Sentinel Event

by Samantha Shelby

  For some reason, he imagined he was standing close to Dreamer, their fingers interlaced, her head resting against his collarbone, and his pulse began to pound like it did when he was afraid. There was no accompanying pain or fear; he must really like her.

  Aidriel was letting his mind wander to what he’d like to do with her and was startled back to the present when Dreamer shut off the water in the bathroom. He continued to wait, his ears attuned to the slightest sounds she made. Presently, she opened the bathroom door and came out, her wet hair a tousled mess. She stood before the mirror over the sink and pulled a brush through the tangles, after carefully folding and stowing her clothes from the day.

  Aidriel watched her reflection in the mirror but pretended he wasn’t whenever she turned from it. She was round-faced, and her most attractive feature was her feminine lips, though there were varying shades of color in her glaucous irises. Aidriel hoped she was a little older than she looked.

  He continued to follow her movements with his eyes until she stopped and began to rearrange the bottles on the sink, smoothing down the hand towel. Picking up his discarded gum wrapper from the table, he took it over to the garbage, leaning over beside Dreamer to put it and the gum in the trash. As he straightened, he leaned in toward her, his hand resting on the small of her back and his face nearly touching her head as he breathed in the sweet scent of the shampoo in her hair.

  Dreamer instantly shrunk away from him, slipping sideways to take several defensive steps into the room.

  “What’re you doing?” she asked, embarrassed. Aidriel took a step toward her and she drew back.

  “Your hair smells good,” he said. Dreamer nervously tucked it behind her ears and looked away.

  “Well, thanks…,” she mumbled, unsure how to respond. Aidriel took another step toward her.

  “You smell good,” he said, his gray eyes fixed keenly on her face. She was becoming very anxious and he wanted to reassure her, but it didn’t feel to him like the right time to back down. She blushed, which struck him as wholly appealing; he was immensely magnetized and advanced further.

  Dreamer’s hand shot out defensively as if to block him and she said, “No, I don’t think…” Her voice trailed off and she once again widened the gap between them. “I don’t know you very well.”

  Aidriel smiled and put his hands in his pockets.

  “Does that matter?”

  “Yes, it does.”

  They were watching each other very closely for the slightest of cues, but neither moved. Aidriel beckoned with his eyes, and the teetering Dreamer felt between surrender and resistance played out on her face. Her gaze gave way beneath his and focused on his arm at his side, squinting in close scrutiny before slowly blinking. She shook her head and pressed her fingertips against her forehead as if in pain.

  “There’re no Passers around,” Aidriel said. “No one to get between us.”

  “There’ll be…nothing to get between.”

  “Why not?” Aidriel flashed his most winning smile, and saw her lips instinctively curve in response. It looked hard for her to speak.

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” she managed. “It wouldn’t be smart for us to act on something that could be so heartbreaking. We’ve only known each other for a few days.”

  “Well I want to know you.” Aidriel advanced again, but she remained where she was. Her hands began wringing nervously, and he wanted to take them in his and make them stop. He wanted to seize her before she could get away again and pull her toward him, but he restrained himself.

  “No…,” she started to insist when he whispered her name.

  “I could die tonight.” Aidriel’s answer was both a plea and an excuse. “It’s tough to go with your instincts. You learn to live every day like it’s your last.”

  “That could make you really selfish, though.”

  “It makes you prioritize,” he answered.

  Dreamer had stopped fidgeting and was once again holding eye contact with him. He got the feeling she was trying to communicate that there was something she had realized about him that was making her oppose his advances, but he didn’t care to let her solve the puzzle of conveying it. Women always wanted to make things about emotions and connections and protecting hearts, but he wasn’t interested. There was no point in thinking about or rationalizing something so simple; he wanted to act on how she made him feel.

  She melted when he whispered her name again, stepping closer to her. Still she didn’t move, and when he came within touching distance, she lowered her head a little and closed her eyes, waiting. Aidriel gently closed his fingers around her wrists and touched her shoulder with his, leaning in so his nose brushed her cheek. Dreamer shook her head faintly.

  It drove Aidriel crazy that she was resisting in action. He could have sworn she drew slightly nearer to him. His heart was thumping again, and almost felt as if hers was beating in unison. It took all of his self-control to not kiss her, and resisting made his desire to do so intensely stronger. He closed his eyes and savored an emotion beside fear, a pleasant buzzing in his senses much stronger than dread. He didn’t want to die tonight, so long as the feeling lasted.

  But a sense of the pain that would result if he continued prevailed upon him for the briefest of moments; some notion that the ultimate cost to them would be too high. Aidriel’s lips brushed Dreamer’s cheek, but he let go of her and stepped back, taking a deep breath. Their eyes opened and looked to each other, and she smiled. He instantly hated himself for withdrawing, but it was too late to kiss her now. Stopping himself was an instinctual reaction to impending trouble, but moreover a subconscious choice to alter the course of his near future, simply because he could. It was empowering for something to be at his command.

  “There’re scrubs for you in the tote,” she said.

  His nerves still buzzing, Aidriel grabbed the clothes from the storage tub and locked himself into the bathroom, gradually recognizing what he had cheated himself out of. He threw the black apparel onto the floor in disappointment, yanking the faucet on. Switching it to shower, he held his head under the cold water, ignoring how it drenched the collar of his shirt.

  Dreamer got into bed and laid on her side, listening to the water running and trying to relax enough to fall asleep. She was a bit shaken but was smiling. She had indeed been conflicted when he was holding her wrists, hoping he’d kiss her but praying he wouldn’t. To her it seemed his sudden desire for intimacy would prove harmful; perhaps a whiplash reaction to the scene they had set for themselves, and a playing-out of some unseen script written for them by the actions of others. There was no reason anything should happen.

  Dreamer had no psychological training, but she thought Aidriel was too cynical and unhappy to be attracted to her. Giving in to his advances might have afforded him a temporary thrill, but would only compound his emotional damage when it was over and they realized that they were nobody to each other. Yes, Dreamer was increasingly drawn to him, but she had no idea if he was genuinely reciprocating. While he was pushing the boundaries of his safety where the Passers were concerned, she was balanced on her own edge of allowed actions, riskily close to crossing a line she knew she shouldn’t. If she were acting on a plan of any sort regarding him, which she wasn’t, he’d probably be exactly where she wanted him. She’d had her share of relationships; nothing serious, but she had learned that small things could make an impact. A few sly smiles, a coy invitation in the eyes, a slow wetting of her lips, and he might go crazy. He was damaged; it was unfair to play games with him, even if he started them.

  When Aidriel got out of the shower, Dreamer was propped up on her pillows, reading a paperback. He turned off all the lights but the one above her, tossing his clothes thoughtlessly into the bin. Plopping backward on his bed as he had done earlier, he locked his fingers behind his damp head. She read on in silence, distracted by him; he stared at the ceiling.

  Aidriel be
gan to earnestly sing Sting’s Be Still My Beating Heart as if he were alone. Dreamer smiled and laid down her book, rolling to her side to prop her head up on her hand, listening to him sing the chorus, second verse and bridge. As he repeated the chorus and let his voice fade away, Dreamer reached up and turned off the light.

  Dr. St. Cross was not partial to snakes himself, though he found it fascinating and soothing to watch them gliding over the network of branches he had placed in his aquarium at home. It was because of Andrei that he kept the reptiles at all. His Passer had come to him at the beginning of the Sentience, and had proved to be an intelligent, gentle companion, most of the time. Andrei died overseas, but it was not bizarre that it had found its way back to the States to keep company with St. Cross; Passers were often found great distances from where they had died, just as many were bound to a location by an invisible chain.

  Andrei had been bitten by a snake, and had succumbed to the venom. This was not long before the Passersby stepped into everyday life. Andrei was a lover of adventure when he was still alive, and had traveled far and wide. While exploring the jungles of India, foolishly without a guide, he had come upon the snake without seeing it. He stepped too close, and the strike was delivered to his thigh. Unwisely electing to attempt to run to civilization for help, Andrei had only quickened the spread of the poison in his blood. He had died alone and in agony, lying in the undergrowth; his body was never discovered by humans.

  But somehow, it comforted the Passer to wander a house in which the cause of its death was a harmless display to entertain the eye. None of St. Cross’s snakes were poisonous, but as a psychiatrist, he understood Andrei’s need to have the creatures near.

  “Does it give you a sense of security to see them caged?” he asked the Passer once.

  “No, I need to make peace with them,” was the response. “To make peace with my death, as it were.”

  Passers only remained among the living while their souls were unfulfilled. St. Cross assumed, then, that because Andrei was still present, the peace had not yet been made.

  CHAPTER 10

  In the darkest, quietest hour of the night, Dreamer was awakened to her bed shaking. Her first thought was of Aidriel, and she was seriously preparing to deck him in the face if he tried anything. But before she was fully awake, the rough feeling of a body climbing over her filled her with terror. The next one that climbed over was in such a hurry she was thrown right off the bed and onto the floor between it and the wall. She cried out.

  It was pitch-black in the room, but lying facedown on the carpet, Dreamer could see gray and white movement out of the corner of her eye. If Aidriel was already awake, he made no sound, and she couldn’t hear anything until he slammed suddenly into the wall on the other side of the room. There were repeated thuds of something, possibly his head, striking the wall, and the shuffling of the sheets of his bed. He suddenly took a short, deep breath, as if he had been under water.

  The strong smell of electrical burning hung in the air and something was hissing and sputtering. Dreamer turned her head as far as she could toward the wall and saw the feet of a Passer mere inches away. As if it could sense her notice, it paused in its movement to lean over, its face sweeping down close to hers. The wide empty eyes stared through her, the lips arching in a snarl. The ghost almost seemed to be taking deliberate, angry inhales. Closing her eyes, the phlebotomist got swiftly up, untangling herself from the blankets.

  The Passers coming through the front wall and converging on the small area between Aidriel’s bed and the far end of the room were so numerous, Dreamer couldn’t see through their ghostly forms. The television and temperature unit under the window were sparking and smoking. The room was bitterly cold and she shivered, scrambling up onto the bed. The Passers shoved her forward, tumbling her to the floor again on the other side, by the nightstand and between the beds.

  Dreamer was stunned and at first lay still, covering her face with her hands. She had never seen so many Passers before, neither had she been so harshly dealt with, besides when they scratched her at the hospital. She could hear Aidriel manage another gasp for breath, and realized he was probably being choked or smothered. It was frightening how deliberate and silent the ghosts were.

  There were two more thumps against the far wall, and Aidriel managed to shout for her to run. But she had to help him; the Passers were out for blood.

  Dreamer reached under the skirt of his bed, and her hand collided with a board of wood. She couldn’t get to him under it; she’d have to climb over. Without allowing herself to even think, she got up and let the Passers shove her onto the bed as they flowed forward. Clinging to the bedding, she reached over the side into the ghostly blur. Her hand groped and she held her breath, but she found fabric, clutched it, and pulled.

  Aidriel rolled to the side, possible against his will, and Dreamer’s fingers lost their grasp. The angry spirits flung her back off the bed to the floor. In a fright, she got up and ran to the door, slamming into the wall and flicking on the light switch. Some of the Passers seemed startled by the sudden flood of light and withdrew, but the majority continued their attack, unbothered.

  Looking across the foggy room, Dreamer was surprised to see the scrubs Aidriel had been wearing as pajamas lying in a heap on the carpet. She was afraid to draw close to help, but remembered she’d felt fabric when she grabbed onto him. The top supplies tub had been overturned on the floor, and his clothing was no longer inside it; even his shoes were missing. He must have sensed the attack coming and had gotten dressed in hopes of escaping.

  Without another thought, Dreamer threw herself forward into the fray, yelling for the Passers to let go of Aidriel and let him breathe. To her surprise, the ghosts appeared startled by her. They rose to turn and stare, temporarily ceasing the assault. Had they never been directly addressed during previous attacks?

  Gasping for air, Aidriel used the bed for support as he dragged himself to his feet. He fell back against the wall, bruised and scratched, holding his throat in pain. Dreamer found herself standing dumbly at the foot of his bed, watching all the angry ghosts that stared back, many of them finally speaking to curse at her. Aidriel brushed roughly past as he fled toward the door, fully dressed as she had thought, grabbing the car keys from the table as he went.

  The Passers flew after him snarling, their hands reaching out, and though Dreamer called his name, he didn’t answer. She heard the door to the stairs at the end of the hall slam open and drift closed, then she hurriedly pulled on her socks and shoes, gathering everything she could carry.

  Aidriel took the stairs two and three at a time, using the railing for support and leaping down to the landings. The jumps sent shockwaves of pain up his legs, but at this point, everything hurt. He didn’t have time to stop; his life depended on it. He wasn’t going to die tonight.

  The Passers were pouring densely down the stairway after him, clogging the corridor with ghostly orbs and smoke. Some were hopping over the railing, landing just behind him as he ran. He couldn’t recall what floor he had been staying on, but it felt like twenty or thirty by the time he reached the ground floor, the groping hands of the spirits snagging at his shirt. Flinging open the door into the lobby, Aidriel threw himself forward pell-mell, the world a blur around him. He was gripping the car keys so tightly it hurt, but the adrenaline wouldn’t let up enough for him to do otherwise.

  As he rushed by, Aidriel had an indistinct glimpse of the night clerk looking up from his desk, staring in shock at the sight before him. Aidriel wondered if the other man could see the Passers; either way it would be a strange spectacle.

  It was cloudy and moonless outside, and Aidriel was temporarily confused to burst out under the dim lamppost. He couldn’t recall immediately where the car was, but when he ran toward it, he saw with a sinking feeling that there was already a handful of Passers standing in and around it. Pitching the keys at them in frustration, Aidriel wheeled to the right and ra
n blindly out along the street, his attention focused on the horizon. As far as he was concerned, there was nothing around him, and no one. He had to stay away from the town and its people; he had to run until he fell dead in exhaustion or the spirits gave up. Yielding or being caught wasn’t an option. He wanted to live tonight.

  The bright headlights of a car fell on him from behind, and Aidriel darted across the road quickly enough to not be hit, the sea of Passers just steps behind. He thought he heard the vehicle stall when it passed into the mob of ghosts, but didn’t dare glance back. Before him was a trailer-home community, flanked on his left by another road, down which he ran as hard as he could. It was eerie and frightening that he could hear the footfalls of his pursuers, and some of them were screaming out words he couldn’t understand.

  Up ahead, the headlights of a truck crested a hill, speeding brightly toward him. The horn in the darkness behind the orbs began blaring, and at the last moment, Aidriel turned and darted to the right. The Passers swarmed after him like a cloud of spirit bees, their long claws digging into his back and legs. Aidriel hadn’t run far enough to be past the trailer park and had to clear flower pots and scramble over a fence in his flight. He lost his balance and fell on the other side of the fence, instantly getting to his feet and futilely trying to shake off the ghosts. All he could hear was his own labored gasping and the sounds of their nails tearing his shirt and skin.