Tainted

by A. E. Rought

  My ex-girlfriend reaches us just steps ahead of Emma. No chance for me to quiz her and find out what game she’s running now. She sweeps her dark ponytail over her shoulder and extends a hand to Bree, saying, “I heard it’s your birthday. An auspicious date, to be sure.”

  Bree looks at her hand like she’d rather de-glove the flesh with her fingernails than shake it. “And you are…?” Bree asks, voice dark and unwelcoming.

  “Didn’t Alex tell you?” Hailey says, and worms an arm under mine as Emma joins our tense little bubble of awkwardness. “I’m Hailey Westmore, a friend from Sadony.”

  “Alex?” Emma says, eyes pinched in a questioning glance. “Who is this?”

  The distance between me and Em rips open, a gulf of half-truths and things I should’ve told her. Hailey’s grip tightens on my arm as she extends the hand Bree didn’t take toward Emma.

  “Hi,” Hailey sounds so kind and sincere. If you don’t know her. I do. And I know she’s not here on a social call. “I’m Hailey. Alex and I dated. I’m sure he told you?”

  Emma gives her the same refusal to shake as Bree did.

  “Yeah. He told me.” The fire lights in Em’s eyes. Her arms cross in front of her, cast on top, like she might swing it any second given the proper motivation. Em’s smart and she’s catching on to whatever Hailey is trying to stir up. “It doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

  “I was in the neighborhood.” Such a smooth lie, it sounds sincere coming from her. “I saw Alex’s car and thought I would stop and say ‘hi’.”

  “Well,” I say, and try to pull my arm from her grip. “You’ve said hi. Time for you to go.”

  “What’s the rush? Just one dance?” she asks. “For old time’s sake. Emma understands. Don’t you?” Hailey cuts her green eyes sideways in a sympathetic glance. She knows what Josh and my father stole from Emma, and the hell she went through.

  The ploy works, snuffs the spitfire spark in Em’s eyes. The light goes out and my guilt floods up. My life has caused her so much pain, and here she is again, taking more pain because of me. Em shifts her gaze from my face, gives Hailey a nearly imperceptible nod, and steps back. I can’t stand to see her expression, the hurt I know is in her eyes and is my fault.

  “Perfect,” Hailey says. “Thank you.”

  I grab her arm, a tight angry grip, as I steer her far from Em and near the closest exit. I don’t care what song is playing. I can’t hear it for the rage buzzing in my head. One jerk of Hailey’s arm spins her to face me, and I pull her close.

  “You are a heartless bitch,” I growl in her ear, “to play on Emma’s sympathies like that.”

  Hailey giggles, and smacks my arm, pretending I said something funny.

  I am not in a joking mood. I clench a hand on her shoulder.

  “Careful, Alex. You know I can destroy you at any time.”

  “You won’t.” I pull back enough to see her response. “You’re as dependent on Ascension Labs as I am. You won’t go public.”

  “Don’t be silly!” she says in a loud, high-pitched, playful voice, and pretends to cuddle closer. “Ascension Labs,” she whispers, after she strokes the hair away from my ear, “isn’t the only way to punish you.”

  A numb, questioning kind of shock sets in. What is she playing at?

  “What are you talking about?” I ask.

  She doesn’t answer, just takes a step back and looks to Emma first, and back to me. With a slow smile, Hailey grabs my jacket collar and yanks me down to her lips.

  Em’s gasp cuts my soul like a knife.

  I turn my head away from her, and grab Hailey’s shoulder. A good push forces her away and makes her stumble. But the damage is done. Em takes one last, aching look at me, and storms towards us. She tangles her cast-less hand in Hailey’s fancy scarf and uses it to drag her roughly toward the door.

  “You’ve outstayed your welcome,” Em nearly spits, and then pushes the front door open.

  “This has been fun.” Hailey straightens her scarf, smooths her hair, then runs a finger under Em’s chin and grins at her before waving at me. “I’m meeting Trent at the Papa’s Pizza, Alex. You should join us – much more civil company than your girlfriend here.” Then she strolls out the door.

  An uncomfortable silence fills in the house. Hailey backs from the Ransoms’ driveway, and her headlights swing across the front of the house and then back toward town. Em stands, all anger and fire, her focus solely on me.

  “Em,” I breathe, painfully aware that everyone is staring. “I didn’t…”

  “Don’t.” She puts a hand up, warding off my reach, blocking my attempt to pull her to me. “You should’ve said ‘No’, Alex.”

  Should and could aren’t the same. I should have never let Hailey get to me, but with what she’s holding over my head, I can’t risk seriously pissing her off.

  Em widens the gulf between us, turning and taking everything good in my life with her when she grabs her set of car keys from the rack and walks out. I can’t let her leave. My heart is clenching so hard I can hardly breathe.

  “Emma!” I shout. She’s on her way out, stomping through the driving snow toward the car her parents left for her.

  “Dude,” Jason appears at my side, “I leave you for a few minutes to get food and everything goes to hell?”

  “I don’t have time for this,” I huff.

  “Don’t care,” he says, grabbing a jacket and following me through the garage. “You’re going to hear it anyway.”

  By the time I reach the driveway, the heavy snowfall has nearly obliterated my view of Em’s car. But I know where she’s going. Where she always goes when she’s upset.

  Memorial Gardens Cemetery.

  “You want to bitch at me,” I snap at Jason, “then get in the car!”

  He nods, and trudges behind me to the Acura. I sit behind the steering wheel and belt in. Em’s gone, no sign of her, and my heart hurts too bad to feel if she’s close.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The quickest way to Memorial Gardens skirts the Lake Michigan shoreline. I force the Acura into motion, smashing the gas pedal to the floor. The world has lost all color, nothing but smeared black and gray and white in the snowstorm.

  Beams from the car’s headlights stab into the blowing white. Snowflakes rush at the windshield obliterating my view.

  “Jesus,” Jason exclaims, and fumbles his hold on the dashboard. “Slow down!”

  “Can’t,” and I don’t.

  I trust my heightened instincts to get me there as fast as possible. A horrid, nameless fear has taken root, flung tendrils through me. They strangle my lungs, squeeze around my heart. Feelers reach in my brain, whispering brittle truths. Hailey knew we would be there. She meant to hurt Emma’s feelings while I watched. I can’t let the viper win and drive a wedge between me and Em. Everything that is Daniel inside me is screaming to fix this.

  Through the driving snow I catch sight of tail lights ahead, near the dunes and the old restaurant close to the mouth of the river. Emma. All of me, every nerve, every fiber knows it’s her. A breath of relief loosens the stranglehold on my lungs. Then another car, one I’ve never seen, flicks on its lights in the private drive across the street. The driver has their hood up around their face, and charges after Em’s vehicle.

  “Who the hell is that?” Jason asks.

  “No clue!”

  It happens so fast, like a knife in the back.

  “Dammit!” I shout when the road dips and I lose sight of them. Adrenaline blazes in my veins, compounding my electric charge.

  A collision shatters the night’s silence. Jason shouts something. I suck in a sharp breath. Tires squeal, an engine whines. The Acura can’t keep up with my heart rate, I need to be over the hill, make sure Em’s OK. I hold my breath until the car crests the rise. Ahead, one vehicle wavers on the road, rocketing toward the bridge, red from the tail lights leaving a blood trail in the snow. The other car, a ghost in the squall, flees, heading away from the shore.<
br />
  “Oh God,” Jason mutters. “Oh my God…”

  I’m afraid God’s not listening.

  My heart lodges in my throat as Emma’s battered car fishtails toward the river’s mouth.

  This can’t be happening. It can’t. I’m watching a horror movie, belted into the theater seat with no escape.

  The squeal of brakes rips the night, violent, loud testimony that this is real. Someone hit her car, but this is my fault.

  She wouldn’t be on this road if it wasn’t for me. I’m responsible and I can’t save her.

  Emma’s front tires catch enough gravel on the edge of the road to launch the car over the embankment. The little vehicle teeters on a back tire snagged on the bridge. I have enough time to regret dancing with Hailey before Em’s face appears in the window. The car rocks and her eyes widen with obvious fear. A freeze-frame image of her burns into my mind, the dashboard lights glowing sickly and pale on her terrified face. Please don’t let this happen, my heart can’t take it.

  I slam on the Acura’s brakes, and bury the nose in the snow bank feet from where her car tore through the dune grass. Jason’s screams of “Oh my God!” fill my car, but they’re nothing compared to the slamming of my heart, the pain consuming my chest.

  Em’s eyes catch mine, she wails for help and jerks on the door. Her mouth forms my name, and I feel the word clawing my heart. I can’t get out of the car fast enough, as though I’m trapped in a slow-motion scene while everything in me screams to hurry. Outside, the wind keens through the brittle beach grass. Snow pelts my face.

  Panicking, Em pounds on the window with her cast. The motion shakes the vehicle loose. My heart clenches.

  “No!” I shout.

  A glassy crash shatters the night when the nose of the car smashes through the skim of ice over the river. This time, when Em screams, my ears hear it as well as my heart. The hood submerges in an instant. Emma’s frantic, pounding the window, sobbing as the vehicle bobs on the water’s black surface.

  My hopes flounder and sink as water splashes inside the cab. She’s going to drown, and I’m to blame. The car door opens behind me. Jason’s shouting, but I’m beyond listening. I can’t lose Emma. Cold air hits my skin, rushing in to replace my shucked leather jacket.

  “Emma!” I shout, pausing at the river’s edge to rip off my shoes.

  “What are you doing?” Panic makes Jason’s voice edgy in the blizzard night. “Are you crazy?”

  Yes, I am. For Emma. I would throw away this false life to keep her alive.

  Em tips her face up to avoid the rising water. Tears shine in her eyes, the last thing I see before the water muffles her cries and the roof sinks below the surface.

  I don’t think.

  Tearing off my shirt, I leap from the bank. Air rushes along my skin before I collide with the frigid water. The river devours me. The cold burns, cutting into me like blades of ice. My jaws lock on a scream – I can’t afford the air. Emma’s everything to me and the tail lights are disappearing below.

  Every stroke, every kick brings more pain, renews the water’s icy edge. Instinct rails at me to swim for the surface, to escape the hurt and save myself.

  I won’t. There might still be time to save her.

  Emma can’t die because of me.

  I’m not worthy of her life.

  Thought flees and I am nothing more than agony and determination. The car comes into view, sliding down the river’s gullet. I paw at the crumpled trunk with numb hands, searching for a hold. My hand catches on a jagged edge and a fresh hell rips across my palm. Blood laces into the water as I work my way down the car’s body to the dented driver’s door.

  The dashboard lights flicker over the limp form strapped to the driver’s seat. She’s motionless, not clawing for freedom. Emma’s face tips my way in time for me to witness the fight and fire leave her eyes. I’ve lost her. Heartache explodes in my chest. Denial floods me in a hot rush. I scream then, raging against my failure and guilt, breath escaping in a bubbling cloud as I slam my fists against the window. The glass holds between me and Emma.

  Lungs burning for air, guilt and panic sickening me, I work my multi-tool knife from my pocket and use the pointed end to ram the glass. It spiderwebs, then another punch breaks it.

  I yearn to gather Em in my arms, but she’s still belted to her seat, arms floating, eyes fixed and mouth open. A single bubble escapes her nose.

  This can’t be. This can’t be. This can’t be.

  I’m not sure if my lungs or heart hurt worse. Everything in me that is Daniel seems numb, in shock. I’m not yet. I fumble with my knife and nearly drop it before I can get the seatbelt cutter aligned with Emma’s restraint. With a wrench of my arm, I cut her free.

  Then I know the fight is truly over. Cold truth floods in to snuff any attempt at disbelief. Emma doesn’t kick off from the dashboard and reach for me. Her body slumps toward the floor.

  Choking on sobs and the last of my held breath, I hook my hand under her arm and guide her body through the broken window. There’s no life in her when I clutch Em to my chest, no heartbeat, no tension in her muscles.

  For a bleak, desperate moment I think of taking in the river and dying with her. I deserve death after driving Emma to hers. Carefully, I turn her body to face mine. She’s pale, lips blue, an icy angel hanging limp in my grip. Heartbroken, I tuck her face to my chest.

  It would be so easy. We could be together forever. Just open my mouth and inhale…

  Frigid water trickles down my nose. I fight the life instinct to gag and swim for the surface. I earned this end.

  Her hair drifts on the river’s current, brushes my face as bubbles from the car push it toward the surface as if waving goodbye to life. Then a beam of light pierces the depths, and breaks through my black thoughts. It’s a path to follow, a way to ascend this loss.

  Maybe Emma doesn’t have to stay dead.

  Maybe I can bring her back to the surface, back to life with CPR.

  Because I can’t let her go.

  Using the bumper to push for the surface, I cling to my love and swim for the air, the muddy bank and hopefully my salvation. Her breath, her heartbeat. My life narrows to resuscitating her.

  Jason’s on the river bank when I crest the water’s surface.

  “Holy shit, man!” He’s fidgeting, panicky, pulling at his spikey hair. “Emma! Is she…”

  I shake my head. She’s gone.

  “Oh fuck.” Instead of helping pull Emma from the river, the flashlight drops from his hand and he sinks to his butt.

  Sand and snow mix in the wet ribbons of Emma’s hair when I push her up the bank. The water washes by, tugging on her dress, stubbornly refusing to let her go. My dad beat Mother Nature, so can I. Em hasn’t been gone that long.

  Something rips the knee of my pants when I scramble out of the water. Hot blood rushes down my shin. I use the protruding edge to wedge my foot and drag Emma farther out. Jason’s voice matches the wind though the grass, keening and wordless. He’s as gone as Em. He jerks a foot away when I tip Em to the side. She’s a broken doll, and I have to open her mouth to let water pour from her throat. The killer liquid gushes down the bank, shiny and insidious, taking out snow in its passing.

  Inside, I’m dying, everything fractured and clinging to denial.

  Outside, I’m all business. I ease her body back, tip her head to clear her airway. I can’t fall apart now. Eyes on her open, blank ones, I start CPR. My stomach rolls at the wet sounds coming from her chest, but I don’t stop. Thirty compressions and two breaths. Thirty and two.

  Jason’s crying peters out. I hear him behind me, muttering about Bree, Em’s parents, “Em can’t be dead,” and back through the cycle. Then, he says, “Someone needs to call the authorities.”

  The words flash through me, rattle something savage. I don’t know I’ve snapped until I see the shock in Jason’s eyes, only inches from mine.

  “Do not call anyone!” I yell, then lunge back to continu
e breaths and chest compressions.

  Thirty and two. Burbling sounds. Thirty and two. Bubbles.

  “Come on!” I shout at her. “You are not dead!”

  If she is, then I am.

  Thirty and two.

  A hand touches my shoulder. I keep up with CPR, ignoring Jason’s attempts to reach me.

  Pump the blood. Breathe for her. It will work. I won’t have to stoop to my father’s sins.

  His grip tightens. “Alex,” he says.

  Em blurs in my vision.

  “Alex.” Jason’s voice is soft and strong at the same time. “She’s gone.”

  I know.

  Drawing in a breath, I rock back on my heels and rage at the night until I can’t scream, can’t cry, can hardly breathe.

  Dead inside, I collapse to the mud beside Em’s body and curl her to me.

  “Alex,” Jason says again. “We have to report this. There’s procedures to follow.” His voice trails off, and he slumps down beside me.

  Who gives a damn about their procedures?

  They can take their rules and–

  Procedures. My father may have sinned, but his process worked a miracle. So can I. Em deserves to live.

  “Jason, open the back door.”

  “What?” He whips his head to look at the car, then back at me. “Why?”

  “Just. Do. It.”

  Blinking, he rises from the sand, and scrambles for the car. Water gushes everywhere when I ease my arms under Emma’s body and lift her to my chest. I cradle her to me, like she’s sleeping and, in a way, that’s all she’s doing. Sleeping until I wake her up.

  “What are you doing?” Jason says. “We have to leave her. The cops…”

  “The cops aren’t coming.” My voice is dark, full of angst.

  “But… but…”

  “Jason, open the damn door and get in! I need your help!”

  “Help with what?” he wails, his confusion coming out in one sentence.