lungs. It hurt like hell to breathe, each breath felt like a knife being jabbed into her ribcage.
Benny backed away a bit, but left his hand on Aimee's shoulder securely pinning her against his truck just in case she started to pass out. Her head spun, but she was still upright. For the first time she noticed at least a dozen set of eyes staring at her with shock and disgust. Good, no one looks familiar. She spotted Dr. Butler and Mrs. North tearing across the parking lot towards the huddle. The wail of the siren was intensifying. Must be heading this direction. Damn, I hate this kind of attention. Why did I have to return inside a moving car? She quickly surveyed the damage, both to her little car and herself, and her stomach started to roll. “Mooo...ve!!!” Aimee screamed at Benny and shoved him away as the contents in her stomach from lunch emptied onto the asphalt.
“Ewwww,” groaned the crowd in unison.
Dr. Butler, with Mrs. North on his heels, weaved briskly through the spectators barking orders for everyone else to disperse but Benny and Aimee. A couple students obeyed, but the rest just hung back enough to give the approaching ambulance and patrol car room to slide in next to Aimee's dying Bug. Dr. Butler immediately started grilling Benny, who responded with a bunch of nods and shakes of the head. The cop stepped in and took over. Benny looked worse than Aimee while he was being interrogated.
Mrs. North checked from one point to another area on Aimee taking vitals and assessing damage. She heard Mrs. North asking questions, but she couldn’t answer. All she could focus on was the long stretcher wheeling her direction. Within seconds she had two more sets of hands checking the damage, and despite fervently telling them she didn’t need to go to the hospital, and nothing was broken, Aimee was promptly toted to the emergency room with Mrs. North holding her hand.
“So, Miss Schmidt…,” the rather cute young EMT started while he swabbed at the gash under Aimee's caked hair on the left side of her head, “…this might sting a bit. I need to assess the head wound before we get to the ER. It seems to be clotting well.” The yellow liquid soaked gauze turned dark brown when he dabbed at the opening.
Aimee was embarrassed enough being hauled off to the ER. She expected her dad would freak out, too, or at least have a conniption about the car. She bit her tongue to keep from yelling at the young man who continued to poke and prod. The other EMT, an older man, a little rotund around the middle and flushed in the face, had the blood pressure cup attached to her arm in a second, and began pumping unmercifully. The pain in her chest disappeared, and a new throbbing in her arm grabbed her attention. She bit her tongue harder, but it slipped. “Ouch!” she screamed.
“In pain?” the young one asked.
Of course I’m in pain, you good-looking idiot. Suddenly the inside of the ambulance started to change to a deep red to match her mood. The smell of the antiseptic he was swathing across her scalp seeped into her nose and her stomach started churning again. Before Aimee could warn him, the remaining contents in her stomach crept up and landed in his lap. “God, I’m sooo sorry!” she exclaimed, turning from green to ten shades of red after she spit out the remaining little chunks into the puke bag the older man stuck under her chin.
“Don’t worry about it,” he answered. “Occupational hazard. Should have seen it coming.” He chuckled at his own joke.
The spontaneous jerking of the body while she was vomiting caused the knife to poke at her chest again. “Ow…Oww…Owwwww!” Aimee moaned repeatedly.
“I think she might have a broken rib,” the plump EMT said to the cute one, surveying the raised, blacken splotch on the side of her rib cage. The two began moving in sync, and a slur of medical jargon started flying around the cabin. Mrs. North watched engrossed in the action of the two professionals while she tightly squeezed Aimee's hand.
The ambulance started to slow, and then suddenly came to a sharp halt. The back doors opened, and before they could wheel Aimee out, she heard a familiar voice. Even in its state of panic it sounded soothing considering everything she had been through today.
“Dad, how did you get here so fast?”
“Aimee, what happened?!” The fear in his voice was nothing compared to the look on his face. “My God, you don’t know how scared I was when I got the call from Dr. Butler!”
“Dad, I’m okay,” Aimee lied, hiding a grimace as she reached to grab his hand.
“Sweetheart, just keep still. Do what they tell you.” He walked alongside the stretcher while they carted Aimee towards the doors of the ER. Dad sighed in relief, then said, “Now that I’ve seen for myself you’re in one piece I can breathe again.” He forced a smile and squeezed her hand until they pushed her through the entrance.
Four hours, seven stitches and a half dozen X-rays later, Aimee emerged from the ER. Benny and Dylan were pacing at opposite sides of the waiting room when the nurse pushed Aimee through in a wheelchair on the way to the exit. Dylan flew over to her, and Benny was a half-step behind. Benny profusely tried to apologize, again, while Dylan bent over and gently kissed the un-bandaged part of Aimee's forehead. He squatted next to the chair, took her hand into his and brought it up to his lips. He kissed her palm, then held it against his pale cheek. He looked into Aimee's eyes and said, “Geez, Aimee, you scared the crap out of me.” He continued softly, “Please, please don’t ever do it again.”
Benny stepped back behind Dylan. Suddenly the apologies died while he watched Dylan cradle Aimee. He tried one more time to say he was sorry. Dylan still had her hand in a death grip so she nodded with a finger from the other hand and attempted a smile. Aimee would have to figure out some way to assure him it wasn’t his fault, and other than the damage to her car and some minor injuries, she really was fine - fine for someone who had survived a hurricane and a car wre
ck. Fit as a fiddle, one slightly broken, that is.
“Benny told me you backed out and didn’t see him coming.”
Aimee nodded.
“Didn’t you see his huge truck?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I don’t know what happened. I guess I wasn’t paying attention when I backed out. Musta hit the accelerator instead of the brake.”
Dylan shook his head and looked at Aimee's dad who rolled his eyes. The nurse finished pushing Aimee towards the edge of the sidewalk, then put on the chair’s brakes. Her dad left Dylan to watch over her while he went to get his pickup. Benny apologized once more, now to both Aimee and Dylan, before excusing himself to head home. Aimee spotted his pickup as he walked away. Not a dent.
“Dylan, you aren’t mad at me, are you?”
“Friggin’ pissed,” he growled while fighting a grin from breaking. “Man, you really scared me though.” He paused a few seconds. “Aimee, did the shit Brandi pull upset you? I mean, well, were you thinking of something else instead of looking when you backed out?”
The truth was impossible to tell him. No matter what, Aimee knew she couldn’t tell Dylan what actually happened. Not now. Not tomorrow. Probably not ever. She would have to get darn good at lying to him. “Yeah, I kinda guess I was thinking about Brandi’s note. I should have been watching though. I see Benny’s truck isn’t screwed up at all, is it?”
“Not even a scratch.”
“Figures. And mine?” She frowned and prepared herself for the worse.
“Benny said they had to tow your baby away. I think a funeral will be necessary.”
“Geez, Dad is gonna kill me,” Aimee groaned. “Not sure what I’ll do now to get around. Could jog places, I guess, once my rib mends.” Dylan started to chuckle, but stifled it when he saw that his laughing made Aimee whimper.
It felt like every inch of her body had been injured today. Somehow she had made it back minus the cloak of sand, but Aimee looked down at the cloth booties the admitting nurse made her put on. She arrived at the ER without shoes. Fortunately no one commented about her being shoeless. She flinched when she straightened up, but Dylan didn’t notice. The doc wrote her a prescription for pain. Aimee detested taking meds, but she wasn’t feeling so hot so maybe this one time she needed more than ibuprofen.
“Your dad seemed pretty cool about it. He didn’t act mad, just worried as hell when we were talking a few minutes ago. Anyway, don’t stress about it. I have a lot more spare time now so I’ll be glad to be your personal chauffeur,” he said with a grin.
Dad pulled up and the two of them gingerly hoisted Aimee into the passenger seat. Dylan reached in and kissed Aimee, then said he would follow them to the house. She hated for him to worry about her, but it was rather nice to have his attention after everything she had been through today.
Chels was waiting in the driveway by the time they pulled up. News traveled fast at East Medford.
“AIMEE! O...MIII...GOD!” she squealed and rushed over to help. Dylan was right behind them, and out of his SUV helping Aimee before she could open the door. Chelsea grabbed Aimee's backpack from behind the seat and followed them inside. “What on earth happened, Aimee? Jana called me because she heard from Drew who heard from John that he saw Benny smash your car to smithereens. Geez, Aimee, he said you had to go to the hospital in an ambulance! Wow, you don’t look so good,” she commented finally breaking off long enough for Aimee to get in a response.
“I’m fine, really. A broken rib, a few stitches in my scalp, but a murdered Bug.”
“She had a little run in with Benny's monster truck, so her car didn’t fare so well,” Dylan added while he helped Aimee slowly move to the couch to lie down. Dad held Zonker back from jumping up to check Aimee over.
“I need to run to the pharmacy so if you will be here…” Dad began while he looked at Dylan.
“Yes, sir, I wasn’t planning on going anywhere.” Dylan flashed a gorgeous smile at Aimee, then sat down in the rocker next to the couch. Chels plopped down in the recliner next to Aimee and leaned forward to check out the stitches.
Chels scrunched her face. “Man, Aimee, you’re a mess!” she exclaimed.
“Thanks, Chels, for your lovely support. It could be worse.”
“So, how are you going to ski this weekend with James and Sacha?”
“Crap, I forgot all about this weekend,” Aimee moaned.
Dylan broke in, “Don’t worry, there will be other weekends we can go before the end of the season.” He was always so easy going, but Aimee could tell by his tone he was disappointed.
“Nope, we’re not canceling. I’ll just sit in the lodge and watch the three of you tumble down the slopes.”
“No way! You’re gonna be so sore for the next few weeks. You don’t need to do anything but stay right here and mend. I’m serious. I’ll be here to help out.”
“I bet your dad wouldn’t let you go anyway,” Chels said jumping into the argument.
“Don’t care. I’m not ruining anyone’s fun just because of a stupid broken rib and a couple lousy stitches. We’re still going. End of story.” Aimee pursed her lips at both of them.
Chelsea shook her head at Dylan, and then changed the subject. “Well, I can see you’re still kicking and acting your usual hard-headed self so I gotta get home. I’ll leave Dylan to take care of you. Need anything before I go?” she asked before she leaned over and took one more peek at the matted mess. She wrinkled her nose while Aimee wasn’t looking, but quickly smiled at her when Aimee glanced up.
“Nope. Thanks, Chels, for coming over. You can tell everyone you checked on me, and that I’m fine. Benny didn’t kill me, just my car. I’ll see you in school.”
As soon as Chelsea shut the door Dylan got on the couch and carefully laid Aimee's legs across his lap. He rubbed his hand across her cheek. The warmth of his hand felt comforting. As rough as she felt, it spurred a smile to her lips and a much needed boost to her bruised spirits. As Aimee looked at Dylan’s angelic face, it was the first time since her return that she thought about the young surfer who she failed miserably to save. An ache suddenly shot through her remembering how she dumped his broken, lifeless body into his truck. Aimee hoped the storm had spared him, and someone found his body. His family deserved to know what happened. At least she was able to provide what little comfort that might afford them. She would search later to see if she could find out what happened to Mr. Jack Reynolds of Brownsville, Texas.
Aimee moved and felt the brutal reminder of the hazards of travel. Dylan responded immediately to her wincing. “Are you hurting? Can I get you something? Man, I wish Mike would hurry up and get back with the med...”
“Dylan, I’m okay,” she interrupted. “It’s just a little hard to breathe without being reminded I have a broken rib.”
“Can I do anything to help?”
“Yep, keep still and let me look at your beautiful face. It keeps my mind off the pain.”
Dylan smiled and stared deep into her eyes. She tried to think about nothing but him, and forget her broken rib…her wrecked Bug…and Jack, the dead surfer. After a couple minutes she heard Dad pulling into the driveway. Dylan eased out from under her legs to get some water. Her dad gave her a couple giant white pills and quickly she felt a little woozy. The pain finally began to shrink as the medication seeped through her veins. Her breathing steadied, then slowed, and the last thing Aimee remembered was Dylan rhythmically rubbing her feet with the sound of the late night news buzzing in the background.
Chapter 10 The Message
The night ticked away with nothing but nothing, a dreamless void until right before the alarm was to go off. Jack Reynolds came to Aimee's bedside and woke her up. He touched her cheek with a cold hand. Her eyes flew open, and he immediately covered her mouth with his hand. She couldn’t scream. She couldn’t move. Terror seized her!
But his eyes were peaceful, full of life, not death, and Aimee suddenly felt safe with her ghostly intruder. The smell of his rot
ting flesh burned her nostrils and she quit breathing through her nose so she wouldn’t show disgust at his foulness. He slowly slid his hand off her mouth, and she stifled her fear. He stared into her eyes. Finally his lips moved, and in a whisper he said, “Thank you. You tried. You did what you could.”
“But I failed…” moaned Aimee.
“No, you didn’t fail,” he interrupted. “You did what you could. You can’t always change by yourself what has been destined to happen. Seek others to help you.”
Aimee looked at him perplexed, but before she could ask what he meant by seek others he vanished into the darkness of the room. She turned sharply to see where he went, and an excruciating pain stabbed her side. This time she reared straight up and shrieked. Dad came out of the chair next to couch like he had been hit by lightning.
“Aimee, what’s wrong?!” he yelled while reaching for Aimee in the darkness.
“I’m okay, I’m okay…just my side…oh, geez, my side…” she replied doubled over in pain.
Dad flipped on the light, and Aimee could see that she had fallen asleep on the couch and he had stretched out in the recliner next to her apparently to keep guard. Dylan must have left late after she had drifted off into a drug-induced slumber.
“Sweetheart, you’re covered in sweat. Here, let me get you a towel, and another pill for the pain.”
Sweat speckled her face, but a chill ran through her body as she suddenly envisioned her dreamlike visitor. The smell of his atrocious decaying flesh still lingered in Aimee's nostrils, and his words - seek others to help you - repeated again and again in her brain like a recorded message.
“No, Dad, I don’t want any more dope. I need to go to school in a couple hours. If I take anything now I won’t be able to function.”
“Go to school? Are you CRAZY?!” screeched Dad.
The Weird Travels of Aimee Schmidt: The Curse of the Gifted Page 14
