Last Breath (8 page)

As she walked, huddled deep inside her leather jacket for protection against a sudden cold wind that swept out of the thick, black woods on her right, she remembered that Sawyer hadn’t actually said, “I can’t go to the party at Nightmare Hall tonight.” He had said only, “I can’t see you tonight.” And then she hadn’t mentioned the party because she didn’t want to make him feel any worse than he already did about having to study.

And Ann’s note, she remembered, hadn’t said, “See you later at the party.” Ann’s words had been, “We’ll catch up with you later.” She hadn’t said where.

But someone, sometime during the week, must have mentioned, what night the party was taking place.

Yes, she remembered, they had. But each time, the actual date hadn’t been mentioned, only the vague phrase, “Friday night.” No one had said, “
next
Friday night.” Just “Friday.”

Because, she thought, scuffing her foot angrily, everyone took it for granted that any idiot who could read an invitation
knew
the party wasn’t this week.

Cassidy had never walked up the road alone at night. She’d never had to. She decided she didn’t like it. The wind from the woods made a harsh, eerie, whispering sound, tugging at her clothes and hair, stinging her cheeks. Campus suddenly seemed much further away than she’d anticipated when she began walking.

Headlights from a lone oncoming car illuminated the road briefly, then swept on past Cassidy. She was once again alone on a dark, deserted road.

She had been so absolutely certain about the date on that invitation.

What was
wrong
with her? This was so terrifying, seeing things that weren’t there, getting things all wrong. Not like her at all.

She was so lost in misery that she never heard the car until it was right there beside her, a huge hunk of metal so black it was almost invisible in the darkness. As it slowly, quietly, pulled up beside her, the right sideview mirror gently nudged her left elbow.

Even before she turned her head to look, she knew it was the TransAm.

She stopped walking.

The car stopped, too, but its engine continued to murmur.

A scream welled up inside her throat, but she swallowed it. What good would that do? There was no one around to hear it.

What did he
want
with her? And how had he known she was out here?

Cassidy glanced uncertainly around her. The car was blocking access to the road. Not that it would do her any good to run in that direction, anyway. If there were cars, she’d run the risk of being splattered all over the blacktop, and if there weren’t cars, dashing out onto the road wouldn’t accomplish anything except making her a better target for the TransAm. And running into the woods would be stupid without a flashlight.

She was safer right where she was, on the berm of the road. If she had to, she could always dive into the ditch on her right, between the road and the woods. Half-filled with cold, muddy water from recent rains, it looked unappetizing. But the car couldn’t follow her into the ditch.

One thing she was very sure of. She was
not
retreating to Nightmare Hall. The way they’d all looked at her when they realized she was there for a party…no way was she going to go running back there to say that an eerie, creepy car was stalking her.

The black lump of metal sat beside her, humming.

Murmuring.

Waiting.

It hadn’t been a good day for Cassidy. First the surprise test, then the party mix-up, not a good day at all. I am
not
in the mood for any stupid auto-pedestrian games, Cassidy decided, and in a sudden burst of temper, kicked out viciously at the TransAm’s right front tire. Her foot connected with a loud thunk.

She wasn’t prepared for what happened next.

The car’s horn bleated angrily in response to the blow. The engine roared, the wheels spun, spraying Cassidy with a shower of gravel before veering sharply to the right as if the car intended to drive straight across the water-filled ditch and into the woods. When the TransAm was positioned sideways on the berm, directly in front of Cassidy, the passenger’s door suddenly swung open, slamming into her.

The suddenness of the maneuver caught Cassidy off guard. As the door flew open, she caught only a glimpse of the face hidden beneath a floppy, cream-colored hood before she was struck in her midsection. She let out a soft, startled cry of surprise as the blow knocked her off her feet. She flew backward, landing full force on her back in the grass beside the berm, the breath knocked out of her.

She was too stunned to move as the door slammed shut, the TransAm shot backward, spun around, and with a triumphant blast of its horn, roared away, up the road toward campus.

C
ASSIDY LAY ON HER
back next to the ditch, her right hand immersed in the icy water, as if she had decided to soak it. She pulled it free and sat up, shaking her head to clear it as she wiped the hand dry on her pant leg.

What had just happened?

She remembered kicking the car’s tire and then…

Shuddering, she gingerly pulled herself to her feet, grateful that she hadn’t landed in the muddy ditch. Had he meant to send her flying into that cold, filthy water?

Why? Why would he do that? What was he doing out here in the first place? Looking for
her
? Why? And how could he have known she would be out here?

Her legs felt very shaky. But she realized very quickly that she had a bigger problem. Her breathing wasn’t stabilizing. Before she could stop it, the familiar cough rose up out of her chest and spilled out into the air, increasing in quantity and volume until her body was wracked with coughs. In minutes, the air filled with the harsh, wheezing sound of her tortured lungs. Ann, when she’d heard it, had called it in awe, “the agonized cries of a dying frog.”

Doubled over, struggling for breath, Cassidy fumbled in her purse. She had one terrible, agonizing moment of dread when she remembered that she had switched purses for the party but couldn’t remember whether or not she had switched her inhaler as well.

She had. An enormous sense of relief filled her as her fingers wound around the life-saving device. Gasping for breath, she yanked it from her purse, sending it directly to her mouth.

The epinephrine worked. She was still shaky from the blow to her midsection and the ensuing fall, but at least she was breathing again.

She wanted nothing more than to sink to the ground and sit on the grass for a while, until she felt one hundred percent again. But the TransAm was out there, somewhere, and could come back. Thoroughly frightened now of the black car and its unseen driver, she didn’t dare wait by the side of the road.

As she began walking again, the inhaler still in her hand, she spotted the lights of Burgers Etc., the long, silver diner across the road from campus. She could take refuge there. There would be people inside from school. Even if they weren’t people she knew, she’d wait and walk across the highway with them. The car wouldn’t attack her if she wasn’t alone.

She couldn’t run. Her chest still ached and she was sore all over from her encounter with the car. But she walked as fast as she could, and breathed a huge sigh of relief when she opened the door to the diner and hurried inside.

It was bright and cheerful, warm and welcoming, as always. But nearly deserted. Too early for a crowd. She slipped into a booth at the back, where she felt safe.

“You don’t look so good,” the waiter who brought her a glass of water said. “You okay?”

No, she wasn’t okay. Not at all. She was so scared, her insides were quaking. The car could come back, looking for her. “I’m okay,” she lied and ordered hot coffee.

She didn’t recognize any of the half dozen students in the diner. But she felt warm and safe and the coffee was delicious. No reason why she couldn’t just sit here and wait for someone she knew to come in. They would, eventually. It was Friday night. By that time, this ridiculous trembling might have stopped. And she might have stopped thinking that every ear pulling into the parking lot was a black TransAm with tinted window glass.

Three more people came in before the door swung open and someone she knew entered the diner. Someone she knew very well. Or
had
known very well.

Travis Loyola McVey.

He came in alone. Cassidy watched and waited for a few seconds, expecting Ann Ataska to be right behind him. But she wasn’t. Travis really was alone.

Her arm seemed to raise up into the air all by itself, as if it had a mind of its own. It was waving to Travis, signalling to him to join her.

When he saw the motion, which he clearly hadn’t expected, he glanced over his shoulder to see if there was someone behind him she might be waving to. There wasn’t. He hesitated, and then, shrugging, moved down the narrow aisle toward her booth.

They hadn’t been alone since their argument. They had, of course, seen each other. It wasn’t that big a campus, and Travis was in her psych class, on the dance committee, and in the Hike and Bike Club. But there had always been other people around.

He echoed the waiter’s statement as he slid into the seat. “You look kind of weird. How come you’re in here all alone? Where’s Duncan?”

“Sawyer had to study.” Cassidy hesitated, not knowing how much to tell him, if anything. If she told him about the car, which she really, desperately needed to tell someone, he’d ask her what she was doing walking alone on the highway, and then she’d have to tell him about the party-that-wasn’t. Too mortifying. Anyway, if she was going to tell anyone, it really should be Sawyer.

It should be.

But Sawyer wasn’t here. And Travis was.

“There’s this car…” she began.

When she had finished, Travis shook his head. Several dark curls fell across his forehead, and Cassidy had to clench her fists to keep from reaching out and brushing them back into place. “You’re not pulling my leg, are you?” he asked suspiciously.

She didn’t blame him. “No. I’m telling you the truth. Do you know anyone who has a car like that?”

He shook his head again. “Nope. Campus is full of late-model sports cars, but I’ve never noticed a black TransAm. And I think I would have.” He fell silent then, stirring his coffee absentmindedly, staring down at his cup.

Cassidy waited for him to say, “You know, you’ve been under a lot of stress lately. Maybe you imagined the car. If you’d eased up on your extracurricular activities like I told you to, this wouldn’t be happening.”

But he didn’t say any of that. Their conversation was awkward, both aware of underlying tension, but they talked about the upcoming dance, and the scheduled bike ride, and Travis didn’t once suggest that Cassidy’s imagination was overactive.

Ann did, though, when she, Sophie, and Talia arrived a few minutes later and squeezed in beside Travis and Cassidy. The look on Ann’s face when she saw the two sitting together didn’t escape Cassidy’s notice. Ann’s eyes narrowed and her mouth tightened, the way they did when someone in 56A borrowed one of her sweaters or blouses and tossed it on the floor after wearing it. “If you’re through with it,” she had said coolly more than once, picking up the garment and shaking out the wrinkles, “give it to me. I’ll take better care of it than that.”

She could easily, Cassidy thought as Ann slid in beside Travis, say the same thing to me about Travis.

Cassidy hadn’t intended to tell the others about the car, but before she could stop Travis, he’d told them, ending the story by asking if any of them knew who might own such a car.

They all shook their heads no.

And Ann said casually, “Weird that no one saw it happen.”

“There weren’t any cars on the road just then,” Cassidy said.

Ann nodded. “Um-hum. Cassidy, what on earth were you doing walking on the highway alone, anyway? Didn’t you have a date with Sawyer tonight?”

The question Cassidy had been dreading had arrived.

She might as well tell them. They’d hear about her ill-timed arrival at Nightmare Hall soon enough. She’d rather they heard it from her first.

Forcing a light laugh, she said, “You’re not going to believe this.” But she knew they would. Unfortunately, they would.

They did.

Sophie and Talia were sympathetic, tossing off the mistake lightly, as if they did the same kind of thing every day. Which they didn’t. Sophie was a procrastinator and Talia was a fitness nut, but they never got their days mixed up.

It was Ann’s reaction that set Cassidy’s teeth on edge. Ann put one hand on Travis’s arm and said, her words laced with disbelief, “I can’t believe you read that invitation wrong. I mean, the lettering was so
clear
. I remember thinking how professional it looked. Cath is very artistic.” Then she added with what sounded like genuine concern, “Cassidy, that medicine you take doesn’t cause hallucinations, does it? I mean, there are lots of medications that do. Dr. Bruin has mentioned some of them in class. Maybe epinephrine is one of them.”

Cassidy’s cheeks grew warm. “You don’t believe me about the car?”

“I believe that you saw a car. But no one in this booth has ever seen a car like that on campus, have we, guys?”

Sophie shook her head sadly, and Talia said, “I haven’t. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t one.”

“Thanks, Talia,” Cassidy said, sliding out of the booth, her movements stiff. “Now, if you guys don’t mind, I think I’ll just take my addlepated brain and trot on back to campus before I start seeing little green men marching toward this booth carrying tiny little trays. I see Torey Mullins up there. I’ll walk back with her.”

She had already started down the aisle when Travis called, “Wait! I’ll go with you.”

“Then we all will,” Ann said hastily, following Travis out of the booth.

“But I didn’t get to eat anything!’ Sophie complained. “I’m staying here. Talia, you’ll stay, right?”

Talia stayed.

When Travis and Ann caught up with Cassidy, Ann said, “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings, Cassidy. I didn’t mean to. You’re not mad, are you?”

Cassidy shook her head. How could she be mad? She hadn’t really expected anyone to believe her bizarre story about the car. It had amazed her that Travis had listened. And she wasn’t about to assume that he believed her, just because he’d listened. “No, Ann, it’s okay.”