The Weird Travels of Aimee Schmidt: The Curse of the Gifted (39 page)

Dylan muttered under his breath, “So that’s how you do it.” Aimee threw Dylan a smug look, and then turned back to greet the intruder.

“Good afternoon, Miss Schmidt,” the man greeted.

“Hello Detective Woolsey. How are you?” she asked as soon as Aimee recognized the officer standing at the threshold. She forced politeness into her voice, still miffed his unannounced visit had interrupted them. “Do you want to come in?”

“Is Mike here?” he asked, then he opened the glass storm door and halfway stepped into the hallway. He acknowledged Dylan behind Aimee.

Dylan quickly extended his hand towards Detective Woolsey. “Good afternoon, sir, Dylan…Dylan Townsend.”

“Dylan, good afternoon, Levi Woolsey. I’m glad you’re here, too. It’ll save me some time later. I can visit with both of you about the incident on Saturday.” He finished shaking Dylan’s hand, then started following them into the den. Zonker sniffed at the visitor’s shoes, decided he must be okay, and headed back to the bedroom.

“Come on in and sit down,” Aimee offered before reaching down to the floor and tossing the end pillows back up on the couch. Dylan set the backpack on the floor before he dropped into the recliner. Aimee sat down in the rocker and waited for Detective Woolsey to begin. First he sat down on the edge of the couch, pulled out a little pad balancing it on his leg, and started to write down notes. He fingered some glasses from his shirt pocket and slid them on. Just like Dad, he peered over the frames when he started talking.

“So, Aimee…” he continued with business-like formality in his voice.

“Yes, sir?” she answered, now feeling more nervous than ticked by his visit.

“Where did you say your dad was? I see his truck in the driveway.”

“I didn’t say, but he’s not here. He’s in the hospital,” Aimee said after clearing her throat. “He had a heart attack this weekend, and they put a stent in today. But he’s doing much better.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear about his heart attack. Mike’s a great guy. Be sure to tell Mike I said hello and hope he gets back on his feet soon,” replied Detective Woolsey. He continued to peer over his glasses when he spoke.

“I will.”

“Anyway, after Dylan and his parents’ statements yesterday, I got pulled in because I was informed the case involved you…”

“So, do you think it might have something to do with my recent accident or our break-in?”

“Well, considering the fact your initials were scratched into the paint, and there have been other occurrences of criminal intent towards you, we want to make sure we uncover all of the possible facts before we push forward.”

Dylan jumped in with his own questioning. “Do you think whoever did this to Paul’s car might be the same sonofabitch who ran Aimee off the road?”

“Not sure, but that’s why I’m here. I’m trying to gather everything I need to help solve these
cases. One thing for sure, this
was
more than just random vandalism.” Detective Woolsey pushed his
glasses up his nose and jotted down a few notes onto his pad.

He continued his questioning for a half hour. On his way out, Detective Woolsey asked Aimee again to give her dad his best. They watched on the porch while he pulled away from the curb, then they went back into the house. Aimee shut the door and leaned against it. She clamped her eyes shut. The pain was brutal now behind her eyeballs. She knew the journey was close. She needed to figure out how to slip away from Dylan without raising any suspicion.

Dylan stopped when he reached the end of the entry and realized Aimee wasn’t following. He turned around. “You okay?” he asked.

She hesitated for a few seconds, opened her eyes, and stared at him. He started back towards her. “No…no, I don’t feel so well. I think the stress has me totally rattled. My friggin’ head is killing me.” The look on her face must have instantly convinced him just how bad she hurt.

“You don’t
look
so well. Your eyes are bright red. Let me get you something for your head
ache. Why don't you go lay down.” He quickly headed for the kitchen.

Without a word, Aimee obeyed. Before long she heard his footsteps, and propped up on one elbow, chugged the pills he handed her, and then chased them with a big swig of water. Aimee gave the glass back to Dylan and he set it on the desk. He crawled gently onto the bed and laid down next to her. She knew the medicine wouldn’t help this headache, but she whispered weakly
, “Thank you. You
do
take good care of me. I love you so much.”

“I love you more,” Dylan said as he rested his head next to hers on the pillow.

Aimee closed her eyes. Within a minute she felt Dylan’s hand slip slowly off her stomach and his breathing shift from its normal pattern to first gear. Slowly, covertly, Aimee eased out of bed, covered him with a blanket, and tiptoed out of the room. She needed to get away from Dylan before her journey took her away in front of him. She barely had enough time to get into the bathroom and lock
the door before
it
happened. The all too familiar tunnel swallowed her like a hungry beast.

Just like most of her journeys, this one took her through time cocooned tightly in dark pain. Fractions of a second seemed to stretch out endlessly while she traveled through the icy blackness. Aimee heard herself begging for the end. It didn’t matter if it was the end of the tortuous tomb or the ultimate emphatic end. The relief of exiting the tunnel was worth any type of ending. Within seconds it was over.

This time was like the rest. She landed into another place dazed, but alive. Fortunately, her arrival was uneventful. She didn’t know how much more damage her body could endure. After peeling herself off the ground, Aimee immediately tried to assess where she was. Damp blackness shrouded everything. It was impossible to see. The sweet scent of pines and the earthy smell of the woods after a rain infiltrated her nostrils, but she couldn’t see her hand in front of her face. The air felt as wet as the dirt under her. Foliage surrounded her, and leaves and pine needles stuck to her clothes. Aimee shifted slightly and a gangly limb lashed her face knocking her off balance and backwards before she caught her footing. Too frightened to stay down, she ejected back up like a jack-in-a-box and whipped around searching for the limb that had slapped her down. She pawed the hair out of her face and froze solid in the pitch blackness straining to hear anything that might clue her where she was. Nothing but the sound of her heavy breathing filled the air.

Even though Aimee had no idea where she was or where she needed to go, the question that
perplexed her more was
why
she got sent into the middle of a forest in the middle of the night? But she
knew the answer would come soon. It always did. And Aimee had learned fast from the missions she had been assigned the past few months that it didn’t matter how long it took or how much she pleaded to go home, she wasn’t returning until she accomplished what she was sent to do; help someone in trouble. So Aimee figured she better suck up her fear and get on with it.

Only swallowing the fear was easier said than done. Frigid air swirled around her. It felt evil. The stillness felt even more ominous. Even in the middle of a forest she had never experienced such quiet. No animals stirred. No trees rustled. She could hear her heart thumping. For a long moment Aimee listened to its beating drowning out the sound of nothingness and tried desperately to reign in her fear and figure out which direction to start groping her way towards.

At long last, the fear started to fade and she unfroze from the spot she was stuck to. Aimee dropped to all fours and blindly crawled through the vegetated labyrinth. The heavy branches pricked at her bare arms, but she couldn’t afford to stop. Out of nowhere, a dewy web glued itself to her head and Aimee screamed and clawed at her hair to get the sticky strings and anything alive attached to it off. After a minute she could feel the air slither down her throat again so she got back up and started edging slowly through the thick timber. Aimee took a step and her foot tangled in a fallen limb. Head first she tumbled over the limb and instinctively stuck out her arms to break the fall. She landed into a huge mound of loose dirt and her arms disappeared into newly turned earth. Aimee's hands hit something. The surface felt cold and smooth. It took only a fraction of a second and Aimee knew unequivocally what was buried in the loose dirt.

Hands...and the fingers twitched!

Aimee screamed, but terror paralyzed her and stifled the sound deep inside her chest. She fought to free herself. The ground was like quicksand, the harder she struggled, the deeper she sunk. But after several seconds, she escaped the fresh grave. Dirt masked her face, hair, and stuck to anything uncovered by clothing. She couldn’t catch her breath. She had to flee as fast as possible so she backpedaled on all fours until she crashed into a massive tree trunk. Aimee's backside instantly glued to it. She gasped for air. The icy, bitter darkness was choking the life out of her, but she couldn’t see to get away. The vegetation’s thick drapery trapped her inside its tentacles with a buried body only a few feet away!

Sweat poured down Aimee's cheeks even though the temperature had to be near freezing. Her heavy breathing was the only sound of life in this temple of doom. She sat scared stiff. Irrational
thoughts kept her pinned to the ground. Then like
someone
snatched control of Aimee's body, she
bolted back on all fours towards the makeshift grave and started digging hysterically. Her hands transformed into shovels, and the adrenaline pumped furiously through her and propelled her arms. In seconds she unearthed the bare back of a body. Aimee couldn’t see the person, but she felt hands with a cord tied around them. A finger wiggled. Instead of freaking again, she continued digging madly. Dirt flew every direction. Aimee brushed across long hair and it tangled through her fingers. It stuck like the spider web she fought to get off earlier. Precious seconds raced by before Aimee tore her fingers loose of the human web. Her heart felt ready to explode, but she didn’t dare stop. She sailed her hands up the torso until she caught the armpits. With every ounce of fortitude Aimee could muster, she tugged the body out of the shallow grave and onto the damp ground. Even though she couldn’t see her, she knew it was a girl.

Never stopping for a second, Aimee slid her hands up to the neck seeking a pulse. Like a blind person, Aimee searched for clues across the person's cold skin. Nothing. Aimee couldn’t keep her fingers still long enough to find what she needed. More precious seconds flew by. “Please, please, God help me!” she begged. Instantly, she steadied her hands and landed on the artery with the tips of two digits pressed firmly over it. “Sweet Jesus, let there be a pulse,” she prayed. The tiniest of pulses, perhaps weakened beyond repair, beat under her forefinger. Aimee yelped excitedly, “Omigod, omigod, omigod!”

Is she breathing?

She touched the victim's face. A strip of duct tape sealed her mouth. Aimee ran her nail up under the edge, peeled back a corner, then ripped it off. A conscious person would have screamed. Nothing. Not even a flinch.

Just as Aimee did with Jack Reynolds, she shifted into automatic and jumped into action to revive her. Fortunately, the girl's mouth was clear. After minutes of rescue breathing, a sound as beautiful as a newborn baby’s cry filled the darkness - a gagging cough, followed by the sound of air being sucked through a battered windpipe, and then finally an agonizing moan. The darkness under the forest canopy made it impossible to see each other, but Aimee felt a flicker of life creep back into the girl. Aimee's prayers had been heard.

Time still remained their enemy. The girl needed help, and she needed it now. Sadly, her only hope was Aimee, who didn’t know where they were, or how to get out of this forsaken wilderness, or
worse, how long she had before she would disappear back through time. But perhaps the same
someone
who heard her pleas before was listening to Aimee's thoughts because the clouds blotting out any
shred of light in the sky magically started parting and the light from a full moon spread magnificent shades of metallic gray into the small clearing where they sat.

Aimee looked at the girl. She stared back at Aimee. Her eyes were wide as saucers. Being buried alive chiseled terror deep into her pale face. Black discoloration mottled her throat. Her body, unclothed, felt frigid. She looked young, Aimee's age, eighteen, maybe nineteen at the oldest, too young to face death. Aimee couldn’t fathom what abuse she had experienced, and she shuddered imagining what the monster did to her. At least Aimee was going to make sure she lived to tell her story.

The girl tried speaking, but only a hoarse wheeze leaked out. Aimee touched her shoulder and whispered, “I’m here to help you. Don’t try talking. I don’t know how bad you’re hurt, but I swear to you I’m going to get you out of here. You have to trust me.”

She studied Aimee like a frightened animal. After a few seconds she nodded slowly never once taking her eyes from Aimee's face. The girl had no choice but to believe her.

“Good,” Aimee answered, then without hesitation she rolled the girl over and started to undo the knot in the cord that bound her hands. In the dim light, Aimee continued working and talking rapidly. “I can’t imagine how scared you feel right now. The freakin’ bastard who did this to you thinks you’re dead. Let’s pray he’s long gone. If the clouds cover back up I won’t be able to tell what direction to go to get us out of here. And you need some help, really bad, so if we don’t get going right now we might not make it out of here alive.”

The girl tried to speak again, but only primordial grunts came out. She reached up and touched her throat. Aimee quickly moved down to the knot around her ankles and continued working.

Aimee couldn't imagine the terror of being attacked and buried alive in a shallow grave, and then the impossible experience of some stranger mystically appearing in the middle of nowhere and saving you. Any sane person would be freaking out. Hoping to calm the girl, and keep her calm so Aimee could do her job before she got sent back, she started talking again to the girl.