Then I left. I didn’t even say good-bye or kiss her or anything like that. I probably should have. I mean, that’s what I’d come there for. Besides, that’s what they do in the movies, right? But I just didn’t want to risk waking her. I admit it, I was afraid.
Gray was just starting to creep into the sky as I drove away in the Jetta. Even though it killed me to leave, deep down I felt like it was the right thing to do. But I didn’t feel free or at peace or vindicated or guilty or anything like that as I headed down the road. I just felt tired and alone. It was strange feeling alone again. I’d almost forgotten what it was like.
At least I knew where I was going. The idea had come to me as soon as I left the house.
Though I made it to the lake well before sunrise, the morning sky was bright enough that I didn’t need any headlights to guide me as I gunned the car up the winding road toward the lookout. Before long, I was closing in on the top. Then nothing but early gray sky before me.
A big rock did the job. I’d seen it done in the movies lots of times. It’s easier than you might think—just drop it onto the pedal, jump back, and hope the car doesn’t turn on you. Of course, if you’re smart, you tie the steering wheel down first. But it was okay—the Jetta went straight and true, with enough speed to hit the water a good ways out.
I hobbled over to the edge and watched it sink. It was about all I had left in me to do. After that I just sort of collapsed onto the wet grass and watched the sun come up over the hills. As the light hit my skin, I looked down and saw the last remnants of Chris fade until there was nothing left. As much as I’d resisted these past few days, it felt good to let go, to be myself again. Ugliness and all.
I’m on a train crossing back over the plains. The fields of wheat I saw coming through the first time have been harvested. There’s nothing left but stubble now. Still, when the sun sets on the shaved plain, it’s just as pretty, only in a different sort of way.
I guess I’m going home, if you want to call it that. I think I remember the way. Back to the mountains, back to the cabin. No one lives there anymore. I figure I might as well go there, far away from everyone. Just me and the crickets.
Over these last few days, curled up in the dark corner of my boxcar, I’ve been thinking a lot about what happened. I mean, I try not to, but there isn’t anything else to do. And so I end up thinking about all the things I could’ve done differently, how I might have avoided hurting everyone the way I did. In the end, I really don’t know that I could’ve. After all, fate brought me and Chris together. The rest just happened.
But the sheganger was right. If I hadn’t killed Chris, if our paths hadn’t crossed, I wouldn’t have met Amber. I wouldn’t have fallen in love. The worst thing is not knowing if that’s good or bad. For the most part, it feels pretty bad. It hurts a lot—even more than it did being Chris—and so I try to bury it. But every once in a while, a little piece will break free, will surface and blossom, and I’ll remember what it felt like when I saw her face for the first time each day, or the sound of her voice, or her scent. If I’m really hard up, I’ll even pop the cell phone open and look at her face, smiling on that little screen. Then I’ll think maybe it wasn’t so bad, maybe some good came of it—not just because I might have given her something she’d never had before, but because I’m a better person for it. I feel more like a person because of her. That’s the truth.
Maybe it doesn’t even matter. All I know is that I miss her. A lot. And I miss the Parkers. Not just Echo, but Sheila and Barry, too. I hope they’ll be okay. I’d like to think they will. Who knows, maybe someday I’ll go back and find out.
And every once in a while I think about the sheganger. She taught me things—about our race, about myself—that I hadn’t known before. It’s strange, but I feel a little bad that she’s gone. Don’t get me wrong—I don’t feel sad for her the way I do for the others who died, and I’d probably kill her all over again, given the chance. But she was a class act in her own twisted, doppelganger way.
That’s the other thing she was right about, by the way—she said I wouldn’t feel better for killing her, and I don’t. Once the numbness faded away, I didn’t feel like I’d broken free one bit. It was just another part of the burden. But I’m learning to accept it. There isn’t anything else I can do.
Most of all, I miss Chris. We hardly spent any time together, and none of it was good. But in the end I think I got to know him pretty well. You can’t be somebody for a month and not come away without at least a little piece of them staying with you. And deep down, a part me feels that if Chris could see how I tried to live his life, he wouldn’t be too upset with me; he might even be okay with it. I’m not trying to justify anything, and who knows, maybe it’s just wishful thinking. But what I’m trying to say, I guess, is that sometimes, you’ve got to make the best of a bad situation.
Also by David Stahler Jr.
THE TRUESIGHT TRILOGY
TRUESIGHT • THE SEER • OTHERSPACE
A GATHERING OF SHADES
Copyright
DOPPELGANGER. Copyright © 2006 by David Stahler Jr. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Stahler, David.
Doppelganger / David Stahler, Jr.—1st ed.
p. cm.
Summary: When a sixteen-year-old member of a race of shape-shifting killers called doppelgangers assumes the life of a troubled teen, he becomes unexpectedly embroiled in human life—and it is nothing like what he has seen on television.
ISBN 978-0-06-087234-2 (pbk.)
[1. Family problems—Fiction. 2. Conduct of life—Fiction. 3. Football—Fiction. 4. Child abuse—Fiction. 5. Supernatural—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.S78246Dop 2006 2005028484
[Fic]—dc22 CIP
AC
EPub Edition © February 2010 ISBN: 978-0-06-200732-2
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