Dead Awakenings

by Rebekah R. Ganiere

  A cold, wet nose and a slobbery tongue pressed his bare leg.

  “Gross, Kale.” He glared down at the large white dog. “All right, we’ll go out. Get your leash.”

  The dog bounded off into the bedroom. Tristan finished his bread and walked toward the sink, only to step into the dog’s water bowl. He rolled his eyes. How many times had he done that in the last two months? He still wasn’t used to having the dog here. But he couldn’t leave Kale in Evaine’s tiny studio apartment by himself day in and day out waiting for her to return.

  The memory of going over to her little apartment the morning after she hadn’t showed up to dinner with him was a living nightmare in his mind. Every time he replayed it in his head, the horror of her being missing became fresh once more.

  A wet leash hit Tristan’s bare foot, bringing him again to the present. “Kale, that is just…Yuck!” He slid his foot out from under the leash, pushed his feet into his flip flops, and grabbed his hoodie. “Let’s hurry today.” He clipped the leash to Kale’s collar.

  When Tristan walked into his bathroom thirty minutes later, he took a hard look at himself in the mirror. He definitely needed a shave. His hair was too long to be what his grandmother would call presentable. The circles and bags under his eyes made it look like he hadn’t slept in months. Which meant they weren’t lying.

  Absently he ran his fingers through his hair, not really determined to make it do anything. Reaching for his last pair of clean jeans and T-shirt, he realized he needed to get Zolma in to help out. Kale bumped into him as he headed for the door. The weight of the massive animal threw him off balance and sent him crashing into one of the boxes from Evaine’s old apartment.

  “Kale!” Tristan yelled as the box toppled to the floor, spilling its contents across the hallway. Tristan stumbled to his knees, his own bag opening and the papers in his hand going flying. “Dang it, Kale!”

  The dog sat down with a plop, his tail wagging. “Kale. Bed.” He pointed to the guest room. Kale whined but trotted off, glancing backward as he went. He picked up the overturned box and chucked the contents back inside. Then, grabbing what was left, he shoved the remaining papers into his bag. He really needed Zolma back to help him clean.

  * * *

  Tristan had been driving about ten minutes when he hit the Bluetooth in his car. “Jannie Merryman.” The phone dialed automatically. It rang once, and then he heard the familiar bite of her raspy voice.

  “Wow, you’re not dead yet. I was sure you had finally starved to death. I mean why else would the head of marketing and VP of a fortune five hundred company not call his personal assistant for over three days? Do you have any idea how many calls I’ve had to fend off, meetings to rearrange without you? How many excuses I have had to make? And let me tell you, the excuses aren’t holding anymore.”

  He sighed. Had it been three days? “Sorry, Jannie.” He wasn’t. Jannie was the best assistant he’d ever had, but she could get on his nerves. Which explained why he hadn’t been fired yet. No one wanted to deal with her. They’d wait until the last second before daring to call her to find out where he was. When Tristan was absent she was the Kale protecting his palace.

  “You sure are. You’ve blown off a dozen meetings this month alone. Missed two fundraisers, canceled a trip home for your grandmother’s birthday, and missed La Bohme at the opera house of which you are a member of the board.”

  He knew very well that he had missed a lot of things in the last couple of months, but he couldn’t bring himself to go out without Evaine. What if she called and needed him? What if she came back?

  “Hellllooooo?”

  “I need you to contact Zolma. I need her to clean twice a week, do shopping once a week, and pick up dry cleaning. Today, if possible.”

  "Did you hear what I said?"

  "I heard."

  Jannie paused and then sighed. “Tristan, I can’t cover for you here much longer.”

  “I’ll come in Friday. Anything else?”

  “Do you have any new leads?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Then I’ll let you go. I’ll call Zolma and see you on Friday by nine a.m. Don’t be late. Oh, and Tristan? Be sure to shave and shower this time. And at least wear something clean.”

  * * *

  Tristan grabbed his bag and stepped out of the car. The fine arts building was on the other side of campus. When he arrived at it, he searched for a board with the list of faculty members. Locating the board near an entrance he searched for a Mac. Professor… Professor…Professor…not professor Mac Peters. Taking the stairs two at a time, he climbed to room 212 and knocked.

  “I didn’t do it!”

  Tristan took that as an invitation to enter. A man, not that much older than Tristan himself, sat hunched over a laptop on a desk. He had a mop of wavy hair that fell into his eyes. Mac faced Tristan. His scruffy beard covered much of his face, and a pair of huge glasses covered the rest.

  “Hey,” Mac said, studying Tristan.

  “I’m Tristan Atwater.”

  “I’m Mac Peters. What can I do for you? You don’t really look like the thespian type.”

  “No, I’m not, I’m afraid. Not a theatrical bone in my body, but my fiancé’s a thespian.”

  “Oh, great.” He gave a broad smile. “Is she transferring here?”

  “She already goes here.”

  “Oh, cool. Who is she?”

  “Evaine Michaels.”

  At the mention of her name, Mac’s face paled.

  “Fiancé, huh? I never even knew she was dating someone.”

  “We’ve been together since high school. She didn’t want anyone to know about us being engaged till she had finished school.”

  Mac turned back to his computer screen. “Well, mazel tov then. So where is Evaine? I haven’t seen her around lately.”

  “That’s why I’m here. I don’t know where she is. I had hoped that maybe you could tell me something about the other students that have gone missing in the last several years.”

  Mac pushed his glasses up his nose and continued typing. “Other students?”

  “Yes, I checked into it. Over twenty students have disappeared in the last five years from this college.”

  Mac stopped typing and looked up. “I know sometimes students leave the school suddenly, transfer or go home and stuff. But I’ve never heard of someone just disappearing.”

  “Hmmm…” Tristan studied Mac’s face. “Apparently it’s been news all over campus, warnings to be careful. Signs posted, e-mail blasts, extra security.”

  “Sorry, friend, I’m not up on the latest news here at school. As you can see, I’m not one of the big-time faculty members.” He gestured around his small office.

  “Is there anyone here on campus I could talk to?”

  “Are you sure she didn’t just leave?”

  “Evaine would never do that. She has trust issues with people leaving her. She wouldn’t up and leave without a word.” Tristan could swear a bead of sweat appeared on the temple of Mac’s otherwise calm face.

  “I wish I could help. She was a nice girl.”

  “She isn’t dead,” Tristan said forcefully.

  “What?” Mac asked, surprised.

  “I said, she isn’t dead. I don’t know where she is, but I do know that.”

  “I’m sorry.” Mac held up his hands in surrender.

  “If you hear anything please call me. Here’s my card.” Tristan fished in his messenger bag for his card holder and took one out. Mac read it. Tristan could have sworn that he went a little paler.

  “I’ll keep my ear out.”

  “Thank you.” Tristan walked forward to shake hands. Mac looked at it and wiped his forehead instead. Where Mac had wiped his hand, his skin was a shade paler in color.

  On his way to the door Tristan noticed a bright orange flyer on the edge of Mac’s desk. A company looking for students to earn money doing drug trials. It was sad that some people needed money so badly they would
sell their bodies that way.

  Chapter Eight

  A blindfold covered Evaine’s eyes. She could see nothing. All she could hear were the sounds of the long, black limo moving through the city and soft music coming from the radio. She grasped a cool glass and took a sip of the chilled sparkling cider. She hated all this. And Tristan knew it.

  They hadn’t seen each other in weeks. In the past six months, since she had moved to New York to join him, she’d been busy with school, and he’d been swamped at work. He’d graduated college a year early because his grandfather had been itching to put Tristan in as the head of marketing in one of his companies. But now that Tristan was at the top, he had to work even harder to stay there.

  It had been two months since they’d had the chance to go out on a real date. So Tristan had apparently prepared to make this a big one. He had sent her a dress; she hated that. She never let him buy her things. But when a package had arrived along with a dozen white roses and a note saying he was taking her out somewhere special, how could she refuse? In the box lay a beautiful plum-colored silk dress. Much fancier than anything she had ever owned.

  “Do you want to tell me where we’re going?” she asked.

  “More than you can possibly know. But I’m not going to.”

  He never could keep a secret. It wasn’t his way. She, on the other hand, could hold a secret like a KGB spy. She had learned to lock things away from people a long time ago. Things like wants, needs, feelings, desires. Secret keeping was second nature to her.

  The car came to a stop.

  “OK.” He was as giddy as a schoolboy with a new toy. “You ready?”

  She nodded. She couldn’t help but get excited when he was excited. They stepped out, and he took off her blindfold. It took her several blinks to focus on what she was seeing. The facade of the building in front of her was black-painted brick with a large, ornate sign up on the roof. A restaurant with a mile-long line outside. A sign hung from the window that read “Grand Reopening, hosted by renowned Chef Louis Chapareau.” The name of the restaurant was on the golden sign above, “Evaine’s.” Her mouth fell open, speechless.

  “Granddaddy acquired it a few months ago. It wasn’t doing very well so I did a marketing campaign to see what would make it better and then we shut the place down to redecorate and stuff. Tonight is the grand reopening. It’s for you.”

  “For…for me?”

  “So you can have somewhere to go if you ever need a meal or something…since you’ll never ask me for money. But I’m hoping that’ll change after tonight.”

  She eyed him suspiciously. “What do you mean after tonight?”

  He got a big warm grin on his face. “Come on. Let’s go in.”

  They were walking toward the restaurant when Evaine had the strangest feeling she was being watched. The huge line to get in was packed full of people. In the middle of the line, about halfway down, a man in a black shirt and black fatigues with a long black coat stepped out of sight. He looked familiar with his long white hair. She blinked, and he was gone.

  Tristan pulled her to the entrance, his arm around her waist.

  The staff treated Tristan like royalty. They showed him to the best table and greeted him with great enthusiasm. Everyone smiled, and drinks were brought out as they sat down. Tristan ordered for them both, and the chef himself brought out the meals.

  “So what did you mean when you said that after tonight you hoped I wouldn’t feel so bad about asking you for money?”

  “Well, I was going to ask you something.”

  “What?”

  “Miss Impatient.” He laughed. “I was going to ask if you would marry me.”

  Evaine’s mouth dropped open. She didn’t know what she had thought he was up to, but this was not it. She stared at him wide-eyed, but shut her mouth. Tristan nodded to the maître d’. A minute later he came over with a small blue box on a platter. The man set it on the table. She stared at the Tiffany blue for several minutes before Tristan cleared his throat.

  Tristan reached over and pulled open the velvet box. He watched her face with a broad grin. The ring was huge. Evaine had never seen a ring that big before. She had no idea how in the world she would wear it. A large square stone surrounded by hundreds of other little stones. It was one of a kind.

  “Well?”

  Evaine looked up at him, tears in her eyes. She didn’t understand. He wasn’t supposed to ask her to marry him. He was supposed to find a tall, elegant blond woman who was on boards of opera houses and did charity work and lunched at the club with friends. Who had a blue-blood background, a mom named Bitzy, and a dad named Preston. Not her.

  “But…why? I mean… I know that you have feelings for me, but I’m totally not good enough for you. You need to marry someone who’s more your caliber. Your status.”

  Tristan’s mouth fell open as he stared at her. He started to speak several times but couldn’t form words. Finally he took a drink of water and then picked up her hand.

  “You don’t get it. You’ve never gotten it, I guess. You’ve always seen yourself as broken, unfixable, and something to be thrown away. You think that just because your mother—no. Not your mother, because she’s never been a mother to you. The woman who gave you life. You think that just because she’s related to you through blood that makes you a bad person. But that doesn’t make you anything. You are who you are because of you. I don’t want some showpiece of a wife with no brains in her head or the best way to spend our money always at the forefront. I want you. You’re the one who I want to grow old and gray with and watch our grandchildren play in the yard at the family barbeques.”

  She’d always felt warm and comfortable with Tristan. Always felt wanted and loved. In high school she had been so flattered by his attention. He was handsome and popular. And then when he went to college, it was so nice to have a conversation with someone who didn’t have any of the teenage drama going on. When she came to New York and started college to be near him, she had never imagined that they would still be together two years later.

  She looked down at the ring again. It truly was gorgeous. Quite over the top though. She would get mugged for sure in her neighborhood if she wore it. Tristan picked up the box and pulled the ring out. He placed it on her finger. “Evaine, will you do it? Will you grow old and wrinkly and gray with me?”

  She stared into his deep green eyes. “Yes, I will marry you.”

  Tristan smiled so brightly, he beamed. Evaine watched the diamonds sparkle on her hand the entire time she ate. It was so beautiful, she had no idea how she would break the news to Tristan that there was no way she could wear it home or to school. She also wasn’t sure how she would explain to him that he was going to have to wait until she was out of school to get married.

  The hairs on her neck prickled.

  She scanned the faces at the restaurant. In a corner booth, there he was, the man from the street. He was dressed in a black coat and had his long white hair pulled back into a ponytail. His eyes were orange like fire, and he was staring at her, absorbed. He didn’t look angry, he looked…possessive, jealous even. He stood and started to walk toward her slowly.

  “Evaine.” She screamed in terror. He was only a few feet away now. “Evaine, stop, you must come out now.” He reached for her.

  The scene faded, and she stood in the dark fog of a dream state. A glowing ribbon extended from her waist to the waist of the man coming near her. It grew thicker and larger the closer he got.

  “Evaine, take my hand. We have to leave now.” His icy fingers brushed her skin lightly on her hand. She screamed one final time, and everything went black.

  Evaine sat bolt upright in bed, crying out, shaken and confused. In her falsely cheery cell she remembered where she was. The camera on the wall moved. She rubbed her eyes angrily and threw a pillow at the camera.

  She fell back on the bed. She’d been dreaming about a man with long white hair and a black coat. His face flashed into her mind. Luca. Luca had
been in her dream. He hadn’t belonged there though, she hadn’t even known him when…when…

  The door slid open, and he walked in.

  The dream was gone. It had faded from her mind as quickly as it had come. There was nothing there now except for the look on his face. His eyes that had been bright as fire and had looked at her with jealousy and longing.

  “You were in my dream.”

  “Yes.”

  “Like in the car, when I was in your head.”

  He stiffened. “Seems so.”

  “Do you know what I was dreaming about?”

  “No.” He leaned against the wall and clenched his jaw. His body language was tense, like a violin string about to snap. “I wasn’t there to take in the scenery.”

  “You weren’t supposed to be there at all. Why were you?”

  “You’ve been asleep for four days.”

  She leaped from her bed. “Four days. That’s not possible.”

  “When you first rebirth, your body’s adjusting to everything that has happened. Two days is the norm. That’s why I came to you.” He’d helped her, but his body language told her that at that moment he didn’t want to be anywhere near her. His anger permeated the room, though she wasn’t sure what she had done this time.

  “Do you do that a lot? Come into people’s dreams and find them?”

  He shifted his stance. “No…I’ve never done that before. I wasn’t sure if I would be able to with you. But after what happened in the car, I thought I would try.”

  “So is that something that only us zombies can do?”

  “Zombies? No, that isn’t something we Deaders can do. It’s new.”

  A million questions wanted to spill out her mouth, but she suddenly realized how loose her skin felt. She walked over to the sink, turned the water on and splashed it in her face. She stuck her head under the faucet and gulped repeatedly, letting the moisture run over her throat and hands. Reaching for a towel she dried her face. The skin was loose and pliable like putty. And there was too much of it. She stared in the mirror. Her skin looked saggy and long. It looked thin, like watered-down milk. She could see through it to the veins underneath. Before she realized what was happening her vision focused and her hearing sharpened. She heard Luca shift his stance from against the wall.