I've been talking so much recently about finishing the edit on Wrongful Death, which finally wrapped up this past Friday, that I decided to post the first chapter for all to see, while recognizing the ridicule it opens me up to. Unfortunately, the pragmatic side of me won't let me post the whole novel, so you'll have to get it when it's released to get the whole story.
1
HIT & RUN
The
last thing that went through my head was a chunk of concrete. Of course, the windshield had done the same
only a second earlier. In the instant
before the lights went out, I could almost hear mom nagging me about wearing my
seatbelt.
Standing,
I tried to dust myself off. I felt
surprisingly fine and hadn't yet made the connection between my situation and
the mangled piece of meat in the road.
Tires
squealed and rapidly faded into the distance.
I turned and stared into the setting sun just long enough to see the
outline of something black disappear over the hill. However, I quickly refocused my attention
when another car screeched nearby.
"Jen,
call 911."
I
spun around to find a heavyset man in a gray sweater kneeling over something on
the sidewalk. He placed his hand on
whatever it was and gently shook it before racing to his car and opening the
trunk.
In
spite of the scene, I was more interested in what had happened to my car. Yes, the Chevy Malibu was ugly and had gotten
me a lot of grief over the past couple of years, but it was mine. I'd finished paying Walt back for the loan he
gave me, and now I had a POS I could call my own.
My
heart sank when the damage became apparent.
The front end was crumpled against the light pole, white smoke pouring
from the engine. The windshield had a
hole in it, and the front left tire was turned in at an angle that I'm sure
only Mr. Wells, my 9th grade geometry teacher, could have measured.
"Whitaker
Street, about half a mile south of the Cross Roads Shopping Center,"
jabbered a thin blond on a cell phone.
Another couple of cars had come up behind her and people were stepping
out.
"Why
the hell are you blocking the road?" yelled a frumpled looking bald man.
Before
his wife could answer, the first car's owner said, "There's been an
accident you jackass. Someone's hurt and
we're trying to get an ambulance."
The man slammed his trunk and raced back over to the sidewalk with a
blanket in his arms.
Someone's hurt? I thought. God, I
hope I didn't run over anyone when that douche forced me out of my lane.
My
pulse racing, I sprinted to the motionless figure to see if I could help. A flitter of guilt passed through my mind as
I also wondered what hitting someone else would mean for my future.
Another
person came out of a nearby house and ran towards the crowd. "I called 911. Someone should be here soon."
"I
also called them," said the first woman.
I
wanted to just fade away and hope no one noticed, but since it was my car that
caused all of this - as well as whoever the guy was that ran off - I couldn't
disappear. Walt had at least pounded
that into my skull.
The
man standing next to me tore the blanket with his teeth and ripped it into long
strips before trying to tie them around several parts of the carcass. Even Mr. Johnson's biology class from
sophomore year hadn't prepared me for seeing this hunk of meat.
"Anything
I can do to help?" I tentatively asked.
The man ignored me and kept tying cloth strips onto the thing.
I
could tell just by the sight of it that there wasn't anything that could be
done for the poor bastard. His skin
looked like ground up hamburger, occasionally punctured by shards of bone. The guy's arm twisted itself around his back,
and his face was buried in the concrete.
There was a pool of blood around what I think was his head, as well as
more blood smeared on his legs and what was left of his University of North
Carolina t-shirt.
Sweet Jesus, I thought once things
started to soak in. That's my UNC t-shirt.
Normally
I'd have noticed the sirens wailing as they approached, but my mind was now
blocking out almost everything but the grotesque body laying to my front. Looking closer, I saw blood matting the hair. Although red obscured the color, the style
was unmistakably mine.
"There's
nothing you can do for that boy," someone in the crowd ventured.
The
man working on my body ignored them and kept trying to stem the flow from
untold number of wounds. I was glad he
kept working, but the pit of my stomach dropped. A sound escaped my mouth that would have made
my buddies laugh if they'd ever heard it.
I
shrieked.
In
my mind, the sound shook the ground, but nobody reacted. My heart felt like it was trying to beat its
way out of my chest, as if it could will me back to life. The small part of my brain that helped me get
into UNC in the first place told me that my heart couldn't be beating any more
than it could sing, but I didn't listen.
"Help
me turn him over," said the man.
"I
don't think we should move him," said someone else.
"We're
gonna have to if we want to get at the wounds on his face," said the
man. "Just help me."
Two
others knelt by my body while the first man put his goop covered hand under my
head. They gently rolled me over, but
the sight of what used to be my face only confirmed that it was too late.
The
guy by my waist covered his eyes and turned around. Someone in the crowd sounded like they were
going to barf. None of this was what
you'd call comforting.
An
ambulance finally roared up. Two guys in
white raced out, one of them holding a yellow backboard. They pushed their way through the crowd and
started working on me, for all the good it would do.
“Amazing,
isn’t it?”
I
looked around to find the source of the new voice and saw a shimmering gray
figure. Wisps of smoke hid his feet, and
it looked like this new arrival was hidden by curtains.
“What?”
I responded.
“That
people try to bring back to life that which is already gone,” said the figure. “They know you’re dead, but their hearts
won’t allow them to accept it yet.”
I
opened my mouth several times, but words wouldn't come. I'd been hoping it was all a mistake, that
I’d wake up at home or in the hospital and ready to laugh about this dream. It couldn't be real. I had plans – homecoming was this Friday and
the gang and I planned a great night after the game. I’d already “acquired” beer from the fridge
in the garage.
"Who
are you?" I finally managed.
"My
name is Alexander, and I'm here to help your transition. There is much to discuss."
Shaking
my head, I said, "No, this can't be happening. Mom and Walt will flip out, and there's no
way Kathy can make it till graduation without me. Me and Tim are gonna be roommates next Fall,
so what is he supposed to do?"
"You
have an inflated sense of your importance," Alexander said. "They'll find a way to cope. Yes, there will be grief, but life will
continue, just as it always has. You'll
provide inspiration for some, and smiles down the road as memories become less
painful. You'll never fade completely
from their hearts."
"But
those people can save me!" I yelled, jabbing my finger at the still
working paramedics.
Now
I sensed pity from Alexander, even if I still couldn't see him very well. "No, they can't. It's not like you can just slip back into
that meat suit. Look at it - it's
mangled. If your soul managed to somehow
reintegrate with it, you'd be a burden to those you claim to love. It's not the way things are done."
"But
I'm only 18!"
"Your
death wasn't my call," Alexander said.
" That decision was made long before today and written into the
annals of fate while you grew in your mother’s womb. My job is simply to take you to the other
side.”
"I
don't want to go." Even in my own
ears it sounded pouty. I was glad Kathy
never heard me whine like that.
"This
is the natural order. Do you think
you're the first one who was shocked at their death and didn't want to
leave? It happens all the time,
especially among the young, but the cycle of life will be thrown out of balance
if we were to accede to your request."
Tears
brimmed in my eyes. I tried to hold them
in - Walt drummed into me that a man doesn't cry unless he's missing a limb -
but a couple spilled down my cheek anyway.
Alexander placed a shimmering hand on my shoulder, and I felt
electricity pop into what would be muscles if I was alive. A small whirring noise began to vibrate on
the wind, a low hum that was growing louder.
"We
need to go," Alexander said, a note of impatience in his voice. "You're not allowed to linger, and those
who defy the natural order are forced to mindlessly wander Earth for decades,
sometimes centuries, before being offered another chance to cross the Great
Barrier."
The
paramedics were still working on me, but I knew what they were doing was mostly
for show. I was no longer in there.
I
still couldn't see Alexander's face. The
gray figure flickered for an instant before turning and walking to the middle
of the road. He held out a hand and
traced a circle in the air. The area
inside the circle grew dim before exploding in a shower of light. Once the light died, mist that shimmered
silver at the edges appeared, and I felt a gentle tug.
Alexander
motioned for me to join him, and I briefly thought I felt a new presence as the
hum grew louder around me, but it was overwhelmed by the portal. I exhaled and slumped my shoulders a bit
before trudging forward. I didn't even
bother glancing back at the crowd or the now empty shell they were gathered
around.
I
felt like I was being pulled by the inside of my ribcage, but that was
unnecessary. This had to happen, so,
bracing myself, I lowered my head and walked into the portal.
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