Grim Judgment Read online

  Mari yelled at them again, and Duncan started.

  Jaxon sneered at Emma. “I’ll find you. All of you. I’m going to tear you apart, nice and slow.” He knew she couldn’t hear his threats, but it didn’t matter. His rage flowed through him, held inside his heart, as he let Duncan lead him away and into the van.

  He reached out to close the door, which had stood open like the rest of them, but it didn’t budge.

  “Not yet.” Duncan climbed into the driver’s seat. “Okay, Mari. I’m ready.”

  “Hang on to me, guys.” She laid one hand on Jaxon’s shoulder and one on Duncan’s. Aaron and Lucas reached out and touched her back, and the world came alive once more.

  He heard the back doors slam, and before he could even think straight, Duncan gassed the vehicle and it lurched forward. The front doors flung shut, the one on his side narrowly missing his knee as the van bounded down the street. His fingers scrambled for the seat belt when he felt his world jump sharply.

  Jaxon glanced around and realized that Duncan had run over Alex’s body. A satisfying crunch sounded beneath the tires, and he barked out a laugh. He looked at the bearded man, who grinned at him and winked as they drove away to safety.

  -—

  “No, Emma, please.” Isaac’s voice rose to a shout. The wounds his body had endured pulled a cry from his lips, but all he felt was the agony in his heart. “Don’t let her leave, please don’t shut those doors. Emma!” The EMT shrugged his hand off of her arm and slammed the ambulance doors. “Goddammit, Emma!” Isaac screamed as the ambulance jolted forward.

  With a moan, Isaac swung his feet off of the flat surface, but his racing mind was growing fuzzy, his speeding heart slowing.

  “Oh, no you don’t.” The EMT gently restrained him. “The morphine is kicking in. I don’t want you falling over and causing more wounds I have to deal with. Now lie down.” She pushed him onto his back and Isaac complied.

  He murmured Emma’s name as he began to fade. The paramedic tore open a paper package and placed a large, square piece of gauze over the stab wound in his stomach, taping it down. The last thing he remembered was the pressure of her palms as she pressed both hands down on the opening, then his world went black.

  A sudden jolt brought Isaac’s consciousness back to him, but only in quick flashes. One showed him the back doors of the ambulance, now open. The sky had lightened. He was carefully but quickly transferred out of the vehicle and onto another gurney. Then darkness.

  Isaac’s eyes opened next to perceive an older, unkempt man with grey hair and square glasses staring down at him. “We’ll get you patched up, kid,” the man was saying. Isaac passed out again.

  He felt himself being transferred onto an uncomfortable, flat, metal surface. The movement of his shirt being roughly cut off with cold scissors jarred him awake again, and he held consciousness until the man began to clean out his wounds.

  Hours passed like minutes in which he faded in and out, in and out, until, at last, he opened his eyes and they stayed open.

  “Where...where...?” He lifted his hands to his groggy eyes. Tubes tugged on his right arm from the attached IV.

  “Whoa, whoa, hold on there.” Within moments, the old man appeared over him. He assessed Isaac with hard eyes. “I’m your doctor right now. You’re lucky they brought you when they did. A bit longer and I’m not sure you’d be wakin’ up.”

  “Where am I?” Isaac’s voice cracked with dryness.

  “My home. Safe. This is the place Vance’s top people go when they’re injured. Got plenty of tools, medication, and even banked blood for transfusions here.” He gestured around nonchalantly as if Isaac could see anything in the dark room. “Which you definitely needed.”

  “Thank...thank you. I have to get out of here, though. I have to—”

  The doctor interrupted him with a harsh laugh. “You’re not goin’ anywhere, kid. You’ve got a hole in you the size of Texas. Stitched you up just fine, but you need a whole lot of rest before you even think about walking outta here.” He looked at Isaac with a grim smile.

  “I have to find Emma before she leaves. Please, can you get me my phone at least?”

  “You didn’t have one on you when you arrived. And no,” he said as Isaac opened his mouth again, “you can’t use mine. I have my orders from Vance.”

  Isaac felt a rush of misery and he closed his eyes. She could be anywhere by now.

  “I know you want to find her. All you did was moan about her, even while sedated. Don’t think we didn’t call her. Grant’s been by here and there, but he’s busy with cleanin’ up the mess you all made on the roof. People filmed it, you know. Instantly put it up on the Internet for the world to see. A man hovering mid-air, surrounded by swirlin’ fog until bam!” The doctor slammed his palm onto the wall by Isaac’s head. “Splat, right on the street. I’ve seen the videos. Creepy. What the hell went on up there, hmm?” Isaac looked away and didn’t answer.

  “Well.” The man stood after a moment of silence. “I’ve got my orders,” he repeated. Isaac felt the tubes in his arms jostle, and looked back. The doctor was administering something into his IV.

  “Hey.” Isaac’s heart jumped. “What orders? Wait...” His world began to tilt. “What...?” He felt light, and his entire body began to tingle ferociously until, once again, he passed out.

  —-

  Jaxon’s heart slammed in his chest while the scarred blond man - Aaron - helped Duncan transfer Shawn from the stretcher to a nearby bed. Moments ago they had arrived at what Duncan called a “safe place,” a house well out of the city shrouded nearly in darkness. Chaos ensued as a new stranger, a woman in a blue scrub top, appeared to assist the others before the van even fully stopped.

  His brother’s head lolled from side to side as they quickly worked. Jaxon could barely perceive the stuttered rise and fall of Shawn’s chest before Duncan and the new woman bent over him, blocking his direct line of sight. He moved forward to get a better view, but Aaron put a calloused hand on his shoulder.

  “Jax. The best way you can help Shawn is to stay out of their way while they work.”

  The urge to rush to his brother’s side was overwhelming, but Jaxon stilled his feet and watched with wide eyes as the strangers struggled to save Shawn’s life.

  Duncan’s hands flew in front of him as he handed the woman tools, swabbed seeping blood from the bullet wounds, and strapped Shawn to various machines. Harsh beeps filled the large room.

  “Hey.” Aaron jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “We can’t do anything right now other than wait. I’m sure you have questions—”

  “I’m not leaving his side.” Jaxon’s eyes didn’t waver as they bored into Duncan’s back. All he could see of his brother was a limp, bloodied hand.

  Duncan spoke suddenly. “Shit.”

  As soon as the word was uttered, the machine Shawn was connected to let out a burst of loud, long wails. “We’re losing him, Sarah.” He dropped the small silver instrument he’d been holding onto a nearby tray and began CPR.

  Chapter Two

  THEN

  1982

  I had just turned twenty-one. It was a dreary, boring, late autumn day in the high forties, full of thunderous clouds that threatened to release rain at any moment. I sat on my parents’ porch, on the wooden bench swing that was suspended on thick silver chains. My hands held a cheap acoustic guitar. I had let my mind completely wander as I plucked at its worn, dusty strings. The instrument had been my father’s before he died.

  I remember thinking about my crush, Jessica, the cute girl who worked at the video rental store three blocks away. As I thought, my awareness faded and drifted. Crisp, cool air lightly buffeted my face, and a rumble of thunder almost pulled my focus back, but my mind was too far gone. My eyes suddenly felt tired, and my surroundings began to blur as if I were going cross-eyed. I attempted to snap myself out of whatever trance I was in but, no matter how much I struggled to clear my sight, it remained unfocused. My heart po
unded at my ribcage. I strained my eyes to the point of pain. I was drifting, as if falling asleep with my eyes open. Sweat trickled down my right temple, a never-ending itch that was made worse by the fact that I couldn’t move to scratch it. I tried to stand, but no part of my body would respond, which is when I truly began to panic.

  I strained to sit up, to turn my head - hell, even to just blink - but nothing worked. Nothing came out of my throat when I tried to speak. My vision blurred into a dull creamy white. I no longer felt my heart racing, the sweat on my skin, the guitar in my hands, or the swing underneath me. Instead, there was nothing but a still void as I screamed inside my own head.

  Am I dead? Suddenly the lack of color dissolved away, and dark shapes fluttered in front of me. The sensation of floating ended and my awareness grounded once more. My vision was quickly coming back. Relief flooded through me. Unfortunately, it was quite short-lived.

  “What are you talking about?” I heard someone ask with an incredulous tone.

  My sight snapped into focus and I was staring at the wrinkled face of Mrs. McMillan from across our street. Her curly white hair was pulled back into a messy bun with wisps of loose locks framing her features. Watery green eyes stared directly into mine with a slight ferocity. In my utter shock, I tried to open my mouth to stammer out an apology and found that I still couldn’t speak. Upon further realization, I felt my hands on a smooth, cool surface, but couldn’t move them. My breaths came in and out in a steady succession, but I couldn’t control them. My heartbeat wasn’t even mine anymore, didn’t reflect the roller coaster it had been on moments before.

  I could see, but could only trail my gaze over what was in front of me. It felt as if I were inside a mannequin, completely frozen, only able to move my eyes. I saw everything in view, but couldn’t turn my head or strain my eyes past the dark blurred edge of the vision.

  “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but the store policy is you can’t rent anything without your card.” A loud, female voice sounded in my ears, startling me.

  “You know me! I come in here all the time!”

  “I’m sorry, but it’s the rules. I can’t make an exception, I’d lose my job. Please,” the girl’s voice nearly begged.

  Mrs. McMillan scoffed, looked me up and down in disdain, then stormed out of the store. A wave of vertigo hit me as, out of my control, my gaze moved to follow her retreat. The dingy cream-colored shelves of the video rental store filled my view, stocked with colorful rectangular boxes. A large sign that read “VHS” swung back and forth in a light motion. My chest rose and fell in a sigh and my sight flicked forward once more in a quick, nearly imperceivable motion.

  “Next,” the girl’s voice said. As a man no older than thirty approached the counter, I deduced the voice was me, just like everything else. This brought about a fresh wave of panic, but all my mind could do was flail inside itself as the outlandish scene continued to unfold with me as a mere spectator.

  “Where can I find a copy of Casablanca?” the man asked politely.

  “VHS or Betamax?”

  “Beta.”

  I saw a thin, pale arm raise, which ended in a pointed finger that was aimed over the man’s head, in the direction of another sign that read “BETA.” The nails were painted a bright red. My nails. My hand.

  I need to get out of here, I need to get out of here, I need to get out...I repeated to myself, over and over, but it was no use. I stayed inside her head for the next two and a half hours until her shift ended, watching as she checked out customers, explained the difference between VHS and Betamax, directed people to movies they requested, and performed other mundane tasks.

  The girl was finally relieved well after the sun had set and the windows reflected a dark night. She headed toward the back of the store, me in helpless tow. My vision bounced gently as she walked. I’d just become accustomed to watching the world through someone else’s eyes when she moved to open the back door. I couldn’t flinch as her - our - face came close to the door’s surface. The handle in our left hand was smooth as we twisted the door open. I watched as we continued down a short hallway to another, smaller room, and before I knew it, I was staring at our face in a tiny mirror on the wall. Alarm shot through me. Holy fuckballs, I’m Jessica.

  Gone was my shock of deep, brown hair, my light blue eyes, the strong jaw speckled with stubble, and boyish features of my own face. I watched her dig through a purse on the table. A light tickle made me want to sneeze as she applied more powder. The sensation of a chalky substance smearing over my - our - lips made me cringe, and the brush she used on her - our - cheeks and nose tickled. She checked her teeth, then whipped to the left as she turned and exited the room, belongings in hand.

  It was a chilly fall night in Colorado Springs, made colder by the storm that was ready to unload upon the town. We briskly trekked home clad in a warm coat. When we finally entered her house, we hugged her mother, and I inhaled the perfume the woman wore. When we kissed her father on the cheek, I felt his stubble on our lips. Jessica refused dinner, saying she had already eaten, then we ran up the stairs two at a time until we got to her room and shut the door. I spent another half hour with her as we wrote in a diary and chatted on the phone with a girl named Lisa. Then, with horror I watched as she began to change out of her uniform. She stood in her room, shades drawn, naked in front of a tall mirror on her dresser. I moved my gaze up as far as it would go, but my peripheral vision still picked up the presence of her nude form. I slowly lowered my gaze until it rested on her eyes, and watched as she silently criticized her body, turning this way and that, a frown tugging at her pretty lips. Eventually, she groaned, pulled on a long, blue nightshirt and crawled into bed.

  My vision went black when she turned off her bedside lamp and shut her eyes, but I remained. I tried to unfocus my mind like I had before, but was too wound up to be able to concentrate hard enough. I sat in the absolute darkness as she fell asleep, until my awareness fluttered once, twice, then snapped back to my body, still on the porch swing, guitar in near-frozen hands, many hours later.

  —-

  I gingerly submerged my trembling hands into the stream of warm water coming from the kitchen sink, my fingertips a strange bluish color. The heat caused a throbbing flush of pain to flow up my arms, but I held my poor fingers as still as possible. I found it nearly impossible to control my breathing, each shallow breath coming at random intervals between my shivers.

  I thought back to when I had finally returned to my own consciousness. My vision hadn’t slowly blurred as it had before. Instead, I was in Jessica’s mind one moment and mine the next, with nary a blink of an eye. As I appeared back in my body, I inhaled a great amount of cold air in a sudden gasp, as if I had been on autopilot: completely unconscious and breathing minimally until I returned. The guitar I’d been holding was still in my hands, but I couldn’t feel my fingertips wrapped around the neck or resting on the hollow wooden body. When I had attempted to stand, the guitar slipped and clattered to the firm planks of the porch. Concern for the instrument was in the back reaches of my mind as I struggled to rise up on stiff legs and make my way inside. Thankfully, I had left the door cracked open, and after three attempts, I was able to get myself in the house.

  My teeth had been chattering ever since I “woke up,” and my jaw was sore. As my fingers regained their feeling, I turned my attention to my toes. I wiggled them in my beat up, so-dirty-they-were-no-longer-white sneakers and told myself I just might need to soak in a hot bath. I squeezed my wet fingers into fists with both hands once, twice, and glanced at the clock. It was well after midnight. My mother worked nights at a twenty-four-hour diner, so it wasn’t out of the ordinary that she wasn’t back yet.

  Slowly, stiffly, I walked from the kitchen to the bathroom, still in my shoes. If Mom had seen, she’d have had a fit as I trudged across her pristine, baby blue carpet in my dirty kicks. As I moved, my mind flew over what had just happened. I hadn’t been dreaming. There was no way. I felt everything she p
hysically felt, down to the light caress of the makeup brush and the fabric of her clothes gently touching her body. I’d never had a dream that vivid, that real.

  I caught a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror as I moved toward the tub. My skin was paler than normal and had a slight bluish tinge to it, even in my face. My entire nose was red, and there were flushed spots that dotted my cheeks as my body began to warm up. My lips, nearly purple, were chapped like crazy, and had a slight dusting of frost on the very edges. My eyes, though...my eyes.

  My body must have reflexively closed my lids for me as it sat vacant, for which I was grateful, but my light blue irises were now framed by a random network of burst blood vessels. Between that, my sickly pallor, and my jaw, which wouldn’t stop clenching and releasing in a maddening tic, I looked like a junkie. I stared at myself a bit longer, unable to prevent the look of slight disgust from slipping over my face, then turned on the bathtub’s faucet and slowly began to shed my clothing, one piece at a time.

  The skin of my feet seemed to recoil as I finally lowered myself into the water, adjusting my body into the most comfortable position I could manage. Then, and only then, did I allow my mind to focus on the next issue at hand.

  What the hell just happened to me?

  —-

  The curls and twists of steam rose from the bath. I’d warmed the water twice after it had cooled from my chilled body. As I soaked, I tried to recall every little detail of what I had experienced, starting with me on the porch, right before I...what do I even call that? Jumped? Switched? Transferred? Sure, that works: before I transferred into the girl at the video store. I replayed the entire night over and over in silence as the water began to cool down. How was this possible? I’ve never taken any drugs in my twenty-one years. Well, not hard drugs. Weed, mostly, but even then, on rare occasions.