Silent Scream (27 page)

Maddie shook her head.  “I’m not tired, Yolanda.  Besides, the casualties are still being routed to Southwestern because we don’t have any beds left.  The staff isn’t big enough to handle that load.”

Yolanda gripped her arm.  “And you are aren’t invincible.  God knows you’ve been going overtime and doing far more than you’ve needed just to prove you can, to prove your pain isn’t bad enough to make you stumble.  All the nurses who used to love you run when they see you coming because you try to mask your hurt with anger, and you take it out on them.  You take it out on me.  Who knows what losing Gabriel is going to do to you?”

Maddie cringed, and she wanted to throw something or fight,,but she couldn’t.  She needed to get out of there before she started crying and couldn’t stop.  She brushed past her best friend.

“Maddie, you can’t lie to me.  You loved him.  You didn’t tell him.  Now he’s gone, and you have to live with that.  You need to face it because you can’t afford to make mistakes here.  You make a mistake and someone dies.”

The doctor’s shoulders sank, and she rushed from the room to her locker to get her purse.  She kept running into people because the tears burned her eyes, and it took a miracle to even get to Southwestern.  By the time she’d pulled into the parking lot, she was crying so hard she could barely see, and the pain raged through her, debilitating her until she finally got it under control.  She brushed the tears away, checked her hair, and headed into the ER. 

There were so many gurneys in the room she felt overwhelmed for a moment, and part of her wanted to go through them, looking for Gabriel, but she knew better.  Instead, she headed to the closest doctor, who was examining an unconscious firefighter.  He must have seen Maddie approach from his peripheral vision because he asked,  “Can I help you?”

Maddie flashed the badge clipped to her jacket.  “I’m Dr. Maddie Gilcrest from Memorial.  Our ER is under control, and I thought I’d help out over here.”

“Your reputation precedes you, Dr. Gilcrest.  Glad to have you.”  He waved around the ER.  “Grab a gurney and start coding.” 

She finally nodded and got busy.  More than once she saw a firefighter she though t looked like Gabriel, but it wasn’t, and she managed to keep things under control while working in the confines of back-to-back gurneys, with new patients being unloaded still. 

As she began working on a big guy, probably two-hundred and forty pounds, all of it muscle, she noticed him sit up and look at her with one pupil much larger than the other.  She consulted her chart.

“Mr. Graham, I need you to lie back down.”  He blinked at her, telling Maddie he’d heard.  Then he started to get up and collapsed, his body tangling in the IV cord.

“Crap.”  Maddie looked at him and quickly realized she was never going to be able to lift him, yet the hallway was deserted of medical staff.  “I need some help,” she called and bent to check his IV.

“I’ll do what I can.”

 Maddie blinked and looked up.  Gabriel stood there, one arm tucked into a sling close to his body.  His face was dirty, and his hair was coated with soot and grime, yet he was standing there, in front of her. 

Alive.

“Maddie?” he said, frowning.  “You okay?”

Without saying anything, she flew into his good arm and nestled close, clinging tightly to him.

“I thought you were dead,” she whispered, feeling the heated rush of tears on her face, but this time she didn’t care.

“No,” he said, still holding her.  “It was my partner, Kevin.  He died.”  His voice was stiff and gravely, and she knew she should let go, but she couldn’t, not yet.  She was too afraid that he would disappear.

She buried herself deeper against his neck, trying to remember everything about this moment, including how his arm tightened around her protectively.

“Are you okay, Maddie?”

She slowly pulled back and looked up at him, not caring if he saw her tears.  “I thought I’d lost you, and I never told you I love you.”

“I love you, too.”  He gently brushed the tears from her face.  “You couldn’t lose me.  It’s only because of you I’m standing here.  For a long time after my sister’s death, I wanted to die, and this time I could have.  I could have given up, and nobody would have found me in time.  But you reminded me that even if I couldn’t save Jessie, I could save others, like Tammy, and the world is a better place because of what I do, Maddie.”

He bent low and kissed her gently, just as he’d wanted to for so long, and when he pulled back, he smiled at her closed eyes.  “Hey, beautiful, we might want to get this guy off the ground.”

Maria Rachel Hooley has written over twenty novels, including
New Life Incorporated, October Breezes,
and the
Sojourner
series.  Her work has been featured in numerous publications such as
Green Hills Literary
Lantern
,
Westview
, and
Kimera
.  Her first chapbook of poetry,
A Different Song
, was published by Rose Rock Press in 1999.  She is a high school teacher and lives in Oklahoma with her husband and three children.  You can see more of her work at http://www.mariarachelhooley.com.

The Mach Band Region

(Chapter One)

By

Maria Rachel Hooley

The Mach Band Region

©2009 Maria Rachel Hooley

Cover Design by Ronnell Porter

ISBN  1448697883

All rights reserved.  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—Electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.

Chapter One

When people ask, “Do you believe in ghosts?” I want to say it doesn’t matter; it’s the dead who count.  Nothing happens unless the dead believe in the living.  But right now, there’s a whole lot of believing on my part as I stand near McKarey’s Bluff amid a strong, hot breeze that buffets blackjack and mesquite leaves while forcing the  Queen Anne’s lace to dance.

Beyond the flowers and trees, I watch a lone figure standing at the cliff’s edge, her bare feet pale against dark stones and earth.  The wind whips her long, curly hair.  Her shoulders seem pale, as though the sunlight has forsaken her skin, and the light brown of her dress only heralds the difference.  Staring, I recognize that instead of a ghost haunting this landscape, it haunts her.

“Rachel,” I call, aware she has inched forward, her body now parallel with the cliff wall.

No answer.

I rush toward her, my arms outstretched.  Her body tilts.  My arms encircle her at the last moment, dragging her back.  “Rachel!” I demand.

No answer.

I lift her limp body into my arms, aware frail flesh and bone are all that tether her to this world.  Holding her tells me just how little is left beneath that cotton dress and how much has already fallen--pieces I can’t save. 

It’s been a month since Ariel’s death, her body broken upon the rocks below, and Rachel is mute with grief; still, she cannot resist the daily pilgrimage to this stretch of wildflowers and danger.  The walks along the steep edge have lengthened into hours as she scours the earth for something—anything—her sister left behind.  It is the image of Rachel at the cliff which brought me home when Ariel’s funeral could not.  Sheriff Owens called, said he knew I’d always had a soft spot for the Morgan girls.  Maybe he couldn’t have changed Ariel’s death, but he’d be damned if he’d watch the younger one go down, too. 

So that’s what’s returned me to a backward Texas town not even  marked by a dot on most maps.  That’s what’s made me hold Rachel in my arms, her body weighted with the past I thought I’d shed when I left McKarey’s Bluff in the rear-view mirror ten years ago, still reeling from Ariel’s rejection of a ring that had cost four months of a hell on a construction site.  And when I got word of Ariel’s death, an apparent suicide, I thought back to the ring I’d thrown over the bluff and wondered what had happened. 

A safe distance from the cliff, I set Rachel amid the wildflowers and grass.  She stirs slightly, and I stare at her profile, aware her oval face and slender nose resemble Ariel’s like my left hand matches my right.  Rachel was the younger sister I never had, but God help me, all I can see at this moment is Ariel.   That’s all I
want
to see.  The same blue-black curls and full lips.  I lean closer,
intoxicated
.  Then her eyes flutter open.

Ariel is gone.

“Matt?” she whispers, blinking.  “What happened?”

I sit back, trying to ignore the hammering of my heart.  “You fainted.”

“Oh.”  She slowly sits up and touches her temple, her mouth twisting into a pained grimace.  “I want…to go…home.”  The sun streams through her hair.

Nodding, I stand, wondering if she is strong enough to walk.  “Can you manage?”  I offer a hand to help her.  She nods and takes it.

“I’m fine.  I just haven’t eaten much today.”

I shake my head.  “And that’s different from every other day how?”

She crosses her arms over her abdomen, a futile attempt to hide her thinness.  “I just don’t have much of an appetite these days.”

One last look at the cliff, and without pause, I am drawn back in time as the lore about McKarey’s Bluff surfaces in my thoughts.  An old building used to stand about twenty feet from the parked car we head toward; I can still see the outline of its foundation and cornerstone, but that’s it.  The rest is buried in a watery grave over the cliff.

I raise my hand to shield my eyes so I can look toward the sun, envisioning the two-story structure, a whorehouse.  In 1890, fifteen young prostitutes and their madame vanished without a trace.  In the years since, many people have thought they’ve seen ghosts.  We’ve even had some Hollywood ghost hunters out here from time to time, but if there’s a camera involved, those spectres become awfully shy, so there’s no proof of anything.

“Matt?” Rachel says, staring at me, waiting as I open the passenger door for her. 

“Yeah?” I touch her shoulder, gently nudging her to the seat.

“Do you see her, too?”

Alarmed I might have missed something, I scan the landscape.  The wind barely blows, and stillness sits like birds amid the tree branches.  Save for the two of us in my Cherokee, the land appears undisturbed.  “See who?”

“The woman by the cliff.”

I frown, squinting, but I see no one.  “There’s nobody there, Rachel.”

Confused, she looks back at the cliff.  “Oh, I guess you’re right.”  Pale, she leans back against the seat and closes her eyes.  Her long hair spills down the front of her dress in loose, corkscrew curls.  As if she wants to speak, her full lips part, but silence and breath are all that come out.

I try to reconcile the woman I left behind with the one sitting here.  Before her sister’s death, the sun colored her skin a vibrant tan, and the warmth of her laughter glowed in her cheeks.
 
 But this Rachel is pale and weak.

I start the car and begin backing away.  “Why did you leave McKarey’s Bluff in the first place?” she asks, her eyes closed.

I grab the visor to block the vicious sun.  “You know why, Rachel.”

“Because of Ariel.”  She turns toward the windshield.  “Not like you have anything to worry about anymore.”

My body stiffens, and I struggle to breathe beneath the weight of her accusation.  “I loved her, Rachel.  You know that.”

She nods like she’s agreeing, but I don’t think that’s what’s going on.  “You loved her so much you didn’t come back for her funeral?”

As if my foot is responding, I punch the gas, throwing our heads back then let off, trying to figure out why every little thing she says is aimed at me like a bullet. 
Her sister is dead, and you don’t seem to give a shit,
a little voice in my head replies.

“It’s been ten years since I left, Rachel.  Ariel and I weren’t even close anymore, and I knew I couldn’t handle seeing her body lying like a cheap sculpture in that casket.”  I swallow hard, feeling the edge of a knife I hadn’t meant to unsheathe.

“You never said goodbye.”  Her whisper breaks with pain.  She toys with an object in her hand, and I wait for her palm to open enough so I can get a better glimpse.  A gold ring with a round solitaire diamond—Ariel’s ring.  I slam on the brakes.  A truck honks from behind and speeds around.  “Where did you get that?”

Her fingers clamp around it, and she jerks it out of my reach.  “Ariel gave it to me.”

“She couldn’t have,” I argue.  “Where did you get it?”  Another car honks and whizzes past.

She closes her eyes.  “Ariel gave it to me.  I don’t care if you don’t believe me.”

For a moment, I want to shake her and force the truth, but I realize it doesn’t matter how the ring ended up in her hand.  It was meaningless in mine once Ariel had turned me down.  Besides, I can tell Rachel is too tired today to play Twenty Questions.  Okay, maybe I did just get into town last night, and this is the first I’ve really seen of Rachel, but I know tired when it looks back at me with glazed eyes and speaks in a voice deep with pain.  My guess is she’s not doing much eating or sleeping.