Read Online Collide by Christine Fonseca - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Christine Fonseca
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at odd angles, light skin, green piercing eyes, and a voice that compels me to do whatever he asks.
David .
He smiles at me and takes my hand. “We’re supposed to be together, you know. I’m sure of it.” He smiles and leans in, whispering. “You and me forever, okay?” It’s not really a question. He squeezes my hand and kisses my cheek. “Forever.”
His image fades, replaced by Mom and Dad smiling as I twirl with two other girls, one with wild hair and skin like the night, and another with green eyes that can see through me.
Mari.
The girl joins hands with me and we spin faster and faster. Don’t trust them , she chants as we twirl. They cannot see. Don’t follow them. They cannot lead.
She stops, no longer a child but the girl from the hospital; the girl from my visions. Don’t believe them. They all tell lies.
The images spin forward, childhood games replaced with scenes of a car crashing through guard rails and exploding into flames as it collides with the rocks below.
They all tell lies.
I wake with a start. Josh stares at me. “Dakota? What’s wrong?”
I barely process the words, my mind filled with Mari’s haunting expression as she continues to mouth the phrase They all tell lies . I shake her image away and focus on Josh. “I’m okay. Where are we?”
“The plane is landing. Here, you’ll need these when we get the car.” Josh hands me a New York driver’s license and two credit cards.
The name on cards is Dakota Marshall, same as the license. “Marshall? Seriously?” The irony is something I expect from Dad, assuming I could ever imagine this situation in the first place. Not exactly typical.
“I didn’t choose the name,” Josh says with a laugh. “Just make sure you use it.”
I nod, still staring at the picture on the ID. “The picture’s recent,” I say more to myself than to Josh. When did they take this?
Josh nods, oblivious. Figures.
The plane lands in Syracuse by the time I get the cards put away. We disembark with our bags and make our way to the rental counter. I stare at everyone who passes, unable to filter out clips of their thoughts, snippets of guilty conversations and plans best left unspoken. Everyone looks suspicious to me. My senses run on hyper-drive and my skin prickles with the energy coming from the crowded airport.
“Where are we going first?” I ask Josh when he returns with the keys.
“The map.” He pulls the old, folded paper map from his backpack. Large red stars mark several locations within a few hours’ drive, each labeled with a name: D , M , SH . “Here,” Josh says pointing at the star marked with a D . “We’ll go there first.”
The star marks a point just outside of a town labeled “Geneva” that sits at the top of a long lake that resembles an outstretched finger.
“At least the name is nice,” I say.
Josh smiles. “It’ll take an hour or so, I think.”
I nod, unable to process any more information. There’s no way I could’ve prepared my mind for the past couple of days. The hospital, even Mountain View, may have been better. At least it would’ve been believable. This is surreal.
I hitch my backpack higher on my shoulder as Josh shoves the map into his bag. “You ready?” he asks.
“I guess.”
We walk out of the airport, past the sleepy passengers seated on their luggage as they wait for their rides. I stare at each person, half convinced they’re watching us. It’s an odd feeling, unnerving. The most innocent of actions, a smile from a child or a nod from a stranger, carry a different, more sinister meaning.
Outside the morning fog starts to clear, allowing the sun to shine through the patches of clouds. Too-bright rays blind me for a moment and my apprehension grows with every step, every not-so-innocent nod.
“Everything’s going to be fine, Dakota. We’re going to be fine,” Josh says.
If you say so .
The drive to the tiny town takes longer than
David .
He smiles at me and takes my hand. “We’re supposed to be together, you know. I’m sure of it.” He smiles and leans in, whispering. “You and me forever, okay?” It’s not really a question. He squeezes my hand and kisses my cheek. “Forever.”
His image fades, replaced by Mom and Dad smiling as I twirl with two other girls, one with wild hair and skin like the night, and another with green eyes that can see through me.
Mari.
The girl joins hands with me and we spin faster and faster. Don’t trust them , she chants as we twirl. They cannot see. Don’t follow them. They cannot lead.
She stops, no longer a child but the girl from the hospital; the girl from my visions. Don’t believe them. They all tell lies.
The images spin forward, childhood games replaced with scenes of a car crashing through guard rails and exploding into flames as it collides with the rocks below.
They all tell lies.
I wake with a start. Josh stares at me. “Dakota? What’s wrong?”
I barely process the words, my mind filled with Mari’s haunting expression as she continues to mouth the phrase They all tell lies . I shake her image away and focus on Josh. “I’m okay. Where are we?”
“The plane is landing. Here, you’ll need these when we get the car.” Josh hands me a New York driver’s license and two credit cards.
The name on cards is Dakota Marshall, same as the license. “Marshall? Seriously?” The irony is something I expect from Dad, assuming I could ever imagine this situation in the first place. Not exactly typical.
“I didn’t choose the name,” Josh says with a laugh. “Just make sure you use it.”
I nod, still staring at the picture on the ID. “The picture’s recent,” I say more to myself than to Josh. When did they take this?
Josh nods, oblivious. Figures.
The plane lands in Syracuse by the time I get the cards put away. We disembark with our bags and make our way to the rental counter. I stare at everyone who passes, unable to filter out clips of their thoughts, snippets of guilty conversations and plans best left unspoken. Everyone looks suspicious to me. My senses run on hyper-drive and my skin prickles with the energy coming from the crowded airport.
“Where are we going first?” I ask Josh when he returns with the keys.
“The map.” He pulls the old, folded paper map from his backpack. Large red stars mark several locations within a few hours’ drive, each labeled with a name: D , M , SH . “Here,” Josh says pointing at the star marked with a D . “We’ll go there first.”
The star marks a point just outside of a town labeled “Geneva” that sits at the top of a long lake that resembles an outstretched finger.
“At least the name is nice,” I say.
Josh smiles. “It’ll take an hour or so, I think.”
I nod, unable to process any more information. There’s no way I could’ve prepared my mind for the past couple of days. The hospital, even Mountain View, may have been better. At least it would’ve been believable. This is surreal.
I hitch my backpack higher on my shoulder as Josh shoves the map into his bag. “You ready?” he asks.
“I guess.”
We walk out of the airport, past the sleepy passengers seated on their luggage as they wait for their rides. I stare at each person, half convinced they’re watching us. It’s an odd feeling, unnerving. The most innocent of actions, a smile from a child or a nod from a stranger, carry a different, more sinister meaning.
Outside the morning fog starts to clear, allowing the sun to shine through the patches of clouds. Too-bright rays blind me for a moment and my apprehension grows with every step, every not-so-innocent nod.
“Everything’s going to be fine, Dakota. We’re going to be fine,” Josh says.
If you say so .
The drive to the tiny town takes longer than
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