High Tide (9781481413824) (11 page)

“Adam—you let me drown!”

“NOOO!” I cried.

Joy! It was Joy floating in the shadows, billowing in the fog.

Joy's ghost, come back to haunt me.

I took a deep breath. “You're not real!” I cried.

A wave crashed close beside me. My skin dripped from the icy ocean spray.

She took another step toward me, her bare feet so silent, silent as a ghost.

“You're not Joy!” I cried, my voice muffled by the fog. By my fear. “You're not real. I'm imagining you. And you're going to go away now!”

“Adam
 . . .” she whispered.
“Adam  . . .”

I felt a chill. Then another. I realized my whole body was shaking.

Don't run, I ordered myself, squeezing my eyes shut. Don't freak out. When you open your eyes, she'll be gone.

Because she's not here. She's not real!

Joy is dead.

Slowly, I opened my eyes.

In front of me, the fog began to move.

I held my breath as it swirled and lifted.

Revealing nothing.

No one.

“I knew it!” I cried out loud.

I knew she wasn't real!

Almost laughing, I raised both arms above my head, as if I'd just won a fight. I
did
win a fight, I thought. I didn't let the hallucination fool me this time.

I fought it away.

Feeling a little better, I dropped my arms and stuck my hands in my pockets.

And gasped as I saw the footprints.

Footprints of bare feet in the sand. Facing me.

Exactly where Joy had stood.

I stood there, shivering. My heart pounding. My head throbbing.

Stood and stared at the footprints in the sand.

And wondered: Since when do hallucinations leave footprints?

I
slammed the apartment door shut and leaned against it, breathless from the run home.

And from fear.

Joy
did
appear in front of you tonight, I told myself for the thousandth time.

But she's dead. Isn't she?

And the footprints?

The footprints  . . .

I couldn't explain it. I couldn't understand it. I knew only that the footprints were real.

And the girl whispering to me through the fog was real. Not a hallucination.

I couldn't see her face. The fog and the shadows kept that from me.

But I saw her bathing suit. Joy's bathing suit. And I heard her voice, so weak, so faint.

“Adam, you let me drown. . . .”

Joy. Joy's ghost.

A low, rumbling noise made me jump. Gasping, I glanced tensely around the empty living room.

“Who's here?” I called, craning my neck as I tried to see into the bedroom. “Ian?”

No answer.

“Ian? Are you back?”

The rumbling rose to a steady, low-pitched hum.

The refrigerator, I realized, shaking my head in disgust. What is
wrong
with me? I'm terrified by the refrigerator!

You're really losing it, Adam, I scolded myself. And you're totally wiped out. Go to bed. Don't think anymore. Don't try to figure things out.

Just get some sleep.

The instant I thought about sleep, a wave of exhaustion washed over me.

My eyelids drooped heavily as I crossed the living room. I bumped into the coffee table, sloshing more milk out of the cereal bowl I'd left there earlier.

I stopped. Yawned. Don't be a slob, I told myself. At least put the bowl in the sink.

But the thought of lifting a bowl and walking a few extra steps made me even more tired. Almost dizzy, I stumbled my way into the bedroom.

Collapsing across the bed, I closed my eyes and fell into a deep sleep.

• • •

I tossed my head back and forth on the pillow, trying to escape the dream.

I'm having a dream, I told myself. I can feel the blanket under my face. The damp clamminess of my sweatshirt and jeans.

I was sprawled across my bed. I hadn't even bothered to get undressed. And I was dreaming again. And I knew it.

Snap out of it, I thought. Wake up!

But I couldn't do it. The dream pulled me further and further in, until I couldn't feel the blanket or the wet clothes any longer.

Instead, I felt the hot sun on my head and the water lapping at my legs as I waded into the ocean.

Wind swept across the water, flinging the salt spray higher and higher. Gulls shrieked as the gusts blew them sideways. The waves rolled and churned, crashing toward the shore.

I dove under, surfaced, and swam farther out until the sandy bottom dropped away.

As I pulled up and began to tread water, a speck of color caught my eye.

A speck of bright electric blue, rocking across the waves.

The water scooter.

The speck grew larger as the scooter came closer to me. The sound of its engine buzzed in my brain.

My heart began to pound.

Would it crash on the hidden rocks?

The engine roared, then began to fade as the scooter turned sharply and headed back out.

Too far out, I thought.

The water's too rough. The waves will toss that thing around like a toy boat and break it to pieces.

I started to swim again, keeping my eye on the scooter. Maybe I could wave it down, get it to stop.

As I fought my way through the waves, the scooter turned again. Started coming back toward me.

Two people rode it. A guy and a girl.

I squinted against the glare, trying to see their faces.

Who were they?

The scooter bumped and rocked, getting closer.

I could see the girl's face now. Laughing. Tossing her head and laughing as the water scooter leapt into the air.

Joy's face.

As the scooter cut into a sharp turn, the girl laughed and tossed her head again.

And her long blond hair whipped out behind her.

Not Joy, I thought.

Mitzi!

But who's the guy? It's supposed to be me, but I'm already in the water, watching.

So who's riding the water scooter with Mitzi?

As I stared, the scooter leapt over another wave, rose into the air, and slapped down hard. A second wave rose up, tossing the scooter sideways.

Tossing Mitzi into the water.

No! I thought, my heart pounding harder. It's happening again!

The water scooter spun around. Picked up speed as it aimed straight for Mitzi.

Stop! I wanted to yell. Can't you see her? She's right in front of you. Turn back!

But the words seemed trapped inside me.

And the water scooter kept zooming across the water, roaring closer and closer to Mitzi.

My eyes burned as I strained to see better. Who's the guy on it? Why can't I see his face?

Who is he?

The scooter roared faster and faster. Now it was almost on top of Mitzi. Not slowing. Not turning.

No! I thought. Nooo!

A horrified scream pierced the air.

And the white, frothy waves turned bloodred as the water scooter slammed into Mitzi's body.

No! my mind screamed again. I plunged under a wave, then began swimming toward Mitzi. I had to get to her. Had to save her!

Hang on, Mitzi! I thought as I stroked through the water. I'm coming. Hang on!

My arms ached and my chest burned, but I kept fighting my way through the waves. If I can get to her in time, I can save her! I told myself. Keep going!

A strong wave swept over me, knocking me under. I surfaced quickly and glanced around. I yelled Mitzi's name over and over.

No answer.

I glanced around again. The water suddenly seemed flat. Flat and calm and empty.

And bloodred  . . .

Mitzi was nowhere in sight.

I tried, Mitzi! I screamed in my mind. I just couldn't make it in time!

I tried! I screamed again.

And sat bolt upright in bed, blinking in the darkness.

Blinking away the nightmare. Another nightmare.

How many times would I have it? I wondered with a shiver of horror.

But wait.

This wasn't the same dream. Not the same at all.

A chill ran down my back as I thought about this dream.

And realized that something was very different.

This time,
someone else
ran over Mitzi.

It wasn't me on the water scooter. I was in the water. I was swimming to save her.

What did it mean? Why had the dream changed?

I shivered again. My clothes still felt damp and cold. Next time, don't go to sleep in a fog-drenched sweatshirt, I told myself.

I started to get up.

And froze.

A shape moved at the far end of the darkened bedroom.

The floor creaked.

The shape moved again.

Silently. Slowly.

Someone was in the room, slipping across the floor toward my bed.

“Who's there?” I cried.

I
jumped to the floor, my fists clenched. “Who is it?” I croaked.

The shape moved again. “It's only me,” Ian's voice murmured from the shadows. “Take it easy.”

“Oh, man.”

I fell back across the bed and sighed. “I was ready to pound you to dust. What made you sneak in here like that anyway?”

“I wasn't exactly sneaking.” Ian pulled off my windbreaker and shook it, spraying me with drops of water. “I live here too, remember?”

“Yeah.” I sat up and rubbed my face.

“Anyway, it's kind of late,” Ian explained. “And when I came in, I could tell by your breathing that you were asleep. So I tried to be quiet.”

He made his way to the closet, flipping the light switch on the way. “Guess I wasn't quiet enough. Sorry to wake you, Adam.”

“You didn't.” I rubbed my face again, groaning a little. “I was already awake.”

“What's wrong?” he asked as he hung the jacket up. “You okay?”

“I had another nightmare,” I told him. “About Mitzi and the water scooter.”

“Oh, man. Just what you need.” He shook his head. “I guess what happened on the beach this afternoon brought it all back, huh?”

“I guess.” I sighed. “But it was weird, Ian. The nightmare was different this time.”

He narrowed his eyes at me. His expression turned to concern. “What do you mean?”

I frowned, trying to remember. I could hear the sound of the water scooter. See the flash of blue. Feel myself struggling in the choppy waves. Feel my heart pounding with fear as the scooter roared closer and closer to Mitzi.

But I couldn't hold on to the rest of the dream. The pieces kept slipping away.

“What do you mean?” Ian repeated.

“I don't know,” I replied. “Something was different about it, but I can't remember now. It's gone.”

“Well, at least it's over.” Ian snapped off the light and dropped onto his bed. “Did you call Dr. Thall today?”

“Tomorrow,” I muttered, still thinking hard about the nightmare.

“You should definitely talk to him,” Ian said, yawning. “Think you can get back to sleep?”

“Maybe,” I replied.

Ian was out in about thirty seconds.

I stayed sitting on my bed, staring into the shadowy room. The dream had almost faded completely now. Only the feeling stayed with me.

Something had been different about it.

But what?

Ian rolled over in his bed and began snoring softly. I heard the waves outside, and the patter of raindrops against the window.

With a sigh, I stood up and went to the dresser to find something dry to sleep in.

What difference did it make about the dream anyway? I asked myself.

So it was different. Big deal. Dreams are always weird. Always changing.

Besides, the nightmare is over, I reminded myself. For now anyway.

But when will it be over for good? I wondered, yanking off my damp sweatshirt.

When will I ever have another peaceful night?

• • •

Pounding rain woke me the next morning. Large raindrops hit the window like bullets and drowned out the sound of the ocean surf.