Recalled (7 page)
“Memorial -
Serving as a remembrance of a person or an event; commemorative.”
Piper
I got off the bus earlier than I should have and then had to walk home in the cold. But the cold was preferable to being on the bus. Riding on it made me feel like a traitor, like I was somehow dishonoring the man who died by sitting in the very thing that crushed him. I could’ve taken a cab, but the fare all the way across town would’ve cost way too much. I could barely afford to live now, and if it weren’t for Frankie’s love of sharing donuts and the fact I got free meals at the diner, I’d probably starve. Even still, I had it better than some people, as the little card in my pocket so boldly reminded.
I couldn’t get over the fact no one claimed him. No one cared he died. Everyone should have someone. I guess his someone would be me.
The wind began to blow and with it came another strange feeling—like the one that came over me at the hospital. I stopped and looked around, but nothing was there. I began walking again, changing my footsteps and heading toward a small flower shop on the corner. Inside, I bought a bunch of daisies. They were cheerful—a spot of sun in the gray winter—and the only thing in the place I could afford.
The lady wrapped them in sunny yellow paper and tied them up with a purple ribbon. As I carried them home, I guarded them against the wind and ignored the prickling at the base of my neck.
Once inside my tiny apartment, I threw the locks and let out a sigh of relief. I pulled out the card with the picture of the beach and tucked it into the frame of the mirror hanging near the front door. Then I placed the daisies in a vase and sat it on the chest of drawers beneath the mirror. It was small and simple, but it was my way of honoring the man who died. My way of acknowledging the heroic thing he did for me.
I don’t know if what I did mattered, but it made me feel better so I suppose it was worth it.
I turned when a dark shadow passed by the tiny window, momentarily darkening the room. When I looked through the glass, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky to disrupt the sun’s rays.
So where did the darkness come from?
“Introduction -
a presentation of one person to another or others.”
Dex
The first step in killing someone is recon. Well, it seemed like a logical first step. I’ve decided it would be easier to kill the Target by learning her habits and routine. Then I could decide the best possible way for elimination. Once I decided the best way to kill her, I could make a plan and carry it out. Job done, and I could collect my actual body, get a pay raise, and live richly ever after.
I drove the Roadster until I was just down the street from the diner where I knew the Target worked. I slid into an open parking spot down the street and got out to walk the rest of the way, stuffing my hands into my heavy black leather jacket and tucking my chin into my chest. The sidewalks were covered in salt, but there were still a few patches of ice and I avoided them, realizing my Converse weren’t the best for walking on slippery ground.
Maybe I should buy a pair of boots… Nah, I like my sneakers better.
As I got closer I tried to avoid looking at the spot where I died. But it was no use. My eyes went there automatically. The bench the bus took out was still missing. But other than that, everything else appeared unharmed.
It was as if the accident never even happened. As if I never died. Except it had… and I did.
I forced my eyes away from the area and toward the diner. The glass windows were lit up and the open sign on the door glowed red and blue. I didn’t hesitate to pull open the door and choose a table in the back corner, sitting against the wall so I could see everyone in the place.
A waitress with a black waist apron and white shirt came over and gave me a menu as I ordered coffee. The place wasn’t that crowded. There were a few tables with people and a few others sitting at the counter, but that was all. A cook worked behind the cook line and two waitresses were busy at the counter, pouring coffee and working the register.
I didn’t see the Target. I was pretty sure I’d know her if I saw her. After all, she was the last face I saw before I died.
I was slightly irritated my recon plans weren’t going that well, and I buried my face in the menu. I might as well eat. It would look odd if I got up and left without ordering.
A few moments later, a coffee cup slid onto the table near my elbow and a few packets of creamer were plopped down next to it. I was still deciding between the pancakes or the cheeseburger and I didn’t bother to look up.
“Need a minute?” the waitress asked.
I glanced up to wave her away, but my gaze held when I saw who it was.
The girl.
The Target.
She must’ve come from the back. I certainly knew her when I saw her, but this was more than recognition. Every memory from the last few seconds of my life came flooding back to me.
The way the cold ground pressed into me. The way my body felt shattered and broken. The way it hurt to breathe, and then I just didn’t. The way my eyes clung to the last sight I thought I would ever see…
Her face.
Her beautiful face.
Her hair was long and wavy—dark like coffee, but with lighter strands mixed in that reminded me of the swirling coffee cream I recently discovered. Her dark, catlike eyes were featured on her pale, oval-shaped face, and her slightly rounded cheeks blushed a pretty pink.
She shifted on her feet and tapped her pen on the pad of paper in her hand, and I realized I’d been silent too long.
“Yeah,” I said, clearing my throat and looking down at the menu I didn’t really see. “I’ll have the BLT.”
“You want fries?”
I nodded and she made a mark on her pad, turned, and walked away.
I picked up the coffee and took a sip. The bitter liquid burned my tongue, but it brought me out of the memories and lent some heat to my cold body. I watched out of the corner of my eye as she worked refilling coffee, wiping down tables, and delivering food. She smiled at most everyone, but it never reached her eyes. To me, that meant she was more guarded than most people realized. Odd, I didn’t get that impression the night I robbed her.
I don’t know how much time passed before she appeared with a plate of food and sat it down in front of me. I did a double take at the BLT… I thought I ordered a cheeseburger.
“Do you need anything else?”
“Coffee?” I asked as she looked right at me. I waited for some recognition in her eyes but none came.
She came back to the table with a pot of coffee and filled my cup to the rim, then walked away silently, filling other cups as she went. I pulled out my phone and pretended to be involved with it as I ate the food one handed. Really, I was trying to hear everything she said to get some glimpse into her life.
Turns out my guess she was more guarded than she let on was right. She kept things light and friendly, but professional, so I was only able to get a few small details about her. Like the fact she was allergic to peanuts. I’d hoped for more knowledge so it was entirely frustrating. How was a guy supposed to do recon with an uncooperative Target?
Long after my food was eaten along with two pieces of pie and a third cup of coffee, I was the last guy left in the diner and she was finishing up her shift. The tab was already paid and I pretended to nurse my coffee when really it had gone cold long ago.
She came toward my table with a rag in her hand and wiped down the tables beside me. I got up from my seat, figuring this was the worst night of recon ever. I drank bad coffee, ate a sandwich I didn’t understand (salad and bacon on bread… really?) and learned exactly nothing.
I headed for the door when she stepped in front of me and slipped on some water that had spilled on the floor. I caught her around the waist as she fell.
We both seemed to pause in the moment, standing in the center of the empty room, looking like we’d been dancing and I dipped her.
“We keep meeting like this,” I murmured, thinking of the night she slipped on ice and I caught her. Only this time I wasn’t trying to steal her money.
Her eyes widened and her voice was breathless. “Do I know you?”
We both straightened and I stepped back. “Of course not. I… You just remind me of someone.” I adjusted the glasses on my nose.
She stared at me like she was actually just seeing me for the first time all night. Then she seemed to shake herself and smile. “Thanks.”
I nodded and went past her to push out the door into the freezing night. Outside on the sidewalk, I paused to catch my breath. What was I thinking? I couldn’t say things like that. She’d think I was a freak and stay as far away as possible. That would make it hard to kill her. Unless I did the killing from afar.
Yeah, maybe that would be better than this recon stuff.
I walked a few paces from the diner. When I got home, I’d make a plan on how to kill her from a distance.
Behind me the bell on the door jingled, indicating it swung open again. I didn’t bother looking back.
“Hey!” someone called.
I stopped and turned.
She was there, rushing toward me, pulling a dark-green coat around her. She had snow in her hair. I didn’t realize it was snowing.
“Yeah?” I asked, wondering if she was really talking to me.
Now that she had my attention, she seemed to grow a little shy. I just stood there and waited as I watched the snowflakes take up residence on her head.
“Do you have a car?” she asked.
I nodded and motioned down the street toward the Roadster. “Right down there.”
She glanced at the Roadster, then at me. “Is that thing any good in the snow?”
I shrugged. “Guess I’ll find out.”
“Oh, is it new?”
I nodded again.
“Can I have a ride home?”
My eyes snapped to her face. She wanted a ride? From some guy she didn’t know? Maybe killing her wouldn’t be that hard after all. Maybe she already had a death wish.
She seemed to know what I was thinking because she said, “I know, it’s kind of weird of me to ask… but it’s really cold and I don’t feel like walking.”
“Don’t you usually take the bus?” I blurted, thinking back once again to the night I died. Inwardly, I kicked myself. I needed to stop saying things like that. You’d think for two people who knew each other for exactly two minutes, there wouldn’t be any history for me to keep bringing up.
She glanced at the bus stop and then back at me. She didn’t seem to think what I said was unusual and I was relieved.
“I don’t really like the bus,” she said quietly.
We both stood there awkwardly for long seconds before I remembered it was my turn to talk. I pulled the keys from my pocket.
“I’ll give you a ride. Come on.”
