The Reaping (16 page)

“I’ve...seen him before.  I know him, sort of.”

“So what does that mean, then, that I could see him?”

Derek stared at me for several long seconds, his expression a mixture of puzzlement and concern.  When he finally spoke, the razor-sharp edge of his words cut right through me.  “The only thing it can mean.  It means you’re dead, too.”

CHAPTER TEN

My heart stopped for an instant before restarting at a faster pace.  “What?  That’s crazy,” I scoffed, looking anywhere but at Derek’s face.  “Now
that
really is ridiculous,” I mumbled.  When he made no comment, didn’t so much as move a muscle, I looked back at him.  His face was so serious, so grave, I felt the burn of the bitter truth in my heart.  Willfully, I swallowed back tears.  “How is that even possible?” 

“I don’t know, but there are only two ways people can see the dead and, as far as I know, you haven’t been over there.”

“Over where?”

“To the Darkness.”

“The Darkness?”  This evening was beginning to take on a surreal quality, just as the previous night had.  It was like I was in an extended opening scene of a cheesy sci-fi movie. 

“Yes.  It’s where you’ll go to fight.  And win, preferably.”

The bottom dropped out of my stomach.  Fight? 

Despite my determination not to cry, I felt my chin quiver.  “Fight?  What are you talking about?
”
  Derek said nothing, didn’t even acknowledge that I’d spoken.  He just continued to stare at me as if I was the enemy.  And that sparked my anger.  “Answer me! 
What are you talking about?”

Derek whirled away from me, suddenly furious.  It lashed out at me like a physical entity, like a slap in the face.  “I
don’t know,”
he spat, flinging his arms emphatically.  “None of this,” he spun around, indicating the clearing, the power, the situation.  “None of it may apply to you.  I don’t know why he’d want you.”  He stopped abruptly and stared into my face, as if struck by a realization.  “Something’s wrong,” he said, taking two large steps away from me.  “Very, very wrong.”

Bending, Derek angrily swiped his jacket off the ground then, without a backward glance, he strode past me.  He stalked across the clearing then disappeared into the forest.

As I watched him go, I clung desperately to the denial that had served me so well recently.  His footsteps faded into the distance and the events of the past few days crowded in on me, drowning out all that was recognizable about my life.  The warmth and comfort of the familiar was all but gone, replaced by the cold reality of a strange world and an outlandish existence where my body and my life were not my own. 

Inside, I was breaking.  Again.  Too much was happening too fast.  How many times could I break before I shattered?  How much more could I bear? 

Before I could give in to the breakdown that was bearing down on me, a sharp, distant voice pierced the heavy night air.

“You coming?” 

As much as I needed to think, I needed answers.  And there was only one person that really seemed to know what was going on.  And he was steadily making his way further and further away from me.

Springing into action, I took off after Derek, walking as quickly as I could through the dark forest, chasing the sound of rustling leaves and moving branches. 

When I reached him, he was already at his motorcycle, the engine grumbling softly in the darkness.  I started to ask him a question, but he preempted me, shaking his head and revving the engine.  Obviously now was not the time.  I climbed on behind him and he eased onto the road and turned toward home.

When he pulled up in front of Leah’s, I dismounted, assuming he’d do the same and we’d have a chance to talk.  Instead, as soon as I was safely away from the bike, Derek punched it into gear and hit the gas, speeding away like the devil himself was right on his heels.

He left me there, on the curb at Leah’s house, alone to deal with my myriad feelings.  They swirled around inside me—frustration, fear, confusion, desperation, denial, disappointment.

When I could no longer hear the throaty growl of Derek’s motorcycle, I pushed my wayward feelings down deep inside my chest and turned to walk up Leah’s driveway.  Maybe she would have a way I could reach Derek.  I would find him one way or the other and he
would
answer my questions.

My arm was raised, poised to knock on the front door, when Leah jerked it open and threw herself at me. 

“Oh, Carson!  I’m so glad you’re alright.  We’ve been looking for you.”

“Looking for me?  Why?”  I inquired when Leah pulled away.  My first thought was that I was busted, that Dad had called Leah’s asking for me.

“Dad saw a police car in your driveway.  He walked down to make sure everything was alright and the cop said they were looking for you.”

The events of the previous night flashed through my mind in a montage of horrifying images.  I was going to jail.  Or juvie.  Either way, I just knew I was in serious trouble.  “Did they say why?”

Leah lowered her head, looking distinctly uncomfortable.  When she looked back up, tears shimmered in her cocoa eyes.  It was then that I noticed the sadness that was evident in every line of her face.

My heart constricted in alarm.  “Leah, what is it?” 

The urgency in my voice must’ve broken what tenuous hold she had on her emotions.  “It’s your dad, Carson,” she said, her voice breaking.  “He was in a wreck.”

My ears rang with her words.  “Is he alright?”

Leah shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut.  “No.”

I grabbed Leah’s shoulders and shook.  “What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“Carson, he’s gone,” she said miserably.

The world around me went silent, but for the dull thud of my heart.  “No,” I said, shaking my head, a sob burning in my chest.  “No.  He-he,” I began, my head spinning.  Leah touched my arm, but I jerked away from her.  “No!  You’re wrong!  He went for car parts.  He—”

I whirled and flew across her yard.  I hit the sidewalk at a full run, visions of my father’s bloated face floating beneath the surface of a black pond.  I didn’t stop running until I was fumbling with my keys, trying with trembling fingers to work the lock on the front door.  

“Dad!  Dad!”  Frantically, I went from room to room, turning on lights and calling his name.  I stopped in his bedroom.  Nothing was out of place, nothing looked different, but, inside, everything
felt
different.  It was unlike my dad to be out of contact for so long.  I had been too busy with my own stupid life to notice that something was wrong.  In the quiet, I knew Leah was telling the truth.

The icy fingers squeezing my heart belonged to death.  I knew it as surely as if he sat in the room with me, screaming at me from the dark corners.

Fuzzy gray cotton clouded my vision and filled my head.  I felt the softness of Dad’s comforter against my cheek just before numbness invaded my limbs.  Slowly, the coldness of reality faded until I was adrift in a welcome sea of nothingness.   

********

It was as if I’d awakened from a bad dream into a nightmare.  It was a particularly cold, rainy day at the end of September and my heart reflected the dull gray of the sky.  The minister’s words were nothing more than a hum in my head.  My focus was on the casket in front of me.  It was poised over a yawning hole in the ground, though a green drape covered the hole as well as the displaced earth piled at its foot.  But I knew it was there, waiting to swallow up the only family I had ever known. 

It had all been a blur—the police finding me on his bed, the description of how he’d drowned, the Kirbys hauling me back to their house, their promises to take care of everything.  And they had except for one thing: the lifeless body of my father lay only a few feet away.  They couldn’t take care of that.  That couldn’t be fixed.

At one point, I noticed the hum stopped and people were shaking my hand, hugging me, patting me on the back, their words an endless parade of platitudes that held no meaning for me, no comfort.  I shut them out as best I could.  I just wanted them go away and leave me alone.  Alone with my father.

Finally it was over and the Kirbys were all that remained.  Mrs. Kirby slid her arm around my shoulders and tugged gently, pulling me away from the grave.  I dug my heels in, literally.  She stopped when I did.

“I’ll find a way home.  I’d like to stay for a while.”

“Carson,” Mrs. Kirby began, her pained expression conveying more than her words ever could.  The indecision that warred within her was plain on her face.  I knew she was teetering between giving me some time with my father and not leaving me alone in case I was unstable. 

“Thank you both for…everything.  But really, I’ll be fine.  I just need some time.”

Though she teetered a few seconds more, I saw when the scales tipped in my favor.  With a nod of her head, she stepped away from me and, grudgingly, they left. 

When the sound of their engine had faded into the distance, I walked to the edge of the casket.  I was finally alone with my father.  For the last time. 

I struggled for words, but none came.  My eyes burned with tears, but none fell.  The sweet smell of roses taunted my nose.  There was a huge spray on top of the coffin.  It had all sorts of flowers in it, but I only recognized one—the roses. 

I reached out to touch one ruby petal, barely able to feel the satin texture against my fingertip.  They were so beautiful and they smelled so good.  I cupped one scented blossom in my hand. 

Anger welled within me.  How dare they?  On the worst day of my life, how dare they be anything but black and dead?  How dare they be beautiful and vibrant and alive? 

My fingers closed around the delicate bulb until I felt it crush against my palm.  Perversely, I felt a little bit better for having hurt it—like I was hurting. 

I looked around at all the floral arrangements.  Dozens of varieties covered the ground for ten feet in every direction.  None of them deserved to live and shine; they should all be dead and lifeless, like me I felt dead and lifeless. 

Bitterness poured through me, warring with my ever-present anger.  My right shoulder blade stung as my emotions churned.  I felt a thousand things at once and, at the same time, nothing. 

I opened my hand and looked down at the pulverized rose bud.  It lay limply on my palm, black and dead.  I closed my eyes against the rage, concentrated on pushing the fury back down inside me. 

As I struggled, I felt the pull of something familiar and powerful, something that tempered the explosiveness that swirled within me.  I opened my eyes to Derek.  He had materialized in front of me on the other side of the casket. 

He was wearing his customary black attire, which was depressingly appropriate for once.  But this time he wore a dress shirt and slacks topped with a duster, also in black.  His pale gray eyes glistened like sparkling drops of silver in his bronzed face. 

He cleared his throat and brought me back from my musings.  It was then that I noticed the backdrop was dark as well.  Behind him, all around the grave, were dead flowers.  All the arrangements that had been vibrant only moments before were dead, their edges black and curled.  The grass was dead, too; it made a brown circle that radiated out from the grave site.

“What happened?”

Derek shrugged.  The casual gesture was belied by the deep frown of concern that etched his brow.

“Are you going to be alright?” 

A derisive snort escaped.  “You’re kidding, right?”