Reborn: Daughter of Darkness Prequel Page 3

  "Well, isn't this cute?" said a familiar voice from behind us.

  Suddenly, any happiness I was experiencing at that moment instantly dried up into a cold, frozen knot. I slowly looked up as she stopped beside our table. "I didn't think your kind was allowed out in the sunshine."

  Ever known someone who could make your hair curl on end whenever they were around? Alexa was that person. She made my Bitch Meter go to eleven. Known her my whole life. Never did get along. The two lap dogs, I mean, girls with her were Liz and Alise.

  Alexa curled her lip at me and flipped her fake blonde hair over her shoulder, doing her best prissy-girl imitation. "Spratlin, hanging out with the kiddie gamers, I see."

  I raised my eyebrows at Spratlin who had the deer-in-the-headlights look. They obviously knew each other, but I didn't know how well.

  Then she turn her attention back to me. "I didn't know you were back in town."

  "There's a lot about me you don't know."

  She flicked her hair again. "We're just here picking up Liz's little brother. Maybe you've seen him? He only plays the little kiddie games."

  Liz reached for a chip. Spratlin grabbed her wrist and shook his head. I'm guessing he wasn't much of a fan, either.

  "Spratlin, have you picked your partner for the tournament?"

  I looked at Spratlin. "What tournament?"

  "Level Up is having a tournament in a few weeks."

  "Sounds cool."

  "Would you be my partner?"

  A wicked grin stretched across my mouth. I looked up at Alexa and said, "Yes." Then I smiled at him. "I'd love to be your partner."

  He said to Alexa, "Guess we'll see you there."

  I got the feeling there was some history between those two by the way she made a face and wandered off. Good riddance. I stared at Spratlin. "Please tell me the two of you..."

  Spratlin looked disgusted. "Alexa? God no! She's bitch numero uno. She'd friendly fire her partner if it meant coming out on top." He scooped another chip. "Unfortunately we do go back a few years, and it's not for her lack of trying, but I've never stooped that low."

  Thank God. I sure as shit didn't want her sloppy seconds.

  We finished our food then made our rounds, stopping to play various forgotten arcade games. When we both ran out of coins, we decided to stroll through the aisles watching the other gamers play. I needed to find out how well he knew Alexa, if she had changed, or if I should be worried she was about to weasel her way back into my life.

  "What do you know about Alexa?"

  "We went to school together. I know she can be a real bitch, rolling over anyone to get what she wants."

  Nope. No change. I had not seen her since we were kids. If I could live a thousand lifetimes it would still be too soon.

  "What did she mean by you being back in town?"

  "I just moved back here. About six months ago. Been living in the big city for the past fifteen plus years."

  "You grew up here?" he asked.

  "Yeah. I went to live with a relative when I was little. My mother died a year ago and left me the house."

  "I'm sorry to hear about your mother." He smiled. "But I'm glad you decided to move back."

  After a few more games, we decided to leave. Spratlin opened the door to let me walk through. Again with the gentleman stuff. I could get used to that. When we got to my bike, Spratlin squatted down to get a better look. I rode a cruiser style motorcycle. She was solid black with a lot of chrome. "This is one sweet ride."

  "Thanks. I'd like to get it custom painted one day."

  "Let me know when you do. I know a guy."

  I smiled, "So, when ya gonna take me for a ride on yours?"

  He blushed and ran his hand through his hair. "Mine needs a little TLC, and then she'll be good to go."

  "I know a guy, too, if you need an extra hand." Then I flashed him a not-so-subtle look. "Until then, I might let ya ride mine."

  "I would love to take yours for a spin." I'd like for him to take mine for a spin, too. God, he was hot. "You wanna catch a movie?"

  I was glad he asked. I didn't want our night to end, either. As I was about to answer, I saw a flash of red out of the corner of my eye. It was a little girl in a red dress. Her mom was loading the girl's younger brother into his car seat when the little girl wandered a little too far from the car.

  "Sure," I said, still distracted by the little girl.

  She twirled around, oblivious to the world around her. She stumbled a little when she twirled a second time causing her to land in the middle of the lane.

  A car. Zooming too fast. All I remember is that I took off from a dead standstill into a full on sprint. Then black. Had it been another dream?

  5

  The alarm blared.

  I shot straight up in bed.

  I caught my head in my hand; it pounded. Sat up too fast.

  I punched the alarm.

  The silence helped my pounding head only a little. When I stretched, it felt like needles poking at my muscles while they ripped and tore. That was twice now that I had woken up sore. Then I remembered.

  The little girl in the red dress. The speeding car. And me, diving to save her. Had the car hit me?

  I held up my wrist. Another scar. My finger traced it. Another vertical line, right beside the first one, was burned into my skin. They looked like two Roman numerals side by side. It was too weird.

  After breakfast, I called Spratlin, but he didn't answer. I was hoping he could help fill in the blanks. I had no idea how I even got home. Glancing at the clock, I knew I needed to get showered and dressed if I hoped to make it to church on time. What? Surprised a tequila drinking, swearing video gamer goes to church? Hell, I gotta have some good to balance the bad in my life.

  My body ached under the soothing hot water. I stuck my hands out to prop against the tiles. Images of the car at the arcade flashed through my mind when I closed my eyes. Pain, confusion, death. My eyes squeezed shut as I pounded the tile as the water beat down on my sore body.

  Church would have to wait. Ironic, right? At the time when I probably needed it most, I was too broken to go. My faith was strong, but sometimes we need concrete answers and that was my priority for the day--finding out just what the hell was going on.

  I slowly slid into a pair of cargo pants. I always liked pockets. I never carried a purse because I was forgetful. One time, when I was little, I had just finished lunch at a restaurant with my grandmother. We were halfway home before I remembered my little pink purse. Now, I was just a kid. It wasn't like I had anything of value in it, but she was kind enough to turn around and drive back to that restaurant to retrieve it. There it was, still shoved into the corner of the bench where we ate. I have never forgotten that she went back for it. But it also left a lasting impression. From that moment on, anything important that I carried would be in my pocket where I wouldn't forget it.

  I threw on a blue gaming t-shirt and carefully made my way downstairs. I opened the door from the kitchen to the garage. My bike was in there. I ran my fingers through my hair. I must've gotten myself home. Somehow. I sat down on the couch and opened my laptop. Thunder curled up at my feet. None of the local news reports mentioned anything yet about the incident at the arcade. Perhaps that was a good thing. I certainly wasn't looking for any attention as the girl who walked away from getting smacked by a car.

  But I needed answers. I punched Spratlin's contact again on my phone. After a few rings, I left another message on his voicemail asking him to please call me. I was impatient, so I also sent him an email. I told him that I had a great time with him yesterday and that I was sorry the day was ruined with confusion. I also told him that I was a little sore but would like to hang out again soon. Nothing too eager. I guess Gaylin's courtesy had, in fact, rubbed off on me a little bit.

  Speaking of Gaylin, I was surprised that she wasn't already blowing up my phone wondering why I wasn't at church. I sent her a quick text, too, just to head off any uncomfortable
lectures and to save my battery from the wrath of Gaylin.

  With those things out of the way, I figured there were a few other ways I could use my time. There was still the whole 'I'm in need of a job' thing, so I could (A) prep my resume, or (B) research opening my own business. Even though I wasn't totally sold on opening my own game store at that moment, it couldn't hurt to look into it. Ya know, plan for the future.

  I had a friend who worked in finance back in Atlanta. Kay was her name. I sat the laptop on the coffee table and crept back upstairs to the attic door. There were still boxes left unpacked and I needed to find my old phone book. When I opened the attic door, a sad feeling crept over me. After my mom died, I didn't have the heart to toss out all of her things. I didn't keep everything, but I kept quite a bit. Mrs. G helped me preserve in those boxes what I wanted to keep.

  Forgetting why I even came up to the attic in the first place, I opened one of her boxes. Of course, it would have to be full of pictures. Some of them were pretty funny. She was such a character, always hamming it up for the camera. Even if she wasn't the one having her picture taken, she somehow wound up in the photos. My mom was photo-bombing even before that was a thing.

  There was one of her and me when I was eight. It was an autumn day. Beautiful colored leaves adorned the trees and the ground. We were on a merry-go-round at a local park. My dad had taken the picture just before he died. I never really knew my father, but I had always loved that picture, and was thankful that it was something he left behind for me. Even though he wasn't in the picture, I knew he was there behind the camera. We were both smiling at him.

  I loved my father. Loved my mother, too. She had a beautiful flower garden in the backyard when I was a little girl. Her favorite flower was jasmine, and I took to calling her Ma Jasmine after she told me it meant 'love'.

  I covered my mouth to hold back the emotions that had just flooded back. I didn't go through her things when we packed them up months ago, so seeing all that stuff was a shock. I slid the photo in my pocket and continued looking through the rest.

  Finally, after reminiscing over so many of her belongings, I found a box that caught my attention. It was a small, wooden jewelry box with beautiful carvings. I hadn't seen it in years. My mother kept it sitting in the middle of her dresser, locked and off limits to my curious, prying eyes.

  I had forgotten all about it. Tracing the carvings with my fingers, I realized that I didn't remember even packing it. Mrs. G must have found it and thought it important enough to save. Of course, getting into it without the key would prove difficult without destroying its outer beauty.

  Setting the decorative box aside, I searched through a few of my own boxes until I found my phone book. So much from my old life was in there. Friends, co-workers, doctors, motorcycle mechanics, all people and places I had interacted with for most of my childhood and teenage years. In a way, the idea of starting over fresh gave me a peaceful feeling.

  My phone dinged. Checking it, I saw that I received an email from Spratlin. Finally. It was a short email, only a couple of lines, and I nearly dropped my phone when I read it.

  He had replied, 'Whoever is calling and emailing me pretending to be Mackenzie, STOP. I will report this to the authorities if it continues. This is a cruel trick after having witnessed her death yesterday.'

  My heart stopped. I ran my fingers through my hair while I tried to make sense of what I had just read. That was the second time in so many days that someone had told me I had died. It was feeling less and less like a dream and more like, as Spratlin put it, a cruel trick.

  6

  My family's house was big. It was two stories, with four bedrooms, a huge family room, a decent sized kitchen and dining area, a basement, and a full length attic. I was blessed to have it. And at that moment, after reading those haunting words from Spratlin's email, I paced. Back and forth, the length of the attic. Thunder sat in the doorway watching me like I was a crazy woman.

  Shit. Maybe I was crazy. It would certainly help explain why for two days in a row I had what I thought were dreams of me dying and then waking up sore from head to toe. Only, crazy didn't run in my family. Not that I could recall, anyway.

  I needed a good reply. I had one shot at getting his attention. He was there. He saw it. Whatever it was. He saw it happen, and I needed answers. I had no clue where he lived, so showing up at his door, good idea or not, was out of the question. What could I say to him in a one sentence reply that would prove it was me and not someone crazy enough to pretend they were me?

  "That's it!" Thunder cocked his head at my outburst. "That's it, Thunder! I can tell him about beating him at Skee-ball, or the little boy who he gave our tickets to." Although, truth be told, I would have gladly traded winning for getting hit by a car.

  Done. I hit send and waited. Fortunately, I didn't have to wait long as I got a response back almost immediately. That time was a text, not an email. Most people only do that when it was urgent. He wanted to meet. But he insisted on coming over here to my house. So, I replied with my address.

  He said he would be here in a few minutes, so I put Mom's things back as neatly as I could. I grabbed the phone book and the wooden jewelry box, and then headed downstairs.

  A few minutes later, there was a knock on the front door. I opened the big wooden door and smiled. "Thanks for believing me." He had a look of shock on his face, like he had seen a ghost. Maybe he had. "Would you like to come in?"

  He didn't move, which made me uncomfortable. I never did like being put on a stage, and I suddenly felt like I was expected to perform. "Spratlin?"

  "Sorry, I... Is it really you?"

  "Well, unless aliens came down and swapped out my body for an exact replica, smartass thoughts and all, then, yes. It's really me."

  He forced a smile. "Yeah," and walked past me inside.

  I guess he liked my sarcastic approach. I turned to him, locking the door behind me. "Would you like a drink?"

  "Is it too early for the hard stuff?"

  I smiled. "It's never too early for that." I was beginning to like him. "What's your poison?"

  "Scotch on the rocks, if you have it."

  "I do. Make yourself at home." I retreated to the kitchen, dropped a few ice cubes in a short glass, and then poured Spratlin a scotch. On my way out, I grabbed the half empty tequila bottle and a shot glass.

  "Here ya go. Just like my dad liked it."

  I couldn't tell if that comment made him uneasy, but then he asked, "You don't drink it?"

  "No, I'm a tequila girl myself." I knocked back a shot and slammed the glass down. "Must be from all the tacos I've devoured in my life."

  I watched him sip his drink. "I'm sorry I didn't answer your calls sooner."

  "I understand, or, I'm trying to. I don't remember much after seeing the little girl in the red dress. I just know I feel like I've been hit by a Mack truck today and was hoping you could fill me in."

  He took another drink. The ice rattled, not from him swirling the glass but from nerves. "I'm struggling to understand, too."

  I wanted to make him feel comfortable. "Might as well address the elephant in the room. In your email, you said I died. How do you know?"

  "The EMTs who worked on you said so."

  "That I flatlined?"

  "Yeah, you were gone."

  I slammed back another shot. A few more and maybe the pain in my back would ease a bit. It hurt even to sit. "Then what happened?"

  "Well, they were about to put you on the stretcher. I guess to take you to a morgue until family could be notified, whatever it is they do. But..." He stopped and starred into his glass.

  "But?"

  "You... woke up."

  I sat back in my chair. "Oh." The same thing happened two nights ago. The fact that I now had someone to confirm what I remembered, I was starting to believe that it really did happen. It was no dream.

  "I'm sorry you had to see that. I can't imagine what that was like."

  "Yeah, it was ki
nda weird. I mean, I had just met you. I hardly knew you, and yet," he rubbed his hair with his hand. "I thought we had a great time at the arcade, and then to see that. I dunno, it was just weird."

  I half smiled. "I had a good time, too. At the arcade."

  "Have you been to the hospital? Did you get checked out?"

  "Well, about that. There's something else you should know." I pointed to his glass. "Round two?"

  "Do I need it?"

  I couldn't hold back my nervous snicker. It certainly wasn't a laughing matter, but something told me he wasn't about to rush out my door. He was genuinely interested and would stick around. "You might."

  I poured him another drink and then sat down next to him on the couch. He took a couple sips, and I could tell he relaxed a little.

  "So, what were you gonna tell me?"

  I stared at the bottle of courage, tempted to pour another. But I didn't need it. I knew I could do it on my own. I wanted to do it on my own. No sense in running from the truth.

  "Just that... that isn't the first time that I've died."

  7

  The look on his face said it all. He seemed cautious, yet he also had a sense of wonder about him. He stared at me as if seeing me for the first time.

  Was I a ghost?

  I suppose in a way I was. A ghost, I mean. Yet I felt real. The pain made sure of that.

  "Two nights ago, I had a dream I was drowning. When I woke up, I was on a beach, wrapped in a towel, and being tended to by EMTs."

  "Like yesterday?"

  "Yeah. But it gets better. There was a man. A few yards away from me. He, too, was being looked at by medical staff. I never spoke to him, but apparently I saved him from drowning."

  "Holy shit." The glass made a thud sound as he sat it down. I watched him as he moved around my living room. His hands moved through his shaggy hair and down to his face where he rubbed his eyes. It was nothing I myself hadn't done while trying to process the strange situation.

  "I must sound crazy." Then he looked at me with the most caring eyes.