Resurrected (Resurrected Series Book 1) (23 page)

But we had never been in this situation on a moving boat before. And no one was driving this yacht anymore. I crept onto the deck as noiselessly as I could, staying as hidden as possible, wondering if I could get to the controls of the boat without getting myself killed. But I never had a chance to find out. Whether it was something in the water we hadn’t seen because no one was watching the water, or a wave or the universe just fucking with me again, the yacht suddenly jerked, a violent jolt that sent all of us sliding across the deck. David, by pure luck, had been closest to the starboard railing and had something to grab onto. Eric had fallen.

There are so many things that I could have done then, but life is like that I guess. We are cursed with hindsight and forced to examine our mistakes, to wonder what would have happened if we had made different decisions. But sometimes, we don’t have time to think. We don’t have the luxury of examining all of the potential consequences of our actions or even what alternatives we have. We see someone we love in danger, someone we love about to die, and we act. Eric, my best friend, my brother, who was trying to pull his arm around him with the pistol he still held to reach back toward David, was about to die. And so I acted.

He was closer to me than David, so I sprang at him, knocking him out of the way just in time to hear the unmistakable sound of a bullet discharging, feel the searing hot pain ripping into my body, and I was stumbling backward. I only vaguely registered Eric charging David, tackling him to the ground as another shot went off. I don’t know where it went. I was in so much pain. There was so much blood. My hands were covered. I had a flashback to being a three year old child, hurt with a bleeding hand, and going to my mother for comfort, for assurance that everything would be all right. She wouldn’t give it to me then. There was no one to give it to me now.

I was leaning against the port side of the yacht, leaving bloody handprints as I held onto it, trying to stay upright, knowing that if I fell down, if I closed my eyes, I would never open them again. But the blood on the railing made it slippery and I leaned over, I don’t know why; I had the crazy thought that the water would wash away the pain, a baptism, a new beginning, a rebirth. I let myself fall into the water.

Around me, a red cloud began forming, and for a brief moment, I wondered, what is this? It was eerily beautiful, this crimson red mixing with the mud brown water of the lake, swirling around me like I had been trapped in a vortex of colors. Then I remembered. It was me. It was my blood. I was dying. I closed my eyes. Lottie. My love. My world. I had promised her I would come home. I should have never made a promise I couldn’t keep. I was sinking. The pain. So penetrating, so encompassing. Come on, Death. I’ve been waiting for you. For over two years, I’ve been waiting for you. My afterlife is over now. I have been reborn.

EPILOGUE

Lottie collapsed next to me on the living room floor of our new apartment in the Prenzlauer Berg neighborhood of Berlin. Her cheeks were flushed and she had strands of wavy brown hair that had escaped from her ponytail framing her face. God, she was so beautiful. We were surrounded by unopened boxes, and I swear, half of them were bookshelves we still had to put together. We had just carried the last of our boxes up four flights of stairs. Lottie put an arm around me and kissed my cheek, my forehead, my lips. She was glowing. “You ok?” She asked me that a lot now.

“I’m fine,” I assured her.

Her hand reached down and lifted my shirt, feeling the smooth white scar where the bullet had entered my abdomen. I think she still expected to wake up and find me bleeding, to find this scar a new wound, to find me dead. I took her hand and brought it to my lips. “Lottie,” I said softly, “I’m fine. Really.” And somehow, I was. I don’t remember anything after passing out in the water of Lake Charles. Nothing: no memories or feelings or sensations, not until I woke up, several days later, in a hospital. St. Elizabeth’s of all places. Eric and Lottie were both with me. Eric had told me if I ever scared him like that again, he was going to kill me himself. Lottie had threatened to disembowel him on the spot if he ever even tried it. And as confused and disoriented as I was, as much pain as I was in trying to recover from a gunshot wound that had nearly killed me, I knew right away that I had survived; that I was still me and just me; that Lottie wasn’t the only one who had been given a second chance.

There were some things I knew without having to be told: Eric had jumped in the water to find me, to save me; Lottie had insisted on being brought to Lake Charles immediately to be with me. And neither of them would have left me. Eric told me it was a pretty dramatic rescue – I was airlifted and everything. I got a lot of blood transfusions, surgery to clean out the wound, but I had apparently been quite lucky. No major organ damage. No sepsis. I mean, I did fall into a lake that’s known for being polluted and all.

They had found Lydia easily by tracking the car. She had been to the hospital several times to check on me but she was anxious to leave Louisiana once and for all; Don had offered to sell his store and move with her. I knew better than to think it was a sexual interest – he thought of Lydia like a daughter and wanted to make sure nothing like this ever happened to her again. And Lottie told me Lydia was overjoyed about the idea of moving out of here with Don to look after her. I’m sure Mark wouldn’t be deterred by distance; wherever they moved, he would find a way to keep seeing her.

And there was one other thing I absolutely knew when I woke up in the hospital several days after being shot and thinking I had died: I could tell by the look on Lottie’s face, that look of such absolute sorrow and heartache and pain, that I was done. I would never work this job again. I would never do this to my Lottie again.

So once I was released from the hospital, we went back to Baton Rouge, and I asked Lottie to move to Berlin with me. This time, it wasn’t an impulsive decision, but one I had been thinking about ever since I woke up in the hospital, realizing I was still alive, I had another chance at life with the woman I had always loved. We had lost each other – twice – and yet, we were still here. I wouldn’t fuck it up again. I would go back to where my story began, back to the city where I had been rejected, where no one had loved me or wanted me, with the woman who had always loved and wanted me since the night we met.

Lottie thought it was one of the best ideas I’d ever had. She didn’t care if I sold used cars or taught physics at a local gymnasium. I had actually decided to go to graduate school. She thought that was the second best idea I’d ever had. So we lay in our new apartment together in Berlin, ready to start our new lives together. I was trying to be judicious with our money now, so while the neighborhood was an upscale one, because I wanted Lottie somewhere safe, the apartment itself was small. But we were together. And God, were we happy. There was actually only one other thing that could have made me any happier.

It wasn’t romantic, it wasn’t much of a gesture at all, actually. But I rolled onto my side to look at her, smoothing those curly strands away from her face, those big hazel eyes so full of love and
peace
. “Lottie,” I said tenderly, “you told me I would know and I know.” I had her ring in my pocket. “I have always known since the night that I met you that I want you to be my wife. And I knew that night in Baton Rouge when I had to leave you that I wanted it more than ever.” A tear escaped her eye, but I knew what it was for. “Charlotte Theriot Martin, will you marry me?”

Lottie smiled and wrapped her arms around my neck. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Resurrected Series

Book 2:
Insurrection
, S. M. Schmitz

Book 3:
Final Sacrifice
, S.M. Schmitz

For information on my other titles or to sign up for my mailing list, please visit
smschmitz.com
.

Excerpt from
Insurrection
, book 2 of the
Resurrected
series

PROLOGUE

Let me tell you an incredible story about my best friend, Dietrich, and his dead fiancée. I know it sounds really morbid and depressing, but she doesn’t stay dead, and that’s why it’s such an incredible story. I met Dietrich and Lottie when they were 18 and those two were always so crazy in love with each other. But when she was 25, she and her best friend were killed in a car accident. Now, let me just say, Dietrich’s like a brother to me – the brother I always wanted because I have
three
sisters – and the next two years were an absolute Hell for him. I hated seeing him like that. But what I could do? I couldn’t bring her back to life.

So I spent those two years just trying to keep him alive. The first year, there were nights I would refuse to leave his apartment and slept on his couch because I was worried about what he’d do. But most of the time, he threw himself into his job and worked too hard which meant
I
was working too hard since we were partners. But if it kept him alive, I wasn’t complaining.

Anyway, one day, Dietrich tells me he saw Lottie –
two years
after she died – and she claimed she was like some kind of fucking alien energy life force or something that had resurrected her body. But wait: it gets weirder. We tracked her down, and it turns out, there was something unique about Lottie’s body that allowed her memories and personality and everything that made her
her
to be resurrected, too, so she was both Lottie
and
this other alien woman.

This wasn’t supposed to happen though, and the assholes who run this show – sending these guys over from their planet – are really freaked out by Lottie’s resurrection because they’re worried it’s going to damage their reputation back home. I mean, who wants to wake up as both yourself
and
someone else? So they wanted her dead.

As long as we were around, these guys couldn’t touch her though, so they did the only other thing they could: they kidnapped her best friend, who had resurrected Lottie’s
dead
friend’s body. Shit, this is complicated. Dietrich could probably tell this story better than me. So Lydia – the resurrected best friend – was kidnapped and Dietrich and I led a pretty damn heroic rescue, if you ask me. Except Dietrich was shot saving my life. Bastard.

It wasn’t the first time he’d saved my life, but it was the first time he almost died because of it. Do you have any idea what it’s like to see someone you love so much bleeding like that? We were on a yacht on Lake Charles and, goddamn, his blood was everywhere and then he fell over the side and honest to God, I thought I had lost him. I killed the fucker who shot him and jumped in after him, but he was sinking so quickly and that water wasn’t exactly clear. I still don’t know how I found him. Maybe it was luck, or maybe it was God – Dietrich would say luck, he doesn’t believe in God and after everything we’ve been through, I think he’s just being a stubborn ass about it – but somehow, as I was swimming down into that dark brown water, my fingers brushed against him and I was able to pull him up. He barely survived. But he did. He’s one tough son of a bitch.

When he was better, he and Lottie moved to Berlin. And I missed the hell out of him. I missed them both, but Dietrich and I were unusually close. Maybe a little too close. Some of the guys we worked with thought we were gay. Seriously, we’re not; I don’t know, over the years, all the shit we did together, all the time we spent together, how could we
not
be really close? So he moved to Berlin and went from being the most badass guy I know to working on his fucking PhD in physics.
Physics.
Six months ago, he was beating the shit out of people and solving international – and apparently, intergalactic – mysteries, and now he was going to be a doctor. In physics. Ok, I was secretly a little proud of him, but I wasn’t going to
tell
him that.

A few months ago, he and Lottie got married. Finally. Before she died, she had been planning this big, elaborate wedding. This time, Dietrich called me right after they moved and told me they were going to get married soon and I needed to get my ass over there. So I did. No elaborate wedding, no church, no big fancy reception. Lydia and I both went and that was the entire wedding party. And honestly? It was probably the coolest wedding I’ve ever been to. Sure, a big part of it was knowing what they’d been through, the impossible odds they’d overcome and the fact this was even
happening
, but if you could see the way those two love each other, you’d see what I mean – Lottie never needed any of that fancy shit. She was the most beautiful bride I’d ever seen, because I swear to God, she lit up from the moment she saw Dietrich waiting for her in that room.

And me? Mark, who helped us out with all the shit going down in Baton Rouge with Lottie and Lydia, was my new partner and he was good but it wasn’t the same. But I wouldn’t change the way any of this worked out. And, oh yeah, Mark was in love with Lydia who was still clinging to this crush on me. Dietrich called it the sci-fi love triangle of our group. Lydia lived with another friend of theirs in Nashville, but Mark and I still checked on her often. Mark more often than me.

A few weeks ago, Dietrich told me he and Lottie were coming to Houston to visit right after Christmas; I tried to play it cool and act like I wasn’t actually really fucking excited about it. It would be the first time they’d been back in the States since leaving. Lydia was coming, too, so apparently, we were going to ring in the New Year with one big
Close Encounters of the Third Kind
party. That was our plan anyway. Because we really thought all of this shit with these bastards who wanted Lottie and Lydia dead was over with; even if Dietrich had left the intelligence world behind him, Mark and I were still here. We thought there was this mutual understanding that if they left us alone, we’d leave them alone. But we were wrong.