Ether (13 page)

Mandy
slows to a walk next to me. She’s certainly happy for an excuse to stop running
laps. “You look happy. Does that mean you and Justin aren’t fighting anymore?”
I don’t know how she knew these things. I didn’t tell her, but I should have.
There was a time I would have told her everything.

I
nod, “We’re meeting up after swim practice to talk. But I think the fight’s
pretty much over.”

            “Good,”
Mandy affirms, and takes a nice long breath, which powers her through about
four loops of the gym at my painful limping speed. I try not to listen but slowly
the meaning of her words sink in. “Wait, you’re
dating
Derrick? Derrick?
The guy who almost got me killed?” My voice rises on the end of the sentence
and most of the gym class looks over at us. I lower my voice again. “Isn’t that
a little insensitive, even for you?”

            The second
the words are out of my mouth I regret them. I see the hurt hit Mandy’s face,
replaced quickly by anger. “I don’t know what your problem with him is. It’s
not like he tried to kill you, it was an accident. It could have happened to
anyone. Anyway he told me he’s tried to apologize to you about a hundred times
and you won’t accept. He doesn’t blame you for the accident but he should. If
you weren’t so stuck up and perfect you would have stayed at the party and had
some fun. It’s your fault he was even out there driving you home. Have you even
bothered to apologize to him or are you so incredibly self-obsessed that you
didn’t even think of it?” I can’t answer, I’m too stunned by her speech, and by
the fact that a knot of kids have formed around us and are listening to every
word. Mandy throws up her hands dramatically. “I’m right aren’t I? I bet you
didn’t even ask if he was okay. Really Becka, it can’t always be all about
you!” she yells and storms away from me, pushing through the crowd of
onlookers.

            Couch T
bellows orders to keep moving but my legs won’t obey. I know it seems bad,
especially after all Mandy said but only one thing in her speech really stuck
out. I only really processed one thing. She’d said, “It’s not like he tried to
kill you.” But suddenly I absolutely know that he did. Derrick tried to kill
me.

            My mind
flashes back to the accident again. The memory is always a jumble of shattering
glass, spinning car, the smell of oil and blood, and laughter. Derrick laughed
as the car spun out and then, as I’d slipped away, lying in a seeping pool of
my own blood, he’d stood above me, laughing. That’s the detail my dream was
trying to show me. Derrick stood over me, watching me die. 

            Gradually
one more fragment of our conversation surfaces. Derrick tried to kill me
and
Mandy is now dating him. I shudder. Matt, Justin and now Mandy, one by one my
friends are dropping away from me. At least I still have a chance to fix things
with Justin. 

            The rest of
the day is a blur. I have the vaguest impressions of receiving a failing grade
on my math test, which I can’t really get worked up over. Mr. Maxwell, my math
teacher has some thoughts on the subject. He holds me back after last period,
giving me the concerned teacher speech. I peer at his big, bushy white eyebrows
which are shot through with long dark hairs, like spines on one of those fuzzy
caterpillars. His eyebrows move expressively when he speaks. Up and down, up
and down as he emphasizes the points he’s making. Up, he is sympathetic about
what I’m going through; down to tell me I have to apply myself. Up again when
he offers me make up work, down when he warns he can’t give me a pass on my
work forever.

            I try to
seem attentive, nodding and promising to do better but most of me is wondering
if it will ever have a chance to matter. Will I ever get back to a place where
my biggest problem is failing math? I can’t keep my eyes off the clock over the
door. Still there’s plenty of time before the swim team’s practice ends, so I
might as well make Mr. Maxwell happy.

Chapter 9: Relapse

The
swim complex is at the rear of the school, down a long hallway that’s my
favourite part of the new building. Tall windows line both sides, giving it a
warm and sunny feeling even in the depth of winter. There’s benches every few
feet so it’s a popular hangout spot, especially for the swim team.

            Today the
corridor is empty and hushed but it still has that sunlit, inviting feeling to
it. At the end of the hallway, double wooden doors swing into the observation
area for the pool. A small hallway breaks off to each side, leading to the male
and female change rooms. I make my way through to the stands breathing in the
cutting smell of chlorine. My inner alarm bell starts to ping softly in the
background. I slow warily, trying to pin down the out of place feeling that’s
creeping over me.

            The pool
lays before me, blue and still, too still. Where’s the swim team? I glance at
my watch; there should be about ten minutes of practice left. Maybe they
finished early? Holding still I listen for the sounds of laughter and chatting
that should be echoing back from the changing rooms. Silence. Finally I hear
footsteps near the pool. I pad down the short flight of stairs that connects the
stands to the pool deck. “Justin?”

            The wind
whistles near my head and then my head explodes with pain, my vision burst into
bright starbursts and my body rockets through the air, sailing straight into
the pool. “Guess again,” a cruelly cold voice snarls as I smack face down into
the water.

            I choke and
struggle, gasping in lungfuls of red water, gagging and vomiting it out, trying
to push to my feet. A second blow spins me in the water. The cool blue water
covers me, drowning me. I’m staring up through its shimmering ripples. A pole
stabs at me through the water, pinning me against the bottom like a butterfly
pinned into a sample box.

            Matt’s face
moves in sick swells, seen through the heaving water. I shove the pole away
from me and kick off with all my strength, breaking the surface and gulping
air.

            Matt laughs,
“I’ll say this for you; you
do
have fight in you. I was supposed to make
your death seem like an accident, but you’re so unreasonably difficult to kill
I think I’m just going to have to settle for murder.” He stabs toward me with
the skimming pole. I try to evade it but my reflexes are sluggish and I’m numb
all over. It strikes me in the shoulder, sending me reeling and dipping my head
under the water again. I hold my breath and try to kick away from Matt, into
the center of the pool.

            “Why?” I
gasp when I come back to the surface.

            “Why?” He
answers it thoughtfully, with a chilling calm. “Funny story, I wasn’t actually
going to kill you at first, not part of his plan. But then you sided with the
Ethereals and expelled me from my chosen body. Do you have any idea how much it
hurts
to be ripped out of a body?”

            I’m farther
away from him now but that means I have to tread water and it he might still be
able to reach me with the pole. Not as well, but even a little hit might kill
me now. The water around me is darkening to an inky purple as my blood mixes
into it. Judging by the large space of clouded water around me, I don’t have a
lot of time, either way. “No,” I stammer, “not why are you trying to kill me,
you’re evil, that’s what evil does. Why were you trying to make it look like an
accident? Seems like a lot of extra trouble to go to.” I stall, inwardly
calling to Ephraim, praying he can hear me even with a Numina close by.

            “Oh that,”
Matt says it casually, almost as an afterthought. “I agree, a lot of extra
trouble, you’re hardly worth it. Personally, I don’t care about keeping the bridge
between the worlds open. I’ve got myself a vibrant young human body. I can
feel
things now, really experience them. And do you want to know the first thing
I want to feel? Your lifeless corpse in my hands.”

            He stabs
the pole into the water before me, grazing my leg. Pain should stab through my
leg but I feel only a horrifying numbness. I’m cold and his words sound hushed
and cottony. He lunges again, but I’m losing consciousness so his movements look
like stop motion. I see him stretch himself, leaning way out over the pool, I
lose a second, then a weight is forcing me under the water.

            Everything is
blue and quiet and calm. And then I’m standing a little to the side of the pool
gazing down at my own body, watching the life drain away. The pool is painted
in swirling reds; it’s a gruesomely biblical scene. The body at the bottom of
the pool fights, eyes bulging, mouth gaping open, fingers clawing. It’s much
more violent than the last time I died.

            I turn away
from the scene, unwilling to watch those final moments of horror. Ephraim
appears before me, his eyes terrorized and desperate. “No Becks! You have to
stay! I can’t lose you. Please hold on. Please. Just fight another few seconds.
I’ve got help coming,” he pleads with me, trying to take my hands and hold me
to this life. His hands pass through mine, which have become as insubstantial
as whips of smoke.

            His voice is
so filled with pain that I try. I try to hold onto him, but the whiteness of
the ethereal realm grows around me until Ephraim is faint and distant. There’s
a bright light ahead of me, and I walk towards it. That’s what you’re supposed
to do when you die isn’t it?

            A burst of
energy knocks me back. Agony spreads through me. The numbing haze of the
ethereal plane burns away and I see it as I did with Ephraim. It’s endless and
I see everything simultaneously. There are legions of energy swirls that are
somehow both alive and elemental. Impressions of volcanoes, earthquakes, harsh
January nights and killing frosts batter at me.

            It takes a
second to process. Before me stands an army of Numina. They are shifting,
swirling, waiting…for what? And the answer chills me. They were waiting for me
to die. Somehow my death will open a way for these masses to swarm into my
world.

            “EPHRAIM!”
I scream. I tried to run back to him but it’s was like running through water.
Something heavy pulls at my legs, pulls me backward. My body, the pool,
everything streams away from me and before me, a great shining hole is opening.

            And then
out of the whiteness Ephraim’s hands touch mine and he pulls me into his arms,
tears running down his face. “Becks! This is the ethereal plane, not the
netherworld. How are you here, instead of the Netherworld?” He crushes me
against him, “Never mind, I have you.” I feel his body go rigid against mine
and guess what he’s seen. Still holding me he eases away from the throngs of
Numina.

            The
whiteness drifts away from us and we’re standing on the edge of the pool again.
Matt is still holding my body pinned against the bottom of the pool and
impossibly, I’m still fighting, still flailing. How much time has passed?

            “Hey!” An
angry voice shouts. Justin comes charging out of the changing room, “What are
you doing?” He slams into Matt, knocking him backward. The pole drops from his
hands, but my body is still on the bottom of the pool.

            Matt
recovers quickly and rolls into a crouch, ready to fight. He’s larger, stronger
and possessed by an evil spirit. Justin doesn’t stand a chance. “Help him,” I
urge Ephraim.

            Ephraim doesn’t
respond but another cry and another ring out as other members of the swim team
rush over to back Justin up. Matt curses, assessing the odds of the situation
and runs. A few of the boys turn and chased him, the others, disappear.

            Justin swings
around and dives into the pool. He covers the distance to me in that one long
dive, wrapping his arms around my body and kicking up to the surface. He heaves
us both out of the pool and starts CPR. I watch his arms pumping up and down on
my chest, watch him lower his mouth to mine, tilt my head back and breathe in.
It isn’t working. My body is still cold, blue and oozing blood. Also, I’m still
standing a few yards away from my body instead of looking up at him.

            He doesn’t
give up; he pumps and breaths, pumps and breaths. Suddenly I feel a tug and then
the world slides by me. I close my eyes and when I open them again I’m in
anguish. My lungs burn, my head throbs, I can’t breathe. Coughing, I vomit up
the water choking my lungs. Justin holds me, helps me tip my head to throw up.
“Becka,” he whispers. “Oh god Becka. I’m so sorry.”

            “Why does
everyone who saves my life apologize for it?” I manage feebly.

            He’s
crying, and shaking at the same time. “We have to get you to the hospital,” he
says urgently.

            “No!” I try
to make it forceful but another round of coughing shakes me. I’m trembling all
over cold, so extremely cold. My teeth start to chatter. Justin leaves my side,
dashing into the office and coming back with a large rescue blanket that he
wraps around my shoulders as he helps me sit up. My teeth are chattering so
badly, I can barely talk. “Not the hospital- can’t protect me- anyone could be
Numina- Ephraim can heal me- he’s my best chance.” I struggle to get out the
most important facts. If he brings me to the hospital I know I’m as good as
dead. Justin looks like he’s going to call an ambulance anyway so I add, “have
to trust me.”

            Either I’m
lighter than I thought or Justin is a lot stronger than he looks because he
scoops me up into his arms, blanket, soaking clothes and all. Held against his
chest, my head on his shoulder, I drop into a semi-conscious stupor. The
sensation of being carried goes on and on. A rush of chill air sends new
shivers running down my body, the cold sinking in deep.

            The next
thing I’m really aware of is a blast of warm air on my face and the vibrations
of a moving car.  Justin’s arms are no longer around me but I can hear his
voice talking to me steadily. I strain to tune in and make sense of what he’s
saying. “-It’s that or the hospital Becka.”

            “Emm-” I
groan, trying to focus my eyes on him. Are we in my car? “It’s what or the
hospital?” I ask groggily. The roaring pain in my head makes it hard to think.

            “You’re
awake! Good, now try and stay with me. We’re almost home, I’ll have you all
warm, and bandaged up in a wink.” His voice is falsely bright and cheerful,
which means that he’s scared witless but covering it for my sake. Too bad I know
him so well; I really could use some cheering up.

            He carries
me again into his house and up the stairs. This time the sensation of being
carried makes my stomach roll and the world spin in a terrible way. I’m
grateful for the stillness when he lays me down on his bed. Distantly, I know Justin’s
first aid skills are pretty advanced but it’s was one thing to see him perched
on a lifeguard tower and another thing to lie prone before him as the patient.
He runs his hands smoothly and carefully over my body. Most of it hurts, but my
injuries aren’t really life threatening or I’d be lying face down in the pool.  I
have a long gash down my leg, some bad bruising on my abdomen and a long but
shallow cut across the back of my head, and probably a concussion. It’s nothing
that a few bandages and Ephraim won’t be able to cure. At least I hope so,
because we don’t really have another choice.

            With
incredibly gentle fingers he wraps the cut on the back of my head, and then
rolls up my pant leg to fix another bandage in place. But even though I’m not
bleeding anymore I’m soaking wet and shivering. So I know the really
embarrassing part is coming next. I’m too weak and out of it to undress myself
so Justin quickly unbuttons my shirt. “Nothing to be embarrassed about,” he says
gruffly, “After all, I’ve seen you naked before.”

            “I was
three,” I groan, as he peels away the shirt that is plastered to my wet arms.
He has one of his own ready which he wraps around me right away, still the
fifteen seconds of wearing only a bra in front of him are enough to candy coat
me in red blush. Justin is also pink from the tops of his ears to the collar of
his shirt, so I’m not the only one painfully aware of how almost naked I am,
despite what he says.

            I draw the
line at letting him help me out of pants. It’s not easy, but I manage to
struggle out of my sodden and heavy pants on my own. Once I’m in an old pair of
Justin’s sweats and wrapped in his blanket, with my head bandaged up, I
actually feel almost human.

            He offers
me extra strength Tylenol and I gulp them down quickly. And then he lets me lay
down and dims the lights. He sits on the edge of the bed, sort of petting my
hair, and talking to me. Mostly I just hear the rumble of his voice. Maybe I
sleep, I’m not sure. Certainly, I drift in and out of awareness.

When
I wake again Justin isn’t beside me. A stab of fear punches into me. I bolt upright.
Pain shoots through me and my head spins, sending me breathless back against
the pillow. “Justin?” I call frantically.

            “I’m here.
I’m here Becka.” He says immediately from the doorway. Light spills in from the
doorway and I hear the clink of glasses and the sound of the television in the
background, his family is home. His hands are cool and steady against my skin
and I unconsciously lean into his touch.