screwed up one rescue. I hated to think what would happen to me if I didn’t do this one right either.
The ominous barbed wire fence separated me from the ghostly base inside. A cold breeze lifted loose leaves and debris. A few runaway tumbleweeds rolled by the empty airplane hanger.
Everything about the area was the same as in my nightmare – the old battered sign, the decrepit airbase, the gaping hole in the fence.
The hairs on the back of my neck rose. I whirled around, expecting to see someone. I could have sworn someone was watching. A whiff of a woodsy scent drifted my way.
Okay, I don’t have time for this . I shrugged off the uneasy feeling that someone was stalking me. Right. As if Mark didn’t have anything better to do than to follow me and hide out at an old airbase this early in the morning.
Once at the fence, I nudged the cross through the opening. Thump . The cross hit the ground. I winced. A little too noisy for comfort.
I scanned the area. Satisfied no one heard me, I crawled through.
I picked up the cross and hurried forward. Enormous oak trees and serviceberry crowded close together, their branches looking like malevolent guards, trying to keep intruders out. Piles of dead leaves blanketed the grass.
An owl hooted. Startled, I ran right into a spider web. A sticky string clung to my skin. Ew. I pictured some humongous garden spider crawling up my arm.
I brushed away the offensive cobweb and almost missed the sign: ‘Caution Crime Scene Do Not Enter’.
Yellow and black tape wrapped, like a big morbid bow, around two oak trees. So someone had found the dead woman.
I tiptoed toward the murder site. The body was gone. A sense of déjà vu came over me and an image of the woman on her knees pleading for her life flashed through my mind. What had she said? Anjook … something. Though I’d seen the murder in a vision, actually being at the site gave me the creeps.
I knew better then to mess with the crime scene. I laughed. Like shoving a wooden cross into the ground wasn’t disturbing.
I thrust the cross into the damp grass, outside of the tape. The earth rumbled underneath me. I lost my balance and fell backwards.
Brilliant light burst from the cross and poured into the grove of trees. This always happened right before the dead appeared. The cross became a sort of beacon, guiding spirits to me.
Sure enough, I saw the woman in my dream. She drifted toward me. She no longer wore a scarf; her dark hair fell below her shoulders. One side of her head was smashed in, with one eyeball pushed upward. It was totally gruesome. Her face reminded me of a bruised apple, the rotten part destroying the overall symmetry of the fruit. I held my breath and resisted the urge to barf.
She stared at me, confusion etched on what remained of her face.
“Who are you?” Her husky voice sounded just like in my dream.
“I-i-i-i-t doesn’t matter who I am. Just follow the light.”
“The what?”
“Just follow the light.” I nodded my head toward a stand of oak trees to my right. “C’mon you’re dead. You’ve got to know you have to follow the light.”
She glanced at the cross. Curvy lines ran up the beam. I had to admit my black marker did wonders for the otherwise boring wood.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
“Oh, this?” I tried to act nonchalant, but my hands shook. “Just something to help you pass to the other side. But really, you need to go before it’s too late.”
Brightness swamped the area, bathing the darkened woods with its own version of some kind of massive light show. I could have sworn I heard the trickle of a water fountain.
But the woman seemed oblivious to it all. She gazed at the cross in my hands.
“Why are you putting that here?” She seemed pissed off.
Jeez, you’d think that I killed her.
“It’s a cross,” I said. “You know, to help—”
“I can see what it is. That won’t help me .”
“Why not?”
“Leave me alone,” the woman snapped
The ominous barbed wire fence separated me from the ghostly base inside. A cold breeze lifted loose leaves and debris. A few runaway tumbleweeds rolled by the empty airplane hanger.
Everything about the area was the same as in my nightmare – the old battered sign, the decrepit airbase, the gaping hole in the fence.
The hairs on the back of my neck rose. I whirled around, expecting to see someone. I could have sworn someone was watching. A whiff of a woodsy scent drifted my way.
Okay, I don’t have time for this . I shrugged off the uneasy feeling that someone was stalking me. Right. As if Mark didn’t have anything better to do than to follow me and hide out at an old airbase this early in the morning.
Once at the fence, I nudged the cross through the opening. Thump . The cross hit the ground. I winced. A little too noisy for comfort.
I scanned the area. Satisfied no one heard me, I crawled through.
I picked up the cross and hurried forward. Enormous oak trees and serviceberry crowded close together, their branches looking like malevolent guards, trying to keep intruders out. Piles of dead leaves blanketed the grass.
An owl hooted. Startled, I ran right into a spider web. A sticky string clung to my skin. Ew. I pictured some humongous garden spider crawling up my arm.
I brushed away the offensive cobweb and almost missed the sign: ‘Caution Crime Scene Do Not Enter’.
Yellow and black tape wrapped, like a big morbid bow, around two oak trees. So someone had found the dead woman.
I tiptoed toward the murder site. The body was gone. A sense of déjà vu came over me and an image of the woman on her knees pleading for her life flashed through my mind. What had she said? Anjook … something. Though I’d seen the murder in a vision, actually being at the site gave me the creeps.
I knew better then to mess with the crime scene. I laughed. Like shoving a wooden cross into the ground wasn’t disturbing.
I thrust the cross into the damp grass, outside of the tape. The earth rumbled underneath me. I lost my balance and fell backwards.
Brilliant light burst from the cross and poured into the grove of trees. This always happened right before the dead appeared. The cross became a sort of beacon, guiding spirits to me.
Sure enough, I saw the woman in my dream. She drifted toward me. She no longer wore a scarf; her dark hair fell below her shoulders. One side of her head was smashed in, with one eyeball pushed upward. It was totally gruesome. Her face reminded me of a bruised apple, the rotten part destroying the overall symmetry of the fruit. I held my breath and resisted the urge to barf.
She stared at me, confusion etched on what remained of her face.
“Who are you?” Her husky voice sounded just like in my dream.
“I-i-i-i-t doesn’t matter who I am. Just follow the light.”
“The what?”
“Just follow the light.” I nodded my head toward a stand of oak trees to my right. “C’mon you’re dead. You’ve got to know you have to follow the light.”
She glanced at the cross. Curvy lines ran up the beam. I had to admit my black marker did wonders for the otherwise boring wood.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
“Oh, this?” I tried to act nonchalant, but my hands shook. “Just something to help you pass to the other side. But really, you need to go before it’s too late.”
Brightness swamped the area, bathing the darkened woods with its own version of some kind of massive light show. I could have sworn I heard the trickle of a water fountain.
But the woman seemed oblivious to it all. She gazed at the cross in my hands.
“Why are you putting that here?” She seemed pissed off.
Jeez, you’d think that I killed her.
“It’s a cross,” I said. “You know, to help—”
“I can see what it is. That won’t help me .”
“Why not?”
“Leave me alone,” the woman snapped
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