Paradise Falls (Paradise Falls #1-5)(15)
Something bothered him about that morning. He’d seen signs of psychological trauma before. The way something from the past could well up like sewage from a storm drain and stain the present moment, crowding out all other thought. It was in Jennifer’s eyes.
Elliot grabbed her hair on purpose. He knew it would trigger her. Jacob was too tired to hit the bag anymore. Furious energy melted into cold, ragged fatigue. He drifted over to his desk, sat down, and rested his forehead on his palms. He needed to focus to see the bigger picture.
Jacob took an old micro tape recorder from the top drawer. He kept the message by forwarding it from phone to phone, before finally recording it a few days before he was deployed. His thumb pushed down the red play button and he drew his hand back and listened to his sister’s voice.
“Hey, Jake,” she teased in her girlish voice, “I hope you had a good time with your stupid video game. I made sure Mom and Dad took me to Olive Garden just like always. I didn’t buy you anything for Christmas. I hope you’re happy.”
His mother said something. His sister’s phone didn’t pick up the words, just a faint hint of her voice.
“Mom says to hang up. We’re almost home.”
6.
Shearing rock and twisted steel shrieked. Debris crashed into the river and sank. The noise came from the boards under her feet, and from the walls. The kitchen television blared until the speakers distorted and the little grilles blew out of their plastic frames in a shower of sparks.
A driving rainstorm sent a muddy wave through the street. Jennifer clutched the old sliding doors between the kitchen and living room.
The world shook and red, blue, and amber flashed in the window as the sirens wailed. The freezing wet floor stung her bare feet. The world turned under her until she fell on her side with a grunt. Dread clenched in her chest like a fist of frozen stone grasping her heart.
Open the door. The dream would end when she opened the door. None of this was real. The past couldn’t harm her, but the dream refused to end. All the windows in the back of the house blew out at once in a hail of glass that sent razor shards skittering over the floor.
The door opened. The wind carried the rain, snow, and icy hail sideways. Her dress caught on a crooked nail and tore at the seam. Sobbing, she clutched the tatters, but the dress unraveled in the wind. The front windows all burst out, spreading glass through the air in a glittering fan.
Running was her only defense, but no matter which way she ran, the bridge was always there. In the distance she could see the old skeleton of interlocked triangles and steel chains that formed a jagged mouth. Taillights transformed into red and hateful eyes. The metal twisted and bent, then snapped apart with a great twanging sound.
“Jennifer!”
Franklin’s voice cut through the roar. Great gasping sobs froze on her cheeks as the snow thickened around her ankles, and bloody footprints trailed behind. Her skin turned brittle from the cold. She didn’t want to wake up anymore. She might reach him.
The bridge contorted, and the overhead struts slammed down. Their little red Honda folded up under the beam. Franklin’s pale frozen hand reached out for her.
Jennifer leapt forward with both hands outstretched, but her fingers slipped through his without touching. She could feel the heat of his skin as the roar rattled her bones, and she was thrown backwards.
Waist deep snow sucked the warmth from her body and the glass shards sliced into her skin. She screamed. The bridge pulled back, leaving shattered footings like stumps of broken teeth. It all fell into the river, leaving nothing before her but empty air.
Eyes blurred with tears, she screamed and screamed and screamed. Frost coated frozen limbs. She pulled herself upright and felt her legs breaking, the flesh shattering and shearing. The bridge rose in a great metal hand with twisted, jagged fingers that reached for her.
Jennifer went down hard on her side, kicking her legs until she scrambled against the side of the bed. Chest heaving, pain shot up her leg from her ankle and the cuts on her arm throbbed. The reedy voice of her neighbor and landlady came through the wall in a muffled shout.
“Jennifer!” Mrs. Carmody slapped the wall with her bony fist. “Girl, you alright?”
Jennifer rose slowly to her feet, testing each step. She could still feel the glass cutting her skin and carving into her heels.
It’s just a dream.
Barely dressed, Jennifer answered the thumping on her front door to find the aged woman in a pale blue dressing gown and slippers standing there. She looked up at Jennifer with her sad eyes.
“Now, you come over to my side.”
“Mrs. Carmody--“
“Now.”
Jennifer sighed and walked over, locking her door behind her.
The little woman walked through a mirror image of Jennifer’s side of the house to the kitchen. Jennifer sat at the kitchen table, an old one with metal legs and a melamine top. Mrs. Carmody used a gripper stick to fetch a box of hot cocoa packets.
“You’re having cocoa,” she said, sharply.
“It’s eighty degrees outside.”
“Don’t argue with me, girl.”
Jennifer closed her mouth and waited until the old woman finished warming up the milk, then dumped in the powder. Daring to make cocoa with water would earn a severe tongue-lashing from Mrs. Carmody.
The cup was warm, and the cocoa was hot on her lips and spread heat through her chest. The old woman sat down, leaning on the table to steady herself.