The Rift
The Rift
SKN Hammerstone
ix
The Rift
Copyright © 2012 Shannon K. Johnson
All rights reserved.
ISBN:
ISBN-13:
ix
The Rift
ix
The Rift
CONTENTS
Acknowledgments
i
Chapter 1
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1
Chapter 2
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4
Chapter 3
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6
Chapter 4
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14
Chapter 5
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18
Chapter 6
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21
Chapter 7
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26
Chapter 8
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29
Chapter 9
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32
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
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36
38
45
46
47
49
50
51
57
68
72
73
75
79
85
86
89
98
100
102
106
111
113
125
140
143
153
155
158
166
171
172
175
176
180
180
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182
182
183
184
185
192
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202
203
207
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257
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264
270
277
280
284
286
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312
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319
336
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341
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The Rift
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The Rift
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thanks to my grandfather, Charles D. Nauman III for believing in my work and to Jamie Weaver and Mrs. Stephan for their helpful advice in the process as well as Melody A. Barger for her much needed editing skills and Jenn Clark for her creative advice.
ix
The Rift
1
She was small with black hair and slightly pale skin as well as deep brown eyes. The moon shone silently above her where she stood on the edge of an old stone bridge, staring into the rushing current bel
ow. Why? Because everyone reaches that point in their life when they can no longer take the pain and the guilt and the fear. They have nothing left to live for so they do not see the difference they will make by living. When this point is reached there are three options. One: forget about it and keep living your life. Two: go to a therapist and keep living your life. Then there is the third and final option. The girl closed her eyes and fell. The water swallowed her as she didn’t even attempt to struggle. It swept her through the current and threw her in all directions under the surface.
Suicide. Many say this is the coward’s way out but they do not know how much courage is needed to take your own life. She had reached the point, gathered the courage, and taken the third option. It was just a part of life and her’s was over. The current lost strength farther down the river and her body slowly drifted onto the sandy bottom. You don’t know her story. She had a good reason for making this choice and she didn’t regret it. But she was not the only one in control of her life. She just didn’t know it yet.
She was only dead for several seconds when the dark water around her began to seethe and ripple like it was boiling, dislodging her body from the sand. Did she know how afraid she should have been? No. How could she? She was dead. Then he came. Just a dark form in the water moving quickly towards her. An almost human hand gripped her arm and pulled her towards the surface of the water. Above the liquid chaos, all was calm. There was barely a sound in the lonely night. It seemed that every other living creature knew that they should not be near this place when he was. It didn’t last long though. He emerged from the river, water streaming from his hair and covering his face, distorting any features that could have told who he was.
Steam rose in a thick haze from his clothes and skin as he moved towards the shore. In his arms he carried the girl, her limp body hanging lifeless and dripping water. Her skin had lost all color, glowing eerily in the moonlight. Even the water avoided him, retreating further away as he moved onto the river bank. Several feet from the water he laid the girl on the soft ground, her head falling to one side. He knelt beside her, staring intently at her face for several minutes. The healthy plants that flourished by the river withered under and around him, ceasing to have the will to live. Then he stood and walked away, disappearing like he had never been there. The only indication was the death surrounding the girl.
She remained, unmoving, as clouds passed in front of the moon and then away from it. The glowing sphere made its trek across the sky over her, its gentle light convincing the plants to grow again. The water from the river carefully returned back to its outer reaches with the absence of the man it feared. A reddish glow began to form on the horizon as the moon set on the other side of the sky. The sun came and with it came life. The instant its rays touched her, her entire body rose as air rushed into her lungs, her eyes flying open. They remained open for several seconds before everything around her went black. As humans we cannot explain everything. Returning life to a dead body is one of those things. She wouldn’t be able to explain it either.
One minute she was dead and the next she was alive. She had gone through the veil and returned to Earth. But the veil only opens one way.
3
The Rift
2
I was awakened by a strange, rhythmic beeping. It sounded far away but close at the same time. I slowly opened my eyes to a blurry and distorted white room. What was I doing here? I didn’t remember. Even worse was not remembering coming here or what here was.
“Rachael?” Was that me? I turned my head to the unfocused image of a tall woman. I didn’t know her. “I think she’s awake,” the woman said. The room slowly became more normal looking as my vision cleared. There was an older man in the room as well with thinning white hair and a collection of strange objects.
“She’s stable,” he said. Who was stable? And what did that even mean? The woman walked over to a huge machine where the beeping seemed to be coming from and began to check several things. The man moved over to me and adjusted a sharp needle in my arm that was attached to a thin cord. A clear liquid flowed into my bloodstream in a continuous line.
“Where am I?” My voice sounded odd to me, almost like it wasn’t my own.
“You are in the hospital,” the woman answered me. The what?
“Why am I here?” I still couldn’t remember anything. My mind wasn’t clearing as fast as my vision had.
“You tried to commit suicide last night,” she carefully explained, “A young man from the public school pulled you out of the river.” What was she talking about? I couldn’t remember anything at all before waking up in this strange room. I couldn’t even remember if Rachael was actually my name. I tried to sit up and escape but I couldn’t. They had me tied down to the bed.
“Take it easy,” the man turned away from the needle as I struggled to get free, “You are still under suicide watch. You are very lucky to be alive. You almost died.” That word I remembered. Death. I had a feeling that I had experienced a lot of death in my life. I just couldn’t remember it.
3
I walked into the school several days later at the suggestion of my newly appointed psychiatrist. Apparently a school was where people learned life skills and a psychiatrist was someone who told me that I was insane but he could help me if he was paid high sums of money every time I saw him. Was it wrong that I hadn’t even bothered to learn what his name was? I didn’t really care. I had too many other things I was trying to remember and so far all of them were coming up short with no memories of anything before the hospital. I was surrounded by a bunch of teenagers who were only worried about their own lives as they hurried through the hallways. I glanced at the sheet of paper I had been given.
Locker 305. It seemed that these lockers were given out by number and the one that had been given to me was number 305. The numbers on the metal doors read 302, 303, 304… so that one must be mine. 305. The paper also said that the combination was 546219. It had taken the people who were in charge of the school a long time to finally get across to me what that number did. It wasn’t my fault I was suffering from severe amnesia.
Apparently amnesia was where a person lost all of their memories. It was a lovely experience really. That was a sarcastic statement, if you didn’t notice. I turned the combination lock to the different numbers and it fell open. The old man, who had been a doctor, had said that the amnesia was temporary and it wouldn’t last long. Well it had lasted long enough. How long was “not long” to him? The locker was filled with books. Great. I knew that there was one for every room I went to during the day but I didn’t know which one I was going to first. I took out the ones labeled math and history but I had a feeling that they weren’t right. As I pulled them out a piece of newspaper fell out as well, landing on the floor.
I bent down, putting the books on the floor, and picked up the article. It was titled, “LOCAL GIRL SAVED FROM DROWNING BY FELLOW STUDENT.” It went on to say that when I, Rachael Taylor, had tried to commit suicide last week I was pulled out of the water by 18 year old Nicholas Jefferson. I knew I should probably know who that was but I didn’t. I looked further down the article to a picture of a tall, blonde-haired, blue-eyed teenager. Did this guy really jump in a river to save me?
If he did, he probably knew who I was and I probably knew him at one point or another. But why hadn’t he come to at least see if I was ok if we were friends?
“I thought you might like to know who saved your life,” I turned to see a dark-haired, blue-eyed guy. I should know who this was too but once again I didn’t.
“Nicholas Jefferson?” it was more of a question than a statement.
“Mr. football jock? Yeah,” Whoever this was sounded pretty angry about that. Maybe they didn’t get along but how was I supposed to have known that?
“Maybe he thought I was someone else,” I said, as I tried to make conversation until I could figure out his name. I glanced at his messenger bag and several books but there was no name on them.
“Jesse,” he said, “My name is Jesse. You’ve been my best friend since elementary school which would be about 11 years. I have gotten you in and out of trouble numerous times and you have done the same for me.” He grabbed one of my hands and pulled me to my feet, taking the history book back from me and putting it into my locker. He took out an English book and handed it to me instead.
“Your first class is English. Your mom told me about the amnesia,” he sounded more sympathetic now.
“Oh,” had she told a lot of people about this? I still didn’t remember anything about him that he hadn’t told me but I had a sense of familiarity about him. Then again I hadn’t even remembered who my own mother was until someone told me so anyone here could be my best friend and I wouldn’t know. I closed the locker and hesitated. I didn’t know which way to go. Jesse pointed towards the right and I started walking. He began to walk next to me, talking as he went.
“So, suicide. You couldn’t just talk to me? You had to try to kill yourself,” I was pretty sure this was what he was angry about now. It probably had nothing to do with the other guy.
“I’m sorry, Jesse,” I hesitated for a few seconds before using his name. It should have been enough to remember him but it wasn’t, “Some things can’t be fixed by just talking about them.” I didn’t even know what things I was talking about. I just had to make it sound like I knew what was going on and try to have a normal school day, whatever that meant.
“I know what you’ve been through and I may be the only person in the entire world who does. I could have helped you. You didn’t have to try to kill yourself,” he just wasn’t going to give up.
“Someone might hear you,” I tried to keep him quiet. I was pretty sure that we had to be almost to the classroom. Well I hoped we were. It is rather hard to keep up a conversation with someone when you have no idea what they are talking about.
“Someone might hear that you tried to commit suicide?” The idea seemed laughable to him, “It’s been in the news for days. Everyone already knows.” Amnesia didn’t stop me from knowing that this was going to make my life miserable and make me an oddity in a school of normal people. Considering he was the only one who had talked to me, however, I probably already was. They didn’t even stare or glance at me in curiosity. It was more like I was invisible.