Beckoning Souls (A Psychological Thriller) (4 page)

Sticking my head under the rubble, I say, "Hey there. I'm Nathan with the fire department. Do you wanna come with me?" The probie can't fit with me, so he stays back. The girl is scared and resists at first. "I promise we'll get you out of here."

"Am I gonna die?" she asks, her eyes full of tears.

"No. We're here to help you."

I am able to convince her and pull her. Thankfully, the wall gives way and I don't need assistance in getting her. I sling her over my shoulder and she is heavier than she appears. The probie watches on and we finally hurry outside, getting her to an ambulance. The air is toxic and I'm not sure how long she has been exposed to it.

The paramedics take over and I watch on, hoping she'll be okay. At least she was talking. That's a plus.

"Lieutenant Gallagher, she's dead." One of the paramedic’s double checks pulse and places his stethoscope on her chest.

"What? Are you sure?"

"We usually can't call at the scene, but she's gone. Her neck is broken."

She's dead? How is that possible? I was just speaking with her. Stepping up into the ambulance, I straddle the gurney and begin CPR. I feel a hand on me, trying to pull me away, but with my adrenaline pumping, the low energy I was feeling is replaced by stamina I haven't felt in days.

"You're giving up too easy!" I begin chest compressions, but the girl is completely stiff under me, her eyes glassy as they stare up at me. The same eyes that were just now looking at me. 

I look down at the probie who is speaking with the captain, and I hear him say, "He was having a whole conversation. Captain, I could tell when we got in there that she was gone. The wall fell on top of her somehow. I guess when the building weakened from the fire. I'm not sure why he was talking to her."

The captain looks from the probie and up to me, his expression stern. Walking to the ambulance, he says, "Gallagher, get out of the back of the ambulance. She's gone."

I do a couple more compressions before I finally pull myself away. Stepping down, I see that the fire is contained. I'm at a loss for words. The looks on everyone's faces speak louder than anything.

The captain pulls me to the side, putting his arm on my shoulder. "Take the rest of the tour off, Gallagher."

I push away and rake my hand through my hair. "What?"

"You were talking to a dead girl, Lieutenant. Take the rest of the tour off. It happens to a lot of us. There's no shame in it. You just need a break. Clear your head some."

I can't believe what I'm hearing. With everything happening at home, and now this? Maybe I did need time off. Maybe my imagination is getting the best of me. I feel freaked out and I look away from my superior, trying to hide it.

"I'm fine, Captain."

"We'll cover your shift. Go home. Come back tomorrow refreshed."

There is no reason to argue with him. He is right, just like Rose was when she mentioned me freaking out in a fire. I don’t want to risk my men's lives. It is my pride that hurts the most. I've never had to leave a tour early for something like this. Never. How will my men view me now? How will I explain it when I do come back?

Most importantly - what the hell is going on in my head?

Chapter Four

When I get home, Rusty is on the couch watching some reality show and pigging out on a sandwich. I don't say anything to him as I walk through the door and throw my duffel bag down. It's only eleven in the morning and my tour was supposed to go until six this evening.

"Dad, everything okay?"

I haven’t even showered after the fire, and I'm sure I have soot all over my face. "Good. Fine."

Turning the TV off, he sits up and stares at me. It pisses me off, and I start for the stairs before he can interrogate me. I'm not quick enough.

"Why are you home early?"

Shit, if I tell him the truth, he's going to tell Rose and then I really won't hear the end of it. Quickly, I try to think up an excuse to tell him, but my fucked up mind can't do that for me. It can conjure up all of these images and have me talk to a dead girl, but I can't think up a simple excuse as to why I'm home early.

Looking over my shoulder, I shrug. "Decided to take some time off."

"Bad fire?" he asks.

Gripping the stair rail, I clench my jaw. "Damn it, Rusty! I just told you why I'm home. Leave it at that!"

I don't even bother to wait for my son's response. I go up the stairs, my muscles aching as I finally reach the landing. Walking in my room, I see Rose's scrubs, panties, and bra on the floor from yesterday evening. The lovemaking was great up until the damn razor-toothed woman decided to appear in our TV. With the way she's angry with me, it's likely I won't get to do that with her for a long time. And surprisingly, it doesn't upset me too bad. My sex drive is usually ramped up at all hours of the day, but now I don't even give it a second thought. What the hell? My libido is slowing down along with it all? I guess it doesn't matter. Rose won't want to touch me, especially when she finds out why I am home early. Shit, what a vicious circle this is becoming.

Stepping out of my pants, I pull my shirt over my head and turn the shower on full blast. Taking one long glance at myself in the mirror, I don't even recognize the Nathan staring back at me. Who is this man? Why is he so angry? And why all the sudden could he possibly qualify to be taken away to an insane asylum?

The mirror fogs up and I run my fingers through it, only clearing enough to show my eyes. They look cold and dead. They look like I could use a year of sleep. Pulling myself from the reflection, I step into the shower, feeling the hot water engulf me. The soot and sweat drip from me, circling the drain at my feet. Leaning against the cool tile, I close my eyes and allow my body to rest, even if it's just for a few minutes. It's the first moment of sanity I've felt in I don't know how long.

***

Rose

My shift at the hospital was brutal. The subway ride home is even more excruciating. It wouldn't be so bad if I could get the stuff with Nathan off of my mind. He's really worrying me, and when I get home around six, I'm surprised to see his truck in the driveway. He usually doesn't get home from a tour until six-thirty at the earliest. Hurrying through the front door, I see Rusty on the couch.

"Hey, son, everything okay? How was your day?"

He leans forward, his brow creased. I usually have a hard time getting him to talk about anything, so when he responds to my question this way, my heart sinks.

"Dad came home early today. I asked him why and he said he just wanted to take some time off."

Weird. Usually he at least texts me to tell me when he's doing that. "Where is your father right now?"

"I guess upstairs. He went up there when he got home and hasn't come down. He's pretty pissed off for some reason."

I walk behind the couch and tousle his hair. It's something I've done since he was little, and as a teenager he doesn't care for it near as much. It's a bad habit, but this time, he doesn't object to it. Instead, he watches me closely. "Thanks, Rusty. I'll start supper soon. I'm just gonna go check on him."

A pang of butterflies courses through me as I open the door to the bedroom. Nathan is burrowed in the bed, completely covered up aside from his foot hanging over the side. Stepping closer, I sit on the edge and pull the blankets back. He's sleeping hard. Usually he's a light sleeper and that would've woke him up, but he doesn't this time.

What is wrong with my husband? I fight back the emotion and run my hand through his thick, dark hair. His eyebrows move some and he responds to my touch. A low moan escapes his slightly parted lips and he says something I don't understand.

"Nathan." I don't say it loud. I've never had to to get him to wake up. Nothing. This is not normal. "Nathan!" I raise my voice a little louder and his eyes shoot open. His body stiffens and he lets out a gasp, pushing away from me. "Nathan, it's me, Rose!"

He grabs the blankets as if he's shielding himself from something. "Go away!" He's looking past me at the far corner of the room and I look in the same direction, but I don’t see anything.

"Nathan, what's wrong? It's me, Rose." I place my hand on his thigh and he finally starts to come to.

"Rose..." His voice is raspy and he rubs his temple, wincing. "I'm sorry."

"Were you dreaming?"

He nods and winces again. "Shit, I have a horrible headache."

"Rusty tells me you came home early."

"I did." He leans over and sifts through the far nightstand, pulling out a bottle of ibuprofen. He swallows the pills with no water. I've never understood how he can do that. Just the sight of it makes me gag.

"Why? What happened?"

Nathan shrugs. "Took some sick time. Figured I need to catch up on sleep."

He's lying. I've been married to this man for a long time. I've caught on to his quirks and things he does when he's not telling me the full truth. His eyebrow always arches and he can't look me in the eye, just like right now.

"Catch up on sleep? All you've been doing is sleeping!" I stand up and pace at the foot of the bed. I'm trying so hard to stay patient, but he's not making it very easy on me.

He rakes his hand through his hair - another indication that he's nervous about something. Looking up at me, he grits his teeth. "What the hell does it matter, Rose? I have the time saved up and that's what it's there for!" His voice raises and I'm certain Rusty can hear us. It wouldn't be the first fight he's heard between us.

I stop pacing and point at him. "Usually you text me to let me know. Why didn't you this time?"

Nathan lets out a sarcastic laugh and stands up, stepping toward me. "Since when do I have to report my every waking move to you, huh? Stop nagging me!"

Okay, I do sound like a nagging wife. "I'm sorry, Nathan. I'm really concerned about you, though. I wish you'd talk to me!"

He sits on the edge of the bed again, appearing exhausted just from that small bit of getting up. "I can't."

I grab his hand and kiss his palm. "Why?"

"You wouldn't understand, Rose." He looks like a little boy in trouble.

"Try me."

For a split second, I swear he's going to finally open up and tell me, but he hesitates. "I'm just needing rest. I'll be okay."

Damn, I wish that were true. I know it's not. My husband, though still very handsome, doesn't look the same to me. He's usually a happy go lucky type of guy, and suddenly he's high-strung and very argumentative. He usually makes peace and cheers me up. It all seems to be getting worse every day.

Standing up, I walk toward the door. "See that psychologist, Nick. Do something. I'm gonna go make dinner for your son. I hope you join us."

***

Nathan

Standing up, I walk to the window that overlooks our backyard. Fall is setting in, and the trees are turning orange and brown. Usually I love the fall foliage, but today, the sun is like a stake burning a hole right through my forehead. Rose is really pissed at me. I guess I can't blame her, but really, how will she react if I tell her what is happening? I can’t imagine how I'd feel if the tables were turned.

Despite the fact that she's angry and Rusty is looking at me like I should be in a straightjacket, I figure I need to make an appearance downstairs. Rose is cooking at the stove and he is still on the couch, watching TV. At least he's out of his room. Lately it's been hard to get him to come out. I walk slow - with each step, I feel like I'm running a marathon. I can't wait to get a full night's sleep again.

"Rose, I'm sorry. I hate that we've been fighting so much."

She doesn't turn around and continues to stir what looks like spaghetti sauce. Her shoulders tense up, which speaks louder than anything she could've thought to say to me.

"How was your day?" Small talk at its finest, but I can't stand the silence between us.

"Busy."

She stirs the pasta and grabs a colander from the cabinet, setting it in the sink. Walking to her, I grab it. "I'll hold it for you if you need to drain the spaghetti."

She doesn't look at me. Instead, she picks the pot up and pours the steaming water through it as I hoist it over the sink. The steam rises up and feels good on my skin. I can't stand how awkward it feels between us. She's my wife and suddenly we both feel like strangers.

"I'm trying, Rose."

Setting the pasta aside, she checks the sauce one more time. "Try harder, Nathan. What have you done to try?"

"I'm meaning I'm trying to talk to you. I don't want things to be short between us."

Rose arches her eyebrow and pulls the garlic toast from the oven. The scent is strong and makes my stomach growl, which is refreshing. I haven't had much of an appetite, but the food looks amazing as she prepares it.

"I told you where I stand. Until you get help, I'm not sure what else you want me to do."

The whole dinner is just as awkward. Rusty doesn't even look up from his plate, and though the food is good, I can't finish it. Setting my fork down, I push away from the table. I would explain my exit, but will either of them give a shit? Probably not, seeing as we've all said about five words to each other all evening. Just as I suspect, neither asks me where I'm going when I leave the kitchen. Walking up the stairs, I stop right before walking into my bedroom. The girl from this morning's fire is standing in the corner. She is facing away, but looks over her shoulder when she hears me. She is still covered in the ashes and soot, and I'm completely speechless. Was it my imagination messing with me again?

"I thought you said I wasn't gonna die." Her voice is weak and she turns away again before I can even think up a response.

Stammering on my words, I finally am able to find my voice. "I'm sorry. What do you want from me?" The question comes out harsher than I intend, and she looks hurt.

"You lied to me."

She turns and points her index finger at me, a scowl on her face as she gets closer. I notice that her feet aren't even touching the floor, she's just sort of gliding. Moving back, I scoot into the doorframe, unable to move. Sweat drips down into my eyes, stinging them.

"I didn't lie to you." Why the hell am I arguing with this girl? She isn't even really here, or is she?

"Nathan." Her eyes turn black and she's right next to me, face to face. "Nathan," she repeats, only her voice changes. Again, she says my name, only it's louder and sounds more like Rose. I feel a hand on my arm and I finally notice Rose at my side, yelling my name. "Nathan! What is going on?"

The room is now empty aside from Rose and me. The girl is gone with no sign that she was ever here. Swiping my hand across my face, I feel the moisture on my fingertips. I can't even catch my breath, so I sit on the edge of the bed and duck my head. What in the hell? I’m not dreaming. I'm very much awake.

"Nathan, are you okay?" Rose's tone is more of an accusation than concern and I feel anger course through me. She's looking at me like I'm a psycho.

Getting up, I walk to the other side of the room and throw my hand in the air. "Like you give a shit, Rose!"

"You were standing against the door all frozen. You looked terrified. I do care, Nathan! I do care!" She slams her hand against her chest. "And yet you're still not gonna tell me what the hell is going on, are you? You're still gonna tell me you're getting better and that whatever this is will pass, right?" She's yelling at the top of her lungs. So much for keeping Rusty out of it.

To hell with it. She's really wanting to know what's happening, so here goes nothing. "Okay, you asked for it, Rose." I take a deep breath to calm down. Lowering my voice, I continue, "I had to leave work this morning because apparently, I was talking to a dead girl. We went into this apartment and she was under some rubble. I crawl under with her and she's awake and asking me if she's gonna die. I get her out, take her to the medics, and they inform me she's been dead awhile and that her neck was broken." I stop myself. Laying it all out really is overwhelming, and the look on my wife's face isn't helpful.

"What?" Her voice shakes, but it's all she says as she waits for me to keep going.

"Yeah. The captain decides I'm not fit to stay on my tour so he sends me home. And guess what? That little scene you just saw, yeah, that was her again. She was right here in this room. She was asking me why I lied to her when I said she wasn't gonna die." I wait to see if Rose has any input, but she doesn't. "She's not the only thing I've been seeing. I see this scary-ass woman with razor teeth in the TV. And the voice, forget about it. It's enough to make a grown man shit his pants."