No reply.
This was unnatural behavior. It gave me a terrible feeling. Please, please let her be alright, I thought, please. Just then, I heard a horrific scream from above me.
I held my breath for several seconds; I couldn’t think. My brain seemed to be frozen, frozen until a deafening crash in front of me. And then I heard a low whimpering sound. I charged forward through the brush, completely blind and directionless, but I found her nevertheless.
Nicky was slumped at the base of large tree. I called to her again and again, but she didn’t wake. With what strength I don’t really know, I mustered enough of it to lift her around the middle, dragging her feet behind us. She was hard to hold onto... my hands were suddenly all wet. There was liquid all over my hands. Maybe she’d found the stream after all, I thought innocently.
I really don’t know how long I’d been dragging her when I started hearing my name. I couldn’t believe it was real, and I was too exhausted to speak, anyway. Fortunately, it wasn’t necessary. The search partiers were equipped with flashlights. And there were a lot of them, it turned out. They rushed over to us and whisked Nicky away. I couldn’t tell you who any of the other ones were, then or now. The chatter of several voices occurred at once, and almost instantaneously, my father had made his way over to me. He was shaking and crying. I think he picked me up in his arms but I can’t be sure. I’m guessing now that I was in shock. I didn’t feel anything except overwhelming relief. Relief that Nicky had been rescued. Relief that I’d be able to sleep in a bed very soon.
Nicky was in the hospital for several weeks. She had no memory of anything that had happened to her. She only had limited memories of the entire day. The doctors said her hips and pelvis had been completely crushed. She also had a broken arm and leg. The only thing remotely close to that injury they’d seen was when a skydiver’s parachute had failed. They guessed that maybe she’d fallen out of a tree, though she’d have had to landed on sharp rocks. And been in an impossible tall tree.
It turned out that Nicky’s parents had called my house, only because she’d left her overnight bag behind. Once they spoke to my dad, obviously, the jig was up, and the search for us was on. After he was sure that I was alright, my dad was furious. He yelled in my face, demanding to know why I’d deliberately disobeyed him and gone in those woods. For several days, he would just grab something off one of the shelves and throw it across the room, completely unprovoked. He tossed my room on my first day back to school. He found my notes, my diary, my research, all of my schemes and plans. When my school bus pulled in front of my house after school that day, he was waiting, holding up my crudely laminated Haunted Explorers Society badge.
“What the hell is this, Evangeline?” he demanded as I stepped off the bus.
“Did you get that out of my closet?” I asked rather than answered.
“I asked you a question...” he fumed. I had never, ever seen him that angry.
“You went through my things...”
“You disobeyed me! I told you a thousand times not to go into those woods! What were you thinking? What is this card? What is it!”
“Dad... it’s nothing...” It was far too private a thing for me to try and explain. I just couldn’t do it. My secrets had been exposed, but that was no reason to have to talk about it.
I yanked the card out of his hand and ran.
“Evangeline!” he called after me, again and again, but I ran into my room and locked the door.
As soon as school let out for the summer, he packed us up and moved my brother and I out to New Mexico. Nicky and I were devastated, as soon as she’d recovered, that is. I made her an honorary medal, a badge of courage, out of some scrap metal and a length of silver ribbon. She hadn’t wanted to accept it, being that she couldn’t remember what had happened, but I insisted.
It was easier, in a way, leaving. Being at Nicky’s house was much too difficult. Don’t get me wrong, I loved seeing her, and I wanted to try and make amends. It was her parents that were the problem. Her parents were grateful to me. They thought I’d saved her. They were apparently among the search party and were there to see me, a 12-year-old girl, exhausted and in shock, dragging their broken and bloodied daughter to safety. They were salt of the earth people. They didn’t believe in any supernatural nonsense. They didn’t believe anything in the world was truly evil, so they didn’t blame me at all. They couldn’t see what I truly was. I couldn’t bear it.
I woke up shivering, unable to be breath. My neck was stiff, stiffer even than most of the nights I end up on the floor. I raised my hand to my neck and found it to be wet. When my eyes finally adjusted, my shock and confusion only grew. I was not in my house again. I was on the ground of the graveyard, propped up against one of three or four crypts. I was in my nightgown and covered in dew. Fog was beginning to rise from the earth. My watch said 4:00 a.m. I rushed home before anyone else could see, and curled up on the couch staring off into nothing.
What is happening to me?
18.
It was becoming increasingly difficult for me to be at the office, to concentrate on my actual work. My focus and attention were uncharacteristically absent. Something was seriously wrong with me. These petty statistics now seemed less than meaningless. I am now convinced that my theory of being easily replaced should I drop dead is completely legit. My work had recently even been completed all on its own.
Not helping matters is that it seems to be happening with increasing frequency. One morning while I was walking downtown toward my office building, a block of concrete came crashing down behind me in the vicinity of the Wells Fargo Center—formerly the Independent Life Building—a 37-story structure that was once the tallest building in Florida.
The force of the impact caused every person on the street to freeze. A businessman of about my same age stood only a foot or so on the other side of the crater and smashed concrete. The two of us looked at each other before tracing the logical course of the concrete’s descent from 37 floors above.
Finally pedestrian traffic resumed as businesspeople hurried to get to their jobs. The man across the crater looked as though he were about to speak.
“Run,” I whispered, before he had a chance to say anything.
He took off running in the opposite direction.
The next several weeks were spent battling a quiet desperation. For the first time in my life, in addition to being at odds with myself and most of the people in my life, I could also add unhappiness with my job to the list. I now found that it didn’t suit me at all, but there were too many other stressors in my life at the moment for me to add job hunting to that list. The second task had been a complete failure. All I’d gotten out of it was an empty chest, muddy clothes, and pissed off friends. And, I still didn’t know what I was going to do about the next task. It would be coming soon, and for some reason, I seriously doubted it would be quite as easily accomplished as the last two.
I hadn’t seen Gavin or Simon in weeks. I supposed it was for the best. Avoidance tended to be a better strategy for me than confrontation. Less productive, but better. Besides, I had no idea what I would say to Gavin. Probably something like, Sorry to hurt your feelings, but I’m just really, really screwed up right now and... always will be. Nice.
Nicky, Lyle, and I had taken to lunching together, without the Simon and Simon brothers. The last time I saw them, Simon was wearing a Sherpa-lined denim jacket and had changed his office nameplate to read, Simon, Rick. Gavin walked past with his hair purposely feathered, just like A.J.
I managed a warm, hesitant smile.
“Hey, chica! Dig the hair?” Gavin began light-heartedly. He started to say more but Simon’s glare stopped him.
My own smile vanished.
Maybe I had not been looking at these things in the proper light. Nicky and I were much more at ease with one another after our little adventure in the swamp. Though not exactly rekindled to the point of its former glory, our friendship seemed to have regained some g
round, even strengthened. Fortunately, we had both decided to cling onto that friendship and not let go. The balance was delicate, but I felt sure it would endure as long as both of us held onto the tenuous tether that seemed to bind us together.
Perhaps it was the recovery of our friendship or the sense of purpose my life had undertaken, that were to blame for what happened next. Whatever the reason, I began to realize I was changing in subtle ways, or maybe more accurately, healing.
I was waiting at the microwave for my tea one morning, when Steve sidled up beside me. I knew this moment was coming—he simply could not resist the chance to further humiliate a woman, particularly me. There were quite a few onlookers, people going about their business in the kitchen. Despite continuing with their business, their ears seemed to perk up a bit.
“I’ve been thinking things over, sweetheart. Maybe I should give you another shot with me after all,” he licked his lips. “What d’ya say?”
The room was suddenly silent. I summoned my composure, and smiled at him for a moment.
“You seem to know a lot about my reputation, Steve, which means… you know that I select only the bravest, boldest, most exciting men in the world to share my bed,” I expounded in what I hoped was my most seductive sounding voice, though I had no prior experience using it.
I am a terrible actor and was sure I sounded irrevocably foolish and cheesy, but Steve showed no trace of disbelief or dissatisfaction.
I paused, faltering for just a moment. “But I found you… wanting. I mean, really, there was no way you could’ve ever measured up,” I glanced briefly in the direction of his crotch.
It took Steve several moments to realize he’d been insulted. His face dropped. “Wha—you couldn’t have even seen it!” He shouted inarticulately.
Several of the onlookers sniggered.
I pressed my index finger to my lips, suppressing a wry smile.
“You know what I mean! I never even got to see you naked because nothing happened!” Steve shouted, clearly exasperated.
“No? Did we not?” I pulled a puzzled expression. “Oh well. The ones who fail to inspire me sort of…” I motioned upward with my hand, suggesting vapor dissipating. Poof.
Steve’s face went red, and he gave me a look meant to indicate I would be paying for this insolence at some point.
But not today, I thought, and smiled a wicked smile in return. I shouldn’t have used the sex thing against him—I know that—but he did start it. Steve spun around, forgetting the coffee in his hand. Coffee splashed all over the front of his pants and the surrounding carpet. He marched off in a rage.
From this point on, I would stand and face my enemies like a man.
Anticlimactically, Lyle stopped by my office after lunch that afternoon to inform me he’d gained no new insight or information on his supposed serial killer suspect theory. He still clung to the idea that Steve was the primary suspect. Though I had no love for Steve myself, he just didn’t strike me as being… well, bright enough to accomplish any number of things that were necessary for a successful serial killer. Steve was definitely guilty of other sins, but I failed to see the meticulous, thoughtful, lone-wolf qualities of a typical serial killer among them.
My friendship with Lyle was less complicated than my other relationships, which was a welcome change. We could talk endlessly about movies, music, and serial killers, but anything more down-to-earth than that was just out of the question. Lyle simply had conversational tunnel vision and could not be dissuaded. Not that I minded those topics, but I soon found myself longing for the gregarious bond I’d shared with Nicky, Gavin, and Simon. I gradually began to understand that it was just being with them that I missed.
Fortunately during lunch one afternoon, an amazing thing happened. Tina, a shy mousy girl, who I’d never noticed at the café before, came up to our table, straight up to me.
“Hey, Evangeline,” Tina began quietly, “I just wanted to say that you standing up to Steve like that was really cool.” She looked down, hands fidgeting, before continuing, “Do you mind if I sit here with you?”
At first I just couldn’t believe this was a real request, but snapped out of it quickly enough.
“Oh my God, of course. Please,” I finally blurted, gesturing to one of three empty chairs at the table.
Tina was a bit timid at first, but by the time lunch was over we had her snorting out her iced tea.
Lunch was over far too quickly and I soon found myself back in my office, staring at my computer screen, immersed in thought. No matter how hard I wracked my brains, I could find no solution to my conundrum. I needed to break free, to be back on my own with no one else but me to get hurt. The only problem is… I can’t. Despite my best efforts, my four loyal friends seem to have burrowed their way into my heart and soul, and there’s simply no way to shake them. Even though Gavin and Simon were upset with me at the moment, I know they’d never leave if they knew I was in trouble.
Simon proved that when he showed up at the swamp; I just hadn’t wanted to admit it at the time. I also have to admit, no matter how much it angers me, I need them. Their friendship, acceptance, and good cheer brought me back from the brink; I know that now. Gavin may be mad at the moment, but with my luck, I know it’s only temporary. Besides, even if he hates me he’ll probably never send Simon alone to help me again. I’ve tried and tried to reconcile a way to keep them with me, keep them safe, and accomplish my goals at the same time, but I simply come up blank. And the reason that comes to me from somewhere down deep inside is really what I’ve known all alone: whatever I need to do has to be done on my own. No one else can do it for me. No one else can really even help. Anyone who tries will only be in the way, and the evil thing that’s waiting will only make them pay.
I was off in my fantasy world, staring at the computer screen, trying to reconcile this in my daydreams, when Mr. Oxley startled me by knocking on my door. How long had he been watching me stare at my computer? I wondered. His expression was curious, but not any more curious than normal. On countless occasions, I’d seen him pick up on object as banal as a paperweight from his desk and study it with intense curiosity. Gregorio is just one of those people who aren’t embarrassed by occasionally socially inappropriate impulses like unabashed curiosity.
The world actually needed more people like Mr. Oxley, I thought, and less of the cynical and snarky exhausting people that the earth seemed to be suddenly overpopulated with. I could have the same child-like innocence as Mr. Oxley, if only I were a little less sarcastic.
I decided to pretend that, for all he knew, I’d just been really, really curious about the inner workings of my computer screen. It made me feel better. Besides, it wasn’t like I’d purposefully set out to stare at my computer; it just happened. Weird, though, come to think of it, I couldn’t seem to remember just how long I had been sitting there gawking at the stupid thing.
“Do you have a minute, Evangeline?” Mr. Oxley asked while helping himself into one of the chairs opposite my desk.
My heart sank. Oh no, I thought. I’ve been so distracted that he must’ve noticed a difference in the quality of my work lately. Being lectured about it right now was just about the last thing I wanted to endure. I know I’m distracted and not fully present here, but there’s little I can do to change that at the moment. My outside-of-work distractions don’t exactly make for the most work appropriate conversation, either.
However, as he’d just seen me doing absolutely nothing for no telling how long, “Sure,” was my obligatory answer.
“Just wanted to double-check the figures on this last analysis you turned in.” He said, handing me the report.
Here we go.
I pulled up the data and scrutinized the numbers, making sure the numbers I’d used in my analyses actually matched the data. If there were mistakes to be found, that was usually where they started, but... all the numbers seemed to match. I double-checked and triple-checked, just to be safe, and then when on to my statistical a
nalyses with SPSS. The results were the same.
“The numbers are right, Mr. Oxley... is there something specific about it that looks off?” Due to my general make-up, in these situations, I always assume whatever mistakes are found are my mistakes, discounting the possibility of any others’ mistakes until I’ve ruled out my own.
Mr. Oxley stood up automatically. “No, no. Just thought I’d run it by you. This particular issue has the attention of some of the senior management so they’re going to be using this report at the next board meeting. Just like to make sure everything’s as tight as possible before it gets into their hands. Any mistakes that could potentially embarrass them in front of the corporate board tend to be dealt with swiftly and quite often... severely.”
Mr. Oxley took the report back from me as my jaw went slack.
“But I’m sure everything’s in order. No need to worry. You always do such top-notch work. They’ve asked that you come to the corporate meeting next Monday, in case they have any more questions.”
Beloved Evangeline (A Dark Paranormal Urban Fantasy Trilogy for Grown-ups - Book 1) Page 17
