"It's like something out of the Old Testament out here," he said under his breath.
Cars and trucks rocketed down the highway at murderous velocities. A handful of other drivers, the smart ones, had slowed and turned on their hazard lights.
He hit a puddle of water and the Navigator's tires lost their grip on the pavement for a beat, sending nausea wriggling through his stomach.
Okay, time to slow down. Let the rest of these speed racers risk their lives out here.
He decreased his speed to about forty. Water, spewed in the wake of the car ahead of him, blanketed the windshield. He lowered his speed a little more, to increase the distance between his vehicle and the one ahead.
At this rate it would take forever to get home, but he wasn't in a hurry. He planned to spend the day napping and, later, preparing for Dana's arrival.
He was immersed in an erotic fantasy of what he and Dana might do later that night when he noticed the cars ahead of him slowing, brake lights flaring. From the looks of it, they were braking because of a pool of water spread across the pavement, a mini lake produced by the highway's poor drainage in that area.
He gently applied the brakes.
There was an eighteen-wheeler in the lane on his immediate left, a car length ahead of him. The faded logo on the trailer, advertising a bakery company, proclaimed, LIFE IS DELICIOUS.
The truck, also attempting to slow, began to hydroplane. The trailer swayed dangerously.
"Hey, man" Gabriel tapped the horn to let the driver know he was there.
Water spraying from its tires and coating Gabriel's windshield, the truck rumbled closer, the gigantic trailer looming like a wall.
"Hey!" Gabriel mashed the horn.
The truck kept coming.
Gabriel pumped the brakes and wrestled the steering wheel, aiming to direct his vehicle to the shoulder of the highway. But the semi slewed into his lane and banged against Gabriel's SUV, and the effect was like a giant swatting a fly. The collision sent Gabriel spinning toward the guardrail, out of control, the steering wheel tearing through his fingers violently enough to scorch his skin.
Terror seized the pit of his stomach.
I'm gonna die, he thought with piercing clarity. This is how it ends ...
He didn't even realize he was screaming.
The Navigator hurtled over the guardrail and plummeted down the embankment beyond.
Chapter 2
"'m gonna die.... Jr --
iCrashing over the guardrail, hitting the muddy embankment, rolling end over end, Gabriel wanted to close his eyes and avoid witnessing his own demise. But fear had peeled back his eyelids.
The world spun. One second, he made out trees, the low gray sky spitting rain, and houses huddled against the storm. A second later, everything was upside down, as if he were traveling through a corkscrew loop on a roller coaster. His stomach lurched, bitter bile filling the back of his throat. He banged against the door and ceiling, pain spinning like broken glass through his body.
The air bags deployed and blew into his face, burning his skin.
In spite of the clamor of the rolling SUV, Gabriel heard the radio. Smokey Robinson was singing about cruising with someone you loved. Dana's face flashed through Gabriel's mind, and he felt a swelling of bittersweet love.
He was never going to see her again.
He was never going to see anyone again. This was the end.
Visions of his life paraded before his eyes. Snap shots of his youth, the good and the bad.
Faces floated through his mind's eye, too. He saw living relatives: Pops, Mom, his sister, his aunt, his uncles. Their eyes were teary, grieving.
I don't wanna die.
And then the dead charged into his thoughts: his grandparents, his best friend from high school who'd also died in a car wreck. Their arms beckoned to him, and they whispered, Welcome.
No, I don't wanna die ...
As if from far away, he heard a crash, the groan of crushed metal, the tinkling of shattered glass.
The truck stopped rolling. He was upside down, his head mashed against the ceiling. He sensed rather than felt his twisted limbs.
Something wet seeped into his eyes. Too warm to be rain. Blood? His blood? Where was it coming from? He was numb, couldn't feel any of his injuries, couldn't so much as flex a finger.
The wetness suddenly faded. He felt himself drawn ... out. As if he'd slipped outside of his flesh, like a snake shedding its skin. He moved away from the vehicle, floated away from the rain-torn day, and drifted into a nebulous realm of shadows.
Where am I?
Somewhere ahead, the fog cleared. A doorway of brilliant white light shone in the distance.
There really is a light on the Other Side.
He didn't want to die, but the white light seemed to exert a gravitational hold on him. It pulled him toward it.
I'm not ready to die, please.
Before the light absorbed him, a hulking, faceless hu manoid form, as bright as lightning, emerged from the doorway. It pushed him away.
He was catapulted backward, like an astronaut marooned in outer space.
The shimmering portal closed.
Darkness enveloped him. Deep, complete.
Chapter 3
I- -- - rbriel 1 awoke.
He blinked. The world was blurry; soft, warm light surrounded him. He smelled antiseptic odors, heard shoes squeaking against floors somewhere in the distance. Was he in a hospital?
As his eyes slowly focused, he saw that he was correct. He lay on his back in a bed, covered with crisp sheets. He wore a patient's gown, and a plastic I.D. bracelet on his wrist read GRADY MEMORIAL HOSPITAL.
Funny, he was a "Grady Baby," had been born at this very institution. Right now he felt so disoriented he might have just been birthed again.
He tried to sit up, and a hatchet of pain cleaved across his skull. He lay back on the pillows, cautiously touched his head. A thick bandage encircled his temple.
The left side of his rib cage ached, too. As he drew breaths, a sharp pain poked between his ribs, as if a dagger had been jabbed into his flesh.
What had happened?
The last thing he remembered was driving in the rain on I-285, swerving to avoid an eighteen-wheeler, the truck smacking his Navigator and sending him flying toward the guardrail ... and then his memory lapsed into darkness.
But it was easy to put the pieces together: he had survived the accident, and paramedics had brought him here.
He flexed his fingers, arms, and legs. His tendons were sore, and his muscles ached. But he didn't wear a cast, and felt no broken bones. He had only the assorted pains and a throbbing headache.
He was lucky. He could have been dead.
Although he'd awakened feeling as though his head were stuffed with down feathers, now his senses suddenly seemed heightened: colors were more vivid, noises were louder, scents were more intense. A bitter, medicinal flavor lay on his tongue; it was so sharp that he nearly gagged.
He looked around. The door was partly open; the bed on the other side of the room was vacant. A beige jacket lay folded on the upholstered chair next to his bed, along with an Octavia Butler paperback.
Dana's stuff. She must have stepped out of the room. He turned to the window and saw the night-shrouded Atlanta skyline beyond, lights twinkling in the skyscrapers.
How long had he been unconscious? The bedside digital clock read nine-forty, but he wasn't sure how much time had elapsed while he'd been unconscious. It could've been several hours. Or days. Even months.
Panic rose in his chest. He had to talk to someone. The call button for the nurse dangled beside his bed. He reached for it and then pulled back.
He felt something strange. A cool, tingling sensation on his hands. As if he were running his palms across a blanket laden with static electricity.
He raised his hands to his face. They were the same long, slender fingers he'd always had, his palms were unmarked, and his hands were steady,
not trembling.
Still, his fingers tingled. It was a pleasant feeling. He felt-and it was weird to think this-but he felt powerful. As if magic resided in his hands.
He rubbed his palms together.
The prickly feeling passed.
What had that been all about? A blood circulation problem? Maybe. Or maybe nothing.
Light footsteps approached the doorway.
"Oh, thank God, you're awake," Dana said.
Gabriel couldn't remember ever being so glad to see her. Although Dana was simply dressed in jeans and a pink sweater, she had never looked more lovely to him.
Dana rushed to the bed and wrapped her arms around him. He held her close, buried his nose in her hair, inhaling so deeply of her clean, sweet scent that he got slightly dizzy.
Stepping back, Dana gave him a once-over. Her large brown eyes were tinged with red.
"How-'re you feeling?" she asked.
"I've had better days" His voice was raspy. Dana picked up a bottle of water from the bedside table and brought it to his lips. He sipped eagerly.
"Your parents and sister left barely ten minutes ago," she said. "They'd been here for a couple of hours, waiting for you to wake up. I was planning to stay for the rest of the night."
"How long have I been knocked out?"
She checked her watch. "Almost twelve hours" She gave a small smile. "It's still your birthday."
"Where's my gift?"
Her smile faltered. "Well ..
He grinned. "I'm kidding. Seeing you again is the best birthday gift I could ever have"
Dana sat on the bed with Gabriel, holding his hand, and filled him in on what had happened.
"Your truck went over the guardrail," she said. "You rolled over five or six times on the way down the hill. Needless to say, the car's been totaled."
"Damn, I loved that ride."
"But you, Gabe ... all you sustained were a few minor scratches, bruised ribs, and a concussion. No broken bones, no internal bleeding, no damaged organs. It's a miracle." She dabbed her eyes with a Kleenex.
He decided to avoid mention of his tingling fingers. She'd been worried about him; telling her something that might worry her further would serve no useful purpose, especially since he was almost certain that it was just a temporary, blood circulation problem. His hands had fallen asleep or something.
But it hadn't really felt like that, had it?
He touched her cheek. She held his hand against her face, kissed his fingers.
"You have no idea how scared I was," she said softly. "I thought I was going to lose you. I couldn't handle that"
When Dana Stevens was eleven years old, riding to a family reunion in Memphis with her dad, mom, and little brother, a drunk driver had struck their minivan. Her family had died on the way to the hospital; Dana had survived the accident with only a scar on her neck. Her more profound injuries were of the spirit.
Like many individuals who used tragedy to motivate themselves to achieve ambitious goals, Dana channeled her energy into academics. She graduated valedictorian from high school. Summa cum laude from Spelman. Top of her class at Morehouse School of Medicine. When she graduated from medical school, she chose to stay home and pursue her residency in pediatrics at Emory University, which would enable her to work in medically underserved communities throughout metro Atlanta. Places where she could help children in need-other young Danas in the world.
In spite of the fulfillment she found through her work, Gabriel knew she resisted forming close emotional attachments. She had a couple of friends from college, and a hand ful of relatives she spoke to regularly, but that was all. Her grandparents, who had raised her after the accident, had died, too, soon after she completed med school.
She and Gabriel had met at a Fourth of July cookout, hosted by a friend of his father's who'd been one of Dana's professors at Morehouse. Always looking out for his son, Pops had slyly hooked them up. Dana had been slow to open up to Gabriel, but he had persisted, initially because-truth be told-she was gorgeous. She was five-six, with soft cocoa skin, the toned body of a dancer, short and curly dark hair, dreamy cinnamon eyes, and a gentle smile, as if you and she shared an intimate secret. He was immediately hooked.
And he quickly learned that she had much more than beauty to offer. She had depth, intelligence, spunk, character. After one month of dating, he knew he'd met the future Mrs. Reid. But he took it slow; because of what she'd been through, Dana was a slow-track kind of woman, and rushing things would have driven her away.
But after three years, they finally were on the path to marriage, with an October wedding in the works. Nevertheless, Dana still couldn't bring herself to say that she loved him, out of an irrational but unshakable fear that once she said the words, she would lose him, just as she'd lost so many others close to her.
"I'm here, all in one piece, doc," he said. He tried to sit up, winced as pain stampeded across his head. "But I think I could use some Tylenol or something. My ribs hurt and I've got a killer headache"
"I'll have a nurse bring you something for that" She pushed the call button. "Meanwhile, I'll call your folks and let them know you're okay."
"I love you, Dana," he said.
She smiled, kissed him, and then picked up her cell phone to call his family.
A nurse gave Gabriel a couple of ibuprofen tablets to ease his pain, and checked his vital signs, all of which were satisfactory. After she finished, the physician on duty, Dr. Boone, came in to examine him. Dr. Boone was a thirtyish, ruddyfaced guy with reddish hair and an Alabama accent. He performed a physical exam on Gabriel under Dana's watchful eye.
"Lookin' good here, Gabriel," Dr. Boone said. He capped his pen and closed Gabriel's file. "I gotta say, after hearing about your wreck, you're one lucky fella. But we'd like to keep you here till the morning, for observation."
"Cool. Maybe I'll go to work tomorrow."
Dana glowered at him. But he was serious. He wanted to get back into his routine.
Boone noticed Dana's look. "You might wanna take it easy for a few days, Gabriel. You're gonna be in some pain for a while. You need lots of rest"
"Okay, I hear you," Gabriel said, mostly to pacify Dana. He tapped the bandage around his head. "So, when can I take this off? It feels like I've got a turban on my head"
"The swelling and bruise should go away within a week, two weeks at the most," Boone said. "Schedule a follow-up appointment with your primary-care physician. He'll take care of it for you."
"Or I will," Dana said, putting her arm around Gabriel protectively.
Boone looked from Dana to Gabriel. He grinned. "Like I said, you're a lucky fella. Any more questions, Dr. Stevens ... Gabriel?"
"We're all good," Dana said. "Thanks, doctor."
"Take care of that guy," the physician said, and winked at Dana.
When the doctor left, Dana closed the door.
"I feel so much better," Gabriel said, "knowing I'll be married to a physician who'll take care of my every need"
"Yep, every need, babe," Dana said. Sitting on the bed, she slipped her hand underneath the covers and cupped his manhood through the thin gown. He quickly grew erect. "Hallelujah. This definitely wasn't injured."
He pulled her down onto the bed until their noses were touching. "Can I get my birthday present now?"
"I'd love to, but something tells me there's a rule against a doctor getting her freak on with a patient in a hospital room"
"Betcha that's not in the Hippocratic oath"
She kissed his nose. "Tomorrow night, Birthday Boy. Promise."
"It's a date. Meantime, I need to take a piss."
"Spoken with all the crude charm of a man" She grasped his hands. "Come on. I'll help you up"
She helped him climb out of bed. His knees wobbled. She put her arm around his waist, steadying him, and walked with him to the restroom.
"I've got it from here," he said. He closed the door behind him.
After he emptied his bladder, he s
tood in front of the sink, gazing in the mirror. The bandage resembled a grotesque headband. His face, usually soft and chubby, looked a little gaunt, and there were red patches on his cheeks, thanks to the air bags smashing into his face. There was a cut on his chin the size of a dime.
But all in all, he felt good. His life had been turned upside down, but it was a mercifully brief shake-up, and when he went home tomorrow morning, everything would be back to normal.
He turned on the faucet. He washed his hands, bent over, splashed cool water onto his face.
When he rose, face dripping, and was about to reach for a towel, a shadowy figure stood in the mirror watching him.
He gave a startled yelp, stumbled backward, slipped, and fell to the floor on his butt. Pain fanned through his tailbone and rippled through his injured ribs.
"Gabe?" Dana knocked on the door. "You okay?"
Breathing hard, Gabriel looked around the restroom. It was barely larger than a shower stall. He was alone-of course.
"I'm fine," he said thickly. "I slipped."
"You need me?"
"No, I'm okay."
Heart knocking, Gabriel looked up at the mirror. He didn't get a full view of the glass from where he sat on the floor. He wasn't sure he wanted one.
What the hell had he seen?
He grasped the lip of the sink. Groaning, he pulled himself to his feet, checked in the mirror again.
He saw only his damp face. No one else.
It was his imagination, he reasoned. Post-traumatic stress disorder. He'd been through what could have been a fatal accident, and was badly shaken. It should come as no surprise that his brain was a little loopy.
He reached for a towel. Then he stopped. He felt the cool tingling on his fingers again.
This time the sensation faded after a few seconds.
He mopped his face dry.
Something was happening to him, and he was beginning to wonder whether the theory that he was experiencing normal aftereffects from the accident was adequate.
It seemed stranger than that. Much stranger.
The Other Brother Page 3