Life and Death

by Stephenie Meyer

“We’re leaving right after school, so we won’t be too late. You want me to put something out for your dinner?”

  “Beau, I fed myself for seventeen years before you got here,” he reminded me.

  “I don’t know how you survived,” I muttered.

  Everything felt less gloomy in the morning—it was sunny again—but I tried not to get my hopes up. I dressed for the warmer weather in a thin sweater—something I’d worn in the dead of winter in Phoenix.

  I had planned my arrival at school so that I barely had time to make it to class. My mood quickly deteriorated while I circled the full lot looking for a space … and also searching for the silver Volvo that was clearly not there.

  It was the same as yesterday—I just couldn’t keep little sprouts of hope from budding in my mind, only to have them squashed painfully as I searched the lunchroom in vain and sat at my empty Biology table. What if she never came back? What if I never saw her again?

  The Port Angeles plan was back on again for tonight, and it was all the more welcome because Logan couldn’t make it. I couldn’t wait to get out of town so I could stop glancing over my shoulder, hoping to see her appearing out of the blue the way she always did. I committed to being in a good mood so that I wouldn’t annoy Jeremy and Allen. Maybe I could find a decent bookstore while I was out. I didn’t want to think that I might be looking alone in Seattle this weekend. She wouldn’t really cancel without even telling me, would she? But then, who knew what social rules vampires felt compelled to follow?

  After school, Jeremy followed me home in his old white Mercury so that I could ditch my truck, and then we headed to Allen’s. He was waiting for us. My mood started to lift as we drove out of the town limits.

  8. PORT ANGELES

  JEREMY DROVE FASTER THAN THE CHIEF, SO WE MADE IT TO PORT Angeles by four. He took us to the florist first, where the glossy woman behind the counter quickly upsold Allen from roses to orchids. Allen made decisions fast, but it took Jeremy a lot longer to figure out what he wanted. The saleswoman made it sound like all the details would be really important to the girls, but I had a hard time believing anyone could care that much.

  While Jeremy debated ribbon colors with the woman, Allen and I sat on a bench by the plate glass windows.

  “Hey, Allen …”

  He looked up, probably noticing the edge in my voice. “Yeah?”

  I tried to sound more like I was just randomly curious, like I didn’t care what the answer was.

  “Do the, uh, Cullens miss school a lot—I mean, is that normal for them?”

  Allen looked over his shoulder through the window while he answered, and I was sure he was being nice. No doubt he could see how awkward I felt asking, despite how hard I was trying to play it cool.

  “Yeah, when the weather’s good they go backpacking all the time—even the doctor. They’re all really into nature or something.”

  He didn’t ask one question, or make one snide comment about my obvious and pathetic crush. Allen was probably the nicest kid at Forks High School.

  “Oh,” I said, and let it drop.

  After what felt like a long time, Jeremy finally settled on white flowers with a white bow, kind of anticlimactic. But when the orders were signed and paid for, we still had extra time before the movie was set to start.

  Jeremy wanted to see if there was anything new at the video game store a few blocks to the east.

  “Do you guys mind if I run an errand? I’ll meet you at the theater.”

  “Sure.” Jeremy was already towing Allen up the street.

  It was a relief to be alone again. The field trip was backfiring. Sure, Allen’s answer had been encouraging, but I just couldn’t force myself into a good mood. Nothing helped me think about Edythe less. Maybe a really good book.

  I headed in the opposite direction from the others, wanting to be by myself. I found a bookstore a couple of blocks south of the florist, but it wasn’t what I was looking for. The windows were full of crystals, dream-catchers, and books on spiritual healing. I thought about going inside to ask directions to another bookstore, but one look at the fifty-year-old hippie smiling dreamily behind the counter convinced me that I didn’t need to have that conversation. I would find a normal bookstore on my own.

  I wandered up another street, and then found myself on an angled byway that confused me. I hoped I was heading toward downtown again, but I wasn’t sure if the road was going to curve back in the direction I wanted or not. I knew I should be paying more attention, but I couldn’t stop thinking about what Allen had said, and about Saturday, and what I was supposed to do if she didn’t come back, and then I looked up and saw someone’s silver Volvo parked along the street—not a sedan, this was an SUV, but still—and suddenly I was mad. Were all vampires this unreliable?

  I trudged off in what I thought was a northeasterly direction, heading for some glass-fronted buildings that looked promising, but when I got to them, it was just a vacuum repair shop—closed—and a vacant space. I walked around the corner of the repair shop to see if there were any other stores.

  It was a wrong turn—just leading around to a side alley where the dumpsters were. But it wasn’t empty. Staring at the huddled circle of people, I tripped on the curb and staggered forward noisily.

  Six faces turned in my direction. There were four men and two women. One of the women and two of the men quickly turned their backs to me, shoving their hands in their pockets, and I had the impression that they were hiding the things they’d been holding. The other woman had dark black hair, and she looked strangely familiar as she glared in my direction. But I didn’t stop to figure out how I knew her. When one of the men had spun around, I’d gotten a quick glimpse of what looked a lot like a gun stuffed into the back of his jeans.

  I started walking forward, crossing the mouth of the alley and heading on to the next street, like I hadn’t noticed them there. Just as I was out of view, I heard a voice whisper behind me.

  “It’s a cop.”

  I glanced behind me, hoping to see someone in uniform, but there was no one else on the empty street. I was farther off the main road than I’d realized. Picking up the pace, I watched the pavement so I wouldn’t trip again.

  I found myself on a sidewalk leading past the backs of several gray warehouses, each with large bay doors for unloading trucks, padlocked for the night. The south side of the street had no sidewalk, only a chain-link fence topped with barbed wire protecting some kind of engine parts storage yard. I’d wandered far past the part of Port Angeles that guests were supposed to see. It was getting dark now—the clouds were back and piling up on the western horizon, creating an early sunset. I’d left my jacket in Jeremy’s car, and a sharp wind made me shove my hands in my pockets. A single van passed me, and then the road was empty.

  “Hey, pig,” a woman’s voice called from behind me.

  I looked back, and it was the woman I’d seen before, the familiar one. Behind her were two of the men from the alley—a tall bald guy and the shorter man who I thought might be the one who’d had the gun.

  “What?” I asked, slowing automatically. She was looking straight at me. “I’m sorry, do you mean me?”

  “Sorry?” she repeated. They were still walking toward me, and I backed away, toward the south side of the road. “Is that your favorite word or something?”

  “I—I’m … sorry. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  She pursed her lips—they were painted a dark, sticky red—and suddenly I knew where I’d seen her before. She was with the guy I’d knocked with my bag when I first arrived in Port Angeles. I looked at the shorter guy, and sure enough, I could see the tops of the tattoos on either side of his neck.

  “Aren’t you gonna call for backup, Officer?” he asked.

  I had to glance behind myself again. It was just me. “I think you’ve got the wrong guy.”

  “Sure we do,” the woman said. “And you didn’t see anything back there, either, did you?”

&
nbsp; “See anything? No. No, I didn’t see anything.”

  My heel caught on something as I backed away, and I started to wobble. I threw my arms out, trying to balance, and the taller man, the one I’d never seen before, reacted.

  He was pointing a handgun at me.

  I’d thought it was the shorter guy who’d had the gun. Maybe they all had guns.

  “Hey, hey,” I said, holding my hands higher so he could see they were empty. “I’m not a cop. I’m still in high school.” I kept edging away until my back ran into the chain-link fence.

  “You think I’m stupid?” the woman asked. “You think your plainclothes getup fools me? I saw you with your cop partner, Vice.”

  “What? No, that was my dad,” I said, and my voice broke.

  She laughed. “You’re just a baby pig?”

  “Sure, okay. So that’s cleared up. I’ll get out of your way now… .” I started sliding along the fence.

  “Stop.”

  It was the bald man, still pointing the gun. I froze.

  “What are you doing?” the short guy said to him. His voice was low, but the street was very quiet, and I could hear him easily.

  “I don’t believe him,” the tall one said.

  The woman smiled. “How’s that pirate song go? Dead men tell no tales.”

  “What?” I croaked. “No, look, that’s—that’s not necessary. I’m not telling any tales. There’s nothing to tell.”

  “That’s right,” she agreed. She looked up at the tall man and nodded.

  “My wallet’s right here in my pocket,” I offered. “There’s not much in it, but you’re welcome to it… .” I started to reach for my pocket, but that was the wrong move. The gun jumped up an inch. I put my hand in the air again.

  “We need to keep this quiet,” the short one cautioned, and he bent to grab a broken piece of pipe from the gutter. “Put the gun away.”

  As soon as the gun was down, I was going to bolt, and the bald guy seemed to know that. He hesitated while the tattooed one started toward me.

  Zigzag, that was what my dad had told me once. It was hard to hit a moving target, especially one that wasn’t moving in a straight line. It would help if I weren’t doomed to trip over something. Just once, let me be sure on my feet. I could do that once, right? Just once, when my life depended on it?

  How much would a nonfatal bullet wound hurt? Would I be able to keep running through the pain? I hoped so.

  I tried to unlock my knees. The man with the pipe was only a few paces away from me now.

  A shrill squeal froze him in place. We all stared up as the noise turned piercing.

  Headlights flew around the corner and then barreled right at me. The car was just inches from hitting the tattooed guy before he jumped out of the way. The chain-link rattled when he rammed into it. I turned to run, but the car unexpectedly fishtailed around, skidding to a stop with the passenger door flying open just a few feet from me.

  “Get in,” a furious voice hissed.

  I dove into the Volvo’s dark interior, not even questioning how she’d come to be here, relief and a new panic swamping me at the same time. What if she got hurt? I yanked the door shut behind me while I shouted.

  “Drive, Edythe, get out of here. He’s got a gun.”

  But the car didn’t move.

  “Keep your head down,” she ordered, and I heard the driver’s side door open.

  I reached out blindly toward the sound of her voice, and my hand caught her slim, cold arm. She froze when I touched her. There was no give, though my fingers wrapped tight around the leather of her jacket.

  “What are you doing?” I demanded. “Drive!”

  My eyes were adjusting, and I could just make out her eyes in the reflected glow of the headlights. First they looked at my hand gripping her arm, then they narrowed and glared out the windshield toward where the man and the woman must be watching, evaluating. They could shoot at any second.

  “Give me just a minute here, Beau.” I could tell her teeth were clenched together.

  I knew she would have no problem breaking free of my grasp, but she seemed to be waiting for me to let her go. That wasn’t going to happen.

  “If you go out there, I’m going with you,” I said quietly. “I’m not letting you get shot.”

  Her eyes glared forward for another half-second, and then her door slammed shut and we were reversing at what felt like about sixty.

  “Fine,” she huffed.

  The car spun in a tight arc as we raced backward around a corner, and then suddenly we were speeding forward.

  “Put on your seat belt,” she told me.

  I had to drop her arm to obey, but that was probably a good idea anyway. It wasn’t exactly a normal thing, holding on to a girl like that. Still … I was sad to let go.

  The snap as the belt connected was loud in the darkness.

  She took a sharp left, then blew through several stop signs without a pause.

  But I felt oddly at ease, and totally unconcerned about where we were going. I stared at her face—lit only by the dim dashboard lights—and felt a profound relief that went beyond my lucky escape.

  She was here. She was real.

  It took me a few minutes of staring at her perfect face to realize more than that. To realize that she looked super, super pissed.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, surprised by how hoarse my voice was.

  “No,” she snapped.

  I waited in silence, watching her face while her eyes glared straight ahead.

  The car came to a sudden, screeching stop. I glanced around, but it was too dark to see anything besides the vague outline of dark trees crowding the roadside. We weren’t in town anymore.

  “Are you hurt at all, Beau?” she asked, her voice hard.

  “No.” My voice was still rough. I tried to clear my throat quietly. “Are you?”

  She looked at me then, with a kind of irritated disbelief. “Of course I’m not hurt.”

  “Good,” I said. “Um, can I ask why you’re so mad? Did I do something?”

  She exhaled in a sudden gust. “Don’t be stupid, Beau.”

  “Sorry.”

  She gave me another disbelieving look and then shook her head. “Do you think you would be all right if I left you here in the car for just a few—”

  Before she could finish, I reached out to grab her hand where it rested on the gearshift. She reacted by freezing again; she didn’t pull her hand away.

  It was the first time I’d really touched her skin, when it wasn’t accidental and just for a fraction of a second. Though her hand was as cold as I expected, my hand seemed to burn from the contact. Her skin was so smooth.

  “You’re not going anywhere without me.”

  She glared at me, and like before, it was as if she were waiting for me to let go instead of just yanking free like she could easily have done.

  After a moment, she closed her eyes.

  “Fine,” she said again. “Give me a moment.”

  I was okay with that. I kept my hand lightly on hers, taking advantage of her closed eyes to stare openly. Slowly, the tension in her face started to relax until it was smooth and blank as a statue. A beautiful statue, carved by an artistic genius. Aphrodite, maybe. Was that the one who was supposed to be the goddess of beauty?

  There was that faint fragrance in the car again—something elusive that I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

  Then her eyes opened, and she looked slowly down at my hand.

  “Do you … want me to let go?” I asked.

  Her voice was careful. “I think that might be for the best.”

  “You’re not going anywhere?” I checked.

  “I suppose not, if you’re that opposed.”

  Unwillingly, I pulled my hand from hers. It felt like I’d been holding a handful of ice cubes.

  “Better?” I asked.

  She took a deep breath. “Not really.”

  “What is it, Edythe? What’s wrong?”
>
  She almost smiled, but there was no humor in her eyes. “This may come as a surprise to you, Beau, but I have a little bit of a temper. Sometimes it’s hard for me to forgive easily when someone … offends me.”

  “Did I—”

  “Stop, Beau,” she said before I could even get the second word fully out. “I’m not talking about you.” She looked up at me with her eyes wide. “Do you realize that they were serious? That they were actually going to kill you?”

  “Yeah, I kinda figured they were going to try.”

  “It’s completely ridiculous!” It seemed like she was working herself up again. “Who gets murdered in Port Angeles? What is it with you, Beau? Why does everything deadly come looking for you?”

  I blinked. “I … I have no answer for that.”

  She tilted her head to one side and pursed her lips, exhaling through her nose. “So I’m not allowed to go teach those thugs a lesson in manners?”

  “Um, no. Please?”

  She sighed a long, slow sigh, and her eyes closed again. “How disagreeable.”

  We sat in silence for a moment while I tried to think of something to say that would make up for … I guess, disappointing her? That was what it seemed like—that she was disappointed I was asking her not to go looking for multiple armed gangsters who had … offended her by threatening me. It didn’t make much sense—and even less so when you factored in that she had asked me to stay in the car. She was planning to go on foot? We’d driven miles away.

  For the first time since I’d seen her tonight, the word Jules had said popped into my mind.

  Her eyes opened at the same moment, and I wondered if she’d somehow known what I was thinking. But she just looked at the clock and sighed again.

  “Your friends must be worried about you,” she said.

  It was past six-thirty. I was sure she was right.

  Without another word, she started the engine and spun the car around. Then we were speeding back toward town. We were under the streetlights in no time at all, still going too fast, weaving easily through the cars slowly cruising the boardwalk. She parallel parked against the curb in a space I would have thought much too small for the Volvo, but she slid in with one try. I looked out the window to see the theater’s brightly lit marquee. Jeremy and Allen were just leaving, pacing away from us.