Glimpse (8 page)

“That better be orange juice and not a urine sample,” Colin said, grimacing at his feet.

The copy of the
Gazette
had landed partially open, and as I turned to pick it up, I froze. There was an article on page two that caught my attention. I could only see half of it, but what I saw was enough. With shaking hands, I reached out and opened the paper completely.

“What is it, Dean?” Colin was by my side in a flash.

I pointed to the article.

Colin read the title aloud. “Pile-Up on Highway 1 Claims Three Lives.”

“That's awful,” Lisa said.

“It's n… not the article,” I choked. Beneath the headline were the pictures of the three victims. The woman I'd seen screaming in the foyer and the overweight man who had freaked me out in the kitchen were among them. Seeing the photos made my stomach drop—the man and woman looked so happy and normal—not at all the way I had seen them in my hallucinations.

My mind struggled to make sense of it all. I didn't recognize the faces from anywhere other than my crazy visions. “Those are the two people I saw first.”

“What? Who?” Colin asked.

I tapped the two pictures.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Completely. I'd never forget those faces.”

“They're dead,” Lisa stated the obvious. “You're seeing hallucinations of people who are… dead. Or going to die.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “Is that even possible?”

Collin grabbed the paper and flipped through it until he found the page he was looking for. He slapped it down. “Did you see any of these people?”

He had opened the page to the Obituaries section. A dozen or so people who had died over the last few days stared back at me from their photographs.

“No. None of them.”

“What about the first people you saw?” Collin added. “Do you recognize them? Know them from anywhere?”

“No.”

Colin turned back to the article about the accident and gave it a quick read. “You're definitely sure you've never met these people?”

“Yeah, I'm sure, Colin. I've never met them.”

“Maybe just in passing, Dean,” Lisa urged. “Think about it.”

“I'm telling you. I've never seen them before. Not recently, that's for sure. After the mugging, I went straight home… no, wait! Gadget Emporium!”

“What?” Colin asked.

“I stopped at Gadget Emporium. Remember? I told you, that's where all my bruises came from. It was the grand opening. There were hundreds of people there. I was trampled by at least half of them. They could've been there.”

Lisa chewed her lip for a second and then said, “What if these hallucinations are really… visions?”

“
Dean
.”

All three of us jumped and looked down at the newspaper. For a second I think we all thought that one of the faces in the newspaper had said my name, and it wasn't until we heard it again that we realized it was coming from the top of the bed.

“Mr. V… Vidmar?”

The man's swollen eyes fluttered, then opened and searched around the room. He coughed and pointed at me. “Dean Curse?”

“Y… yes, sir.”

His eyes drooped and opened again. He seemed to be struggling to stay awake. “You c… came. I kn… knew you vud.” He struggled to speak, and I had to really concentrate to understand him through his thick Russian accent.

I stepped closer to the bed, and the man strained to shift his weight.

“Sir, we just wanted to come—”

“I'm s… sorry,” the man rasped.

“Sorry?” I said. I wondered if we should call a doctor or nurse—he sounded almost out of breath.

He glanced at my friends and then back to me. “I'm sorry, Dean. I h… had to give it t… to someone. I th… thought I was dying. I couldn't let it die with me.”

“You're going to be fine,” I said. “Just hang in—”

“You had to give him what?” Colin interrupted. “What couldn't die with you?”

“Dmitri… ask Dmitri about Pripyat.”

“Preewhat?” I asked. “Who?”

The machines at his bedside started beeping faster until they sounded like a group of panicking robots.

“What'd you have to give to Dean?” Colin pressed.

“Colin,” Lisa scolded. “Stop. We need to call a nurse.”

“What are these kids doing in here?”

I spun around as three people—a woman in a white knee-length lab coat who I figured was a doctor and a man and woman in faded blue scrubs—strode into the room. “We were just—”

“Are you family?” the doctor asked.

“N… no.”

“Nurse! Get these kids out of here.”

A different nurse than the one we'd met rushed into the room and placed her hands on Colin's shoulders. “C'mon, you three. You can visit again tomorrow. He needs his rest.”

“Wait,” Colin demanded, “we still have questions.”

“Check his oh-two stats,” one of the doctors said.

The man in scrubs went to the head of the bed and pressed his stethoscope to Mr. Vidmar's chest. “Sir,” she said, “I just need you to relax and take a couple deep breaths.”

Mr. Vidmar barked something in Russian and then craned his neck around the doctor. “Save them, Dean,” he said, his voice stern and even. “Save as many as you can.”

The doctor pressed Mr. Vidmar back into the bed. “I need you to lay down, sir.”

I wanted to ask more questions, but the nurse grabbed my wrist and pulled me out of the room. “You three certainly managed to get Mr. Vidmar excited,” she said. “But you heard the doctor—he needs his rest. I'm afraid that at least for the time being, Mr. Vidmar will only be able to have visits from family. Perhaps in a few weeks you could try again.” She rushed back into the room and swung the door behind her. It latched shut in our faces with a heavy
click
.

 

We lingered outside Mr. Vidmar's room for a few minutes, hoping the doctors would come out and tell us we could see him again. They didn't.

“Well, that was a big waste of time,” Colin said, pacing the width of the hall. “We didn't get any of the answers we wanted to get.”

“That was awful,” Lisa muttered. “That poor man.”

Colin looked at me. “Who's Dmitri?”

I shook my head and turned away. All I could think about were Mr. Vidmar's words.

“What did he mean when he said ‘
Save them all
'? Do you think he was telling you to save Mrs. Farnsworthy?” Lisa asked.

“I was thinking the same thing,” Colin said.

“Why?” I said. “What could I possibly do? She's here now. Doctors are treating her.”

Colin stopped pacing and shook his finger at me. “What did he mean he had to give it to you and that he couldn't let it die with him?” He paused for a second and then said, “I still think it could be a curse.”

Lisa shook her head. “Are you still on that? Curses don't exist, and even if they did, why would he curse Dean? Dean saved him. You don't curse heroes.”

“So maybe it's not a curse and it's something that seems like a curse,” Colin defended. “Maybe it is some kind of superpower but Dean just doesn't know how to control it.”

“If feels more like a curse,” I said.

“It's not a curse,” Lisa said.

Colin muttered, “It's
like
a curse.”

Lisa pointed at Mr. Vidmar's door. “Well, he's the only one who can tell us what's going on. Let's not jump to conclusions until we actually speak to him. Maybe when things calm down a bit the nurses will change their minds and let us see him again—at least for long enough to find out who this Dmitri guy is." She peered through the small window in the door leading to Mr. Vidmar's room. “Poor man.”

I suddenly wanted to be anywhere but here. Everything was just getting to be too much. “We should go.”

“You don't think we should wait around?” Lisa looked through the window again. “Make sure Mr. Vidmar's okay?”

I turned and headed toward the elevator. “I can't. You two stay. I need some fresh air. I'll be back.” But by the time I reached the elevator, Lisa was next to me, and Colin came running in just as the doors were about to close.

“We should stick together,” Colin said. “If you see anything else, we should be nearby.”

“Besides,” Lisa added, “I could use some fresh air too. This is all a bit… overwhelming.”

The main entrance was still flooded with distraught family members and media people who couldn't fit in the emergency room. A woman wearing a Global TV windbreaker stepped into our path and pointed a microphone at my chest. “Hey, I recognize you. You're that kid who played hero the other day.” A bright light shone in my face. My fight-or-flight reflex kicked in, and I chose flight. I dodged to the left, ducked around a couple of other people, and pushed through the front door. Lisa was only a few paces behind me, but Colin was nowhere to be seen. I didn't stop, even though my heart was railing against my ribs and my stomach was ready to hurl out my breakfast. I ran past the news vans and made it halfway through the long-term parking lot before I stopped.

I laced my fingers behind my head and looked up at the sky. I could hear Lisa huffing for breath beside me. I turned back to the hospital and saw Colin walking calmly out of the main doors. He started jogging in our direction when he saw us.

“It's going to be okay,” Lisa said to me. “We're all a bit freaked out right now.”

“Oh, really?” I snapped. “You're freaked out? Are you hallucinating people screaming like they are going to die, only to find out that they actually
are
about to die?”

“Dean, we don't know that they're… that they're all dead,” Lisa said.

“A… actually we… do,” Colin huffed.

Lisa and I both turned.

“Well?” Lisa snapped, sounding as anxious as I felt.

“R… right, sorry.” He stood up and heaved a couple big breaths. “That news chick, she wanted to know if we'd been at the school during the blast. I told her we had, and then she wanted to know how I felt about the accident and about… Mrs. Farnsworthy's death.”

I blanched. “She's dead?”

“That's only half of it, Dean.”

I looked up at Colin. “Half?”

“I saw Scott from my English class in there. He told me he heard that Mrs. F died in the ambulance.”

“She did?” Lisa paled.

Lisa and Colin looked at each other as if they knew something I didn't. “So what?” I said. “What difference does that make?”

“If Mrs. F died in the ambulance,” Colin said, “that means she died just a few minutes after the start of first period. And you had the first two hallucinations—” He stopped and shook his head. “No, not hallucinations—visions. You had your first two on Friday, but the paper said the crash happened on Saturday.”

“Spit it out, Colin,” I blurted. “What are you getting at?”

“Your visions,” Colin said. “Your visions happened twenty-four hours before each death.” He tapped his watch again. “I bet it was exactly twenty-four hours.”

“That's ridiculous.” Even as the words left my lips, I knew it wasn't. How could anything be ridiculous anymore? People I thought I had hallucinated were dead.

“Maybe,” Colin said. “But maybe not.” He paused for a second before adding, “Oh, and people were saying that there's no school tomorrow—maybe not for a few days.” He smiled weakly, as though he hoped this good news would somehow offset the bad.

“We need to go.” Lisa's voice was filled with fear.

“I thought you wanted to stay,” I said, fighting to keep my voice from shaking. “See how Mr. Vidmar makes out?”

“We don't have time. We need to get to your house now.”

“It's not even one o'clock yet,” Colin said. “Dean told his mom we wouldn't be home until dinner.”

“I'm not worried about that.” Lisa looked at me as though there were something obvious I was missing.

Colin's eyes widened. “Your neighbor!”

I had hoped that the vision of Mr. Utlet screaming at my bedside had been a dream, but as I looked at Lisa's terrified expression, reality sank in and I considered the possibility that what I was seeing—these horrible images—were real. Mr. Vidmar's words suddenly made sense: “
Save them. Save as many as you can.
”

The bus stop was on the other side of the hospital, and we didn't stop running until we got there. On the bus, we claimed the back bench and discussed all the ways we could protect Mr. Utlet. We decided we'd get to Mr. Utlet's house and make sure he couldn't go anywhere. His house was probably the safest place for him, and we could watch it from my room until everyone was asleep, then sneak out and make sure nothing bad happened during the night.

Four visions and three deaths, I thought. Mr. Utlet wasn't going to be the fourth. I couldn't let that happen. I just couldn't.

 

Mr. Utlet had the nicest lawn on the block. I made money cutting lawns one summer, and Mr. Utlet had hired me to cut his. When I was done, the old man used a ruler to make sure the blades were the same length, and then when he realized they weren't, he made me go over the whole thing again. I never offered to cut his lawn again.

“Get off my lawn!” Mr. Utlet shouted as he stormed out the back of his house, pumping his fist in the air.

Colin had ducked around the front of the house so he could let the air out of the tires on the old man's Buick. Lisa and I were supposed to distract him. That part was easy: all we had to do was stand on his grass.

“Are you deaf, or what?” Mr. Utlet growled.

“Hi, Mr. Utlet,” Lisa said. She flashed an oversized smile, and Mr. Utlet cringed in response. “We just wanted to stop by and see how you were feeling.”