Wraith (31 page)

My chuckle was bittersweet.
Tell me about it.

"But I can't find an address for him after his
mother died. I can't find any hits on him after that."

"He went into foster care," I explained.

Tara was quiet a moment. "That explains it. But
we should still be able to find him in the accident reports. The thing is,
Kali, I need my mom for that, and I can't ask her for a couple hours yet. Not just
anyone has the right kind of access; I think she does, but I'm not sure.
Especially if it happened out of state. I was hoping there would be an online
news story about the accident that listed his name, but I couldn't find one.
Are you sure he was over eighteen when it happened?"

"Positive."

"Then if there was an article, it didn't
identify him," she pronounced. "Probably because there was a delay in
notifying next of kin."

Which of course there would have been. A long delay.

"I might be able to find it anyway if we had
the general location," she continued. "Can't you ask whoever told you
about the accident? And you must know the date. Was it yesterday? The day
before?"

My shoulders sagged. I had been kidding myself. Even
if I hadn't made that promise to Zane, there was no possible way I could get to
him now without sacrificing my darkest secret. It was a miracle my mother had
let me go with only the agreement of more explanation later; Tara would be even
harder to put off. If I expected her to find out what hospital he was in, she
would have to know—or would inevitably find out—the date of the crash. And she
would know that Zane couldn't possibly have been with me in Oahu.

I faced the same problem with her as with my mother.
If I freaked her out to the point where she really thought I was losing it, she
would stop legitimately searching for Zane. I couldn't let that happen. For
now, I had to avoid the whole truth… however I could.

"Listen, Tara," I said firmly. "I
know that this won't make any sense to you, and I'm sorry. I can't explain
until I get home. But the accident didn't happen yesterday. I'm thinking it
happened about a week ago, but it could have been longer."

"A
week
—"

"I know Kylee told you I met him here," I
insisted. "In a way I did. But the accident happened before I left
Cheyenne, and… the person who told me about it is someone I can't contact
anymore. They didn't give me a location. But they did describe the accident, a
little bit…"

In halting phrases, I told her everything I could
remember of Zane's description of the crash. She didn't utter a word, and
finally I stopped talking and listened to the stony silence on the other end
with a steadily increasing fear.

"Tara? Are you still there?"

"In theory," she said dryly. There was
another long pause. "Kali, will you answer two questions for me? No, wait…
make that three."

I swallowed. "I'll try."

"This guy is real, right? I mean, I can see
online that he exists, so I guess I can assume that—"

"He's real."

"And you have actually met him… at some point?
You haven't gone loopy over a poster in some surfing magazine—"

"No, I swear. I…" My voice broke. "I
know him really well."

"Are you in love with him?"

The question stopped my breath in its tracks. I
started to think about it. Then I decided not to.

"Yes," I answered.

I heard nothing for a moment. Then Tara exhaled
loudly. "Apparently, I am as insane as you are, Kali. I'll talk to my
mother as soon as I can. Call me back when you get to Denver and I'll tell you
what I know."

"It will be in the middle of—"

"Yeah, I know. You can wake me up. What else
have I got to do? Sheesh."

I love you, too.

My eyes clouded over again just as the gate agent
announced the flight was boarding. I mumbled some unintelligible, sob-choked
words of gratitude, grabbed my bag and my ticket, and headed for the jetway.

I was out on the waves, floating on a surfboard. The
sun was warm, and I wasn't scared of the water. I just couldn't remember how I
had gotten here. The waves were tall, wide swells, but my board lifted me up
and over them as if it were rocking a baby. Out to sea, a humpback emerged,
twisting its massive frame in a half spin and splashing back down into the
water. The beach was a long way away, but I could see that there were people on
it, strolling and playing in the sand. Palm trees swayed in the breeze. Sharp
green mountain peaks stood tall on the distant horizon.

I heard a noise near me on the ocean, and turned. It
was the loud, obnoxious motor of a jet ski. I frowned and would have yelled for
it to stay away, but I knew the driver couldn't hear me. He kept coming closer,
spraying unnatural plumes of water to either side, oblivious to my proximity.
He was within ten yards when he suddenly killed the engine and stared at me,
his face shining with glee.

It was the old man from the convalescent home. He
was still wearing his hospital gown, but the back was only half tied, and the
wind whipped it up so that he mooned half the beach. He looked at me and
cackled with laughter. "Are you still here?" he mocked. "You'll
never get anywhere on that thing. I told you, honey, you're too damn slow.
Sun's going down now. It'll be too late for him."

The man tossed his head in the direction of the
beach, and my eyes followed with apprehension. The people on the beach had
stopped moving. They were gathered in a circle, looking down at something on
the ground. The warmth of the sun was gone. Both sky and water were gray. The
winds picked up. I shivered.

"Just paddle, idiot!" the old man ordered.
"It's the only shot you've got!" I looked back at him, and saw that
he was no longer on a jet ski but was balanced precariously on a regular
shortboard, which was cutting through the waves and out into open water
propelled by no visible force. "Gonna die if you don't!" he shouted,
his speed only increasing as he streaked out of sight.

I looked frantically back toward the beach. The
crowd of people obligingly parted, leaving me a clear view of someone else in a
hospital gown. It was Zane, pale and thin, lying flat on his back on the wet
sand.

Motionless.

"No!" I paddled my arms in the water and
kicked my legs, trying desperately to move the awkward board in the water. The
waves should have helped me—they should have pushed me toward shore—but all
they seemed to do was suck me backward. I flailed like a mad woman, but could
get no closer. A white van drove toward the crowd on the beach; some medical
types jumped out.

I ditched the unhelpful board and plunged headlong
into the water. I could see fish swimming beneath me, and I wasn't afraid. I
could swim as well as anyone. I freestyled like an Olympian, and the beach drew
closer. A shark fin rose out of the water beside me, and I smacked at it and
told it to go away. I was getting to the beach, dammit, and nothing was going
to stop me.

My feet hit sand. I stood up. I started walking.

The men from the truck had reached Zane. They
stretched out a white sheet. They pulled it over his head.

"NO!!!"

"Take it easy!" a man's voice beside me
bellowed.

My eyes flew open.

I was on a plane.

"I'm sorry," I apologized, realizing that
in jolting awake, I had inadvertently knocked the middle-seat man's laptop into
the aisle-seat woman's lap. "I didn't… I'm sorry."

I curled back into a ball within my window-seat
sanctuary and tried to calm my pounding heart. The nightmare shouldn't be
surprising. It was more surprising that I had slept at all, even given the
antihistamine I had popped upon boarding seven hours ago. But I was glad that I
did. I would need to be alert—and stay alert—very soon.

The pilot announced our descent into Denver, and my
legs itched to move, to run. I knew the dream meant nothing. I might be
"gifted" at seeing dead people, but my dreams had never been
prophetic.

Regardless, the closing image replayed itself
mercilessly before my eyes.

It'll be too late for him.

No,
I fought back stubbornly. It will
not.

The plane landed in the dead of night with stray
snowflakes melting against the windows, and before the flight attendant could
finish her announcement about electronic devices I had Tara on the other end of
the line.
"Did you find him?" I begged.

I had no plan. I knew that I needed to get back to
Cheyenne, to the family's spare car, and to the cash I had accumulated from
years of babysitting and two summers working the snack shack at the community
pool. If Zane were anywhere within a three-state radius of Wyoming I would
drive until I found him. But if he were still out East…

"I have some good news, Kali," Tara said
smoothly.

My heart filled near to bursting. "Is he
alive?"

"I…" Her pause was maddening. "I
can't tell you that for sure. I'm sorry. But I don't know otherwise, either. My
mother found an accident report, and it fits your description exactly."

I couldn't breathe.

"It's good news," she repeated mercifully.
"He's not that far. The accident happened on Interstate 80, smack dab in
the middle of Nebraska. Near a town called Lexington. I don't have confirmation
on the hospital, but my mother says he'd almost certainly be taken to the ER in
Kearney. That's the nearest level II trauma center."

I let out my breath with a whoosh. My heart pounded
against my ribs. "Interstate 80?" I repeated, hardly able to believe
what was—for once—an amazing stroke of good luck. "In Nebraska? That
shouldn't take—"

"It's about a five hour drive from
Cheyenne," Tara interrupted. "You shouldn't have any problem finding
the place. Just get off at the Kearney exit and head into town. The hospital's
only, like, two blocks off the main drag—I'm sure there'll be signs to follow.
But Kali, I have to tell you…"

I couldn't take anymore. I really couldn't.

Tara drew in a breath. "The accident happened
over a week ago. And it was really bad. When he swerved to miss the other car
he crashed into one the concrete supports for the overpass. His car was
totaled. And the report said… well, it said that his condition was
critical."

That means nothing
, I told myself.
You
knew that
.

"Kali," she continued, "I wish I
could go with you, but I can't. Both my parents are working and I'm on demon
watch. Sorry."

A reluctant smile turned up the corners of my mouth.
Tara was the second oldest of six kids, and the only girl. Her little brothers
deserved their nickname. 

"You've done more than enough," I
answered, gathering my stuff. In another century, the people in front of me would
finish getting their infernal baggage from the overhead bins and I could get
out of this plane and on my way.

On my way to Zane.

The nightmare image of the rising sheet forced its
way into my brain again, but I fought it back with a vengeance.

"I'll make it just fine, Tara," I
answered.

"Kali? Are you awake?"

For the life of me, I didn't know the answer. 

"I think so," I mumbled.

"I think not very," Kylee said with a
chuckle. "That's okay. You needed it. You couldn't have gotten much
quality sleep on the plane. And were you really up most of the night before,
too?"

I thought about it a moment. I vaguely remembered
explaining that to Kylee before asking permission to snooze. The truth was, I
had hardly slept at all in two days, and wouldn't be sleeping now if I didn't
have important driving to do. Hard as it was to still my tortured mind, I had
forced myself to give in to the fatigue as soon as I had slipped into Kylee's
car and buckled my seat belt. I figured even an hour would refresh me, and it was
a two-hour drive back to Cheyenne.

I had been right. I sat up, and the cobwebs
scattered instantly. We were nearing home.

Just five more hours, Zane.
I thought
helplessly.
Please hang on
.

"Are you sure you're going to be okay to
drive?" Kylee asked. "If you can wait till midmorning, I can go with
you. Then you could get a little more sleep—"

"I can't wait, Kylee," I said brusquely.
"I couldn't sleep any more now if I had to. I'm going home just long
enough to have a two-minute shower, grab my money and a sandwich, and start on
the first of about a million cups of coffee."

"Since when do you drink coffee?"

"Since now."

Kylee turned off onto the road that led to my house,
and I realized I was pressing my feet against the floorboard, willing us on.

"Kali?" she asked seriously.

I turned my head to look at her. Kylee was hardly
ever serious about anything. Such was her reputation—cheery, fun, spontaneous.
She was slightly on the plump side, with a smile that lit up a room and dark
eyes that sparkled with mischievous humor. People who saw her with her parents
often assumed she was a Chinese adoptee, but neither was true. Kylee lived with
her biological mother and stepfather; her birth father was Vietnamese. He was
also—to put it mildly—a total jerk, having abandoned Kylee's mother when she
was pregnant. But Kylee had always been very close to her Vietnamese-American
grandparents, who—despite having long ago washed their hands of their
self-absorbed son—adored both their granddaughter and her mother.

"What?" I asked, alarmed by her tone.

"This guy you're going to see… is he really the
surfer you met on the beach?"

The wheels in my brain chugged slowly, painfully. I
could no longer keep track of whom I had told what—and what part of the truth
made sense with it.

"Yes," I answered tiredly. "But I
can't explain now. I will later, though. I promise. To you and Tara." I
looked at her beseechingly. "But nobody else, okay? I'm afraid it's going
to be… really hard for you to understand."