Donovan tried to catch his breath. “… What are you talking about?”
Gunderson smiled. “I didn’t take Jessie just to piss you off, Jack. That’d be a tad shallow, don’t you think? I had plans for her from the very beginning.”
“What plans?”
“Ever hear of a little thing called controlled metempsychosis?”
Donovan shook his head.
“It’s just a bullshit word for a very simple process: the transmigration of souls.”
Donovan suddenly remembered the conversation he’d had with Bobby Nemo. About Gunderson’s stoned monologues on reincarnation, mind control, the swapping of souls…
“Most religions believe in transmigration,” Gunderson said. “Even the Christians were into it before they got civilized. But my nasty old aunt, as crazy as she was, always believed it was a lot more than religious psychobabble. She was convinced that there were certain people in the world-people like you and Jessie-who, with the right conditioning, could be used as vessels for migrant souls. Kind of like a car with the driver’s door hanging open and the key in the ignition.” Another smile. “Guess she wasn’t so crazy after all.”
Donovan tried to rise again and got another boot to the ribs. Pain blossomed and he clutched his side.
“Unfortunately,” Gunderson said, “that fat fuck cop put a stop to the wheels before they really got rolling. And I gotta tell you, I thought the coins had let me down.”
“Coins?” Donovan had no idea what Gunderson was talking about.
“The I Ching, Jack. The Book of Changes. You really need to expand your mind.” There was a flicker of disgust in Gunderson’s eyes, then he continued, “So after the cop did his deed, I had to improvise, and, surprise, surprise, the coins weren’t wrong after all. Turns out the improv is so much better than the original.”
The boot came up again, knocking Donovan backward.
“While you were incapacitated last night, I was a busy, busy boy. Stopped by to see Sara. Her nurse tried to bitch me out of there, but I hung around long enough to give her a message.”
Donovan could barely breathe. “A message?”
“She may look dead to the world, but she’s still got a channel or two on receive mode. You just gotta know how to tune her in.”
“What did you tell her?”
“Nothing special. Just that we have a prime opportunity here. A chance to start over. And just as I expected, you took the bait. Now, the first order of business in my shiny new, federally franchised body is to pay Sara another visit.” He grinned. “And pull the plug.”
The sparks from the abyss were reflected in his eyes. “Invasion of the Body Snatchers, Part Two, hotshot. Leave no child behind. It might take us a while to get over the father-daughter thing, but I think we’ll manage. Don’t you?”
Wong was smoking another cigarette, thinking he might actually be able to make his student-loan payment this month, when the girl said, “He blinked.”
Wong jerked his head toward her boyfriend on the table. Motionless.
He looked up at the girl. Damn, she was cute.
“Impossible,” he said. “He ain’t taking an afternoon nap.”
“I swear I saw his eyelids flicker.”
She’d been on edge ever since she’d stepped foot in the room. Now she was getting agitated. She was also seeing things.
“Situation like this,” he said, “sometimes your imagination gets the better of you.”
“No. Something’s wrong. Bring him back.”
Wong checked his watch. “He’s still got a couple-”
“Bring him back,” she said, her voice rising.
There was a fierceness in her tone that Wong wasn’t about to argue with. Cute, but no pushover. He liked that.
Doffing an imaginary cap, he said, “I aim to please,” then stubbed out his cigarette and went to work.
Clutching his battered ribs, Donovan struggled to get to his feet, but the celery sticks were back, as rubbery as ever.
Focus, Jack. You did it once, you can do it again.
Donovan may not have been much of a father, was certainly a failure as a family man, but one thing he’d always excelled at was shutting out the world around him and focusing in on the task at hand. Why should it be any different now?
Willing strength into his legs, he pulled himself upright and stood. He swayed slightly, but the harder he concentrated, the steadier he got.
Gunderson circled toward him. “Like I said, Barney. Too little, too late.”
And all at once, he was gone — only to appear, a split second later, behind Donovan. But Donovan hadn’t missed it this time, had sensed the move before Gunderson made it. He wheeled around and blocked another blow to his ribs, then immediately countered with a backhand to the jaw, once again feeling the solid connection of tissue against bone.
Gunderson reeled, stumbling back, but caught himself, steadied his feet. Wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, he found blood. “You should play tennis, Jack. That’s a helluva backhand.”
Behind Donovan, the abyss crackled and sparked hungrily.
“Unfortunately for you,” Gunderson said, “it’s forty-love and I’ve got the serve.”
He brought his hands up, holding his palms outward.
A sound rose in Donovan’s ears, like a thousand bees swarming inside his head. What looked like a ripple in the surface of the air emanated from Gunderson’s palms, radiating straight toward him.
It hit him with the force of a small tsunami. His feet flew out from under him and he felt himself falling backward — straight into the abyss.
Rachel watched Wong work, his hands roaming over Jack’s chest and head, finding and massaging pressure points.
For the first time today, Wong looked worried.
Nothing was happening.
“What’s wrong?”
“He’s not responding. If anything, he seems to have gone deeper.”
“What? What does that mean?”
“Shut up and let me concentrate.”
He continued to massage Jack’s chest, then suddenly balled his fists and pounded on it. “Pump, you piece of shit!”
“The defibrillator,” Rachel said. “Use the defibrillator.”
Wong glanced at the ancient machine. “You’re kidding me, right? Thing hasn’t been fired up in decades.”
“What?”
“It’s part of the sales pitch. I tell every client the same goddamn thing. I’ve just never seen one go this deep before.”
“You son of a bitch,” Rachel said, crossing to the defibrillator. She found the plug and shoved it into a nearby socket. Grabbing the paddles, she searched the control panel for the power switch and flicked it on.
The thing moaned in protest as if being awakened from a deep sleep, but it was coming alive and that was good. Rachel studied the panel, trying to figure it out. “What now?”
Wong was still working on Donovan. “Third switch on the left, I think.”
“You think? ” Without waiting for a response, she flicked the switch and the machine began to whir, a high, unpleasant whine that quickly rose in intensity.
“Move,” she shouted, shoving Wong aside, then raised the paddles over Jack’s chest.
As he fell, Donovan flung his arms out, grabbing desperately for the walls of the abyss. Focusing his concentration, he hooked his hands around a grouping of rocks and jerked to a stop, feet dangling.
Hugging the cliff wall, he found purchase on a small, practically nonexistent overhang. It crumbled slightly as he stepped on it, sending dirt and rock into the blackness below.
The sparks intensified.
A clap of thunder boomed and a small jolt of electricity shot through Donovan’s body-a mild hit to the chest that surprised him, but wasn’t strong enough to dislodge him from the wall.
Had it come from Gunderson? Looking up past the lip of the abyss, he saw an already turbulent sky begin to churn, dark clouds gathering, swirling restlessly.
Then Gunderson appeared, crouched near the edge, and glanced up toward the sky. “Isn’t that sweet?” he said. “They’re coming for you, Jack. Too bad you’re gonna miss the ride.”
There was a second clap of thunder and Donovan felt another jolt. Directly above Gunderson, a vague but unmistakable wormhole began to form in the clouds.
Gunderson watched it a moment, then returned his gaze to Donovan and raised his hands again, palms outward, a fresh new smile on his face.
Rachel was about to go for round three when Wong checked Jack’s pulse and said, “Wait, wait! I’ve got something.”
“He’s back?”
“No… maybe. It’s pretty weak.”
“For godsakes,” Rachel said, then flicked the switch. “Move.” There was a whir and a high, sustained whine, and she brought the paddles down on Jack’s chest. He jerked in response, his body bucking beneath her.
Wong felt his wrist. “No change.”
Rachel wanted to scream. Wanted to grab Jack by the shoulders and shake him awake. Slap him a few times for being such a goddamn fool.
Instead, she flicked the switch again and readied the paddles.
Wong, meanwhile, yanked open a nearby drawer, rifled through it, then pulled out a vial of medicine and a syringe big enough to vaccinate a small elephant.
“What the hell is that?”
“Epinephrine,” he said. “Stimulates the heart. If this doesn’t do the trick, nothing will.”
Rachel stared at the syringe dubiously, then brought the paddles down.
There was another clap of thunder and the wormhole expanded, swirling furiously above Gunderson’s head. He felt a jolt in his chest and a twinge of triumph. His time here was about to end. He was only moments away from his new life, his new career.
His new Sara.
Oh, the things they’d do.
He remembered the moment he’d been shot, that sudden feeling of loss, the abrupt end to life as he’d known it. Then the wormhole, the light, the yearning to head toward its promise-but at the same time resisting, not yet ready to go.
And suddenly there he was, stranded in limbo, refusing to accept his fate, using his time here to learn the rules of the place, just like he had in prison.
Then Deputy Fife showed up and he knew that was it. Fate intervening. The Ching giving him his second chance.
He’d only had time to hitch a ride, but after a while he thought, why not go for the big prize? Sharing was a blast, but a nice warm body of your own is even better. A nice new body, unblemished by a pesky little thing called a criminal record. A body that placed him right smack in the middle of enemy territory.
And the best part? Everyone would think he was one of them.
He felt another small jolt and the clouds above him grew more frenzied, the wormhole widening.
Arms outstretched, palms facing Donovan, he gathered up his energy, working up a really good hate, ready to knock Barney even deeper into the pit, where he was sure that Bobby and Luther and God knew who else were waiting for him.
He almost felt sorry for the guy.
Almost.
Donovan stared up at Gunderson’s hands and braced himself, knowing what was coming. The minuscule ledge beneath his feet continued to crumble, sending rocks and debris into the abyss below. If he didn’t resist this blow, he’d be joining them soon.
Then the bees began to buzz and a ripple in the air rolled toward him. He focused on it, trying to stop it in its tracks, to will it away, but it was no use. This wasn’t a fair fight. He didn’t have the skills he needed to compete with Gunderson. Not here.
It smacked him head-on like a big rig at high speed. The impact ripped him away from his perch and he was once again falling, arms flailing, the sparks below crackling wildly.
Above, Gunderson turned and flung his arms upward toward the whirling wormhole, waiting for it to snatch him away.
Donovan closed his eyes, knowing this was it, he’d lost, Jessie gone from him forever.
“Forgive me,” he whispered as he plummeted deeper and deeper into the pit.
Then a voice in his ear said, “There’s nothing to forgive, Jack,” and something or someone grabbed his wrist, stopping his fall.
Coming to an abrupt halt, he slammed into the abyss wall. His eyes flew open and there, crouched on the rocks, arm outstretched, hand gripping his wrist — was Jessie.
Not his daughter Jessie, but Jessie-Anne, his sister. And she was smiling at him, her face lit up as he’d never seen it before. A face at peace.
The face of an angel.
“It’s not too late,” she said. “It’s never too late.”
Donovan felt a choke of emotion rise up from his chest. Her hand released him and he clutched the wall, wanting instead to throw his arms around her.
“Jessie-Anne…” he said, but couldn’t find words to follow it.
“Lead with your heart, Jack. Always remember that. If you lead with your heart, nothing can stop you.”
And then, without warning, she began to fade from view, leaving only the trace of a whisper in his ear. “Glass half full,” she said.
Then she was gone.
Donovan clung to the rocks, feeling tears well up, her words swirling through his head.
Lead with your heart, Jack.
And with sudden clarity, he understood. Although his physical heart had been stopped, everything that had happened to him here, every change, the baggage he carried, had been based not on intellect-but emotion.
It was Gunderson’s hunger for vengeance, a fully formed, unadulterated hate, that had fueled his ability to control and manipulate this world so easily.
The power of the heart, not the mind.
That was the currency here.
And armed with that knowledge, and the desire that accompanied it, Donovan felt a renewed sense of hope.
Just as Gunderson had said in that train yard as he lay in Donovan’s arms…
This wasn’t over yet.
Hands stretched toward the sky, Gunderson stared up at the wormhole, waiting for it to take him. Another loud thunderclap and the now familiar jolt to the chest told him his wish was about to be granted.
“Come on, goddammit!”
The swirling black maw widened in response, wind kicking up around him, and he felt its power take hold. His feet lifted off the ground and he began to rise.
“Yes!” It was finally happening. The moment he’d been waiting for ever since that cop had put a bullet in him. “Take me,” he shouted. “Take me!”
But then, from out of nowhere, a voice said, “I don’t think so, Alex” — and Donovan appeared directly below him, wrapping his arms around his legs.
What the fuck?
Gunderson kicked, trying to shake him off, but the bastard had a lock on him so tight, he could barely move. One look into Donovan’s eyes and Gunderson realized that something had changed.
Donovan knew. He understood.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, was not part of the program.
Feeling himself being pulled back toward the ground, Gunderson fought desperately against it, trying to break Donovan’s grip. But Donovan was a bulldog, would not let go, and a moment later they hit the earth, a tangle of arms and legs.
Pain shot through Gunderson as rocks dug into his flesh, scraped his bones-a sensation he wasn’t accustomed to.
They rolled to the edge of the precipice. Then, all at once, Donovan was straddling him, hands around his neck, an intense, unstoppable fury in his eyes.
“No more puzzles, Alex. Tell me where she is!”
Gunderson brought his arms up, trying to break Donovan’s grip, but was powerless against his rage. The earth beneath them began to rumble and crack, steam hissing up from newly formed fissures.
“Tell me, goddammit! Now!”
“Fuck you!” Gunderson croaked, and the ground shifted, another fissure opening up directly beneath him, the earth crumbling away on either side.
Elec
tric tentacles reached up and wrapped around him, pulling at him. Donovan jumped back, narrowly avoiding the widening fissure. There was another loud thunderclap, and above, the swirling wormhole sucked at Donovan, his hair whipping wildly in the wind.
“Where is she, Alex? Tell me!”
But Gunderson ignored the command, watching in horror as the wormhole enveloped Donovan.
“No!” he shouted. “No!”
Then the wormhole swallowed Donovan whole and whisked him away.
And the agony Gunderson felt was so deep that he was almost certain it would last an eternity.
J UST WHEN SHE thought they’d lost the fight, that the epinephrine had been a bust, Jack’s body bucked wildly beneath the paddles and his eyes flew open as he gulped a bucketful of air. Feeling a rush of sweet relief, Rachel burst into tears and threw her arms around him.
“Oh, my God,” she said. “Oh, my God.”
She glanced at Wong, who was now leaning against the wall, his body slack, face full of shock, looking like a man who was seriously considering a career change.
“The hospital,” Jack croaked. “Take me to the hospital.”
“We’ve already called,” Rachel told him, hugging him close. “The ambulance is on its way.”
“No,” Jack said. “That isn’t what I mean.”
“What, then?”
“The convalescent hospital. Saint Margaret’s.”
“What?” Rachel said. “Why?”
Jack looked at her, a look she knew all too well. A look that meant she wasn’t going to like what he was about to say.
“Sara’s window,” he told her. “I have to find Sara’s window.”
Part Four
LIGHT
53
They got there in less than half an hour.
After making it abundantly clear to Donovan that this was against her better judgment, that he needed to go to the hospital- now — Rachel brought her car around and used her considerable driving skills to get them there in record time.
Kiss Her Goodbye Page 25