by Sarah Ripley
“Turn around,” I said. But Kian pressed his foot to the brake pedal and suddenly we were the ones following them. We were coming to the first set of curves in the mountain highway. The road, I knew, would continue uphill for a bit and then there’d be a sharp right turn and a steep decline. Warning signs were all along the sides of the pavement.
But no one was paying attention to the road. The car in front of us was busy trying to speed up to avoid Kian as he inched in closer. We slammed into the back of the BMW, pushing them forwards a few extra feet.
“What are you doing?” I shouted.
“Trust me.”
We surged forward again and this time the white car was ready for us. The driver hit the gas and they accelerated just beyond our reach. I could see them in front of us. The blonde woman was turned all the way around in her seat, shouting at the driver who was busy watching us in the rear view mirror.
Neither of them were watching the road in front of them.
The curve came quickly and the driver didn’t see it fast enough. He swerved at the last second but his tires caught black ice. They spun around in a half circle until the car was facing us. Then they were hitting the guard rail way too fast and the car bounced across the metal and slid across the pavement and right off the shoulder.
There was nothing but cliff. The car disappeared.
I screamed at Kian to stop and he did. Pulling over to the side, I shoved against my battered door and was out of the car the second it stopped moving. Racing over to the side of the cliff, I looked down on the embankment to try and catch a glimpse of the white BMW. All I could see was black smoke.
And then I was falling backwards through space and time. Fog surrounded my body, limiting my vision, and in the distance I could hear a baby crying. The mist began to clear as if a winter breeze was blowing through my mind.
I was in a room. The walls and flooring were wooden and not insulated because I could feel a cool breeze on my face. My feet scraped on the boards, leaving splinters in my bare skin. Along one side was a fireplace. A pot filled with water hung from a metal rod. The liquid bubbled and spit over the sides of the metal. The room was sparsely furnished, only a table and a few dishes. A half-eaten dinner sat abandoned, the soup cold and congealed.
There were two doors, one led outside and the other off to another room in the house. I could hear the sounds of a baby crying from just beyond. I moved towards the room and towards the mewling.
As I reached the door, a girl stepped out in front of me. She was the same one with the long black hair and blue eyes who’d been haunting me throughout all these strange fainting spells.
“Hush,” she said, reaching up and placing her finger on my cheek. “You don’t want to wake yourself.”
“Myself? What do you mean?”
“You’re making yourself cry,” she said. “Can’t you hear? You’ve started to stir. Poor little thing.”
She took me by the arm and led me through the door. Inside was another barren room with only a bed and a crib. There was a woman lying on the bed with the sheets wrapped up to her neck. I couldn’t see her face. Besides, it was the crib that caught my eye. Something moved inside and a tiny pink hand reached up and tried to catch the air. I moved in closer until we gathered around the crib. Inside were two identical baby girls. They were clothed in furs and covered in a plaited grass blanket. One of them was sleeping soundly but the other was crying. She was so fragile and every time she screamed I wanted to reach out and pick her up. The urge to protect her was overwhelming.
“Such beauty,” the girl beside me said. Reaching out, she pulled the blanket up a little higher. “It’s a shame what happens next.”
“Why?” I asked. “What’s wrong with them?”
“Don’t you know,” the girl said. “You should, you lived it.”
“What do you mean?” I said. “Who do these babies belong to?” I turned my attention to the woman lying on the bed. She was dead. Her skin was void of all colours and would provide no warmth. Blue eyes stared into nothingness.
“You killed her,” the girl said. “You came last and it was harder having two. She might have survived if it had just been me. But it was you that did her in.”
I stared at the girl. She was smiling but her eyes were cold and menacing. “Who are you?” I asked.
“I’m you,” she said. “Haven’t you figured it out yet? Identical to the very soul. Born and bred differently but what does that matter. Blood calls to blood and I’m calling you out now. Come play with me.”
My head was shaking back and forth and my legs gave out beneath me. The floorboards disappeared from beneath me. I was falling again, being sucked into the earth and there was no getting out. My body was tossed aside like a rag doll as I bounced against rocks and dirt. Deeper and deeper: down into the darkness.
“I’m coming to find you,” she called out to me. “No matter where you hide I’ll still be there. Don’t be afraid. No one can hurt us as long as we’re together.”
Someone was calling my name. I clung to the noise and tried to force my body to surface near it. It was a losing battle but eventually my eyes opened and blinked against the bright sunlight.
Kian was holding me in his arms.
I moaned and tried to move. My body protested. My muscles were in agony. Even my fingers hurt. But I didn’t want to be there lying in his arms. I twisted around, placing my hands on the ground and tried to push myself backwards and up at the same time. Kian helped me along and eventually I managed to get myself into a sitting position.
“What did you see?” he asked.
“How did you know I saw something?”
“I just know.”
“Aren’t you more concerned about why I fainted? Aren’t you going to ask me if I’m alright and then demand I go to the hospital? That’s what everyone else does.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Fine.” I leaned up against the back of a rock. My joints were starting to relax and the pain began to subside. “And I don’t need to go to the hospital.”
“I don’t believe I offered the invitation.”
“Good.”
Suddenly I remembered where I was and why I was lying on the ground in the middle of Route Seven. What about the crash? Those people needed help.
“Those people,” I said. “We have to help them.”
“We can’t,” Kian said.
“Are they dead?”
“I doubt it. But we’re safe for now. It’ll take them a while to climb up the embankment.”
“But—what if they’re dead.”
“They’re not.”
“How do you know? They must be hurt.” I scrambled over to the side of the road. Below me, the cliff stretched for thousands of feet. There was no more smoke. Aside from a few broken tree branches there was no evidence that a car was crashed somewhere on the rocks. The woods were eerily quiet, not even the birds were singing.
“You can’t hurt them,” he said. “Trust me. I’ll explain it all in a bit. But first we need to get out of here and you need to tell me what you saw. If someone comes along and see’s us it could be major trouble for us.”
I reluctantly allowed him to pull me away from the cliff.
The car was bent and damaged but it started. Kian pulled out onto the highway but not back towards the direction of town.
“You’re going the wrong way,” I said.
“No,” he said. “We can’t go back. It’s not safe.”
I wanted to argue. I wanted to demand he turn the car around and take me home. But I knew he was right. Somewhere, deep inside my body, I knew he was telling the absolute truth.
Nine
I refused to let Kian take me further than the truck stop. It was the major turning point where Route Seven changed over to the main highway. We had been travelling for about an hour, neither of us speaking, both of us lost in our own thoughts.
I wanted to go back home. I had to go back home. It was getting late
in the day and Dad would be waiting for me. I wasn’t grounded or anything but after last night’s events, I had a feeling I was on permanent watch. If I didn’t check in at a reasonable time, I’d probably regret it.
“We need to stop here,” I said when we reached the truck stop. “I can’t go on. And I’ve really got to use the bathroom.”
Kian didn’t say anything but he turned on the blinker and slowed down. He pulled over into a parking spot and turned off the car. It spluttered and complained and I couldn’t help but wonder if the engine would hold up much longer. It had taken quite the beating.
We sat silently for a few minutes. I watched people going in and out of the convenient store. Through the glass I could see the restaurant was half-filled. My stomach growled, I hadn’t eaten much at lunch time and now that the afternoon shock had worn off I was hungry.
Starving.
“I’d like to get something to eat,” I said.
“Ok.”
“And then I want you to take me home.”
Kian turned towards me, his mouth open to protest but I didn’t let him talk.
“I can’t do this,” I said. “For one thing, I have no idea why this is happening or why people are trying to kill you. But I don’t want to be a part of it.”
“You don’t have a choice,” he said.
“Yes, I believe I do,” I said and I got out of the car. I didn’t wait for him to join me. I went in and used the bathroom and then headed into the restaurant where I asked for a booth and a menu. After a few minutes, Kian came over and joined me.
“Are you ready to talk?” I asked. The waitress came by and I ordered a coffee and some water. Kian nodded and said he’d have the same thing.
“I’ll talk,” he said once the waitress left. “But I need to hear from you first. I want to know what you saw when you passed out. Was this the first time?”
“It’s not a big deal,” I said. “I’m just not eating right or something. I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“But are you seeing things? Memories? Events that happened in the past? Things you couldn’t possibly know anything about?”
“How do you know this?” I asked. Picking up a napkin, I started to shred it. After that I picked up a sugar packet and twisted it around in my fingers. Kian watched, refusing to give me an answer. The waitress came back and placed glasses of ice water and hot mugs in front of us.
We weren’t ready to order so she left us for a few minutes.
“Tell me about it,” Kian repeated.
So I did. I explained the first vision where the girl held a blade to my throat and told me everything she did was for me. I spoke about running through the woods while embers burned my hair and my lungs filled with smoke. I told him about the cottage with the babies and the dead woman on the bed.
In between my story we ordered BLT sandwiches and fries. I poured cream in my coffee but didn’t touch it. Kian drank his quickly. The waitress came by two times to refill his cup.
As I talked, Kian’s expression changed from jaw clenching tightness to a frown to concern. His eyebrows sunk and his forehead became worry-lined. His eyes softened and then brightened. His gaze was powerful; his purple eyes never left mine.
“You must think I’m crazy,” I said.
“No, but I might add you’ll probably think the same of me once I’m finished.”
“It’s your turn then,” I said.
He gave me a sad smile. “I don’t know where to begin,” he said.
“The beginning is always nice.”
“Five thousand years of history is too long to repeat over dinner,” he said. “I’m better off starting where we are.”
“Huh?”
“These fainting spells you’re having will continue,” Kian said. “Believe it or not, it’s not a bad thing. It’s just part of the process. They will become less intense as time progresses and you’ll probably start having non-fainting memories too. Bits and pieces of certain events in the past. There’s no point in fully trying to understand them, you won’t remember everything for at least a few more years. At least I think that’s the way usually happens.”
The food arrived at the table but neither Kian nor I paid any attention.
“These memories will have certain people in them,” he continued. “The girl with the black hair, her name was Dialexa. You’ll probably have the most memories of her. I’ll be there too. You were right in thinking that you’ve met me before. We’ve known each other for a very long time.” He stared down into the bottom of his mug.
“You have a scar on your stomach,” I blurted out. “A long thin one. About the length of a pencil.”
There was no expression on his face that registered surprise. Reaching under the table, he pulled his shirt up high enough for me to see the long white line that flawed his perfect skin. It was there, just above his bellybutton.
How did I know that?
“I must have seen your stomach before,” I answered myself. “Somehow, you must have raised your arms up at some point and I caught a glimpse. I couldn’t have known that.”
“You know me well,” he said. “You just don’t remember. I played a big role in your past but keep in mind, not all those memories will be good. I hope you’ll forgive me when the time comes.”
“That can’t be true,” I said. “You’re not exactly the type of person that’s easy to forget. And I’m good with faces. I mean, I’ve thought you looked familiar from the moment I met you, but that doesn’t mean anything. You could just have that kind of face.”
“You haven’t known me in this life. There were others.”
“As in reincarnation?”
“More like a curse.” Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out a wallet. It took him a bit of searching but he eventually produced a photograph. It was black and white and creased from where it had been folded several times. The picture was of him and a girl. His hair was short and slicked back, he wore a suit jacket and vest that must have been in fashion about a hundred years ago. On top of his head was a bowler hat. The girl beside him had long hair which was pulled back and piled on her head. She wore a tight fitting bodice with a long dress that touched the floor and flared out behind her.
They held hands and looked sadly at the camera. I turned the picture over and there was neat handwriting on the bottom. A date: 1901.
“That looks like you but it can’t be. That picture is too old.”
“It is me,” he said.
“That’s impossible. It would make you over a hundred years old.”
“And the girl beside me is you.”
I held the picture closer to get a better look. The photograph was grainy but I could still make out the edges of her face which was heart shaped with wide lips. Her hair was blonde and flowing. I had an oval face and my lips were full but not round like hers. The hair was wrong too.
There was no way the girl was me.
“She is you,” Kian said, reading my thoughts. “Ask me how she died.”
I didn’t want to know.
“She burned to death,” he said. “Hunted down like a wild animal. They set the entire forest on fire to smoke her out. She never made it. Does that sound familiar?”
“You’re making that up,” I said.
“I was there,” he said. “Only I couldn’t get to you in time. They caught me and locked me away and by the time I got free, the forest was alight and I couldn’t get past the blaze to help. The others held me back. They tied my arms to a tree and gutted me. That's how I got the scar. I couldn’t save you.”
“Who are the others?”
“Those two you saw on the road today. Anique and Sobek. They were there. They’ve been following me all this time. I can’t imagine how else they would have found you this quickly. I’ve been a fool. I should have seen this coming. I should have covered my tracks better.”
“That’s not possible,” I said. “Do you really expect me to believe these people are over a hundred years old?”
/> He shook his head. “Older than that. More like a thousand years.”
The waitress stopped by the table. “Is there something wrong with the food?”
“No,” I said. “I guess we’re not as hungry as we thought we were. Can we get this to go?”
“Sure,” she said and she took away our plates.
A thousand? Nope, not possible. Such things didn’t exist. But Kian wasn’t saying anything more. Leaning back against the booth, he waited for me to make the next move. His eyes blinked a few times as if he were suddenly very tired.
“How old are you?” I asked.
“Four thousand.”
“How old am I?”
“In this life? Seventeen. But you were first born about five thousand years ago. You came long before me. The dates are unknown. There’s not enough written history that’s survived this long. There are very few of us who know our exact birthdates.”
I opened my wallet and pulled out some cash. I left it on the table, enough to cover the two of us, and walked out the door without bothering to wait for either Kian, or the waitress to bring our bagged meals. I’d never felt so claustrophobic in my life, it was as if the walls of the diner were closing in on my very soul.
Outside, the sun was barely visible and the sky was bright with pinks and streaks of purple. I took a few deep breaths until my hands stopped shaking. It would be dark in about half an hour. Hopefully I’d be able to find a ride home before then. I decided my best bet would be to approach some of the truckers. One of them might be going my way. If I got a ride now I might make it home in time to just miss dinner. Hopefully I wouldn’t get into too much trouble. Once I got past my Dad’s wrath I would call Connor and apologise for being so stupid. I would do whatever it took to make him forgive me. If I was really lucky he’d take me back and we could put this entire incident behind us.
But who should I approach? I’d never hitchhiked before and I wasn’t sure if there was a certain way to go about it. Surely I wasn’t expected to stand by the side of the road and hold out my thumb? There had to be a more simple way. But none of the truckers looked very savoury. One of them was eyeing me up and down as if I was some sort of tasty treat. I decided to skip him and move onto the next.