Under Zenith (3 page)

Images of the
truck and my lifeless body flashed through my mind and I tried to block them out as I sat up slowly, taking in my surroundings and thinking that if I still appeared to be in North Carolina, then I probably wasn’t dead. After all, I didn’t see any clouds or angels with trumpets surrounding me, and unless I had been living in heaven all along, I was still in my hometown.

I couldn’t hear
the birds I had grown so accustomed to and the air felt oddly silent, but I definitely had more pressing matters to worry about and so, I ignored this little detail. The only thing I wanted to waste my already overloaded mental space on was what in the world had happened last night.

Crashing my truck was a memory I sadly couldn’t erase, this I knew. But what about seeing my own body in the driver’s seat? Had I been dreaming? Maybe Monica and I had decided to ‘celebrate’ after I got home last night and this whole thing was just some crazy dream.

Maybe I was having my own
Hangover
moment, and waking up in the middle of the woods was the end of the story and now I had to retrace my steps to find out what had really happened the night before.

As amusing as this possibility was, I knew it was the least likely scenario for what was going on. Instead of trying to imagine my life as a comedy
, I accepted the tragedy it was, stood up and brushed off my spotless white dress (that was suspiciously devoid of any traces of mud), and began walking through the woods.

I wasn’
t quite sure which way would lead me out of the forested area, but sitting around on my butt wasn’t going to get me anywhere so I continued to walk, taking in my surroundings and trying to let my hunting experience come back to me.

Daddy would have been proud that I’d retained anything he’d taught me while hunting, even if it wasn’t proving particularly useful at
that moment. At the thought of my family, however, I suddenly felt a pang of sadness. If I really had died last night, what would that mean for them? How would they be taking the news? Did they know yet?

This was something I didn’t think I was mentally prepared to face and so I continued to walk, keeping with the theory that I hadn’t died and I was just in some sort of bizarre dream or the victim of a night of partying.

My body still felt warm and tingly and glancing down at my hands I could see that something was very wrong.

Or very right, considering how great my skin looked.

I’m not talking, I-just-put-some-lotion-on
,
good. I’m talking, I’m-a-contestant-on-
The
-
Bachelor
-and-now-my-skin-shimmers-and-glows-like-a-sunrise, good. My skin was still as ridiculously pale as it had always been, but it had a healthy shimmer to it that almost made me look like I was radiating light from the inside out. I bet Monica would
really
think I looked like a ghost now. Skin
that
heavenly could only come from dying and going to the Other Side.

It was odd that of all the hints I’d gotten that I might, in fact, be dead, the one that really put the nail in the
(hopefully hypothetical) coffin for me was flawless skin.

I guess no matter how much Daddy tried to get it out of me
, I was still a girl at heart.

It felt
like a good two hours that I’d been walking when the sky began to go dark. The sun didn’t appear to be setting, but an odd fog had rolled in, dimming the brightness of my surroundings and making it even harder for me to find my way when I was already hopelessly lost.

Greenville had never really bee
n a particularly foggy place, especially not when the sky was completely clear and sunny only moments before, and I wondered if this sudden change in the weather was some sort of confirmation that I wasn’t where I thought I was. A light breeze began to blow and my wavy, icy-blond hair tickled my bare shoulders, making me shiver.

The world had quickly gone from a picturesque scene in the southern woods to something resembling
Sleepy Hollow
. The sudden change was unsettling to say the least.

I stopped my aimless walking, knowing I wasn’t really being productive by wandering around anyway, and rubbed the goose bumps on my arms.

Something was very wrong with this place. I knew I shouldn’t be all that scared of a beautiful forest, but when that beautiful forest mysteriously materializes after you’ve died, you’d be dumb to not be a little suspicious.

Plus
, something about the entire area just felt off. I couldn’t get rid of the nervous feeling in my stomach.

A twig snapped a few feet behind me
as I stood observing my surroundings and I instantly spun around, worried there might be some sort of wild animal following me.

The truth
however, was much more bizarre than a wild animal.

And much more attractive
, if I was being honest. I may have been lost and scared, but I wasn’t dead…well…hopefully.

“Who are you?” I asked the ridiculously good looking man standing behind me.

If I looked like a washed out, pale ghost, he looked like my exact opposite. His dark brown hair, blue eyes, tan skin, stubbly face, and black T-shirt and jeans resembled something from a 1950s ‘bad boys’ handbook and I was instantly wary, if not slightly intrigued by this man who had mysteriously appeared out of the fog.

He had a thick black fan of eyelashes lining his icy eyes and I wondered, not for the first time, why boys always had the most gorgeous eyelashes when girls had to work so hard at it. If I had his eyelashes I’d never wear eyeliner or mascara again.
Of course boys didn’t care at all about that sort of thing which made it even more unfair.

“I’m Hayden,” he answered in a thick British accent
, his voice impossibly deep.

Ok
ay, if I was dead and
this guy
was my reward for living a good life, I was completely fine with that. Accent and all.

Maybe he wasn’t all that good looking, if you weren’t into the whole chiseled jaw, sharp cheek bones, and full lips thing. But I could attest that I
was
a fan of those features.

“I’m Isla,” I answered with a stupid little smile.

I swear I wasn’t some weak-minded girl who fainted at the sight of an attractive man, but my mind had been slightly unraveled ever since the crash so I felt completely justified in the embarrassing little giggle I involuntarily let out.

“Yeah
, I’m not an idiot, I know who you are,” he replied, lifting his lip into a half sneer and instantly making me take back my thought that he was a ‘reward’ for my tragic and untimely death.

“Oh,” w
as all I could think of to say.

What were you supposed to say when you were lost, possibly dead, and in the company of someone who wasn’t turning out to be as gentlemanly as those Bri
tish actors would lead you to believe?

Thanks a lot
, Hugh Grant.

“Well come on, we don’t have all day now do we?” he asked rhetorically, not waiting for my response as he passed by me, leading the way to who knew where.

“I’m sorry, but who are you?” I asked again.

“Hay-den,” he said slowly, sounding his name out for me as if I might be
dense, and not bothering to turn around or relax his pace.

“I’m not asking your name,” I said, letting my indignation take control. Just because I was dead didn’t mean this guy was allowed to be condescending to me.
My daddy would have had a thing or two to say about his manners right at that moment. “I’m asking
who
you are. There’s a difference.”

“I don’t know if it’s the accent or the brain trauma
, but something tells me you’re not quick on the uptake, are you?” he asked me, managing to insult me yet again.

“Hey!” I yelled, grabbing him by the arm and spinning him around to face me.
“Just because I talk slow doesn’t mean I’m an idiot,” I informed him, wishing I didn’t have such a thick Southern accent at that moment. It was apparently not garnering any brownie points with this man and his ‘sophisticated’ British accent. “Now tell me who you are or I’m not walking another step.”

I crossed my arm
s over my chest and stuck out my chin defiantly. My family hadn’t raised a push-over.

The man let out a deep, long-suffering sigh and I could practically see the will power it took for him to keep from rolling his eyes at me.

“All right, little girl,” he began, though he couldn’t have been older than 27. Not really fair grounds for him to call me ‘little’ at age 21. “I’m your Guide, we only have a few hours to find your first task, and if we want to make
any
progress today we need to move now.”

With that sad excuse for an explanation he turned away from me and continued his tromp through the foggy woods, leaving me to jog in an attempt to catch up to his long strides.
I couldn’t believe I had thought he was attractive. All it took was him opening his mouth once to instantly shoot down that idea.

“You’re my G
uide?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he replied over his shoulder, never once looking back or slowing his pace.

“And what exactly does that mean?”

“It means I guide you,” he said in exasperation.

“I know you think I’m an idiot because I don’t understand what’s going on right now, but you’re doing a horrible job of explaining things to me so really, this is your fault,” I said stubbornly, angry at this man who obviously thought he was so much better than me.

My insult got his attention pretty fast. He stopped suddenly and turned to face me once more, causing me to crash right into his chest with the sudden unexpected movement.
I stumbled backward a few paces, but quickly regained my footing, feeling like I didn’t want to look weak or clumsy in front of this pompous jerk.

“Ok
ay, listen, because I’m only going to explain this once. I’m your Guide. You’re stuck here until you get to your Destination, but the only way to do that, is to accomplish a series of tasks. I’ll lead you to the tasks, tell you what you need to do, and wait for you to complete them. You’ll have one per cycle and once you’ve completed them all, you’ll reach your Destination and I can get rid of you. Got it?” he asked, his voice deep and menacing.

Oh yeah, he was definitely trying to play up the whole ‘bad boy’ approach. Luckily I could see right through his gruff exterior. I was a Southern woman after all. I wasn’t scared of some dainty British man.

“Now you listen to me,” I began, my voice firm as I raised a finger up to his face. “I want answers right this second and if you don’t give them to me, I’ll just sit here and let you fail as my Guide. I don’t know who you work for, but I’m sure failing doesn’t look good no matter who your boss is,” I said, finally lowering my finger and giving him my best glare.

I wasn’t trying to brag or anything
, but I had inherited my Mama’s glare and it was pretty intimidating.

“Well I can tell you’re going to be a handful
, aren’t you?” he asked, sighing again, but not turning around and stomping away like I had expected him to. I guess we were making some progress. “What do you want to know, princess?”

I ignored the insult in favor of getting the answers I wanted.

“Am I dead?” I asked, starting with the most pressing matter.

“I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “Next question.”

“What do you mean, ‘you don’t know’? How do you not know something like that if you’re my Guide?”

“You don’t even know what a Guide is
, so don’t start making up a job description for me based on your own irrational fears about what’s happening here.”

“I just want to know if I’m dead
or not,” I practically shouted, fed up with this man already.

“I. Don’t. Know,” he said again, emphasizing each word. “You could be dead, you could be in a coma. Heck you could be dreaming. All I know is that I need to get you to your Destination so you can move on.”

“Move on? To Heaven or something?”

“I’m not sure
how many times I can tell you ‘I don’t know’ until it finally sinks in,” he said, rubbing his temples in frustration.

“So I might not be dead?”

“I’m really beginning to hope you are,” he answered.

“You take that back right now
, mister,” I said indignantly. “Just because you think you’re all superior to me, doesn’t mean you get to be rude.”

Hayden was silent for a moment, his dark brooding eyes studying me before he actually let out a small, short lived laugh that died almost the moment it escaped his lips.

“Okay, fine. I’m sorry I said I wished you were dead. Now do you have any other pointless questions for me or can we get on with things?”

“Can I ask you questions while we walk?” I proposed, still not ready to just blindly follow this person I didn’t know. I wasn’t a complete idiot.

“I’d rather you didn’t,” he replied, glancing at me over his shoulder as he, once again, began his trek. “But somehow I get the feeling there’ll be no shutting you up no matter what I say.”