In less than a minute, the sound of hooves hitting earth faded in the distance, and I found myself alone by the fire. I looked at Mischief, the horse I had ridden today, and she too began stomping the earth much the way the first horse had. I left the warmth of the fire to go make sure she was secured to her stake. As I closed the distance, I heard the wolf’s howl again, still loud and now sounding even closer than the last time. The sound made my heart skip a beat and my danger sense screamed to life. I could feel the prickly feeling; I didn’t need to look at my arms to know that the hair on them stood at attention. As I paused to try to calm myself, Mischief yanked hard on her lead and shook her head. I took a step toward her, as she reared up onto her back legs and shook her head. With an audible snap, she was free and running in the opposite direction from the others.
I stood frozen for a second. Should I go after her? I would never be able to catch her. She was running as fast as the first horse. I whistled, trying to sound like Max, but she gave no hesitation. I could hear breathing, not like that of a human but of something much larger. Not turning my back on the site that Mischief had just bolted from, I started walking backward toward the fire. I willed my eyes to adjust to the near pitch black to see if I could make out any kind of a form.
I could still hear some sort of animal’s breathing. Not having spent much time in the great outdoors, I could only think the sound had to be a bear. It was loud, a steady rhythm breathing in and out. As I could feel my back approaching the warmth of the fire, I stole a glance over my shoulder and saw that I was only feet away from the fire still ablaze and bright. It didn’t need it, but I took three more large logs and put them on it to make sure it kept burning brightly. Animals instinctively do not like fire, so whatever I was hearing should stay away from it. It would also serve as a beacon to Max, so he could find his way back.
I reached in my backpack for my phone. I started to hit the power button to call someone and let them know what was going on, but who? Mom, Seth, Rachael? No, I couldn’t call any of them. They would be in a panic with absolutely nothing they could do and would feel helpless if I told them I was scared and alone in the middle of nowhere. Besides it only had half a charge when I shut it off. Wasting battery on a phone call would be a terrible idea.
My breathing became a little more regular, but the hair on my arms was still warning me not to let my guard down. I remember Max kept a hand gun in his truck. If he knew we were going into the mountains, it would stand to reason that he would have brought it along on the trip. I reached for his backpack and quickly dug through everything in search of his black plastic carrying case; I felt nothing and looked at the other miscellaneous bags, trying to think where he might have tucked it. As I was ripping through the last duffle bag, frantically searching, I heard a man clear his throat. I sprang up from the ground and screamed, not a little muffled scream from being startled, but the blood curdling scream of a frightened little girl.
The man didn’t even flinch. It was the same older gentleman I’d seen at the mall and again at the jail. He turned his head slightly as if he were studying me. “Oh my gosh, am I glad to see you!” I moved a few steps in his direction; any human contact at this minute was welcomed. Without waiting for an answer from him, “There is some sort of big animal over there,” I pointed at the trees where I had heard the labored breathing.
As I pointed, the man made no effort to look in that direction; he only continued to look in my direction with mild curiosity. He said nothing. He was wearing old, worn blue jeans – not the kind that you buy that look worn, but pants that looked as though they had been through hell. His t-shirt had some sort of writing on it, the color faded from whatever the shirt had once advertised. He wore flip flops. His choice of footwear was inappropriate for someone so far up the mountain. The whole way there had been barely foot trails through the thick forest and vines full of sticky bushes.
As I studied him, he looked almost unnatural, un-nerving was a better description. He was built very large, well over six feet tall. His arms were hanging at his side, his mocha skin colored from the sun; but there were no age lines at all on his face. He looked to be in his mid thirties. He stared at me with interest, but, again, said nothing; his expression was neither welcoming nor a warning, but his eyes never left mine.
“Are you from around here?”
His reaction was a simple nod, still absent any facial expression that would put me at ease.
I held out my hand, “I’m Lauren.” The stranger looked at my outstretched hand but made no move to take it in his. I eased my hand away from him and put it in my pocket as if this weren’t very rude of him to ignore the formality.
“Do you have a name?” I asked as I began to wonder if he were mute.
The same response as before, a slight nod but nothing audible; the stranger continued to watch me. It gave me the creeps, and my mind filled with questions, none of which I wanted to ask him. I couldn’t stand the silence from this stranger.
“My boyfriend and I are camping for a couple weeks up here. One of our horses got spooked, so he went after her. I stayed here with the fire. He should be back anytime.” For the first time I smelled the food that Max had started before his abrupt departure; it smelled wonderful. I asked him, “Are you hungry?”
To this question the stranger looked over my shoulder at the camping stove then back to me. He nodded that yes he was hungry. I turned my back on him briefly to check on the dinner cooking. It was steak and potatoes. I stirred the food briefly, scraped off the potatoes that had gotten scorched, and put a decent sized helping on a plate for my unexpected visitor. I reached for a fork and extended my arm with the food for him. He shook his head. The stranger had now been here for five minutes and had not said a word. When he refused the food, I didn’t know what to think.
“I’m sorry, I thought you were hungry.” The aroma from the food was wonderful, and if this whack job didn’t want any, I was going to be rude and eat in front of him because I was starving. He neither nodded his agreement or disagreement with my statement; he did not move closer or farther away from me. I sat in one of the vacant camping chairs and ate the food I had offered him. Although I avoided his eyes, I could feel them on me the entire time I ate, and silently I was praying Max would come galloping back into the campsite any second. When the plate was completely bare, I looked back at the man.
“Do you need something? There is some dinner left on the camp stove. Are you cold? Are you here because of the heat from the fire? Do you even talk?” The only response I received was again a small affirmative nod.
My mind was racing, wondering which question was he answering yes to. I listened again for the sound of hooves but heard nothing. Max hadn’t been gone that long, but how far would he have gone? I was alone in the middle of nowhere, with a peculiar stranger who scared me. For the first time he took a step in my direction, and I could feel the adrenaline shoot through my body as if it had been injected with a syringe. My blood was racing through my veins, my hands began to shake, every hair follicle on my body was standing up straight.
The stranger took another step closer, and I let out a gasp. His face morphed in front of me, it was the same older man I’d seen at the mall and the jail in the cabbie hat. He placed both his hands on my arms and stared deep into my eyes as if he were searching for something. I didn’t break his stare, but my shakes erupted into near convulsions. The man gripped my arms more firmly and finally spoke directly into my ear.
“You must choose, do you wish to have a damned life or a quick death?”
The stranger did not move his mouth from my ear nor loosen his steel grip on my arms when I attempted to struggle away from him. This time, rather than a whimper, I screamed as loud and long as I could. If Max were anywhere on the mountain, he would have heard me.
The stranger’s grip on me tightened as he hissed, “Choose now, young one, or I will choose for you.”
Chapter Twenty-eight
There was nothin
g, darkness, my heart felt empty. Was I dead? Was I alive? Where was I? I couldn’t feel my arms or legs. I could see nothing and hear nothing but my thoughts. Was this death? The only thing that seemed to work was my mind. What was the last thing I could remember? A stranger coming to me, offering me death or a cursed life: what kind of choice was that? And what choice had I made?
It was as if my mind were somehow disconnected from my body. I wasn’t in any pain, but I couldn’t feel anything. The electrical impulses that I had always taken for granted to move my body at will were absent. I concentrated on feeling my fingertips and couldn’t. I tried with all my willpower to move a finger, again – nothing.
I tried to make my eyes open and something inside told me they were open, but I could only see darkness. There was no light anywhere. There were no sound vibrations for my ears to hear. This must be death.
But if I were dead, where was the white light, the city of gold, the pearly gates? Where were my grandparents? Where was Paul? Death couldn’t possibly be nothingness, could it? All the stories had always promised death was its own reward. How could this feeling be a reward?
I stayed in the darkness, alone with only my thoughts. Is this what we take with us? Our imagination and memories are all we have when a life is over? I thought of Paul, how his struggle in life nearly made his death seem peaceful. Paul did nothing to deserve death. His worst mistake was trying to be a showoff at the mall, attempting to get a girl’s attention. I wondered, if we were both dead, could we communicate the way Rewsna had communicated with me while I was alive?
My mind wandered a little when I remembered telling Max about Rewsna. He believed the whole story, believed in me, believed that there was a force in the universe that wanted us to be together. It seemed strange that one of my last conversations with Max had been talking about our future. I replayed those precious few minutes in my mind; he was my future and now my life was over.
I’ve never been to another country. I’ve never made a difference in anyone’s life - except for Paul - and one could argue that I was responsible or at least a contributing factor to his death. In my mind I yelled out, “Paul, can you hear me? Are you there? Paul, I’m so sorry. Maybe this is the punishment I get from the universe for shortening your life. I wish I could go back and do it again; I promise I wouldn’t have called the police. Paul, are you there?”
Nothing. No response from Paul, no response from anyone. I was alone with my thoughts. I began begging God to end this, not to leave me suspended like this. If I were being punished, take everything. Don’t leave me alone with my thoughts. I replayed Paul’s death, the gun shot, listening to his last words as blood filled his lungs and his heart gave up. I remembered how I wanted to fold inside myself, but Max wouldn’t let me: my first kiss with Max in the hospital, our morning on the shooting range, spending that first perfect day together. I thought I had so much more time. I thought our time together would last forever, until we were too old even to remember how we had met. Yet in death, I found myself reliving every one of our moments, thousands of time over.
If I were dead, Max must be devastated. I thought how he must have returned to camp and found my body. Did he try to revive me again? Maybe we were destined to be together only a short time. We had things we had to accomplish. What were they? Empathy, Trust, Virtue and Passion – what better way to learn to empathize with what had happened to Paul than to be killed myself? Death is nothing like I had ever imagined. I don’t know what I expected; Max told me we chose each other before we were born and chose our obstacles for this life. How did we do that? Were we suspended in nothingness and happened across each other? Is that what I was now, just suspended? How long do I have to wait for Max? How long have I already waited? It could have been seconds or days or even years. Time meant little. I didn’t feel pain, there was no agony, only thoughts. Or maybe because Max and I didn’t accomplish the things we were supposed to I was being punished by the universe?
I tried to scream out but heard nothing. My mind raced around to a riddle I heard as a child - If a tree falls in a forest and no one is there, does it still make a sound? With that same logic, if I had to overcome obstacles in my life with a partner but my life was cut short, what would happen to my partner? What would my death mean to Max? How would he overcome his obstacles? If he failed, would he start over with a new life or would it just be over? How could we find each other again? Do I wait for him suspended in the universe until we can both be reborn and start over? How would we find each other in the universe again?
I felt bitter that I no longer had my body. What had I done to deserve this? Did I fail some test, did it have anything to do with empathy, trust, virtue or passion? How could I have failed something so completely, without even knowing I had been challenged?
My mind began racing in a new direction. What if I am not dead? What if this is some sort of test? I thought of a Pascal quote - The power of a man’s virtue should not be measured by his special efforts, but by his ordinary doing. Virtue was one of the challenges I was to face. Had something I did in this ordinary meeting with a stranger somehow made me fail Virtue’s test? I thought of the stranger at the camp site: I had offered him food, I spoke with him. What kind of test could I have failed?
If I weren’t dead, how could I describe this suspension? I cleared my head and as clearly as possible I asked, “Rewsna, can you hear me?” There was no response. I waited for a sound or a feeling but continued only to feel the emptiness. As I thought about my question, I decided to ask it again, “Rewsna, I know you can hear me because I still exist and so do you. Tell me how I get back to Max. He needs me.”
This time I could hear her, but she sounded thousands of miles away. I couldn’t make out her words, but I knew she had just answered. I concentrated on the emptiness and clearly thought, “Rewsna, I know you can hear me. I need you to speak more clearly to me. Tell me, how do I get back to Max?”
This time as I concentrated I could hear her, “Lauren, you are more powerful than the beast realized. Will yourself free. Concentrate on your passion for Max.”
Will myself free? What beast? I was being held here by someone or something?
I did just what Rewsna instructed. I remembered sitting in Max’s truck talking for hours. I lingered on the memory of lying next to him on his couch in his apartment. I heard Max’s words echo in my mind the night Max declared his love for me. All these memories made me feel…warm. I felt a flash of light in my mind like a lightning strike, then blackness again.
I heard Rewsna’s encouraging words again, “Again, Lauren, do it again.”
I pulled the memory of our first real conversation together that night in the hospital intertwined with that very first kiss. I thought back to the night I had been shot, riding to the hospital in the ambulance, that first recognition when I looked in his eyes. More lights flashed in my mind, and those images I had been replaying in my mind changed – I kept replaying them, and they came back to me in rich color. Instead of simply revisiting those memories, it was as though I were reliving them. I could feel the electrical impulses from my brain again, trying to awaken my body.
Rewsna’s voice sounded again, “Lauren, break free of the beast. Use your passion for Max to take you back to him. Do not fear the beast. He cannot keep his hold on you. You are stronger, you are more complete. He is but a fragment of evil and cannot hold you unless you let him.”
In that instant I let my life flood my memories. Events from childhood with Seth that were fun and easy…growing up helping my friends with encouraging words and love…entering a new stage of my life with these feelings for Max. My memories overflowed, and the more I thought, the more colorful they became. More light seemed to be all around me, and then I could feel my fingers. I flexed the muscles in my hand and could feel my hand respond.
I could feel the ache of my body, as if I had been tied up for hours. I flexed my hand and made a fist a second time, then did it with my other hand. As I did so, I could fee
l a tightness in my chest and a heaviness in my body. I tried to sit up, but couldn’t. I opened my eyes and looked at a white room with sunlight flowing in the window. I lay on a hospital bed and could hear a machine that looked a little like a plunger, forcing air into my lungs. I was on a ventilator. I couldn’t pick up my head to look around. My body felt wrong.
I reached around with my hand, searching for the bed remote to alert a nurse that I needed help. Both hands frantically felt in every direction around them, but they were so clumsy I had difficulty finding anything beyond the bed frame. I tried slapping the mattress, but it made only a quiet thump. I hit the bed rail and felt a sharp pain jolt through my hand. I tried to scream but nothing came out. I tried to move my legs in an effort to kick, but that effort was fruitless, too.
I was able to reach the electrodes over my chest and pulled them off. The steady beeping that had been sounding in the background became a low pitch whine from the machine behind me. A nurse came running through the doorway. I made eye contact with her, my fingers still holding the electrodes I had removed. She gasped out loud and pushed a button on the wall. The phone rang, and I heard her answer, “Doctor, Ms. Davis is awake. Come here!” There was a pause as she was getting instructions, then she affirmed, “I’m quite certain she is awake. Please come.” The nurse hung up the phone.
She looked at me, walked closer to me, and took my hand in hers. “Lauren, the doctor is on his way. He’ll be here in a few minutes.”
I scanned the room, but it looked different than the last time I found myself in a hospital. Flowers didn’t line all the walls, and the room had some personal touches. My family’s picture was hanging on the wall; a picture of Seth and me was setting on a dresser. An overstuffed couch set along a back wall and didn’t look like one that would be waiting in a hospital room for visitors. A stack of magazines was setting in a magazine holder. As I took this all in, an older gentleman with a bright white lab coat walked through the door.
Meeting Destiny (Destiny Series) Page 27