Student Bodies (5 page)

“Yeah, but they didn't.”

He leaned in toward me. “Look, you can't discount stuff like fate because it's intangible, you know? There isn't a single person alive today who knows what fate has in store for us – it doesn't matter if that person is a witch like you or just a civilian like me. Your mother is freaked about my getting killed because we're seeing each other, but I could wind up choking on a chunk of my hash brown and keel over right now or I could get leukemia and die a miserable death. The fact is, the risk to me from a jillion things that have absolutely nothing to do with our relationship is probably greater than my getting killed by some evil warlock dude. If your mom disagrees with me, I'll put together a Powerpoint presentation so that she'll get it.”

True, there was any number of terrible fates that awaited every person alive. Marcus had already experienced firsthand the kind of dangers that I faced by simply being a witch, but there were thousands upon thousands of potential fates that could hit any one of us at any time, day or night. Mom was worried about what would happen to me if Marcus wound up getting killed, but she hadn't taken into consideration the hell I went through when she was lingering on in the hospital after falling victim to the dark spell,
Endless Night
. I was just about to tell Marcus that maybe we should slow things down when someone started shouting.

“Get back behind the counter, Travis,” a voice rang out. I caught a glimpse of Travis Butler as he headed out the main doors and into the parking lot. He was dressed in his McDonald's uniform and his arms hung limply at his side. I couldn't see his face but I did see him walk straight through a snow bank and then behind an SUV in the drive-thru line. The driver of a car that was turning into the drive-thru lane jammed on his brakes, narrowly missing Travis and bumping into the menu sign.

“Did you see that, Marcus?” I asked.

“See what?” he said as he wolfed back the last of his Egg McMuffin.

I pointed to the parking lot. “Travis Butler from school. He just about got nailed by a car coming into the drive-thru.”

Marcus spun around in his chair and then stood up to take a look. “Oh yeah… there he goes. Maybe he's tired of working for an oppressive corporate entity.”

I watched as Travis walked to the far end of the parking lot. Suddenly a jolt of magical energy assaulted my senses and I slipped my amulet into the recess on my Shadowcull's band.

“Oh man, Julie. He doesn't look right in the head,” said Marcus as he threw on his coat. I jumped off my seat and together we raced through the main doors and out into the parking lot.

I leaped over a snowdrift as Marcus narrowly avoided being sideswiped by an oncoming minivan. Ahead I could see Travis Butler marching forward through an unplowed parking lot adjacent to the McDonald's, his entire body covered with squirming, disgusting little ghost larvae.

“Travis,” I bellowed. “Wait up!”

The sound of traffic on busy McLeod Trail filled my ears as we raced across the snow-covered lot. Travis was no more than a hundred meters to our front, so Marcus kicked into high gear and sprinted through a knee-deep snow drift. There were four lanes of Sunday morning traffic less than twenty meters from Travis. I scanned the area to see if there was something, anything that I could blast with a jolt of magic to either stop the traffic or slow his approach.

“Do something, Julie!” Marcus shouted. “I won't catch him in time!”

“I'm on it,” I huffed, trying to catch my breath. I gazed at Travis Butler with my Sight, desperately searching for the dark spell's path of flow as he lumbered through another snowdrift. A sharp gust of wind came out of nowhere. It sent a blast of freezing air up the back of my winter coat and I shivered as I tried to search out the dark spell's source with my spirit.

A swirl of dark energy frothed at Travis Butler's feet, leaving a black trail in the snow like a smudge. The bitter taste of dark magic filled my mouth and suddenly the icy breeze kicked into high gear, turning into an all-out gale force wind. A blinding wall of snow rolled across the busy street, enveloping Travis Butler and he disappeared from my field of vision entirely. I gritted my teeth together and I sent my spirit shooting through the malicious energy, trying desperately to locate the source of the spell. I found it, a rope knot of wicked power, but the magic was woven so tightly there was no time to attempt to unravel it.

“Marcus, stop!”
I shouted. He was barely visible through the blinding haze of snow and ice.

“I can't see him, Julie!” he shouted back through the howling wind. I fought my way forward, tucking my face into the collar of my coat to protect it against the thousands upon thousands of sharp ice crystals that stung as they hit the skin.

“Marcus,” I roared. “Stay where you are, I can hardly see you!”

And then all hell broke loose. The air filled with the sound of screeching tires, honking automobile horns and the unmistakable sound of metal smashing into metal. Through the thick cloud of blinding snow I saw a searing flash of light and then to my horror, a car literally flew up a snow-covered embankment and headed straight for Marcus.

“
Marcus
!” I screamed as he threw himself away from the oncoming vehicle. It missed him by inches and smashed into a poplar tree. I watched in dumbstruck awe as the driver smashed through the windshield, his body clearing the wreck by about twenty feet.

“Oh, Jesus!” I shrieked as I raced to the driver. Marcus stumbled up the embankment and headed toward me, his face ashen.

The driver moaned. Luckily, I remembered my first aid training. I checked his airway and saw that it was clear, but his face was a pulpy mass of blood and shredded tissue.

“T-that kid,” he gurgled through a mouthful of blood. “W-walked right onto the street… Then I couldn't see him anymore. I couldn't see anything.”

The man's arm was twisted and clearly broken, but at least he was alive. From the distance, the sound of emergency vehicles approached and as quickly as it started, the gale force wind disappeared. Marcus covered the shivering man with his winter coat as I looked out onto McLeod Trail. What I saw before me through the dissipating blizzard was sheer automotive carnage.

A small pickup truck had ploughed into the side of a parked city bus. Vehicles of every shape and size were scattered along both sides of the roadway like Tonka toys. A light pole had been sheared off its moorings and lay across the hood of a battered SUV, sparks of electricity shooting up into the air. And that wasn't the worst of it, not even close. The broken body of Travis Butler lay next to an overturned Volkswagen and an injured driver was trying frantically to help him. A dark pool of blood stained the snow-covered street where Travis's head lay as the driver began to do CPR.

“Oh my God,” I whispered. “Oh my fucking God.”

 

CHAPTER 7

 

Five ambulances, three fire trucks and at least half a dozen police cars responded to the call. Marcus and I stayed with the driver who'd been launched through his windshield until the paramedics arrived. We didn't know the extent of his injuries, but from the grim look on the faces of the two paramedics who lifted his stretcher into the back of the ambulance, we didn't have to ask.

We spent the next two hours giving witness statements to the police inside a tent that had been assembled by the emergency response teams. Warm air blew in through a flap in the side, powered by a loud portable heater. Marcus's parents arrived first, followed shortly afterward by my mother. From the grim look of her, I could tell that she had been shaken by the scene on McLeod Trail.

Amanda Guffman sat on a folding chair next to Marcus. Her blonde hair was tucked into a winter hat and she was wearing a pink-colored parka. Her arm was draped around Marcus's shoulder and her eyes were puffy from crying.

“Any word on Travis?” Marcus asked. He spoke in barely a whisper and he stared blankly at melting snow on his winter boots.

Wallace Guffman knelt down in front of his son. He looked precisely like Marcus, only thirty years in the future; as though time travel were a real possibility and an older Marcus had taken a trip back. He placed a bony hand on his Marcus's knee and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“Look at me, son,” he said quietly. “What you and Julie did here for that man today was very brave. McLeod Trail might look like a scene from a disaster movie and we don't know if the man you helped will make it, but just remember that you took quick action to help him and that's an incredibly brave thing to do.”

Marcus gave me a knowing look and then glanced at his father. “What about Travis?” he asked again.

His parents shared an uneasy glance. Wallace Guffman shook his head. “I'm sorry, son. Was he a close friend?”

“No,” said Marcus. “He was just another kid from school, is all.”

My mother stood behind me and I could feel her fingers digging into my shoulder. I glanced up and she mouthed the words. “We'll talk later.”

“He just walked out of the McDonald's,” Marcus said. “He headed right through the front doors and marched straight down into the traffic. I could have caught him but there was so much blowing snow. I lost sight of him and…”

Marcus's mother pulled her son close and gave him a reassuring hug. “Shhh, Marcus,” she said, soothingly. “You did everything that you could do to stop him. Sometimes terrible things just happen and we have no idea why.”

Neither Marcus nor I knew Travis Butler personally, but he wasn't just another face in the crowd at Crescent Ridge High School. Like Mike Olsen, Travis was an athlete. He was the star of the wrestling team and he was also the Vice President on the Students' Council. He had had a string of girlfriends, developing a reputation as a heartbreaker – at least that's what the rumor mill suggested. He hung out with all the jocks at school, he was Coach Raymond's favourite and it was a foregone conclusion that Travis would eventually wind up on the Olympic team.

And now he was dead, a victim of a magical attack that looked a hell of a lot to me as though someone wanted his death to look like something other than the murder it was. Some protector of innocents I was turning out to be. For all my heightened senses, and despite wearing the weapon of a Shadowcull on my right wrist, I hadn't detected the spell until Travis had already fallen victim to it. And that miniature blizzard… It came out of nowhere. A rolling, blinding wall of blowing snow had descended on McLeod Trail like a death shroud, but it was no freak of nature. Someone had meant for it to happen, someone not only managed to infect Travis Butler with ghost maggots or Soul Worms or whatever the hell he was covered from head to toe with, they also possessed enough power to control the elements. Someone with skill in aeromancy – the ability to summon and control the wind itself.

But why kill Travis Butler? He was one of the most popular kids at school. I gazed out of the entrance to the tent and watched as a fleet of tow trucks started hauling smashed-up cars off the street. The sun was shining brightly, causing the fresh snow to sparkle.

“He didn't kill himself, Mom,” said Marcus. “He had everything going for him, don't you get it? Everyone knew who Travis Butler was and a pat on the shoulder from the guy was passport to instant popularity at school. There's just no way.”

I noticed Marcus's father talking with a police officer in the opposite corner of the tent. He nodded a few times and then walked back over to the bench where we were sitting.

He buttoned up his parka and slipped on a pair of black leather gloves. “We're free to go now,” he said, turning his attention to me. “Julie, are you OK? We're planning to take Marcus home now. It might be a good idea for both of you to just take it easy today, this has been a terrible morning.”

I liked Wallace Guffman not just because he was the spitting image of Marcus in the future, but also because his soft-spoken nature could put anyone at ease, particularly if they were up to their necks in a crisis. He was a pharmacist and owned
Wallace's QuickPharm
. When you saw the doctor and got a prescription, Wallace Guffman was the guy you'd go to get it from. He always made a big show whenever I came into his store, whether to buy a Coke or to pick up a bottle of cough syrup. He'd sneak up to me and place his index finger on his lips. He'd whisper that QuickPharm just got a new shipment of everything from chocolate bars to lip balm to hair brushes, and then he'd give me one of his special “free” samples that nobody else in the world was to know about. Of course whenever he went into super-secret shopper mode in front of Marcus, the object of my affection would roll his eyes and flush with embarrassment, but that's how Wallace Guffman was: just plain old good.

Just like Marcus.

“I'd be lying if I said that I was,” I said quietly. I watched Marcus closely. His eyes met mine for a moment and I could have sworn that I could see the tiniest glimmer of fear in them as he tried to force a smile.

My mother's fingers dug into my shoulder again and she said, “I wish the circumstances were better, Wallace; we haven't talked for a very long time.”

“For years,” he replied. “Which is kind of strange given that Julie and Marcus are best friends. I'd planned on having you two over for dinner when Amanda and I learned that these two kids were finally an item. Days like today remind a person about how important having friends can be.”

“I imagine you're right, Wallace,” my mother replied, her eyes fixed firmly on Marcus. “Thank you for shoveling out our driveway this morning, Marcus… I didn't get a chance to thank you earlier.”

I threw my mother a dirty look because she was lying through her teeth. That just pissed me off no end and I bit my lip good and hard to stop myself from snapping at her.

“You're welcome,” he said quietly. “Julie, I'll text you later, OK?”