Uncanny Day (8 page)

Shrugging my shoulders, trying to act as cool as he was, I replied, “No problem.”

He stepped aside and let me pass. I could feel my body tremble, knees almost buckling as I walked into the room. Was I ready for this? Could I handle seeing Stephanie?

Chapter Eighteen

THE ROOM'S LIGHTING WAS dim. It took a second for my eyes to adjust. As my vision began to focus, the first thing I noticed was Stephanie's face. It was tightly wrapped in white gauze, especially on her right side. It didn't look like her at all. I swallowed hard and slowly moved farther into the room.

The guy nurse came in on the opposite side of the bed and moved over to one of the hanging racks of medicine, checking the label on the bag. He started talking. “Yeah, it was touch and go for a while there when she came in, but now she just seems to be resting. She's a fighter.”

There was a cast on her left arm up to the elbow and a thick brace around her neck. Flashing back to the scene of the accident, all I remembered seeing was blood and her twisted body. Who knew what kind of internal damage had been done? And not to mention the fact that she was actually in a coma now. Emotion rose within me. I had caused this. My hands began to shake. I tried squeezing them, hoping the nurse didn't see.

He looked up at me then back down at his chart.

“You know, even though she's in coma, you can still let her know you're here,” he said.

My stomach took a plunge. Yeah, right—just what she wanted to know. The jerk who broke the news to you that the guy you really liked was going to the biggest dance event at school with your best friend was here to see how you were doing. I might as well have shoved her into traffic.

The nurse spoke again. “Or you could just hold her hand. You don't need to say anything.”

He went back to checking the bags and making notes on a small side computer. I looked down at Stephanie. Small cuts and bruises covered the exposed patches of skin on her face. Her right eye was haloed in a purple-and-black mix. My lower lip quivered. Don't cry, I told myself. I wasn't going to be able to do this. I fought my emotions. I had to try.

With the nurse still busy with his work, I carefully hovered my hand above Stephanie's face. Again my stomach flipped.
Undo this
, I told myself.

Leaning over, I was face-to-face with her. She looked peaceful, as if she were dreaming. Then, as gently as possible, I used my fingertips to spread her left eyelid open. It only took a fraction of a second, and I was inside.

Chapter Nineteen

IT WAS ALMOST TOTAL darkness inside. The can lights in the ceiling, originally brightly lit, were now nothing but a brownish hue. As you may remember, Stephanie's mind was like a small gym. I noticed that the whole room was covered in a thick film of sorts, like black dust or chimney soot, that hadn't been in there before. Both the treadmill that had been at work with the idea of Greg Wilkins and Stephanie's stream of current thought, the stereo, were stone silent, yet that wasn't why I was freaking out.

I had always been alone. Every mind reading I had ever done, I'd been the only occupant of the room. But right then, someone else was present.

Between the shadows, it was difficult to make out the frame of the person's body. They were kneeling on the floor, his or her back to me. Stripes of bare white skin were exposed in the spots where the dark, draping clothes did not cover. It wasn't until I moved closer that I realized who it might be.

Involuntarily I said, “Stephanie?”

She still didn't move. Her hair was like dark oil dripping down her back. With her legs tucked underneath, her body was bent like a wild animal with its prey. My body trembled again as a cold chill ran down my spine. My mind ran with thousands of questions. Why was she in here? Was it because of the coma? A second time, without any precaution, I heard my voice say her name.

Slowly the form lifted its head. Had she not known I was in there?

Opening my mouth again, I tried to speak. Nothing came out this time; my body was too busy quaking.

I watched as her head started to turn until she was looking just over her left shoulder at me. Stephanie's face was bleached white. Her eyes burned with a deep intensity. Her lips were a dark purple color, giving her the appearance of death. Then she peeled them back and hissed at me, revealing jagged points for teeth. I was frozen.

This wasn't Stephanie Daniels at all.

Then she spoke.

“Nolan.”

Finding my ability to move, I started to back up. My foot rammed into the edge of the lifeless treadmill and I tripped. As I crashed to the ground, a cloud of black filth bloomed up into what was left of the fading light.

In a flash, the thing rose to its feet. It curled Stephanie's lips back into a snarl and spoke again, the words pouring out like liquid ink. “We thank you.” She, or it, looked down at me.

“What…?” was all the reply I could manage. My body jerked as one of the brown bulbs overhead sparked and blew out, sending shards of glass to the ground.

The Stephanie thing saw it happen too and slowly licked its lips.

I was a statue, my mind torn in a panic.

Fixed on me, the thing moved closer, only it wasn't solid—it was like smoke or some kind of vapor. Something hit my right shoulder from above and I looked up to see what it was. The ceiling had begun to crack overhead, splitting like a lake of thin ice. Tiny fissures crept along the tiles, raining down bits of debris all over. What was happening?

I shot my attention back to the thing just in time to see it raise its arms out to each side and lean back its head, embracing the destruction. Stephanie's body unnaturally jolted and contorted itself, and for a split second, her true face flooded to life.

“Nolan! Get out!”

It was Stephanie's voice, her real voice.

Then, as if being overtaken again, the life drained back out of her, and that something else took control again. It hissed viciously at me, showing its jigsaw teeth. I watched it close its eyes and lift off the floor like fog. Then Stephanie faded away like a ghost. The whole room began to crumble all around me, and I didn't want to stick around to find out what happened next. I broke contact and returned to my own head.

Back in the hospital room now, I released my hold on Stephanie's eyelid and watched it slide closed again. Then all hell broke loose.

Chapter Twenty

THE NURSE SEEMED LIKE he hadn't moved a muscle and was still filling out notes when I returned to Stephanie's bedside. My breathing began to jolt into spasms. He looked over at me, probably thinking I was crying, or losing it. In truth, I was.

I quickly stepped back from the bed but kept my focus on Stephanie's still body. Then came the unmistakable sound of the heart rate monitor flatlining. The nurse's face gripped in panic as another alarm started going off. He yelled out into the hallway for help, and I took my cue and slunk out of the room. Another nurse sped past at full sprint, not even taking stock of my presence. I made it halfway down the hallway toward where I had left Dean. I turned my head as a man and woman rushed down the hallway as well. Stephanie's parents, no doubt.

Ahead I saw the waiting room. Dean saw me first.

“Whoa! What happened?” he asked.

“Go. Just go,” was all I could muster, my own voice sounding faint.

When we got back to the elevator it was already ajar, as if waiting for us. Inside I punched the button for the ground floor and the silver doors closed, introducing me to my mirror-distorted reflection. My heart was racing and felt like it was ready to burst out of my chest. My head throbbed in a mess of questions and fear. Dean was talking, but it was all mush. Then I saw it. My reflection again in the elevator doors, a spot of red on my upper lip. I wiped a mixture of sweat and blood away from my face, my hands quivering the entire time, my whole body just buzzing.

I tried to make sense of just one thing that had just happened, just one. I couldn't do it. It all felt so unreal. Had it happened, or had I imagined it? Was Stephanie going to be okay? Who or what was that thing in her mind? Why had her room started to crumble? Among my questions I could hear Dean's voice drone on, like I was trapped inside a car speeding down a hill of thoughts and he was on the outside frantically trying to keep it from crashing into the river. It was too late—everything went black as the last question whispered itself inside my mind. Was Stephanie Daniels dead?

***

THE NEXT THING I remember was jolting awake in my bed. The red lights of my digital clock read 2:34 a.m. My bed sheets were twisted, my blankets thrown to the floor. Instinctively I wiped my nose—no blood. Had it all been a dream? I had no idea. I tried to relax and settle myself back down; my eyes slid shut. I felt exhausted.

The simple rise and fall of my chest with each breath soothed me as a sliver of calm was allowed to seep in. It felt good. Slowly, distance and time began to dissipate and my mind started to wander. Silence. Peace. Sleep.

Then they began.

No
, I thought as I heard the first tiny whisper. It turned into a low hush as more gathered inside my head. The voices were gibberish, secrets about nothingness. They rose, becoming louder, like parents arguing in the next room. My eyes squeezed, frustrated. I needed to focus. I needed to contain them!

Inside the deep, dark space of my mind, I tried concentrating on its inner workings. My goal was to fold in the edges of itself and surround the blistering chatter. I felt something begin to lift—a wall. No, it was more like a wave in the sea of my mind.

Contain them!
I rallied, screaming to myself.

There were two waves now, each moving slowly like a pair of hands ready to shake, yet instead encapsulating some invisible bubble between them. It was working; it was actually working. Then suddenly, my liquid waves stopped and the voices started to fight back, making my waves resist each other like two opposing forces on magnets.

No!

I was losing it.

Hold steady!

I fought, pushing past a cool sweat that broke over my brow. I silently pleaded for some kind of relief.

I have to sleep, please.

Pain rippled into my skull as though someone was slowly peeling my brain like an orange. The voices were winning out; I couldn't hold much longer. My teeth gritted together as I forced one final effort.

Lifting my hands, I physically tried to grab those mental objects. I probably looked like a complete idiot, but I didn't know what else to do. My head throbbed with pain, and I felt my teeth grinding against one another. My heart raced, sweat soaking my shirt. I wanted to yell out loud. Was this ever going to end?

I dove deep down into my psyche and resurrected the wave as far up as I could. I felt my physical arm reaching up as my back arched heavenward. Then I released it and the wave came crashing down. It filled my head and muted the voices to a whisper, a pop, and then no more.

My body fatigued and finally slept.

Chapter Twenty-one

EVEN THOUGH I ACHIEVED somewhat solid sleep that night, a small victory, I still didn't feel relief. My morale had been shaken to a new low as I learned of Stephanie's death when they broadcast it school-wide on the announcements. It hit me like a kick to the gut.

Everybody seemed to be going through the motions, even the teachers. A few grief counselors were on campus for those who wanted to talk to someone in private. I actually considered it, but how would I explain to them the burden I carried?

It was my lunch hour, but I didn't feel like eating anything the cafeteria was serving. I just wanted this day to be over. I walked aimlessly throughout the hallways. The bright-colored posters promoted the upcoming Fall Ball, something that had completely gone out of my head, tried to change my mood with their hot pinks and glowing greens. I wondered what Kate was thinking. What was her reaction to all this?

I was awakened to reality when a spiky-haired kid came up and slung his arm around my neck. “Hey, Nolan, dude, I need you to do something for me.”

I didn't want to respond, but did anyway. “I'm sorry. I can't take any new jobs right now,” I said, trying to shrug off his arm.

The guy stopped cold mid-hallway. I kept walking.

“Oh, come on, man. Help a guy out.” He stretched out his arms to either side. It was the same motion that thing, or whatever it was, had made inside Stephanie's mind. I darted my eyes to the floor, turned, and kept moving.

Farther down the hall at my locker, I tried to breathe deeply as I spun the combination. The first attempt failed, so I tried again—still nothing. My fingers shook.

Come on, stupid thing
. I turned the combination once more and it clicked open. I grabbed a notebook and slammed the door shut.

Then I felt them. Eyes were on me. I don't know why I hadn't felt them before. They were lurking and heavy, like they all knew. I felt like a criminal. I turned my head and caught a pair on me as they passed in the hallway. What were they looking at? What did they know? Why was I suddenly getting this awkward attention, or was I? Maybe these eyes had always been on me and I didn't know it till now. I had to find Dean.