Night Journey (10 page)

A young man wearing a dress shirt and slacks joined the growing throng and went straight toward Jimmy and Larry. Something about the hotel employees’ expressions worried Zan further and he strained to listen to their conversation.

“How the hell did she get in there? I thought you told me that door was nailed shut.”

“It was, Mr. Hutchison” Larry replied. “And painted over and caulked, too. Nobody’s opened it in a long, long time. Don’t got a clue how she did it.”

“She must have found one of Baker’s escape hatches.” Jimmy shook his head. “I thought that was all just legend.”

“I thought this whole floor, along with the penthouse, burned back in the late sixties,” said Hutchison. “Baker hasn’t been here since 1939.”

“That was the
south
penthouse that got destroyed.” Larry frowned and shook his head. “This room and the penthouse above us are just about all that’s left up here that didn’t have to be rebuilt.”

“Jimmy, you come in here all the time. Have you ever seen that door opened before?” asked Hutchison.

“No, sir.”

“I’m tellin’ you, Mr. Hutchison. There ain’t no way she did it on her own. She must’ve found some other way to get in. Sealed that place up myself twenty-four, maybe twenty-five years ago,” said Larry.

“With all the renovations that’ve been going on around here, how come nobody’s done anything about this? We can’t have guests getting hurt like this.” Hutchison appeared both worried and angry.

“I swear there warn’t no way she got in there from this room. Course, it’s sealed up from the topside too. Cain’t imagine how she did it. Like I said, closed it up tight years ago.”

Zan stopped his eavesdropping and interrupted the conversation. He stared at Larry and asked, “Couldn’t somebody else have found another opening somewhere and put her in there?”

“Oh no, sir. There ain’t no more openings. I’ve been here comin’ up twenty-six years. I know every inch of this ol’ hotel—explored just about every crawl space there is ‘cept that one,” Larry pointed to the door where the firefighters were laboring to rescue Emma.

“And why haven’t you been in that one?” asked Zan, a tingling sensation of dread coursing through his body.

“Well, I ain’t never told nobody ‘bout this before.” Larry hung his head before he continued. “I got a real bad feelin’ when I tried to go in there one time—and I seen somethin’ real scary.” His eyes were wide with fright. “I ‘member it had shiny blue eyes…just starin’ at me…” He shivered and shook his head. “If it hadn’t been for your missus in there I wouldn’t a stuck my head in there tonight—not fer a million bucks.”

“Good grief, Larry.” Hutchison pulled at his tie and wiped sweat from his brow. “What are you talking about? Don’t tell me you’re buying into this ghost crap?”

“It ain’t crap, Mr. Hutchison.” Larry straightened his posture and stared at the manager. “There’s all kinds a spirits hauntin’ this place. I ain’t afraid a none of ‘em, ‘cept whatever’s inside there. That’s why I boarded it up. It’s evil.”

Zan thought about the old woman in the billiards room. She must have been Theodora, come to warn him that Emma was in danger. There had been nothing sinister about her and he had reacted instinctively. He hadn’t really believed in ghosts, even after the champagne and ironing board incidents. But now apprehension consumed him.

“They got her loose!” someone yelled.

Zan turned his attention back to the rescue scene. His heart pounded as he watched the men pull Emma out of the wall. Her legs emerged first, then the blood stained tee shirt, and then her head. The paramedics cradled her neck carefully as they carried her out and placed her on a gurney.

“Emma!” Zan choked back a sob when he saw her. She looked so pale and lifeless and she was covered in blood. He rushed toward her, but a paramedic held up his hand.

“Please stand back, sir. We need room to work.”

Zan retreated, but craned his neck to see. Tears blinded him and he felt sick to his stomach. His emotions were a crazy mixture of hope and fear. He felt dazed as he stood by helplessly waiting to hear the diagnosis of her condition, yet terrified at what the answer might be. He strained to understand the jargon of the paramedics as they ran through their protocol.

“Is she breathing?”

“Yeah, but her BP’s low. We’ve gotta stop the bleeding.”

“She needs oxygen—intubate, but stabilize her neck.”

“Okay, her spine’s immobilized. Is she conscious?”

“No. Unresponsive… pupils are dilated…she’s going into shock…”

“Start a lactated Ringer’s I.V. …I’m gonna call for a chopper…we need to transport her stat.”

Zan listened to the exchange with growing trepidation. At least she was still alive. When they’d first pulled her out of the wall he hadn’t been so sure. There was still hope. Thank God Theodora had come to him when she did.

“Mr. Fuller, I need to talk to you.” One of the paramedics tapped him on the shoulder. “I believe your wife is stable now, but she’s still very critical. We’re going to transport her by CareFlight to Northwest General in Rogers. It’s too far to go by ambulance. They have an excellent trauma center there.”

“All right,” Zan replied. He felt numb. “Can I ride with her?”

“I’m afraid not. There’s not enough room and regulations prohibit it. I’m sorry.”

“How far is it?”

“About thirty-five miles. But the roads here are twisting and steep, so you need to be very careful.”

“We’ll drive you, son,” said Jonathan. He placed his hand gently on Zan’s shoulder. “She’ll be all right.”

“God, I hope so.” Zan’s shoulders slumped. He was so tired, yet he knew he’d never be able to rest until he knew Emma was going to be okay.

The crowd parted to allow the firefighters and paramedics to wheel Emma out of the room. Zan followed closely behind, heartsick by the sight of the IV and the oxygen tank and the blood stained shirt. They had a hard time getting her into the tiny elevator with all the paraphernalia attached. Zan made it down the stairs and into the lobby just as they were maneuvering her out.

Moments later he heard the
whoosh whoosh whoosh
of the helicopter. Dust and dirt flew in every direction as it hovered momentarily and then set down in the parking lot that had been cleared of all the cars. The paramedics wheeled Emma out on the gurney and lifted her into the aircraft. The door slammed shut; it lifted off, and disappeared into the black night.

“Here, you drive.” Jonathan tossed his keys to Allen. The family hurried toward the Lincoln Town Car and piled inside. Zan sat in the front seat beside his brother. Jonathan, Barbara, and Phoebe rode in the back. Moonbeam and the Chief followed in his truck.

The forty-five minute drive was the longest, most tense experience Zan could ever remember. A hollow emptiness washed over him when they passed the chapel in the woods where only a few hours ago they had all been so happy. He clenched his teeth and held onto the grab bar to steady himself as Allen weaved back and forth through the hairpin curves.

“You don’t need to kill us all, Allen,” Jonathan scolded. “Slow down a little.”

“Sorry, Dad.” Allen eased up on the accelerator and the car slowed.

Zan tensed. He knew his father was right. If they all ended up at the bottom of a ravine it wouldn’t help Emma. But all he wanted to do was hurry and get there. He set his jaw and stared out the window at the passing gloom.

The first thing Emma noticed was the smell. Her nostrils twitched at the odor of disinfectant mixed with blood and sweat. Then she heard people yelling and machines buzzing and doors banging. She opened her eyes and tried to focus. She blinked, wondering where she could be.

She appeared to be in a hospital, looking down from some high vantage point. She could see doctors and nurses frantically working to save some poor soul on a bed. She frowned at the sight of the blood and the tubes and the machines. Who could it be down there and why was she here watching?

A radio played her favorite Eagles song and she hummed along with the music while she watched the activity below. Her body seemed light, detached from the earth. Her feet didn’t touch the ground and she could move simply by thinking herself there. Emma glanced around the room, trying to remember—something. She couldn’t remember what she was trying to remember. She put her hand to her mouth and giggled at the ludicrous thought. On impulse she reached up and touched the light fixture. Now what was she doing on the ceiling?

“She’s coding!” someone shouted. Squiggly lines jumped erratically on the monitor and it beeped loudly.

“Crash cart. Stat!”

“Stand back!”

Emma watched in fascination as the nurse applied the paddles. The body on the table jerked in response to the electrical jolt.

“Again!”

She watched for a while, then lost interest and floated through the double doors when they opened. Two people wearing scrubs ran inside as she exited. Now she was in a long, sterile hallway. A janitor ambled by, pushing a mop bucket.

Emma felt like Peter Pan when she realized she could control her movements. Delighted by her new ability, she lightly touched down and began walking down the hall. Her feet and legs were bare and she felt the thin cotton of a hospital garment against her skin. But she wasn’t cold. Something dangled down her back and brushed against her legs. It must be a loose tie from the gown. She tried to reach around to grab it from behind, but it was just out of her grasp.

A heavy-set woman sat slouched behind a reception desk reading a magazine. The sign above her read
Emergency Room
. Emma walked toward her, but the woman didn’t even look up. An old man wearing a plaid shirt and dirty overalls snored loudly from his seat in the waiting room. A younger man sat beside him, staring bleary-eyed at a late-night infomercial on the television.

Emma heard footsteps clattering down the hallway and she turned around. A tingle of recognition coursed through her and she waited with anticipation. Somehow she knew it was Zan—and suddenly he was there. She watched him run toward the woman behind the desk, followed closely by his family and their friends.

“We’re here about Emma Fuller,” said Zan, his voice coming in short breaths, eyes wild with fear.

“Um—is she the one they brought in by CareFlight?”

“Yes.” Zan nodded. “Is she okay?”

“I’m not sure. I’ll call the nurse’s station.”

“Zan, I’m right here. Look at me.”
Emma walked toward him and stared into his face, but he looked right through her. They were all ignoring her. What was the matter with him? What was the matter with everybody?

“Okay…I’ll tell them.” The clerk frowned when she turned back to Zan. “They’re still working on her. She went into v-tach and they’re trying to resuscitate her now. I’m sorry I can’t tell you more.”

“Oh, my God!” Zan’s face paled and he sank into the nearest chair. Jonathan and Allen hugged him and he began to cry.

“Zan, I’m okay. Just look over here. Please…”
Emma tried, but she couldn’t move forward.

Powerless now, she felt herself moving backward and up, like being sucked into a vacuum cleaner. Her arms reached for Zan, but she continued on, swept into a dark, swirling vortex.

And at that moment she realized the truth.
So this is what happens when you die.
Emma didn’t understand why, but she wasn’t scared, only curious. At first she’d been startled when she began to rise so swiftly. But after a moment, the force became gentler and she relaxed, enjoying the new and wondrous sensations. Her head no longer hurt. She felt light, free, and marvelous.

Whatever propelled her didn’t seem dark or frightening. It was like riding on a giant Ferris wheel that never quite reached the top. She saw the hospital roof below and the twinkling lights of the city. The dark outline of the mountains against the horizon appeared smaller and smaller.

Emma watched in wonder, as the earth grew more distant. The lights from a jet pierced the night and she realized she must be very high in the sky. No need for oxygen or pressurized cabins anymore. Gazing up into the grandeur of the universe, she savored its peace and beauty.

Emma knew when she crossed into another layer of the atmosphere because she could see the lightness fade into darkness at the very edge of the planet. A derelict satellite, painted with a red hammer and sickle, wobbled in its orbit. She stared in amazement at the earth, so big and round and blue, swirling with oceans and clouds and continents.

Just ahead, another dazzling sight appeared. It began as a faint glow before transforming into green and red flames that swept majestically across the sky. A glowing curtain of light waved and swirled into a shimmering oval that seemed to cling to the earth below. Emma had seen the Aurora Borealis once from the ground, but nothing could compare with this awesome vision.

A strange looking object, like a huge robotic dragonfly under construction whizzed by. She wondered what it could be and then she remembered seeing magazine photos of the International Space Station—back when she was still alive. Journeying on, everything seemed to change and she realized she had entered outer space. No rocket—no space ship—nothing but her spirit hurtling through infinity.

Emma wondered how long it would take to reach her destination. At least she was going up, which was a good sign. She thought about Heaven and what it would be like. Would there be angels to guide her? Would she herself become an angel? The thought of what lay ahead filled her with exhilaration.

Emma floated past the moon and saw herself back in the hospital, lying on the emergency room table. A crowd of doctors and nurses worked frantically to save her battered body. She remembered seeing Zan in the waiting room, sobbing in despair. Never before had she seen him break down like that. An acute sense of loss washed over her.

Poor Zan. Guilt overcame her when she thought about how happy she felt to be on her way to Heaven, while she left her husband behind to deal with his sorrow alone. At least he was young and oh, so good-looking. He’d marry again and have the children he deserved. Emma sighed wistfully at the thought. She was grateful that their last words to each other had been
I love you
.

Her view changed and now she was at her gynecologist’s office. Her hands trembled and she shredded a tissue as she tried to make sense of the shadowy image on the sonogram. Zan sat beside her, nodding politely as the doctor discussed possible diagnoses and options. The doctor wrote up an order for tests and told her to see his secretary for an appointment—he had an opening first thing Monday morning. His nurse would help Emma pre-register for the hospital outpatient services. He instructed her to fill out all the forms today to avoid any delay.

Emma realized she had lived this before. Was this what was meant when they said you relived your whole life after you died? Visions of memories proceeded in reverse. Emma saw herself at home staring at the computer screen. A tingle of excitement pulsed through her soul when she saw Zan creep up from behind and nuzzle the back of her neck. She laughed and reached for his hand. Moments later they were making love on the futon.

Her life story continued to rewind, pausing now and then at significant milestones. Jonathan Fuller retired and Zan became the owner of the pharmacy. Emma quit her job and started her own computer consulting business. She and Zan bought a house and they had their first spat—over a wallpaper pattern. With her brother-in-law Allen’s help as her attorney, she settled with the airline over her family’s death.

Emma grew excited when her memories displayed the giant shining pyramid of the Luxor Hotel in Las Vegas, where she’d gone with Zan on a mad, crazy, spur-of-the-moment impulse. She’d heard somewhere that astronauts could see the beam of light from its obelisk all the way into space, but she guessed she had already traveled too far now. Earth was no longer visible.

She giggled when she saw Zan catch her as she lost her balance on the hotel’s
inclinator
. They were more than a little drunk by then. The flight attendant on the red eye from Dallas had been very generous with the alcohol when Zan told her they were on their way to Vegas to get married—which was news to Emma.

Tears formed in Emma’s eyes when she saw the view of The Strip from their pyramid room. The memory of Zan’s hands on her arms and his breath on the back of her neck as she stood at the sloping window was almost tactile. She turned to face him, ready to give him her body as well as her heart. But instead, he took her hand and pulled her toward the door.

Thirty minutes later, at four in the morning, they stood in line at the county clerk’s office applying for a marriage license. By then her buzz had worn off, but neither of them had come to their senses, or even wanted to. Marriage license in hand, they set off for the nearest wedding chapel.

Giddy with excitement and overflowing with love, they stood hand-in-hand at a cheesy little wedding chapel. They made their vows beneath a ceiling of draped gold lame’ fabric, in a room decorated with red velvet wingback chairs, gilt cherubs, and silk ferns, as Elvis serenaded from a scratchy-sounding speaker. Emma held a bouquet of plastic daisies and repeated the words
till death us do part
. She never thought it would come so soon.

The vision of her wedding faded away and she saw herself at Del Frisco’s in Dallas on her first date with Zan. Emma could almost taste the delicious Double Eagle strip steak, the sautéed mushrooms, and the Cabernet Sauvignon. Afterward, they’d gone to a club in Deep Ellum. They danced, and drank, and fell in love. She never dreamed they would be husband and wife less than six months later.

Now she was in the drugstore. She remembered how badly her head had ached that day; it took all her strength to drive from the doctor’s office with the prescription. Emma was under so much stress, still overcome with grief from the loss of her family.

At first Emma had gone to a big chain pharmacy, but the line was so long she decided to try a smaller place. Maybe she could get the prescription filled a little quicker there, she’d reasoned. She remembered it had taken her a few minutes to catch on to the good-looking pharmacist’s flirtation. She didn’t feel like laughing, but he was so cute and funny, she couldn’t help herself.

The happy memories faded into the darkest period of her life. She wished she could skip over this part, but whatever controlled these revelations refused her any leniency. She saw herself at the graveyard, alone in the world, staring sadly at three caskets draped with red roses. Next she was at home in her tiny apartment, numb with shock as the policeman explained about the plane crash.

Emma’s life continued its regression. She saw herself receiving her diploma at her college graduation. Now she was a freshman at UT Austin, standing nervously at a frat party, holding a warm bottle of beer and trying to shoo away a drunken jock determined to make out with her.

She smiled when she saw herself all dressed up for the high school prom, her hair permed into a huge mass of spiral curls. Emma cringed when she saw herself climb into the stretch limo with a group of friends. Her best friend’s date lit up a joint and passed it around.

Now she was sixteen. She’d just gotten her drivers license and her first car—an old Chevy Nova a year older than Emma. She felt grown up as she cruised the streets and drove to the Dairy Queen to show off to her friends. That’s where she saw Dylan, the boy she’d had a crush on all year. Emma sighed as she watched her young counterpart slide over to the passenger side. Her parents had specifically told her not to let anyone else drive—the insurance wouldn’t cover other kids—blah, blah, blah.