Dying Forever (Waking Forever Book 3) (9 page)

Finally opening the locker, Alison grabbed the bottle of Paul Mitchell shampoo, a navy blue bath towel
, and her purple shower flip flops. Winding her way through the maze of lockers, sinks, and changing rooms, Alison walked into one of five shower stalls. Each stall had a frosted, plastic curtain and a white tile dividing wall that came to Alison’s shoulders.

Putting her toiletries on the narrow stainless steel
shelf at the back of the stall, Alison pulled the curtain closed, peeled off her black Speedo swimsuit, and draped it over the half wall along with her towel. Turning the water on, she stood to the side of the stream, waiting for it to heat up.

Glancing down the row of stalls
, and realizing she was the only one using the showers, Alison stepped under the hot water, tilted her head back, rinsing the excess chlorine out. A sudden wave of vertigo washed over her, and she grabbed for the shower wall. Her stomach knotted, and for a split second she thought she might vomit. Leaning her forehead against the cool tile of the stall to steady herself, Alison took several deep breaths, water from her short wet locks streaming down her face.

“Hello
, Professor Bailey.” Christine’s voice came from directly behind Alison.

Spinning around, Alison pre
ssed her back against the wall, her eyes wide with panic as she crossed her arms tightly over her chest. “How did you get in here?”

The woman
stood on her tip-toes, her arms crossed and resting on the top of the dividing wall as her eyes roamed up and down Alison’s naked body. “I see the swimming has kept you very fit.”

The woman’s exaggerated smile sent a chill up Alison’s spine as she grabbed for the bath towel and quickly wrapped it around her naked body. “I’m calling campus security.” Alison forced the confidence into her voice
as she pulled the shower curtain back.

Christine
suddenly stood face-to-face with the blonde, her voice a whisper. “Are you certain?”

The woman was at least
two inches shorter than Alison, but managed to square her shoulders and set her jaw in such a way that she was more intimidating than her small frame would suggest. Looking past the woman, Alison could see the blue emergency call box on the wall near the end of the showers.  “What?”

“I asked if you’re certain you want to call security.” Christine’s voice was low and seductive as she ran her index finger along Alison
’s bare, wet shoulder.

Revulsion at the woman’s touch shot through Alison and
, clutching the towel tighter to her body, she pushed past the smaller woman. “Move!”

“Why so testy
, professor?” The woman began laughing, the high-pitched cackle echoing off the tile. “It’s just us girls.”

Practically ripping the phone receiver out of the wall, Alison spun around to face Christine.
Campus police. What’s your emergency?

Mouth open, and eyes wide, Alison stared at the empty shower
stalls. The only exit was where Alison now stood, and yet Christine was gone.
Hello, is anyone there?
The operator’s voice broke through Alison’s shock.

Alison cleared her throat. “My mistake. Sorry.” A series of clicks and Alison was standing, alone, with the black phon
e receiver clutched in her hand. The only sound was the running water coming from the shower she had exited moments before.

Her hand shaking
, Alison missed the receiver handle on her first attempt to hang the phone up, and only managed on her second try by using both hands. Clutching the blue towel to her, Alison took two tentative steps forward. “Hello?”

Her voice sounded hollow as she slowly walked back toward the shower stall. Her shoulders ached from tension, and her legs trembled as adrenaline continued to course through her. She knew the woman could still be in one of the stalls and simply crouching behind a divider wall.

I should have had the police come anyway,
Alison thought. But she knew she would have a hard time explaining what had happened, and the last thing she needed was rumors going around campus about the professor who went around the bend in the showers.

The first two stalls were empty, as was the one Alison had occupied.
Turning the water off, Alison felt sour bile rising to the back of her throat as she nervously peered over the dividing wall into another empty shower stall.

With only one stall left, Alison
stepped around the tile wall and into the adjacent stall. Summoning her courage, her heart pounding in her ears, she leaned over to find the stall as empty as the other four.

Stepping out into the walkway, Alison felt numb. She gathered her belongings from the shower and walked back into the main locker room.
Sitting on one of the metal benches that lined the wall near her locker, Alison stared blankly at the floor.
I’m having a breakdown. Or some late onset schizophrenia.

Just as she was resolving to see a therapist, several swimsuit clad women rounded the corner
. To Alison’s dismay, one of them was Bryce. She was rattled enough without having to act cool with the beautiful redhead.

“Oh, Alison, I didn’t know you were still here.” Bryce’s tone was
casual as she stood next to a slouching Alison.

Wiping at her face, Alison’s pride pulled her up off the bench. “Just wrapping up.” Her throat was tight, and she suddenly had an overwhelming urge to sob uncontrollably. Tur
ning her back to Bryce, Alison began fumbling with her combination lock. “Shit!” Her frustration surged and she slammed the lock against the locker.

A cool hand wrapped around Alison’s and gently turned the
anxious woman around. “Are you okay?” Bryce looked at Alison, her green eyes full of concern. “Do you need something?”

The question, along with the intensity of Bryce’s stare, caught Alison off
-guard and it was several seconds before she could speak. “I’m - I’m okay, thanks.” She slowly pulled her hand free of Bryce’s.

The two women stood staring at each other, Bryce in her swimsuit and Alison wrapped in
a towel. Suddenly, and without warning, longing rippled through Alison, and she thought she might sink from the burden of it.

“You look - upset.” Bryce had taken a step toward Alison, and her voice was low.

When did she get so close?
A swirling had started in Alison’s stomach that was threatening to spin out of control with the nearness of Bryce. “It’s -”

“There you are.” Sylvia’s voice charged into the tight space between Bryce and Alison, breaking the moment, and slamming
Alison back to earth.

Bryce blinked, and smiling
, turned toward her classmate. “Yes, here I am.”

“Still up for a drink?” Sylvia opened a locker three down from Alison’s and removed a towel and shower caddy.

“I just need to shower.” Bryce glanced at Alison who stood mute next to her. “Would you like to come with us?”

Feeling more like herself, Alison shook her head. “No. It’s late, and I have an early class.” She pulled the combination lock open and removed her clothes from the locker. “See you around.”
Walking toward the changing rooms, Alison could feel Bryce’s eyes on her, and her cheeks reddened.

Pulling the drape closed as she entered
the changing room, Alison shook her jeans out and heard a metallic ping as something flew from one of the pockets. Bending down, she scanned the floor, and fell to her knees when she saw a small, black stone lying in the corner.

Had it not been for a friendly text message earlier that afternoon, Alison would have forgotten about her dinner with Tom Hutchinson. Now she was pulling into the gravel parking lot of Two Brothers Barbecue Market nearly ten minutes late.

It had been four days since the incident at the aquatic center. Alison had not told anyone about the strange interaction with Christine, or the woman’s ability to seemingly appear and disappear at will. She had
, though, taken the black stone to Dr. Benjamin Hinojosa. She had met Ben at a faculty mixer over a year ago. Given his background in analytical chemistry, Alison had hoped he might shed some light on what the rock was.

“Where did you get this?” The 5’8”, middle aged, Hispanic man held the warm, black stone between his thumb and forefinger.

“My parents live near Canyon Lake. I was hiking, and there it was.” Alison thought it best to avoid the truth for fear her colleague would think she was crazy.

Looking over the top of his wire framed glasses, Ben frowned. “This was near a lake?”

Alison felt heat rise to her face. She was a terrible liar, and worried Ben was seeing right through the tall tale. “Yeah.”

Shrugging, the man laid the rock down on his desk.
“So what do you want to know about it?”

Alison exhaled, relieved that for now her lie was holding. “It feels warm to me, and I don’t know anything about rocks or chemical make-ups or -”
Get to the point, Alison.
“Can you tell me what kind of rock it is?”

Ben leaned back in his overstuffed leather office chair and nodded. “
It will take some time. Besides, what does it matter?”

Sensing the professor’s hesitancy,
Alison smiled and leaned forward in her chair. Resting her elbows on Ben’s desk, she lowered her voice. “Weren’t you the one who told me at last year’s holiday party that people should be more interested in the world around them? Question and observe.”

A
t that same holiday party Lydia had informed her, after several rum and cokes, that Ben had a terrible crush on Alison. Though she always thought Lydia exaggerated her appeal to the opposite sex, Alison was not above wielding it like a blunt tool.

As Ben leaned forward, Alison could see what looked like a coffee stain on the collar of his
short sleeve white dress shirt. He was an intelligent and thoughtful man, but he embodied the typical academic persona. His hair was always disheveled, his glasses smudged, and his tan Dockers were at least two sizes too large for his relatively petite frame.

“You remember that?” Excitement sparked in the man’s brown eyes.

Alison leaned back and crossed her legs, the hem of her gray skirt hitting just above the knee. “Of course.”

Ben’s eyes darted down to Alison’s exposed knee and a blush of red found his cheeks before he cleared his throa
t and looked back down at the rock. “Well, I can get you a chemical analysis by the middle of next week.” He grinned. “I’ll have one of my doctoral candidates work on it.”

Now, w
alking toward Two Brothers, Alison’s iPhone chimed in her purse. Pressing the email icon, she skimmed the message from Ben.
Come by when you have a minute. I’ll be here all this week until seven. Odd rock.

“Hello.” Tom’s voice interrupted her
reading.

Looking up she managed a weak smile. “Oh, hi.”

Tom frowned. “Curb that enthusiasm, professor.”

Putting her phone back in her purse, Alison shook her head.
“Sorry. I have a couple irons in the fire right now so I'm feeling a little scattered.”

“No trouble. I appreciate you making the time for me.” Tom smiled and pointed to a large chalkboard that ran the length of the far wall. “We order at the counter and
, in true Texas fashion, we order by the pound.”

Looking around the restaurant for the first time,
Alison thought it was indeed pretty typical of a South Texas barbeque joint. The ceiling was the exposed underside of the metal roof, and the cedar panel walls were decorated with various tools and faded metal gas station signs. One sign read
Free Air
in large orange script, and Alison couldn’t help but smile at the joke.

“What’s your poison
, professor? My treat.” Tom smiled broadly as he looked past Alison at the menu board.

“That’s very nice of you.” Alison turned to the blond, bright eyed young man behind the counter.
“Let’s see, I’ll have a link of sausage, potato salad, and a serving of pinto beans.”

“I’m ordering brisket, and a lot of it. Are you game?” Tom leaned on the worn vinyl counter top.

“I won’t embarrass myself by saying I’ve been known to eat nearly my weight in good brisket, but-” Alison winked at the man, and an amused expression spread across his face.

“Well
, alright.” Turning to the cashier, Tom rattled off an order consisting of a pound of brisket, cream corn, a sliced dill pickle that Alison thought was easily the size of her forearm, and a rack of baby back ribs.

“I’m relieved you won’t go hungry
, Tom.” Alison teased as they gathered their utensils, napkins, drinks, and three different barbeque sauces from a large wooden wagon that had been repurposed into a condiment bar.

Sitting down at
one of the indoor booths, Alison unwrapped the silverware and took a drink of her lemonade, its crisp tartness causing her lips to pucker. 

“I’ll cut to the chase
. Are you interested in being a source for my series?” Tom took a drink of his ice tea.