Devoured (16 page)

“Hey!” the officer says. “Hey! Come back here!”

“Meg, no!”

I ignore them and keeping running, thankful I’m not wearing heels.

“I’m coming with you!” Luke says, catching up to me.

I turn around and see officer tubby holding Ryan back.

“Meg!”

Luke and I crash through the brush and into the woods.

“Nicki! Nicki, where are you?”

I weave around small saplings and bushes. Branches scratch my bare shoulders and legs.
“Nicki!”

A small rock makes its way into one of my shoes. I ignore the pain for a few seconds, then stop. “Shit! Shit! Shit!” I take off my shoe, dump the rock out, and frantically jam the shoe back on.

Luke stands at my side, breathing heavily. “Can you keep going?”

I nod and put my hands on my hips.
“Nicki?”
I scream as I look around, feeling the futility of this aimless search. “She could be anywhere.” Tears pour down my face. I look around again, listening for any sound that might lead me to her. “We don’t even know which direction she went in! We could be getting farther and farther away from her.”

“Wait, Remy!” Luke says. “If she showed you the vision, she probably knows where Nicki is.”

“Oh my God, yes! Maybe she can lead us right to her.
Remy!
We need you—we need you to help us find Nicki! Remy, can you hear me?”

“Remy!” Luke calls out.

Remy appears in front of us, shimmering softly in the darkness. In the faint light of the half moon I see her eyes are wide and staring. “Knives and apples,” she whispers.

“Oh my God, Remy! Where’s Nicki?” I ask, not wanting to think about knives. “Do you know where she is?”

Remy nods and turns around, walking silently over the dry leaves.

Luke takes my hand, squeezing it tight, and we head off after her. Sirens wail in the distance. The cadaver dogs are arriving. I just pray we don’t need them.

“Come on, Remy!” I say, feeling frustrated by her slow pace.

We follow her up a small hill. “Apples and knives. Bad apple.
Told you so
,” she mutters.

“Nicki?”
I call out for the hundredth time. Suddenly, I hear someone or something crashing through the brush just up ahead.
“Nicki?”

“Hurry,” Luke says, pulling me faster.

Prickers tear at my dress and cut my legs as Luke and I race past Remy toward the sound.

“Nicki, is that you?”
I scream.

We round a boulder, and then I see her. “
No, no, no, no!
We can’t be too late.”

Luke wraps me in his arms and turns me away from Nicki’s body sprawled out on the forest floor like a broken doll, her shirt cut open, revealing the hole in her chest where her heart used to be.

I cling to him as he hugs me tightly. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” he says as he buries his face in my hair.

An icy chill envelops me. “This time knives,” Remy whispers.

FIFTEEN

As Mom drives me past Nicki’s house on the way home from the police station, I realize I’ll never have another sleepover or movie marathon or anything with Nicki. And when Mr. and Mrs. Summers are done at the station, they’re coming home to an empty house that will never be filled with Nicki’s singing again.

I sink my face in my hands as fresh tears spill. I didn’t think it was possible to feel this empty inside—or so soul-crushingly guilty.

Why did I assume that the second vision was from the past? And why didn’t I let Remy take my hand when we were standing at the mirror earlier? Maybe she was going to show me that it was Nicki in the woods, and I could’ve gotten to the community center before practice let out—and she’d still be alive.

“Megan?”

I look over at Mom as she pulls the car into our driveway.

“We need to talk,” she says as she takes the keys out of the ignition.

“Mom, I really just want to go in and lie down.”

She breathes deeply, staring straight ahead. “I know the timing is bad, and I wish this could wait, but your … your father has pneumonia.” She turns to me and purses her lips.

I nod numbly. I’d thought this might be coming when I’d heard him wheezing the day I’d brought Ryan to see him. While pneumonia can be potentially fatal for someone like Dad, he’s recovered quickly in the past with antibiotics, and I’m not getting why Mom thinks I need to know this right now.

“I’ve talked with his doctors,” she continues, “and they’re going to let the pneumonia go untreated. He could—” Her voice cracks. “He could go any time,” she whispers.

She bows her head and her shoulders shake. I’m speechless. If this is what I wanted, why do I feel like someone just punched me in the stomach?

“I just wish there was a way to be certain that he won’t wake up—that I’m doing the right thing,” she sobs.

I reach for her hand and she squeezes mine tightly. “I think it is. No, I know it is. It’s what he wanted,” I tell her.

Even as I say the words, my stomach turns, because I can’t help thinking that if Dad dies, I’ll be responsible for the deaths of two people I loved dearly.

The doorbell rings and I raise my head off the couch pillow. I hope it isn’t Ryan. I thought I made it pretty clear I wasn’t up for any visitors, but he called after work, wanting to come by. I look at my watch—6:40. I roll my eyes. It has to be him. The bell chimes again. Mom’s taking a nap and I know I need to get the door before he pushes the bell again.

“I’m coming,” I mutter bitterly. I gently lift Fergus’s head off my lap and shuffle to the door in my slippers. Seriously, what part of “my best friend was just brutally murdered and now I’m waiting for a call from the nursing home about my father’s imminent death” does he not understand?

Of course, he still doesn’t know I’m planning to break up with him, but in my defense I’ve been a bit too preoccupied the last few days to get the deed done.

I move in toward the newly installed peephole—after what happened, I bet we’re not the only ones in town being extra careful—and my pulse races. It’s Luke. I slide back the dead bolt and open the door.

“Hey,” he says softly. “Are you up for a visit?” He runs his fingers nervously through his dark hair, and despite everything, a smile comes to my face. “I’ve been worried about you, did you get my messages?”

I sigh. I haven’t returned any of his calls. If I did, I’d have to admit that what happened in the woods is my fault. I’ve lost too much already, and I’ve been afraid that if he knows the truth, I’ll lose him too.

But he’s here now, and even if he ends up hating me, I have to tell him.

“I wasn’t feeling up to talking.”

He nods and takes my hand in his. I feel my pain slipping from me. “No, don’t!” I yank my hand from his. I won’t let him make me feel better—I don’t deserve it.

Tears gather in my eyes and I look away from him. He takes my chin and slowly turns my face back toward his. “Talk to me.”

He leans in and our foreheads touch. I breathe in the mixture of paint and sweat on him.

“I’m here for you,” he whispers as he takes my hand again. “I want to help.”

I pull away and walk to the couch. “I could’ve saved her.”

He sits next to me and I draw my hands up across my chest and rest my chin on them.

“You did everything you could.”

“No, that’s just it, I didn’t. The night Nicki died, Remy tried to warn me. She reached out for my hand, but I wouldn’t take it!” I look up at the ceiling as my eyes fill with tears for the millionth time in the last three days. “If I had just taken her hand, I might’ve seen Nicki, and she’d still be alive …”

“No! You don’t know what you would’ve seen,” he says. “It could’ve been anything. It takes an enormous amount of energy and concentration just for her to show up, let alone talk coherently. Even if she wants to show you something specific, there’s no guarantee she could grab the image she wanted from the correct time frame.”

Luke reaches out again, and this time I let him take my hand. I lean my head on his shoulder, and he kisses the top of my head. “There’s nothing you could’ve done to stop this.”

The phone rings and my eyes fly open. I jump up and pick it up from the charger. My heart drops when I see it’s the nursing home. I push the talk button, say a quick “Hello?” and hold my breath while I listen.

“Okay, I’ll let her know. We’ll be right there.” I hang up and bite my lip.

“Is it time?” Luke asks.

I nod.

“Get your mom. I’ll drive.”

I cling to Luke as Mom kisses Dad on his freshly shaved cheek. “I’ve never stopped loving you,” she whispers.

The machines that usually flash and beep next to him have all been disconnected and turned off, making his jagged and labored breathing seem overly loud in the quiet room.

My heart races as I watch his chest fall with each exhalation, wondering if it will rise again. His face is ashen, and the skin across his closed eyes looks thin and papery.

A part of me wants to erase the last week and go back to the way things were. But seeing him so small and frail in his bed—his body eroded away from years of disuse—I remind myself that this is what Dad wanted
ten years ago
.

Mom takes one of Dad’s hands and sits in the chair next to his bed. “Is … is she here?” she asks, looking around the room. Her eyes are wide and frightened, but I know what she wants. She wants to see Remy—to see her before she finally moves on.

Remy’s nowhere in sight, and I turn to Luke. He shakes his head. I’m not sure if we should call her. Tonight Remy should move on with Dad, but what if she starts ranting beforehand? The last thing Mom needs is to witness one of Remy’s tantrums.

Mom stands up, kisses Dad’s hand, and lays it gently on his chest. “Can you get her here?” she asks Luke, desperation in her eyes.
“Can I say good-bye to my baby?”
she cries.

Her lower lip quivers, and Luke nods.

“Do you think we should?” I whisper, hoping Luke will remember Remy’s fit the day Nicki saw her. I don’t think Mom could handle it if Remy has one of her episodes.

“I think it’ll be okay,” he says to me. “This is what Remy’s been waiting for.”

He holds his hand out to Mom. Tears stream down her face as she takes it. “Remy, it’s time,” he calls out quietly. “Remy.”

We all look around the room. I see Remy forming in the far corner and exchange a look with Luke. He points in Remy’s direction and Mom shakes her head.

“Remy, Mommy’s here,” I say. “She wants to see you.”

Remy comes into view more clearly and Mom gasps. “Baby?”

Remy starts to skip in a tight circle. “Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight. I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight.”

Mom’s face crumples and she covers her mouth with a hand. “Baby, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry,” she whispers.

Remy turns and her eyes lock onto Mom’s.
“Mommy?”
She solidifies and beams at Mom. “Where have you been? Have you seen Daddy? I need to find him! Bad apples!”

Mom holds out her free arm and Remy rushes to her. Mom sucks in a deep breath, no doubt chilled to the bone now that Remy’s laced her arms around her waist.

“Megan,” Luke whispers, pointing to my father.

I turn and watch him exhale a jagged breath, and then lie completely still. A soft glow surrounds him, getting brighter by the second.

“Mom!”

“I, uh, see it,” she stutters. “Remy, honey,
go with Daddy
. He’s here.
Go with Daddy!
”

The glow rises and I see my father’s face muted and distorted in its midst.

Remy pulls away from Mom and cocks her head toward the light. “Daddy? Daddy!” she squeals. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

Relief rushes through me. It’s almost over. Dad and Remy will finally be at peace.

The light starts to fade and Remy looks wildly around the room. “Daddy? Daddy, where are you?”

Oh, no! Why didn’t she go with him? Her face screws up in anger and I know she’s about to lose it. “Luke!” I call out, hoping he’ll know enough to break his link with Mom.

I hold my breath for a second until he drops Mom’s hand. Mom looks around the room and I know she can’t see or hear Remy anymore. Thank God!

“Daddy, I thought you were gonna help me! Daddy? Daddy?”

Mom turns to me, and despite the fact that I want to curl into a ball and scream, I put on my poker face.

“Did—did she go with him?” she asks.

Remy’s calling over and over for Dad, and all I can think is that I need to get Mom out of the room quickly before Remy blows something up.

“Yes,” I lie. “She went with him. She’s at peace now.” I embrace Mom and start to lead her out of the room. “We’d better alert the doctor.”

She pauses and looks back at Dad with such pain in her eyes. Dr. Macardo told me at our last session that in cases like this, the family has often already mourned their loss years before the actual death occurs. Mom’s red-rimmed eyes and blotchy face say otherwise, and I can’t imagine how she’d feel if she knew that Remy was still here.

We flag down a nurse, who nods at us sympathetically. “I’ll get the doctor right away. I’m sorry for your loss.”

Remy’s starting to quiet down, and it sinks in that she’ll probably be with me for the rest of my life.