Death Springs Eternal: The Rift Book III (20 page)

He grunted and pulled back. “Hey now, there’s no need for that,” he said. He felt his defensiveness rise from his stomach like a leviathan.

“Oh, come on,” she said with a roll of the eyes. “Don’t deny it, Josh.”

“But I’ve
changed
.”

She shrugged.
“Maybe.
Probably.
But that isn’t the point, and you know it.”

He opened his mouth to retort, but snapped it shut without a word. She was right. He
did
know it. He’d come so far, admitted so much. It was time to take yet another step.

“I’m sorry.”

Her expression became soft.
“For what?”

“For pushing you away.
For being a dick.
For being selfish.”

She grinned. “Oh, that’s okay. We were kids. Shit happens.”

“Huh?”

With a cackle, Marcy leapt to her feet with the dexterity of a cat and skipped away, a wild smirk on her face. “Just wanted to get you to say it!” she laughed. “Ain’t payback a bitch?”

“Why, you little…” Josh began,
then
scampered up to give chase. She was fast, faster than him. His feet pounded the sand and his heart hammered in his chest. He felt such incredible lightness, and he couldn’t help but laugh along with her. Finally Marcy came to a halt, twirling around and holding her arms out wide. He slowed as he approached, and then fell into her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her down.

They rolled along the sand, giggling. He planted a kiss on her neck, which she gave back in kind. He felt his passion rising, but then the image of another woman entered his thoughts—his love, the one carrying his child. He froze and rolled away.

“What’s wrong?” asked Marcy.

“This isn’t right,” said Josh. He lifted himself and stared at the swaying sea grass. “Shit, this isn’t even
real.
”

Marcy sighed and tucked her legs beneath her. “I know.”

“Then what’s this all about?”

“Not sure. I had the thought that I wanted to see you. Now here you are.”

He nodded. “So you’re not a figment of my imagination then?”

“No,” she said with a shake of the head.
“Unless it’s the other way around.”

Josh pinched his elbow and winced.
“Nope.
I’m me. I think.”

That elicited a laugh. “Good to know.”

Marcy’s head sagged, and tears dripped down her cheeks. Her hands came up, covering her face while she cried. Josh inched toward her and placed a hand on her back.

“I’m scared,” she sobbed.

“Scared of what?”

“Of life, of myself, of
everything.
”

“I don’t get it.”

“Of
course
you don’t get it. You don’t know what it’s like to be inside everyone’s head at once, to know what someone intends to do before they ever do it. To know the dangers of the world but move ahead anyway, just because you got no choice.”

“No, I don’t.” He positioned himself behind her and put both hands on her shoulders. “But I know what it’s like to feel something you don’t understand. Hell, I’ve been kinda lost ever since Isabella said
sayonara
. But I’m coping.”

She turned and considered him with squinting eyes. “Who’s Isabella?”

He let go of her shoulders and sat back. “You know, Isabella.
Redhead, mystical type.
Comes to me in dreams, a lot like this.
You were with her once.”

“I don’t know…” Marcy’s eyes widened, and her image flickered. “Hold on. Something’s strange here.”

She was becoming more and more transparent by the second, and panic flooded Josh’s veins. “Hold on, Marcy, don’t fade away on me!” He grabbed her arms, and she became solid once more.

“What’s that for?”

“You were…disappearing on me again.”

“Again?”

“Long story.”

“Oh.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay, what’s strange?”

She reached out and touched his temples, as if realizing for the first time that she could feel actual flesh beneath her fingertips.

“I can’t see you,” she said.

“Um…what?
I’m right here.”

“No, that’s not what I mean. I can’t see
inside
you.” A grin stretched across her face. “I don’t know what you’re gonna say before you say it.”

“And that’s a good thing?”

She nodded.

“Okay. Good.”

She shook her head as if to clear cobwebs from it. “I’m connected to everything,” she whispered.
“To the people around me, to pain, to happiness.
It’s like the world’s breathing through me—or at least what’s left of it. I feel so lost and scared. But here, with you…I feel like
myself again.
” She looked at him with a pleading expression. “I know we weren’t meant to be, that whatever relationship we had is long gone. But I still
miss you
. Like, a lot.”

“Me, too.”

“Can you come to me then? I’d like to see you…you know, in reality.”

“I’d like to, but I don’t even know where you are.”

She smiled, sadly. “I’m in trouble, I think.
Heading someplace that isn’t safe.”

“Where’s that?”

“
Richmond
.”

“
Richmond
?
As in
Virginia
?”

She nodded.

“Nice. That’s not too far from us, actually.”

He reached forward and touched her cheek, and she blushed. Words entered his head, words from long ago.
You will find each other, in time.
He smiled.

“What’s that for?”

“Isabella told me once that you’d be safe, that we’d find each other again. I never really believed in fate or anything, but now it seems real, and it’s actually kind of comforting.”

Marcy nodded. “It is.” Her image then flickered again, and she winced.

“What’s wrong?” asked Josh.

“I must be sleeping,” she replied. “I think I’m gonna wake up.”

Josh felt himself frown. “Just stay as long as you can, alright?”

“I will.”

They sprawled out on the sand together, and Marcy beckoned him into her arms. They embraced, and the heat from her body felt so real, the curve of her hips so tangible. He was struck with an odd, somewhat frightening notion: for the last eight months, he existed in and out of a dream world. Realizing that fact made him question whether what had happened to him, to the entire globe, was real at all.

“I know, it is strange,” Marcy said, as if reading his thoughts. “But trust
me,
it’s very, very real.”

Accepting those words as fact, he closed his eyes. He sensed the dream world they populated undulating, shifting in form and purpose. He went with it, allowing the lightness to take him. And then Marcy’s lips were pressed to his ear, whispering.

“Isabella’s a pretty name,” she said with a chuckle. “Isn’t that what we were gonna name our first kid?”

“It was,” he replied, and a kaleidoscope of darkness lifted him away.

*
  
*
  
*

Marcy opened her eyes, and there were strong hands pressed against her shoulders. Her vision was muddy, but when it cleared she stared at rear of a seat. She was lying down, her head resting in someone’s lap. She twisted her neck and glanced up, still trapped in the grogginess of sleep. Whatever dream she’d just experienced disappeared from her memory like dust in a windstorm.

It was Leon who held her. He
smiled,
his white teeth like marble pillars surrounded by his dark lips. His fingertips swept a stray hair from in front of her eyes, and she nuzzled into his crotch.

“Hi there,” he said, his deep voice rumbling.

“Is she awake?” another voice asked. Billy.

“Yeah, I’m awake,” she said. She heard the steady whine of tires rolling over pavement below, and the vehicle bucked. “Where are we?”

“
Charlottesville
,” said Billy. “We will be there soon.”

“Oh joy.”

She put her head back down and closed her eyes. The gentle rocking of the van was like a cradle, its unlit, windowless interior a womb, urging her to enter dreamland once more.
Leon
’s hands continued to work, kneading her scalp.

“Still tired?” he asked.

“Exhausted,” she replied. “Just gonna get more shuteye, I think.”

“Okay.”

Her consciousness slowly faded away, and though she couldn’t remember the dream she longed to return to, a lingering sense of
rightness
overcame her. In the back of her mind, before she re-entered sleep, she came to the realization that, in the few moments after she’d awoken, she’d not once been invaded by someone else’s thoughts.

And it was wonderful.

*
  
*
  
*

It was early morning, and the sun had just poked a sliver of its annoyingly bright head over the eastern horizon. A dull gray haze surrounded the farm. Nature’s nighttime chorus dwindled to a scant few chirps and whistles, making the dawn seem virtually lifeless.

Luanda
placed her note on the kitchen table, left her bag next to the chair she’d slept in, and tiptoed out of the house. She carried with her a single item in a paper sack.

Down the driveway and into the surrounding woods she tread, ambling with no particular destination in mind. She wanted someplace quiet, someplace peaceful and far away from the stress she’d been living with since the whole mess started. The morning’s journey carried her down one slope and up another, until the trees became so dense that she could barely squeeze through them.

After an hour, when the sun climbed higher in the sky, she began sweating. The paper bag swayed in her hand, its bunched, rolled-up top damp. She feared the item inside would tear the bottom. She didn’t want to see—or think about—its contents until the time came to use it.

Finally she heard the sound of bubbling water and picked up her pace. She came upon a brook filled with ample stones the water had to maneuver around. Strolling alongside, she eventually found a large boulder and climbed atop it. There she sat, staring at the gurgling water as the day’s heat enclosed her in its brutal cosset.