I pulled myself off the floorboard of the car and tried to get back to the front seat, a difficult act considering the car was swerving to avoid traffic that wasn't there. No sooner than I would get an arm or leg over the seat than the car would make a sudden turn sending me back into the back seat.
After a few minutes, I was finally able to get back into the driver's seat a few minutes before the car got to 36. Call it my highly developed sense of intuition, but it didn't take me long to figure out where it was taking me.
I leaned back and pulled the phone out of my pants pocket to call Trevor. It's too late for him to do anything about it, but I can at least get a crew on the way. I flicked through my contacts list, pressing the dial button when I came up on his name. The phone rang about six times before he finally picked up.
"Ray, you OK?" he asked, sounding like he just woke up.
"Might want to get the boys ready," I said, trying to keep it together. "You have another car heading to the crash site."
I waited for a few moments for him to respond, but I got nothing. Looking at the phone, I saw it was shut off. I tried twice to turn it back on, but couldn't get it to so much as light up.
Looks like I can throw that 'one device at a time' rule I thought technomancers had out of the book.
At this point, I was low on options. Drawing in essence wasn't going to be a problem, but the lack of space to do my spells would be. Every spell I could use to save my hide requires plenty of room to move. It reminded me I needed to have a chat with the being that decided we needed to wave our arms around in the air to create a shield.
One option I had was to use a blast of earth to shatter the windows. It would send shards of glass all over me, but it would allow me to get out of the car. The only problem with that method was that I would need to survive rolling around on the pavement. Something told me he wasn't going to keep the car steady enough for me to cast something on the hood or the trunk.
While I wasn't going to be able to do anything to avoid the crash, I had something that would help me survive it.
I reached into my glove box and pulled out a ring that looked like a snake eating its own tail. One of nearly two dozen rings of regeneration that exist here on earth if my records were correct. Besides my walking staff, this ring was the prize of my collection.
I won the ring in a poker game in upstate California two weeks after I turned twenty-one. When it comes to games like poker, wizards have a severe advantage. It is hard to compete with someone who has the ability to read minds.
The previous owner was the owner of a pawn shop. He would spend loads of money buying jewelry and other things from about anyone and didn't like to ask questions. He said he got the ring from a woman who was down on her luck. Talked her into down to two hundred bucks for it so she could afford to make her car payment. He swore the thing was worth about ten grand when he threw it into the pot, expecting his two pair to hold up on the river. Little did he know, I was sitting on trips from the get-go. If he knew how valuable the ring really was, he wouldn't have given it up so easily.
Magical artifacts, like wizards, consume essence to work. The difference is that artifacts cannot draw it naturally, they need a wizard to transfer it into them. The amount of essence it can hold varies by the piece. My research told me the ring held enough to function for about ten minutes. I only hope it is long enough.
The car sped up after pulling onto 36, putting the crash site about a mile away. I buckled my seatbelt and saw the damaged barrels on the side of the road near the barrier.
I waited until the last possible moment before putting on the ring. The soreness in my shoulder and back lifted as the ring did its thing. My head slams into the window as the car made one final turn, aiming into the concrete barrier.
The front end of the car buckled under the pressure, covering me with shards of glass from the shattered windshield. My head jerked forward to be greeted by the airbag as it punched into my face, sending me into darkness.
"Time of death, three-seventeen AM."
The voice sounded close. Real close. Almost like it was next to me. I felt the cold night air on my exposed chest, sending shivers down my spine. Cracking my eyes open, I saw the paddles from a defibrillator sitting on my chest, the wires leading to the nearby box. To my side, a male paramedic wearing his dark blue uniform wrote something down on a pad of paper.
I tried to say something, but my mouth wouldn't cooperate, nor would my arms when I tried to move them.
I felt like I got hit by a truck, which is precisely how I imagined I looked. Thankfully, I could feel the ring doing its thing. I hadn't been in a situation to know how long it would keep working. Maybe it held more essence than I thought it could. Hopefully there was enough to finish things off.
"I'll turn off the lights then," heard a female voice say above my head.
"Yeah, no sense in rushing him to the hospital now."
I tried to drown out the rest of the conversation without any luck. Unless I was mistaken, I'm the first person who's died on them. I find it surprising, especially from an EMT. Unless they were new to the job. I couldn't believe it would take very long to get your first. Especially those brave enough to take the late shift. Almost a guarantee to get a drunk driver call a week.
After a few minutes I was able to wiggle my toes, followed by my leg a few seconds after. From there, things quickly sped up.
I never had to use the ring like this before, but I'm glad it worked. From what I could tell, the ring started off by healing the vital organs first. If they announced a time of death that means my heart and lungs shut down for a time at the least. From there the magic worked its way through my body, repairing any damage it came across. The most impressive thing is that it kept up the pace of healing without needing extra essence though I was feeding in as much as the ring would take. It wouldn't buy me too much more time. It took me three full months of constant wearing for this charge.
When the pain in my back and legs faded, I sat up. The paramedics in the front continued their conversation, oblivious to what I had going on just a few feet behind them. Apparently death wasn't such a good topic because they had moved onto discussing the best places for breakfast which sounded good, as odd as that was to say.
I took my time getting to my feet, allowing my legs to adjust to the weight of my body. I couldn't tell if it was the movement of the ambulance or joint weakness, but I struggled to keep my balance. The only thing I knew is I had to get out of this thing before we made it to the hospital. The last thing I needed was to be forced into a couple hundred tests while they tried to figure out how I came back from the dead.
A sudden turn sent me into the cold stainless steel counters, allowing me to get my first glimpse of the carnage from my reflection. Blood covered my face, focused around my mouth and cheeks. Judging from the amount of blood soaked into my shirt, the impact shattered my jaw. On the crown of my head a portion of my skull is visible through my matted hair, which would explain my horrible headache.
I stumbled my way to the cab, keeping my balance by holding onto the counters.
"Do you have the time?" I asked, peeking my head up front. It wasn't one of the best ideas I've had, but I'd do it again just to see the look on his face one more time. He would have jumped out of the window if he had it open.
"How are you still alive?" he asked, pushing his body against the door with his mouth and eyes both opened wide.
"Some questions are better left unanswered." I glanced at the female driver who was failing horribly at keeping her eyes on the road. "Why don't you stop here and let me out. Take your friend here out for breakfast and forget you ever saw me."
"Are you serious? We have to get you to a hospital," she yelled.
That put me in quite the conundrum. One one hand, I didn't want to make it to the hospital, but on the other I really didn't want to do a push on her. Something told me I didn't have a choice if I wanted to avoid the attention.
I drew in
a little extra essence for the spell. I probably had enough in my reserves to pull it off, but I wanted to make sure I had enough in case she resisted my initial push.
A push is a wizard's way of doing mind control. To make it work, you have to place a body part on the person you want to suggestion to and send a wave of essence through it. In an ideal world, you put your hand on your target's head since it works the best that way.
Thankfully, that option was open.
"You want to stop the car," I said with my hand on the back of her head, careful not to pull any of her long black hair.
She stared blankly at the road, her mind handling her subconscious for a moment while the spell did its thing.
This hesitation is the bane of most beginning wizards, it even got me a time or two. When you first see it, your mind tells you that your push wasn't good enough. The first thing most wizards do is double the amount of essence and try again. What they don't understand is that the hesitation isn't just normal, it's natural. It's the mind accepting the result while closing off the synapses responsible for the previous idea.
She stopped the car a few seconds later and stepped out so I could get through the front.
"I appreciate the save," I said to the man as I crawled through the front. "How you two have a nice day." I reached back in and grabbed their cell phones charging on the dashboard. I couldn't have them calling the cops on me after all that, after all.
Besides, I needed to make a call myself.
- 9 -
"Detective Fields speaking," Trevor said when he answered his phone. There was a hint of confusion in his voice, obviously wondering why he got a call from this number.
"It's Ray."
"Everything OK?" he asked concerned. "The line went dead earlier."
"Nothing I couldn't handle, though now I need to buy a new car."
"What happened to the Buick?" he asked.
I went over the night's events with him. Lucky for me, they called him in to investigate the scene though I hated that I put him in a nasty position. At some point, someone was going to start asking questions about me. The type of questions he won't know how to answer.
"Do you need me to pay the paramedics another visit?" I offered. "I can erase everything that happened tonight from their memories." And it would allow me to return the cell phones before I add misdemeanor theft onto my growing list of offenses.
"I don't know that is a good idea, Ray," he said. "I appreciate you helping on the case, but things are getting out of control."
"And it'll only get worse unless we can stop this guy," I said, resolute.
"I know. I know. But the chief doesn't want you in the way," he said. "Not only that, she wonders if you aren't involved somehow."
"You've got to be kidding me. You had four crashes before I even got here."
"And two since you've been here. Not to mention the dead guy in the hotel and the guy one you had tied up in... vines."
"Last time I checked, I was in the last crash!" I shouted. I could've tried to explain how the stuff in the hotel was self-defense, but something told me he didn't care.
"She doesn't know that. All she knows is there is a body missing from an ambulance," he said. "She wants you out of Boulder. Tonight. I got her to cut you a check for two days of work. Just take it and head back home. We'll get it from here."
"Your captain realizes there isn't anything she can do to stop him, doesn't she?"
"Don't make this any worse," he said, sounding resigned. "I don't want to lose my job over this."
"Your job? What about all the people that'll lose their lives if we don't stop this guy?"
"I'm sorry," he said.
"You can be sorry for the people that are going to die thanks to your captain's ignorance," I said. "Or your unwillingness to stand up for what is right." I wasn't mad at Trevor though I should have been. He was always the type of guy to buckle at the first hint of resistance. "Fine. If she wants me out of town, I'll be gone first thing in the morning."
"Don't make this any harder than it has to be, Ray. You know you would be here if it was up to me."
"I know," I said. "I'll be out of here either way in the morning. I just need one last thing from you."
"I'll do it if I can."
"I need you to bring me all my stuff from the car. I'll make a call and make sure the car doesn't come back on me."
We met at the Denny's off of Baseline around six in the morning. My crash didn't take them as long to process, thanks to it being dark and my added escape from the ambulance. The first officer at the scene planned on treating it as a fatality, which would have left the scene shut down for a few extra hours while they diagrammed the scene. Once the call came through about my disappearance, Trevor talked him into treating it like a normal wreck.
One thing Trevor couldn't do, however, was talk him out of charging the owner of the car with fleeing the scene of an accident. Jerks like that are the exact reason the car was registered to one Alfred A. Smith, who has been dead for nearly eight years.
Good luck getting him to show up to court.
I pulled my walking staff out of his trunk along with my large blue duffel bag, taking the time to check the contents before letting him leave.
"If you boss ever comes to her senses, you know where to reach me," I said.
"Heading back to Columbia?" he asked.
"Yeah. Hopefully a few calls came in while I was out." I doubt it, but a man can dream.
He handed me a check for four thousand dollars, fresh off the presses. That showed me how bad they wanted me out of town. Normally it would take sixty to ninety days for them to cut a check like this. Corporate clients are usually worse. I can't complain though, four grand for a days work isn't bad.
Shame I'll be using most of it to put a down payment on a new car.
"Here," he said, pulling five crisp Benjamins out of his wallet. "For the car."
I pushed the money back to him. "You keep it. You have kids to feed."
He sighed, putting the money away. "There has to be something I can do for you."
"There is one thing," I said. "I can use a trip to the airport."
Trevor dropped me off at the main terminal at the Denver International Airport. The car ride was rather quiet, minus the occasional chirping that went through his radio. In the silence, I tried to decipher what dispatch was saying, but he turned it off long before we got to the airport. The rest of the drive I spent staring out the window enjoying my view.
Watching the landscape helped clear my head. It was a good thing because I wanted to chew him a new one right about then. The last thing I needed to do was shatter our friendship over some jerk with an agenda.
I collected my belongings and walked inside the terminal without saying a word though I gave him a friendly nod on my way out of the car. It was as much a case of not wanting to hurt my pride by speaking first than anything. He must have had the same sense of pride because he didn't say anything either though he did return my nod.
When I get settled back home, I'd have to remember to give him a call.
The terminal was crowded like it always was. Sure, it wasn't New York or Chicago, but there always seems to be a fair amount of traffic here considering it isn't a major hub.
I walked through the east terminal towards the Delta counter. I don't really care to fly. To be honest, I try to avoid it whenever possible. On the rare occasion I don't have any other choice, I prefer to fly with these guys. It has something to do with the crew and the people on board. To some, it may seem like you would deal with a 'stuffy' client base, though I prefer it that way. It means they are less likely to talk to me on my way home, which is perfect. After the last twenty-four hours, I could use a nice long nap. The four hour flight would hit the spot.
The clerk at the counter greeted me with a smile, exposing a set of teeth bleached three shades too white to be natural. She was a slender brunette wearing the standard black shirt and jacket which matched her long black
hair rather nicely. If it wasn't for her green eyes, however, I would have walked to the blond at the next counter.
"Need a flight to St. Louis," I said. "The faster the better." I could have gone to the American counter and taken a flight right into Columbia, but they never have a direct flight. I've always had the worst luck trying to grab a connecting flight, so it made more sense to buy the non-stop. I'll just buy a car while I'm in the city and drive it back home.
She tapped on the keyboard for a few minutes, looking up occasionally. Sometimes I swear they did that to test your patience. I wouldn't be surprised if it wasn't another test put in place by the TSA. I guess they figure if you flip out here waiting for a flight, then then you probably shouldn't be on one.
"We don't have an opening until 7:35 PM," she said, sounding like she was talking through her nose. "Will it be just you?"
"Slow down there, sister. You don't have anything sooner?"
She looks back at her computer, only glancing back up to watch my expression which was a fine blend of frustration with a side order of anxiety. Add to that my lack of sleep and you had a winner.
"Nothing at all, sir. If you had been here sooner, the last flight had six openings."
"When did it leave?" I asked, disgusted.
She lifted up her wrist and glanced at her watch. "Ten minutes ago."
I shook my head. "Great." I pulled my American Express out of my wallet and handed it to her. "Book the seven, but let me know if something comes up earlier."
Amazingly, it took her less time to process my ticket than it took her to find the flight in the first place. She slid the card and ticket across the counter with a smile. "I can do that, sir."
I put the ticket in my wallet and walked to the nearest bar. If I was going to be stuck here for the next eleven hours, then I needed something to pass the time. Something told me this place isn't going to be quiet enough to get a nap in.
The bartender was a chubby girl with curly blond hair. She looked like a girl that spent the last dozen years working on the family farm. That's not to say she was ugly. Far from it, in fact. She looks like the type of girl you could settle down with and raise a family unless you happen to be a thirty year old wizard with a growing fear of commitment.
Sparked: The Nephalem Files (Book 1) Page 5