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“Jake, oh, God, Jake, what happened? Answer me, oh, please, please!”
Horrified, she reached his sagging body and yanked on the arrow, her hands slipping with the slick warmth of his blood. “No, no, no,” she whispered, pulling harder, her muscles straining.
She heard footsteps. Turned, her hands still clenched over the arrow’s unbending shaft. “Help!” she cried. “We need help! Oh, God, somebody help!”
Looking wraithlike, Lindsay Farrell stepped from the fog. Her eyes were round as saucers, her pupils wide and dark as the night. “You killed him, Kristen,” she accused. “You.”
“No, Lindsay…Please, he needs help. An ambulance. Call 911.”
“This is your fault, Kris, leave him be. I love him. Me.” She cradled Jake’s head in her hands and tenderly kissed his lips. Tears rained from her eyes, mingling with his blood, and he seemed to twitch a little, as if there were still life in him.
Was it possible? Kristen saw his fingers move and she gasped. Could it be? Could Jake still be alive? She reached for her cell phone, but her purse wasn’t with her…She’d left it in the car, the car with the awful note on the windshield.
Backing up, scarcely believing her eyes, she stared at Jake. Lindsay ceased kissing him and both of them turned to stare at her. Their blue eyes were black, and blood smeared Lindsay’s dress. Jake smiled, that incredible, devilish smile that she’d known since she was a child.
“Why, Kristen?” he asked, as if he weren’t in pain, as if nothing were wrong. “Why did you do this to me? I thought we were friends.”
“We were…are…We’re all friends.” As the words passed her lips, everyone who had been at the dance that night and others who hadn’t appeared in the mist. They walked toward her like zombies. Rachel, pale as death, was there along with April. Mandy joined them, her tattered dress falling off her shoulder where a hand, Boyd’s hand, was co
“I didn’t…Jake, I wouldn’t…I love you…” Kristen said, backing up as more kids showed up…Aurora and Dean…then Haylie, holding hands with a smiling, very pale Ian.
Oh, God, oh, God…no, I had nothing to do with this, Kristen tried to say and then she saw Ross…oh, thank God, he was here! She tried to run to him but her feet were stuck and she couldn’t move…Only then did she realize she was sinking in a bog, a mire deep in the maze, and the bog itself was ru
“Ross!” she cried, hoping he would save her. “Ross!”
Kristen’s eyes flew open. Panic ripped through her as she blinked into the darkness before realizing she was in her own bedroom. The digital alarm clock glowed the time in a steady bright blue, the numbers blinking out the time: five-forty-five in the morning.
“Oh, Lord,” she whispered, realizing she was covered in sweat though the room was cool. She let out a long tremulous sigh, grateful to have awakened from the dream, relief flooding through her.
“Only a dream, just a damned dream…no, only a nightmare,” she muttered as she snapped on the bedside lamp and heard the sound of rainwater ru
If only she’d looked for Jake sooner.
If only she hadn’t let him out of her sight that night.
If only she hadn’t asked him to the damned dance in the first place.
“Let it go,” she told herself, as she had so often in the past. “Let it go, let it go.” She shoved her hair away from her face. Why in the world had she agreed to get involved with the reunion committee? Hadn’t she known it would become a mistake of grand proportions? Okay, so she’d been drafted into the position, but she could have done nothing, just as she had at five, ten, and fifteen years. Either Aurora or another gung-ho, rah-rah St. Lizzy’s alumna could have taken over the reins or the whole thing could have just never happened. So what if the school was going to close? Who cared?
The cat settled onto the pillow next to Kristen’s head. Ross’s pillow. Marmalade’s tiny chin resting on Kristen’s shoulder. “Don’t get too comfortable,” Kristen warned the tabby. “Haven’t you heard? There’s just no rest for the wicked, and that’s you and me, girl. Decidedly wicked. Come on.” Kristen moved and flung off the covers. Marmalade scrambled to the side of the bed and hopped onto the floor. Yawning, Kristen headed for the kitchen with the cat following at a trot. “First item on the agenda? Coffee.” She filled the basket with ground coffee, poured a full pot of water into the carafe, then punched Mr. Coffee’s ON button.
Within seconds, the machine began to gurgle. Kristen wasted no time. While the smell of coffee permeated the first floor and rain ran down the windows, she pulled down the attic ladder in the hallway and climbed to the musty space filled with insulation, cobwebs, Christmas decorations, and baby paraphernalia she’d never had the heart to give away.
This summer, she promised herself. This summer she would clean the attic, divide out Ross’s things, have that garage sale she’d been talking about for years, and be done with it. She flicked on the switch and two bare bulbs illuminated the cluttered, unused space. Old furniture, maternity clothes that were fifteen years out of date, beat-up luggage, and boxes were stuffed into the corners.
Wrinkling her nose at the mouse droppings and insect carcasses, she made her way to a part of the attic where her old textbooks, scrapbooks, and high-school memorabilia were tucked away, boxes her mother had packed when she’d converted Kristen’s room into a home office years before.
The first three boxes were paperbacks and records, tapes and CDs, but on the fourth she hit pay dirt-all the notes, pictures, awards, report cards, and personal items from her desk and bulletin board. Near the bottom were loose pictures that had never made it into her scrapbook.
The first was one of Kristen, Rachel Alsace, and Lindsay Farrell, three girls beaming for the camera, though their smiles were false. Kristen frowned, pushed the photo aside and picked up the next, which was a group shot in the parking lot of St. Elizabeth’s, one corner of the arborvitae maze visible. Mandy, Aurora, Haylie, Bella, DeLy
It was weird, Kristen thought, staring at the images. All of them were so young and fresh-faced in the photo. DeLy