Under Zenith, Page 2

  After a few minutes of them examining the cab of my truck it became obvious that they were aptly distracted by something else and had forgotten the task at hand, since not a single one of them made any move to come find me in the woods. I wasn’t sure what was so interesting in there, but they were absolutely fascinated by it.

  Sighing and tilting my head from side to side to crack my neck, (something any car accident victim should probably avoid) I slowly and carefully got to my feet, feeling the mud drip off of my dress in thick, heavy clumps. I was just lucky I had worn my brown cowboy boots that night as I slogged through the mud to the sight of the accident.

  “Hey Teddy,” I said wearily to one of the paramedics who I recognized as a friend of my dad’s.

  He didn’t turn to acknowledge me and I realized that with the rainfall my words had probably been drowned out. I had been kind of quiet.

  “Ted, I’m fine, just feeling stupid,” I tried again, reaching out to tap his shoulder.

  Instead of feeling the scratchy cotton against my hands, however, I was met with nothing but air. It was as if my hand had gone right through him.

  I pulled away quickly, startled by the lack of contact and trying to make sense of what had just happened.

  “Teddy?” I said again.

  Instead of answering me or giving any sign that he had heard me at all, he walked away, returning to the ambulance and grabbing his cell phone from a bag.

  “I’m gonna have to call her daddy,” he said to another paramedic who nodded at him somberly as he walked away.

  “You don’t have to call him,” I said urgently, thinking about how disappointed he would be when he learned I’d already crashed the amazing new truck he’d gotten me.

  Great way to repay your parents, Isla.

  Of course Teddy didn’t respond since apparently I’d entered The Twilight Zone all of a sudden.

  “She looks pretty bad,” another paramedic said, looking into my empty truck.

  “Do you think she’ll make it?” the second asked, looking pale as he glanced at the front seat and quickly looked away again, apparently not liking what he saw.

  “Hard to say,” the first said, frustrating me to no end while other paramedics rushed back and forth between my tuck and the ambulance.

  What were they even talking about? I was standing right here, fuming over the fact that they were ignoring me and freaking out because I’d crashed my new truck after only owning it for thirty minutes.

  Letting out a frustrated grunt I glanced inside of my truck to see what all the fuss was about and instantly regretted it.

  There were just some things you couldn’t un-see.

  The entire cab was covered in blood, the windshield was cracked, and there I sat with my eyes closed, my once white dress now stained red with my mouth hanging open unattractively.

  There was no pale skin to be seen. All I could see was a sticky red, covering my entire face and a disturbingly deep gash running across my hairline.

  “That’s not--,” I began, before letting my words trail off.

  I wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence. I had wanted to say that it wasn’t me sitting there, but the evidence was undeniable. It was my body in the driver’s seat of the truck, looking like I’d been dead for a long time, despite what the paramedics were saying about a ‘faint pulse’.

  Maybe I’d wanted to say that it wasn’t possible, but the fact that I was looking at my contorted, lifeless face made that argument completely pointless. Why argue about what was possible and what wasn’t when the ‘impossible’ thing was happening right before your eyes?

  “Teddy, did you call her daddy?” the first paramedic called.

  “Yeah, I just got off the phone with him,” Teddy answered. “Why?”

  “I don’t think she’s going to make it to the hospital,” he said with a sad shake of his head.

  “I’m right here,” I yelled, now angry that they couldn’t see me. “You have to hear me, I’m right here.”

  I tried shoving one of the men, but my hands went right through them with a little tingle, like sleeping on your arm wrong and losing the feeling in your fingers.

  “She’s fading pretty fast,” the second paramedic said.

  “Stop it,” I cried, the panic now beginning to take over where the calm had resided only moments before. “I’m right here.”

  It was quickly becoming obvious that no amount of screaming was going to change the fact that these men couldn’t hear me and so, scared and frustrated, I did the only thing I could think of; I ran.

  I ran through the mud and the trees as fast as my tingling legs would carry me. I didn’t quite know where I was going, but I knew I had to get away from the horrific scene behind me and so I continued to run blindly.

  My eyes prickled as if I would cry, but tears didn’t come. Instead a sense of dread slowly filled me as my body grew colder and colder in the rain and questions raced through my mind at an alarming rate.

  Why couldn’t Teddy and the other paramedics hear me? Why couldn’t they see me? If my body was at least somewhat alive then what was happening to me now? Was I dying?

  I knew I should have stayed behind with my body. If I really was dying I wanted to see my parents one last time. Who knew, maybe when my ‘faint pulse’ stopped, this other version of me would disappear as well and I would have wasted my last moments running away from the inevitable.

  The questions continued to circle my mind, the rain continued to fall, and I continued to run until my body couldn’t take it anymore and I collapsed in a heap on the forest floor, letting the world around me fade slowly into blackness.

  It was the end.

  Chapter 3

  I couldn’t be sure how long I had been asleep, but the sun shining in the sky was a good indication that it had been at least a few hours. If I had to guess, I’d say that I had just slept through an entire day and was now starting on the next one, but that probably had something to do with how foggy my mind was.

  Images of the truck and my lifeless body flashed through my mind and I tried to block them out as I sat up slowly, taking in my surroundings and thinking that if I still appeared to be in North Carolina, then I probably wasn’t dead. After all, I didn’t see any clouds or angels with trumpets surrounding me, and unless I had been living in heaven all along, I was still in my hometown.

  I couldn’t hear the birds I had grown so accustomed to and the air felt oddly silent, but I definitely had more pressing matters to worry about and so, I ignored this little detail. The only thing I wanted to waste my already overloaded mental space on was what in the world had happened last night.

  Crashing my truck was a memory I sadly couldn’t erase, this I knew. But what about seeing my own body in the driver’s seat? Had I been dreaming? Maybe Monica and I had decided to ‘celebrate’ after I got home last night and this whole thing was just some crazy dream.

  Maybe I was having my own Hangover moment, and waking up in the middle of the woods was the end of the story and now I had to retrace my steps to find out what had really happened the night before.

  As amusing as this possibility was, I knew it was the least likely scenario for what was going on. Instead of trying to imagine my life as a comedy, I accepted the tragedy it was, stood up and brushed off my spotless white dress (that was suspiciously devoid of any traces of mud), and began walking through the woods.

  I wasn’t quite sure which way would lead me out of the forested area, but sitting around on my butt wasn’t going to get me anywhere so I continued to walk, taking in my surroundings and trying to let my hunting experience come back to me.

  Daddy would have been proud that I’d retained anything he’d taught me while hunting, even if it wasn’t proving particularly useful at that moment. At the thought of my family, however, I suddenly felt a pang of sadness. If I really had died last night, what would that mean for them? How would they be taking the news? Did they know yet?

  This was something I didn�
�t think I was mentally prepared to face and so I continued to walk, keeping with the theory that I hadn’t died and I was just in some sort of bizarre dream or the victim of a night of partying.

  My body still felt warm and tingly and glancing down at my hands I could see that something was very wrong.

  Or very right, considering how great my skin looked.

  I’m not talking, I-just-put-some-lotion-on, good. I’m talking, I’m-a-contestant-on-The-Bachelor-and-now-my-skin-shimmers-and-glows-like-a-sunrise, good. My skin was still as ridiculously pale as it had always been, but it had a healthy shimmer to it that almost made me look like I was radiating light from the inside out. I bet Monica would really think I looked like a ghost now. Skin that heavenly could only come from dying and going to the Other Side.

  It was odd that of all the hints I’d gotten that I might, in fact, be dead, the one that really put the nail in the (hopefully hypothetical) coffin for me was flawless skin.

  I guess no matter how much Daddy tried to get it out of me, I was still a girl at heart.

  It felt like a good two hours that I’d been walking when the sky began to go dark. The sun didn’t appear to be setting, but an odd fog had rolled in, dimming the brightness of my surroundings and making it even harder for me to find my way when I was already hopelessly lost.

  Greenville had never really been a particularly foggy place, especially not when the sky was completely clear and sunny only moments before, and I wondered if this sudden change in the weather was some sort of confirmation that I wasn’t where I thought I was. A light breeze began to blow and my wavy, icy-blond hair tickled my bare shoulders, making me shiver.

  The world had quickly gone from a picturesque scene in the southern woods to something resembling Sleepy Hollow. The sudden change was unsettling to say the least.

  I stopped my aimless walking, knowing I wasn’t really being productive by wandering around anyway, and rubbed the goose bumps on my arms.

  Something was very wrong with this place. I knew I shouldn’t be all that scared of a beautiful forest, but when that beautiful forest mysteriously materializes after you’ve died, you’d be dumb to not be a little suspicious.

  Plus, something about the entire area just felt off. I couldn’t get rid of the nervous feeling in my stomach.

  A twig snapped a few feet behind me as I stood observing my surroundings and I instantly spun around, worried there might be some sort of wild animal following me.

  The truth however, was much more bizarre than a wild animal.

  And much more attractive, if I was being honest. I may have been lost and scared, but I wasn’t dead…well…hopefully.

  “Who are you?” I asked the ridiculously good looking man standing behind me.

  If I looked like a washed out, pale ghost, he looked like my exact opposite. His dark brown hair, blue eyes, tan skin, stubbly face, and black T-shirt and jeans resembled something from a 1950s ‘bad boys’ handbook and I was instantly wary, if not slightly intrigued by this man who had mysteriously appeared out of the fog.

  He had a thick black fan of eyelashes lining his icy eyes and I wondered, not for the first time, why boys always had the most gorgeous eyelashes when girls had to work so hard at it. If I had his eyelashes I’d never wear eyeliner or mascara again. Of course boys didn’t care at all about that sort of thing which made it even more unfair.

  “I’m Hayden,” he answered in a thick British accent, his voice impossibly deep.

  Okay, if I was dead and this guy was my reward for living a good life, I was completely fine with that. Accent and all.

  Maybe he wasn’t all that good looking, if you weren’t into the whole chiseled jaw, sharp cheek bones, and full lips thing. But I could attest that I was a fan of those features.

  “I’m Isla,” I answered with a stupid little smile.

  I swear I wasn’t some weak-minded girl who fainted at the sight of an attractive man, but my mind had been slightly unraveled ever since the crash so I felt completely justified in the embarrassing little giggle I involuntarily let out.

  “Yeah, I’m not an idiot, I know who you are,” he replied, lifting his lip into a half sneer and instantly making me take back my thought that he was a ‘reward’ for my tragic and untimely death.

  “Oh,” was all I could think of to say.

  What were you supposed to say when you were lost, possibly dead, and in the company of someone who wasn’t turning out to be as gentlemanly as those British actors would lead you to believe?

  Thanks a lot, Hugh Grant.

  “Well come on, we don’t have all day now do we?” he asked rhetorically, not waiting for my response as he passed by me, leading the way to who knew where.

  “I’m sorry, but who are you?” I asked again.

  “Hay-den,” he said slowly, sounding his name out for me as if I might be dense, and not bothering to turn around or relax his pace.

  “I’m not asking your name,” I said, letting my indignation take control. Just because I was dead didn’t mean this guy was allowed to be condescending to me. My daddy would have had a thing or two to say about his manners right at that moment. “I’m asking who you are. There’s a difference.”

  “I don’t know if it’s the accent or the brain trauma, but something tells me you’re not quick on the uptake, are you?” he asked me, managing to insult me yet again.

  “Hey!” I yelled, grabbing him by the arm and spinning him around to face me. “Just because I talk slow doesn’t mean I’m an idiot,” I informed him, wishing I didn’t have such a thick Southern accent at that moment. It was apparently not garnering any brownie points with this man and his ‘sophisticated’ British accent. “Now tell me who you are or I’m not walking another step.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest and stuck out my chin defiantly. My family hadn’t raised a push-over.

  The man let out a deep, long-suffering sigh and I could practically see the will power it took for him to keep from rolling his eyes at me.

  “All right, little girl,” he began, though he couldn’t have been older than 27. Not really fair grounds for him to call me ‘little’ at age 21. “I’m your Guide, we only have a few hours to find your first task, and if we want to make any progress today we need to move now.”

  With that sad excuse for an explanation he turned away from me and continued his tromp through the foggy woods, leaving me to jog in an attempt to catch up to his long strides. I couldn’t believe I had thought he was attractive. All it took was him opening his mouth once to instantly shoot down that idea.

  “You’re my Guide?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” he replied over his shoulder, never once looking back or slowing his pace.

  “And what exactly does that mean?”

  “It means I guide you,” he said in exasperation.

  “I know you think I’m an idiot because I don’t understand what’s going on right now, but you’re doing a horrible job of explaining things to me so really, this is your fault,” I said stubbornly, angry at this man who obviously thought he was so much better than me.

  My insult got his attention pretty fast. He stopped suddenly and turned to face me once more, causing me to crash right into his chest with the sudden unexpected movement. I stumbled backward a few paces, but quickly regained my footing, feeling like I didn’t want to look weak or clumsy in front of this pompous jerk.

  “Okay, listen, because I’m only going to explain this once. I’m your Guide. You’re stuck here until you get to your Destination, but the only way to do that, is to accomplish a series of tasks. I’ll lead you to the tasks, tell you what you need to do, and wait for you to complete them. You’ll have one per cycle and once you’ve completed them all, you’ll reach your Destination and I can get rid of you. Got it?” he asked, his voice deep and menacing.

  Oh yeah, he was definitely trying to play up the whole ‘bad boy’ approach. Luckily I could see right through his gruff exterior. I was a Southern woman after all. I wasn’t sca
red of some dainty British man.

  “Now you listen to me,” I began, my voice firm as I raised a finger up to his face. “I want answers right this second and if you don’t give them to me, I’ll just sit here and let you fail as my Guide. I don’t know who you work for, but I’m sure failing doesn’t look good no matter who your boss is,” I said, finally lowering my finger and giving him my best glare.

  I wasn’t trying to brag or anything, but I had inherited my Mama’s glare and it was pretty intimidating.

  “Well I can tell you’re going to be a handful, aren’t you?” he asked, sighing again, but not turning around and stomping away like I had expected him to. I guess we were making some progress. “What do you want to know, princess?”

  I ignored the insult in favor of getting the answers I wanted.

  “Am I dead?” I asked, starting with the most pressing matter.

  “I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “Next question.”

  “What do you mean, ‘you don’t know’? How do you not know something like that if you’re my Guide?”

  “You don’t even know what a Guide is, so don’t start making up a job description for me based on your own irrational fears about what’s happening here.”

  “I just want to know if I’m dead or not,” I practically shouted, fed up with this man already.

  “I. Don’t. Know,” he said again, emphasizing each word. “You could be dead, you could be in a coma. Heck you could be dreaming. All I know is that I need to get you to your Destination so you can move on.”

  “Move on? To Heaven or something?”

  “I’m not sure how many times I can tell you ‘I don’t know’ until it finally sinks in,” he said, rubbing his temples in frustration.

  “So I might not be dead?”

  “I’m really beginning to hope you are,” he answered.

  “You take that back right now, mister,” I said indignantly. “Just because you think you’re all superior to me, doesn’t mean you get to be rude.”