Beyond (11 page)

Now that I’ve put a little distance between me and what happened in the shop, my own doubts are starting to creep in.

“I feel like I’m losing it.”

“You’re safe now. Just breathe, Jane.”

I let out a shaky sigh, trying to get my speeding heart
to slow down. The rain patters on the roof, soft and hushing.

“There’s this thing I read about,” Lexi says. “Sort of a sleep disorder.
Hypnagogia
.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s like having waking dreams. When you’re half-asleep, and the line between conscious and unconscious gets blurred. It can happen if you’re stressed and sleep deprived, or it can be a side effect of some medications.”

“I’m taking a fistful of meds every day.”

“With all those drugs in your system, maybe you’re having a bad reaction.”

“Real bad.” I drink the last of my coffee, letting it defrost me. “You think that’s what it was? Felt like more than a dream.”

“These hypnagogia things are supposed to seem hyperreal. Where you’re still aware of your actual surroundings, but your subconscious splices a little something extra into the scene.”

“So it’s like a hallucination?”

“Yeah. But that doesn’t make you a lunatic.”

“This stuff ever happen to you?”

“No. I mean, I only get maybe three hours of sleep a night, but I don’t feel deprived. I’m just wired.” She bugs out her eyes at me.

I smile. Lexi’s my real shrink and dream doctor.

I set my empty mug down on her desk. Caffeine probably wasn’t a great idea. Feels like I’m going to jump out of my skin. I try to walk it off, pacing around her room.

Lexi’s been working on a new project, and it covers the wall above her desk. Guess I’m the inspiration for it.

A gallery of images show what the Great Beyond looks like. Lots of glowing doorways, and heavenly cloudscapes with gates opened wide. The phantom souls of the newly dead hovering above their own lifeless bodies. Helpful spirits pointing out the way to the other side.

“So, Lexi, when you were digging all this up, did you find anything that was like my own bad trip?”

“You’re kind of unique when it comes to these near-death things. Some of what you saw fits the usual story. You did the out-of-body stuff, saw the light and went for it. But then you took a wrong turn.”

“Seriously wrong.”

“Most people get
life reviews
, like a replay of their greatest hits. From their first breath to last.”

“I got one of those, but it wasn’t
my
life.”

I’ve rerun that vision in my head a thousand times, trying to make sense of it. That little seaside town, the blue house. The woman waiting out front. There was such an overwhelming feeling of loss at the sight of her. Then, upstairs in the guy’s room. That stuff seems easier to understand, memories of a lost life. But then the vision turned dark and strange, with the bald skeleton man. A crow on his shoulder. What does it all mean?

“Where did you find this stuff?” I lean in to study the afterlife images.

“I joined an online support group for the resurrected, pretending to be one of them. They call themselves
Second
Chancers
. I told them your story, saying it was mine. You know, to see if anybody had a similar experience.”

Lexi loves these online encounters where she can be anybody. She uses about a dozen cyber aliases and personalities.

“Did you find any like mine?”

“Well, ninety-nine percent of these visions are positive. Even a few atheists found religion after what they saw. The resurrected come back renewed, and the only regret they have is that they didn’t get to stay in the light. But they find peace knowing it’s there waiting for them when their time finally comes.”

I spot a welcoming spirit in one picture, in the shine from the other side. I remember how that light felt, sweeter than anything ever.

But there were no guiding spirits waiting to show me the way. And no peace now, knowing what else is waiting.

Sanctuary.

I find a quiet spot to sit near the back of St. Mary’s, a cozy little church in the center of Edgewood. One of the oldest places around here, it was built using wood from the ancient forest they cut down to make room for the town. Behind the simple altar there’s a stained-glass scene of Mary in mourning, sitting on a rock and looking out to a stormy sea.

But I’m not really here to claim sanctuary. I’m the floral director for the wedding that’s just about to start.

Mom usually handles this stuff while I watch the shop. But I didn’t want to be left alone there.

I breathe in the smell of incense, roses and burning candles, relaxing for the first time in days. I already set up the arrangements, handed out bouquets to the bridesmaids, tied bundles of white lilies to the pews along the center aisle, decorated the altar with pink carnations and filled the flower girl’s basket with crimson rose petals. Now I hang around for the show. Such a love junkie.

My addiction to romance novels started years back.

Maybe it comes from having a lusty heart, or maybe I crave what I can’t have. I mean, it’s never going to be me at the altar.

I tried making up my own stories, to live out my fantasies that way. I used to be good with words. Writing was my
thing
. Like Lexi and her movies, words were how I made sense of stuff.

But everything I wrote came out wrong. Where I was trying for romance, passion and desire, everything turned all doom and gloom. So I quit.

Now I just stick to the love library in my closet.

I can’t take any chances. I have to keep my distance from Ryan, and every other guy. No flirting, no messages, nothing. I’m still playing by my shadow’s rules. Because as long as I’ve stayed alone, it’s let me live. I want to believe I got rid of that thing, but I’m not going to risk it.

The priest steps up to the altar. The show’s about to start. Maybe I should confess everything to him, see if he can cure my haunted self. Get him to hose me down with holy water and set me free.

But I know there’s no miracle for me here. Just a moment of peace.

I bolt awake. My heart beating hard.

I stare at the glowing red numbers on my alarm clock. Just past two in the morning.

What woke me? Thought I heard something.

I listen to the stillness of the house. Dad’s off on night patrol, so there’s not even his snoring down the hall to break the quiet.

I wait a few silent heartbeats. I’ve been so hyperalert, jumping at every little creak. Such a wreck.

But there’s nothing now. So I sink back onto my pillow and close my eyes.

Then I hear it again. Sounds like … scratching?

Where’s that coming from? I listen hard.

It seems so close. Leaning over, I flick on my bedside lamp. I look around.

Scratching, as if there’s a cat at my door trying to get in.

Hazy from sleep, I swing out of bed, getting unsteadily to my feet.

Whatever it is, it’s louder now. And it’s coming from … where? I look down.

From the floor?

I stand right over the spot.

Something’s scraping at the hardwood from underneath. We’ve had mice before. But this sounds like something bigger than a mouse.

Am I really awake? Feels like I’m half in a dream.

I crouch down. The scratching stops.

I hold my breath, listening.

The floor creaks under me. Then I catch the slightest movement, just inches from my toes. What’s that? A loose board?

I stare at the spot. There it is again—one of the floorboards shifts the tiniest bit. I freeze, unblinking. What the hell?

It’s like the foot-long board is bulging out—

creeeee

—rising upward—

eeeeeee

—squealing as it pulls up on its nails.

I’m paralyzed, watching that board come out all the way. Then it topples on its side, leaving a hole in the floor.

I can’t be seeing this. I should back away. Go get Mom. Just go.

But I don’t. It’s like I’m caught in some kind of dream, keeping me here. Slowly, I lean forward to peer into that gap.

So dark down there, where the light barely reaches—

An eye stares back at me. Pressed to the hole.

Screaming, I fall back. I scramble away till I hit the wall.

Wake up! Now!

That’s not real. Not real.

I’m shivering so bad I can’t stand.

Across the floor I see something move in the gap. Reaching up. Fingers. Muddy fingers, crawling like spider legs. Feeling around the edges of the hole. Searching.

Not real! Go away! Wake up!

There’s a cracking sound beside me as my bedroom door opens. I let out another half scream before I see Mom.

“Jane, what’s wrong?”

My throat feels choked tight. Takes me a moment before I can speak.

“Jane?”

“S-something’s down there.”

I point to the hole in the floor.

But it’s gone. The board is back in place. Everything looks the same as always.

“What is going on in here?”

“It—it was scratching underneath the floor. And then …”

She waits for me to finish, but I can’t.

“What, Jane? Is it mice again? Is that it?”

“Didn’t you hear anything?”

“Yeah. You screaming the walls down. Scared the life out of me. What’s this about?”

I stare at the spot where those fingers came crawling out. Mom’s waiting for an answer.

“Maybe it was mice. And maybe a nightmare too.”

Mom shivers, hugging herself. “It’s freezing in here. You have the window open?”

“No. Must be a draft,” I mumble.

Mom heaves a tired sigh, shaking her head. “If it’s mice, we’ll set some traps out tomorrow. Come sleep with me. You can keep me warm.” She reaches out and takes my hand, helping me up. “With your dad on night shift it gets chilly under the sheets.”

As she leads me out, I shoot a glance over my shoulder. But the floor is back to normal.

All in my head, I try telling myself. Like those waking dreams Lexi told me about. Please let it be that.

“Your father always squeaks when I push my cold feet up against him in bed,” Mom tells me.

“The constable squeaks?”

“Like a startled mouse.”

Mom sits down on her bed, blinking her sleepy eyes at me. “After what’s happened, I’d be surprised if you weren’t having nightmares. But at least you’re not out running wild in your sleep.”

I shake my head. “I’m nothing but trouble.”

I glance at the laptop on her bedside table, with its GPS program running to keep track of me and my ring. Mom always sleeps so deep, she’s got the volume on the alarm turned to the max. One time she let me hear what it sounds like, loud enough to wake the dead. I must have let out one hell of a scream to get her up tonight.

“What am I going to do with you, Jane?”

I shrug. “Trade me in? Get a refund? Did you keep my receipt?”

She gives me a drowsy smile. “Catch the light, honey.”

Turning it off reluctantly, I get under the covers with her. I feel a little better, not being alone.

I’d feel even safer if Dad still kept his spare gun in the drawers beside the bed. Since I started sleepwalking he has it locked away.

But what am I thinking?

Can’t shoot a nightmare.