Dead Friends Series (Book 2): Dead Friends Running

by Carlisle, Natalie

  “Anubis, come,” he called, patting his leg.

  The girl brought her gaze toward us, toward him, her hand still clasped on the nylon band.

  “It’s okay, Margeaux, let him go.”

  She checked both ways anyway, stared once more at all of us, before doing as he said.

  The dog instantly came trotting over, that damn tail wagging happily again.

  He stepped away from the car a couple feet, crouching down like the girl just was, giving the dog a few wide circled pats once it got to him. Then he took the leash that was wrapped around his waist, unhooked it, and clipped it to the metal ring on the collar, before standing back up.

  “You’re okay, buddy,” he mumbled, loud enough for me to hear, and then shifted his body toward my window again, keeping his attention on the dog though. “Tell them.”

  I furrowed my brow, he was kidding right?

  The dog—apparently named Anubis—barked on cue, his tongue hanging slightly out the side of his mouth.

  Missy exhaled beside me, her grip loosening on my bicep.

  “Thank God,” she said, leaning around me. I could see relief washing over her face as she pushed herself up by her elbows to get a better look at the pup.

  “He’s a lab, right?” she asked, a smile playing at her lips. “How old? He’s got great coloring.”

  I mentally rolled my eyes. Was I the only one that thought this was strange? That we were still parked in the middle of the road speaking dog?

  To complete strangers?

  I mean, I was glad the dog was okay, don’t get me wrong, but why was the guy still standing there?

  And furthermore, why was the girl now walking up to my car too?

  I peered down at my cell phone screen, getting irritable, and for crying out loud, where the hell was Jason?

  Did he really not see my call?

  The adrenaline rush was wearing off, and I was becoming instantly aware that I could have just drove off the cliff again, like last time, despite seriously trying not to.

  And this time, because a freaking dog wasn’t on his leash.

  I seriously had the worst luck.

  But then again, at least this time, someone wasn’t trying to eat us.

  The girl—though girl was an inadequate description being she had at least fifteen years on us—stopped next to him, placing her hand on his shoulder.

  He bowed his head to her and she stood onto her tippy toes, drawing her lips to his ear. She whispered something to him I couldn’t hear, probably that they should leave us alone.

  Or that’s what I was silently begging for.

  I watched as his expression hardened. “Stop, you’re being rude,” he muttered under his breath, but apparently he didn’t have the knack for whispering like she did.

  She dropped her hand away from him, sinking back to her heels. “I was just saying we should, Zac, that’s all.”

  She was a short thing, only coming up to his chest. Tiny waist. Tone, muscular legs. Wide shoulders. Arms a lot bigger than mine. She was wearing these green, fitted-nylon shorts, shin-length thick socks and a sweaty, yellow sleeveless athletic top.

  He had the same material shorts on but in brown and a looser fit. His shirt was slightly lighter in color with buttons and a collar.

  Both were wearing worn-in hiking boots.

  “I’m sorry about that,” he said, turning his attention back to us and clearly ignoring her. “To answer your questions, yes he is a lab and he’s about five years old.” His fingers absently scratched at the dog’s head, and I could swear his eyes were clouding over again.

  Geez, Mr. Sensitive.

  “Well he’s adorable,” Missy gushed, all traces of her anxiety gone.

  “Well, thank you,” he smiled. “Anubis is truly amazing. And fully trained, I promise. He would never have been off leash if he wasn’t.” A pause and a nonchalant sniffle followed—or at least an attempt at nonchalance. “I just want you to know I take full responsibility for what happened today, and can’t express enough how awful I feel about it. Are you sure you girls are alright?”

  Ohmigod, this guy seriously needs to let it go. It’s not like we even hit anything (well besides the headrest). And it isn’t the first time I ever had to stop short, either.

  It was really no big deal, if you thought about it.

  Nevertheless, to make him feel better I’d tell him again and maybe then he’d go on his merry way.

  Absently glancing out the windshield—to shield any visible annoyance I perhaps had—I opened my mouth to respond, but only ended up screaming “Car” instead, as my gaze caught on a vehicle whipping around the curve of the mountain, speeding forward.

  It was actually a truck.

  And it was heading right toward us.

  Holding my breath, I sat there, waiting for him to stop, only the closer he got I realized the driver wasn’t looking forward at all. His attention was focused toward the passenger seat, eyes completely averted from any part of the road.

  That sinking feeling of dread and panic hit me all at once, again.

  Look up. Look up.

  He didn’t.

  Zac was outside the window hollering, waving his arms, but the driver still didn’t look up.

  Frantic, I did the only thing I could think of—I slammed my hand down on the steering wheel, holding it there.

  That grabbed his attention.

  His head popped up immediately, with that deer-caught-in-the-headlights look.

  I gave the same look back, horrified as realization began to sink in.

  I witnessed it as it hit him too.

  There was nowhere he could go without crashing into something first.

  It was too late now.

  He was going to crash.

  It was just a matter of into what.

  Us.

  Them.

  The side of the mountain where Margeaux had literally just walked back to.

  Or worse, crash off something—like the cliff.

  I heard the brakes screeching.

  Saw the front tires turning.

  The truck swerved.

  I could easily read the panic on his face from this distance.

  Surprise.

  Desperation.

  Apology.

  Fear.

  I watched, no words able to pass my lips, as he continued to look my way.

  There was nothing left for me to do.

  But watch.

  So I watched, feeling the color draining from my face, as the truck skidded sideways.

  And I just sat there and watched…as Jason’s truck flipped off the edge.

  6

  Surprisingly, I wasn’t the first to run down the mountain.

  In fact, I was the last.

  It took me a moment to remember how to move—I think. Maybe even breathe.

  Someone was shouting at me to pull my car to the side, out of the middle of the road, to the spot where I first saw the dog run out from the trees.

  But that voice was fading—obviously the person was on the move, heading cliff side.

  Someone else was yelling call nine-one-one.

  Another voice screamed, “I am.”

  I didn’t know who was who.

  It’s like I completely blanked out—as if I was suddenly lost in another realm for a moment.

  Then, like whiplash, I was snapped back to the present, remembering everything immediately and entirely too vividly.

  Dread filled my feet with lead. I couldn’t move fast enough. Every part of me felt heavy. Even my heart.

  Somehow I managed to move the car…to get out of the car…I even made it to the ledge.

  Then I forgot how to move again.

  Jason’s truck was upside down, the roof of it smashed into the ground. The back end was slightly elevated, the back windows shattered.

  Sunlight glistened off the glass shards surrounding it.

  The truck didn’t go far off the edge, but from the looks of it, it rolled more than
once.

  Zac was hunched down by the driver’s window, peering in. His floppy hat was no longer on his head, but hanging around his neck, sitting on his shoulder blades. His back pack was discarded nearby.

  The woman—Margeaux—mirrored Zac’s stance at the passenger’s side.

  I spotted Missy hurrying around, holding her cell phone to her ear, talking. Her long blonde hair was half-fallen from her elastic band, the loose strands blowing in the humid breeze.

  The dog was near them, just sitting there, and suddenly I got really mad.

  In a nutshell, it was all that damn dog’s fault, and if Jason was dead, I knew with certainty I’d never like dogs again.

  I wouldn’t be afraid of them this time—I would hate them.

  Then I remembered Duke. Jason’s dog.

  And his younger brother and sister—the twins.

  Oh, No. Were they in the truck too?

  Before I knew it, I was running.

  I stumbled a little bit, but trudged downward. Missy hurried over to me, meeting me halfway.

  “Help is on the way.” She was out of breath.

  “Is he…Is he…” I had trouble speaking.

  “I don’t know,” she answered, glancing toward the truck.

  It dawned on me she might not have realized it was Jason.

  So I told her.

  “I know,” she nodded. “God, I hope he’s okay.” And despite her constant bickering and name bashing with Jason, she sounded sincere. “It’s just him in there by the way. At least that’s what I think I heard.”

  I nodded absently. “Okay, I’m going to go see.”

  I moved forward, slower, carefully trekking down the slant in the earth. Glass crunched beneath my sneakers as I got closer.

  The damage of the truck was significantly worse toward the front end, but let my panic rise.

  In fact, I exhaled in relief because I could hear Zac talking from here. He was communicating to Jason on the other side of the window.

  He was alive—thank God—but the extent of his damage was still unclear.

  “Okay, I’ll try kicking in the window then,” Zac suddenly said, jumping up. “Cover your face.”

  “Wait!” Margeaux shouted, mimicking Zac’s movements. “There’s more room on this side. If he can move, it will be easier for us to pull him out from here.”

  Zac considered her then hunched back down, peering through the cracked window, accessing the two spaces.

  “She’s right,” he agreed, speaking through the glass to Jason. “Do you think you can move?”

  He must have immediately said yes or nodded, because Zac was already pushing himself off the dirt. He brushed his hands against his shorts once he was upright.

  “Do you need any help?” I found myself saying, surprised by how small and young my voice sounded. I didn’t sound like me at all.

  “No, I got it. Shouldn’t be too hard to kick it in, the glass is already spider-webbed. Then we can pull him out.”

  “Is it just him?”

  “Yeah.”

  “His name is Jason.” As if that really mattered right now.

  He nodded acknowledgement as he started walking. “I know, he told me.” He took two more steps, pausing before the third. “Wait—” he glanced over his shoulder. “How do you know?” There was a wrinkle in his forehead and sweat beads were dripping down the side of his cheeks.

  I bit my lip, aware of the oddity of my next statement. “Because that’s my boyfriend in that truck.”

  The look of utter surprise on his face might have been humorous, had it been for any other reason.

  Zac’s lips moved like he was trying to speak, but nothing came out.

  Yeah. I knew that feeling.

  “Just be careful with him. Okay? In case he’s hurt pretty bad.”

  He nodded, hesitantly. I got the instant impression he wanted to tell me he was hurt, but changed his mind. My stomach knotted.

  I truly hope I misread that.

  From the corner of my eyes, I saw the dog get up but Zac quickly commanded him to a down position before rounding the bumper to the other side.

  There was a whimper of protest from Anubis, but in the end he settled back to the flattened weeds, dropping his head to his paws, his ears flattening, his brown eyes staring forward.

  It made me wonder if he felt responsible for everything, if dogs could even feel an emotion like guilt.

  I knew I felt guilty. Deep down I knew it wasn’t entirely the dog’s fault. Or Zac’s fault--he was so hell bent on taking full responsibility. Truth was, I was the one driving in the middle of the road. I should have been in my lane. If I was in my lane, Jason would have had more room to stop.

  Now that there was an opening by the driver’s window, I wanted to do the whole girlfriend thing and lie down next to him—comfort him through the glass. Let him know he was going to be okay—if he was going to be okay.

  But I figured it was best to just stay out of the way. Who knew how bad he was and who’s to say the whole ‘kicking the window in’ would even work.

  I started to panic again.

  What if he was stuck in there?

  Margeaux and Zac exchanged looks and she stepped back, allowing him to have more room.

  “Okay,” he yelled, so obviously Jason would hear him. “I’m going to try now. Lean back.”

  The rest of us waited.

  The sound of Zac’s foot pounding against the window was louder than the actual glass breaking, but at least it did break.

  It just took a few times.

  I allotted Zac and Margeaux a whole thirty seconds to pull Jason out before I was jogging around the back end of the truck to see him.

  I quickly realized my impatience was entirely unreasonable. They hadn’t even started yet. They were still clearing the glass out of the way.

  “Okay, hopefully that’s good enough,” Zac said, peering into the truck. “You ready to try this Jason?”

  This time I heard Jason respond. He had no idea how amazing it felt to hear his voice. To hear that one simple word. To hear yes.

  It took both of them, each one grabbing an arm, to move him slowly out. My impatience heightened majorly. Blood dripped down the side of his face onto the dirt as his body shimmied through the narrow opening.

  Once he was about half way out, he told them he could handle the rest and they let go. Digging his arms into the ground, he pulled his body forward until he was completely out of the vehicle, grunting along the way.

  He peered over his shoulder briefly, taking a deep inhale. I wasn’t sure what he was thinking—if he was even thinking anything– but after a few more steadying breaths he turned his face forward once more and started worming his body across the dirt again. He continued this way until he passed the last piece of broken glass sparkling in the sunlight on the ground. Then he exhaled loudly, slowly lugging himself up into a seated position.

  He sat there quietly, eyes shut lightly for a few seconds. The blood dripping down his face was already drying to his skin, leaving a brown-red trail. I couldn’t see the gash, so it must have been high up on his forehead, under the flop of hair that fell across his brow.

  I hated not seeing how bad it was.

  That didn’t make me move toward him any faster. In fact, I hadn’t moved at all. I wasn’t exactly sure what I was waiting on, but I was still waiting.

  His eyes fluttered back open and he readjusted the way he was sitting, grimacing slightly. Then, turning his attention to me, his green-brown eyes finally locked on my face.

  “You—” he uttered, his voice gruff. “Come here.”

  I rushed toward him, stopping just short of tripping over his legs.

  “Are you alright?” he asked.

  Am I alright? Was he serious?

  I shook my head though, as I stared deeper into his hazel eyes. I wasn’t alright. I was freaking worried sick over him.

  “I’m okay,” he mumbled, as if reading my mind.

  Tears star
ted to instantly cloud my vision. “Are you?” I choked, dropping to my knees by his side. “Because you don’t look okay.”

  He nodded, offering me a tight smile. “I can’t say the same about my truck though.”

  The tears fell harder. “Oh, Jason. I’m so sorry. This is all my—”

  He was hugging me before I finished.

  “Fault.”

  ‘Shh—” he mumbled, tightening his embrace. “Let me just hug you. I need to hug you.”

  My arms wrapped around him as if on cue, my face falling against his chest. In that second, I knew what I had been waiting for.

  I was waiting for exactly this.

  I listened to his heartbeat below his shirt for a few long moments, as further reassurance he was still alive.

  Thank God, he was.

  The sound of Missy’s voice broke my concentration, and I peered over my shoulder, feeling Jason’s grip loosen but not fall away from my sides.

  “Hallmark, what the hell were you doing? Your eyes weren’t on the road at all.” Her voice was sharp and irritated. Not shockingly, Missy’s way of dealing with emotion was just get angry over it.

  “Mouth, your concern for me always humors me.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I spared you a few minutes. You’re still breathing. I’m over it.”

  “That is a little harsh,” Zac suddenly cut in. He and Margeaux were standing kitty-corner to all of us and still nearest the crash site.

  Jason chuckled though, dropping his arms away from me. “Don’t pay no mind to her, I never do. She’s always rude.”

  Missy flipped him the bird.

  “See, even in my weakened state she stays true to herself.” He paused, contemplating. “I think I’d actually be disappointed if she acted any other way. I’ve come to like that about her.”

  “Uh,” Missy said, furrowing her brow. “Exactly how hard did you hit your head? Because you know, we don’t talk to each other like that.”

  “Well last I checked,” he countered sarcastically, his palm going to his forehead, “I wasn’t talking to you, was I?” He pulled his hand away, blood staining his slightly calloused skin. The pressure started the fresh fall of more blood. It dripped off his eyebrow. He blinked as it hit his eyelashes.

  I suddenly got really motherly. “Okay, enough you two. Let me see how bad your cut is.”