Hereafter (4 page)

I whirled around completely, turning my back to Eli and facing the river. And in that moment, I forgot all about the shapes still dancing at the edge of my vision.

Only minutes ago a normal river had drifted behind me, greenish and brown in the late-summer sun. Now, even in the gray darkness of this place, I could see a dramatic change had overtaken its waters.

Something floated in this version of the river, but certainly nothing as benign as water. Between the banks of the new river, a thick liquid moved past me. It looked like tar, so inky and black that I could barely see the signs of movement along its surface.

It
did
move, though, drifting sluggishly toward High Bridge. Slowly, I turned my head toward the bridge; but before I could take in its new form, I found my attention riveted to what lay beneath it—to the place where the dark river seemed to lead.

There, beneath what may or may not have been High Bridge, an enormous blackness gaped. If it were possible, this expanse was even darker than the gray riverbank, darker than the river itself. The top of the expanse brushed against the underside of the bridge, and the bottom of it pawed at the water and the nearby shoreline. Peering into the darkness, I couldn’t see an end to it; I couldn’t see one speck of light in all that black.

It was the darkest point in an already dark world.

It almost seemed to pulse beneath the bridge as if it were some living, breathing beast waiting for something. For me maybe.

I managed, with great difficulty, to pull my eyes away from the chasm beneath the bridge and stare down in horror at my feet. My toes were inching, of their own will, toward the river—drawn by some unseen force to the water. With no small amount of effort, I yanked my feet away from the river’s edge.

I whirled back around to Eli, truly scared now. More scared than I’d ever been before.

“Where am I?” I finally managed to ask.

“You really want to know?” he whispered, his eyes glowing with what could only be malicious delight. I nodded mechanically.

In reply Eli rolled his head around, gesturing to our bleak surroundings. “This is part of the hereafter, Amelia. This is where dead spirits are supposed to go. While you were lost, I kept you safe from this place. But now, only one thing can keep you from ending up here forever.”

I raised one eyebrow. I had a feeling I knew what that “one thing” was. He confirmed my suspicions as he went on.

“Without me, Amelia,” Eli insisted, “you’ll be trapped. Without me, you’ll spend eternity here, unable to move between worlds at will. So now you see why I know, beyond any doubt, that you’ll seek me out again. All you have to do is call for me on High Bridge . . . and you will, soon.”

Despite the terror crawling over every inch of my body, I rankled at Eli’s words. At his implication that I needed him, that I couldn’t avoid this foul place without him. Even now I had enough sense to suspect his motives, and to remind myself that this dead young man hardly resembled my concept of a guardian angel.

I straightened my back, as much as I could, and met his gaze squarely.

“We’ll see, Eli,” I murmured. “We’ll see.”

Now it was Eli’s turn to raise an eyebrow. Obviously, he hadn’t expected this small display of courage. Instead of reprimanding me, however, he gave a final, amused nod and spun around once more to disappear into what used to be the woods.

If sharp, cold winds announced Eli’s arrival, then the opposite evidenced his departure. For a long second it felt as though a vacuum had sucked away everything, including the cold wind. I didn’t feel anything—no chill, no gale, not even myself. I’d never felt so numb in my entire existence. I choked, clutching my hands to my throat.

Then, almost as quickly as it began, it was over.

The soft greens of the riverbank shimmered and reappeared around me, and the late-summer air swam gently back into my lungs. Gasping, I collapsed onto my hands and knees on the grass.

Chapter
Six

T
hat night I didn’t mark the passage of time with uncertain pacing as I had the day before. Instead, I marked the time in absolute stillness, crouched on the riverbank, my eyes never moving from the spot in the woods where Eli had disappeared. I remained motionless as dawn broke over the tops of the trees. I kept my hands pressed hard into the grass, ready at any moment to sprint away if I felt another gust of that cold wind.

Finally, reluctantly, I stirred. Inch by inch I raised myself out of my uneasy stance, never taking my eyes from the trees in front of me. I spared a glance upward, trying to gauge how long I’d crouched against the unknown. I blinked at the light in surprise.

Although thick gray clouds covered most of the sky, I could see the occasional ray of sunshine break through, halfway between the east and west horizons. It had to be nearly midday.

While I waited, almost an entire day had passed without Eli’s return. Without a return of the dark, terrible world he’d shown me.

Before me the woods remained just that: normal, living woods, with normal, living trees. I spared one glance over my shoulder. The river, once again a murky green, flowed rapidly toward High Bridge, beneath which lay nothing but the river itself.

I willed my body to relax and then stretched each limb in turn. The effort was needless, since my dead muscles hardly had any reason to cramp, even when held in one position for many hours. Still, the gesture seemed appropriate. I wanted to feel my new resolve in my body as well as in my mind—my resolve to never allow Eli to control me.

This resolve felt important—essential, even—because I suspected I would meet him again. Though Eli promised he would stay away for a while, he’d also said that there were many things about him and our kind that I didn’t know or understand, things he would inevitably tell me. His words certainly had the ring of threat to them, especially when delivered in the awful place he’d shown me.

Yet, although ignorant of my ghostly nature, I was no longer ignorant of some things. I didn’t doubt that the next time the wind cut across my skin I would know Eli was there. He couldn’t take me back to that dark place without me first knowing he was present. There was some comfort in this knowledge.

I couldn’t promise myself I wouldn’t be waiting, watching, dreading. But I refused to stay by this river anymore. Because I didn’t want to let fog, or fear, keep imprisoning me.

And because it was almost noon, judging by the position of the sun.

Yesterday I’d decided not to meet Joshua again. I’d had every intention of hiding, and letting the confusion take me back. After Eli’s sudden appearance, however, I had no intention of ever going back into the fog. I intended to stay as awake and alive as possible.

And Joshua made me feel very much alive. He was the reason behind all of this change, this newness. The reason I’d woken up from the fog.

I couldn’t explain it, any more than I could explain why I’d wandered lost after death, or why I didn’t now. But the new desires that had filled me after Joshua’s accident hadn’t changed. They’d grown stronger, more acute. Even more than the first moment I saw him, I wanted to be near him. I wanted to feel him, maybe, just once more. Anything, even the sight of him running away from me when he learned the truth, would be worth the risk.

Now I sensed a new purpose to this day. I stared at the river and its bank one more time, drinking in the image of the green water and the summer-yellowed grass. This was the scene of so many of my changes: life to death . . . and maybe back to a sort of life again? Maybe. It was worth trying to find out.

“See ya,” I said aloud to the water.

And I began to run, bare feet flying across mud and grass, then pavement, leaving the river and High Bridge Road far behind me.

I reached the park with only a little time to spare. A clock sitting atop a large wooden platform outside the park entrance read 11:50.

I slowed my pace until I was almost strolling up the cedar-lined road that led to the picnic area. Although I’d run for miles, I wasn’t winded or even ruffled. Still, I began to fidget, smoothing invisible wrinkles from the skirt of my dress and running my hands through the thick waves in my hair. I felt . . . jittery. I guess a case of nerves could survive even death.

I nearly turned back, my previous resolve shrinking. My future hinged on Joshua and the outcome of our conversation. I felt this in my core, and I suddenly couldn’t fathom how I’d decided to face him with such bravado.

But my feet were traitors. Or more loyal, depending on one’s perspective. They kept marching me down the road, through a parking lot and a thin grove of pines, past a cluster of empty benches, and to the only occupied one.

Joshua sat, not on the bench but on the concrete table to which the bench was attached. He stared to his left, into the woods surrounding the picnic clearing. His profile—square jaw, high cheekbones, and full lips—made me shiver as a wave of desire and fear washed over me. I watched his black eyebrows pull together while he continued to study the forest. Perhaps he was thinking I had, in fact, stood him up.

“Hey, Joshua.”

Although I’d all but whispered, his head jerked toward me. Then a huge, radiant smile spread across his face. He jumped off the table and strode toward me, one arm lifted as if he intended to touch me.

Instinctively, I took a quick step back.

He stopped and frowned.

“Uh . . . sorry. Too enthusiastic?”

God, no. I just wasn’t ready for this to end before it starts.

“No,” I said aloud. “Just . . . unexpected.”

He laughed. “Sorry. I probably looked like a golden retriever or something. Big, dumb dog. But this was a little unexpected too, you know?”

“How so?”

“You showed up. Unexpectedly.” He half smiled, and the ghost of a dimple tugged at his cheek.

I found myself smiling back a little too. “I aim to please.”

“Then mission accomplished.”

“Oh.”

Brilliant, Amelia,
I screamed in my head. Death had obviously not improved my vocabulary. Joshua’s half smile crept a little farther upward, possibly a sign of his amusement at the flustered look on my face.

Unfortunately, our banter wasn’t going to last forever. He swept one hand back to the table like a maître d’. “A quiet park bench, as promised?”

I sighed. No putting this off any longer, so it seemed. “Yeah, I guess it’s time.”

Joshua’s eyebrows knit together as I strode past him to the bench.

“Look,” he said, “I’m not going to conduct the Spanish Inquisition or anything.”

“I know,” I said flatly.

I sat down, feeling the pressure of the bench but not really the bench itself, and folded my hands in my lap. Joshua turned toward me but made no move to sit. I stared down at my lap and tried to ready myself for the inevitable ending. But there was something I needed to know first.

“Before we get into explanations, can I ask you a question?”

“Anything.”

I looked up to see him shove his hands into the pockets of his jeans and tilt his head to one side. Judging by his stance, he was probably more than a little bewildered by my behavior, so I asked my question carefully.

“Did you . . . intentionally drive off the bridge?”

“Ha.” He barked out a sort of laugh. “Not exactly.”

It was odd, but I thought he sounded almost embarrassed. I too tilted my head and raised one eyebrow, encouraging him to continue. He laughed again, a little sheepishly, and a flattering blush spread across his cheekbones.

“The only thing I did intentionally was take a stupid shortcut.”

I kept my eyebrow raised, so Joshua continued.

“I was following a bunch of my friends to a party. For some crazy reason I decided to take a shortcut across High Bridge Road by myself. I have no idea why I did. My family practically forbids me to drive over the bridge since it’s such a death trap. Anyway, right before I crossed on to High Bridge, I thought I saw something in the river. I was distracted; and when I looked back at the road, I saw something dart out at me—a deer or a bobcat, maybe; it looked so black, I couldn’t be sure. I swerved to miss it and then my car spun out across the bridge. I must have hit my head on the steering wheel, because I really don’t remember any part of the crash after that. Thank God I’d rolled down the windows. I guess that’s how I got out of the car before I sank with it.”

“And your friends got there so fast because . . . ?”

He gave an embarrassed shrug. “Because I . . . um . . . had the beer in my car.”

As he finished, I exhaled slowly. I was grateful that at least one of my theories behind our interaction was wrong: suicide wasn’t our commonality; it was only our mutual deaths, however brief his had been.

“Would it be weird, Joshua, if I said I’m glad?”

“Why, because I like beer?”

I smiled slightly. “No, because you didn’t mean to drive off the bridge.”

He laughed. “Then that’s not weird at all. I wouldn’t exactly
choose
High Bridge for my exit scene, you know?”

I gasped.

Seeing my strange reaction, he spoke quickly, almost apologetically. “Sorry. I’m . . . Look, I don’t know what I’m saying. I’m not trying to upset you or anything. I guess . . . I mean . . . you really don’t have to do this. To tell me anything, that is.”

“But I do,” I said, unable to keep the misery out of my voice. “I don’t really think I have a choice, if I ever want to talk to you again. If you’ll even want to talk to me, afterward.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to talk to you?”

His gentle tone, and the implication in his words, made me meet his gaze. With his strange blue eyes locked onto mine, I felt the little ache ignite again in my chest.

“You won’t want to talk to me because I’m going to tell you the truth.”

“And the truth will make me . . . what? Decide to shun you?” He grinned and raised one eyebrow, obviously skeptical.

“Something like that,” I murmured.

“I find that hard to believe,” he said as he momentarily broke our eye contact to walk over to the bench and finally sit beside me.

“Actually, you’re probably going to find what I’m about to tell you hard to believe. But it’s the truth.”

He clasped his hands and leaned closer to me, placing his elbows on his knees before raising his eyes back to mine.

“Good. I want to hear the truth, Amelia.”

Inexplicably, my breath quickened. A pulse, one I knew I didn’t have, began to race through my arms and along my neck. I could swear I felt heat from the nearness of his body—heat that threatened to turn into a blush on my unblushable cheeks. The kind of heat that could make me do or say just about anything. Words started to fall from my mouth almost before I thought of them.

“You said you saw me under the water, right?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re the only person who saw me at all?”

“Yes.” He kept his voice patient, calm. My voice, however, trembled as I continued.

“Well, I think you saw me because . . . well, because you were dead.”

He frowned again. “I know I was dead, at least for a few seconds. But I’m not sure I’m following you.”

“You couldn’t see me at first, right? Not before you . . . died
.
”

The more I spoke, the less I could breathe. Joshua seemed to be struggling too with where I was heading. He responded slowly, methodically, as if he needed to hold tightly to reason in this conversation.

“Amelia, I couldn’t see you because I was unconscious before my heart stopped.”

“No. Well, you
were
unconscious. But that’s not the only reason you couldn’t see me. Even if you were conscious, you still wouldn’t have been able to see me. Not yet anyway.”

“Huh?” His frown deepened, and he leaned away from me.

Suddenly, I couldn’t stop the flow of my words. It was like pulling a piece of thick tape from my mouth. I wanted to rip it off, tear through my explanation, so I could breathe again.

“I have a theory, sort of. I can’t be sure, but I think I can’t be seen unless someone is, well,
like
me. That’s why the people on the shore couldn’t see me, and that’s why Eli can see me. Because he’s like me.”

“Who’s Eli?”

I was in such a hurry to get the truth out that I’d lost control of the things tumbling from my mouth. “Sorry,” I moaned. I dropped my head into my hands and squeezed my eyes tightly shut. “I’m not making any sense, am I?”

Joshua’s response surprised me. He didn’t sound frustrated, or even confused. Instead, his voice was hushed, intense.

“Amelia, I’m trying very hard to understand this. I know something . . . strange has happened. Is happening. I’ll believe your explanation. Just go slow, okay?”

My eyes flew open and met his. His eyes were lovely, and serious; they reminded me of the night sky. I tried to shake the distraction of them from my head so I could focus on this horrible conversation.

“Joshua, I have no idea how to say this.”

“It’s okay. It’ll be okay.”

I turned away from him, staring at but not really seeing the patch of red dirt in front of us. When I spoke again, I did so slowly. Painfully.

“I think you saw me, and you can still see me, because we have some sort of—I don’t know—magical or spiritual connection. You’re
like
me. Or you were, at least for a moment.”

Joshua’s eyes narrowed. “And by ‘like you’ you mean . . . ?”

“That you died.”

The word “died” hung heavy in the air between us, like an ax waiting to drop.

Joshua’s forehead wrinkled as he tried to make sense out of my words, tried to follow the convoluted path I’d laid. He may not have connected all of the pieces yet, but he would. As each second passed, I could see it happening, piece by piece. He would rip off the bandage at any moment, would either call me a lunatic or—worse—believe me.

“Okay,” he started haltingly. “You and I have both died? Me in the river, and you sometime in the past?”

“Yes. In the same river, actually.”