Chris Green - Only the Good Die Young

“So what do you have in mind?” No pun intended.

She laughed again. “Don’t look so scared, Jensen.”

Not scared.

When she saw my resolve, she said, “I was in a car accident once, around the time you died. I won’t tell you any more details than that because I’d like to see what comes out of your spontaneous imagination. Are we set?”

I sucked it up. “Set.”

With another reassuring smile, she let herself relax, folding her hands on her lap as she waited for my touch.

I floated toward her, hovering over her cheek, tempted for one second to merely empathize, just to see the ins and outs of my partner.

But I pressed my essence against her skin hard instead, going deep, rushing right into her head, and—

Cactus, sand, desert, right outside the pool house window, rushing past, just like this pool house was a car, speeding down a road.

In front of us, a stretch of gray highway cut by headlights, whirring under the tires of the room.

The spinning sound of rubber over concrete. Eyelids getting heavy.

One blink. So tired.

Another blink, eyes closing longer this time.

Tired. Such a long trip.

We leave our eyes closed, giving in to the lull of the highway.

Blankness. Finally, some peace after an endless day… .

The electronic scream of a horn.

Our eyes blast open as—

I jerked out of the hallucination, pushing out of Amanda Lee and into the real world so quickly that I practically skidded to a stop near the opposite wall.

Across the room, which had gone back to normal, she was gripping the bench cushion, her gaze shocked, her body trembling.

Was she cold from my touch, just like Wendy had been?

“Why did you stop?” she asked.

“Because we were about to crash!” God, why else would I have stopped?

“Damn it.” She was shaking her head. “This is what I was afraid of. You’re holding back because you don’t want to experience what comes next. We weren’t really going to crash, even if I saw the other car coming toward us in this room as if it was really happening.”

Her criticism stung because she was right.

Was I really that much of a chicken?

“Your body,” I said. “You’re trembling, like you’re afraid. Like there’s adrenaline tearing you up.”

“I’m fine.” Then her voice gentled as she ran a gaze over me. “You’re no grayer than you were before, but how do you feel?”

I took stock of myself. “Fine, too.”

“That’s good.” She rubbed her arms, warming herself, then straightened in her seat, getting comfortable again.

Determination in action.

“Just for the record,” she said, “I didn’t live in California at the time. The accident happened back east, during winter, in the daylight. And I didn’t fall asleep at the wheel. Even so, I can feel my heart beating out of my chest right now. Everything was very real, so kudos for that.”

This woman was definitely a warrior. I wanted to be one, too.

“I’m ready whenever you are,” I said, sidling up to her.

She nodded, and I pushed against her cheek, zooming right into the hallucina—

Winter outside, snowy trees, gray sky flying past the pool house windows.

Tires over slush-laden concrete, the floor of the room becoming the road.

The sound of the radio. Air Supply. Mushy love.

Getting lost in the song, humming along with it.

“Here I am, the one that you love…” An oldie but goody—

The blare of a horn as two headlights appear on the wall, like a truck just now came over a hill, bearing down on us.

A scream. Yanking the wheel to the right, toward a guardrail emerging out of the wall—

I barely felt myself starting to pull out of her, but I wouldn’t. Not this time.

Flying all the way back into her, I saw—

—a guardrail, rushing toward us, the wheel out of control underneath our hands, taken over by the tires.

We crash, our seat belt strap knifes the air out of our lungs, our knees hit the dashboard, the car hood bunches, steam hisses from the engine.

The radio still plays.

“. . . asking for another day…”

We don’t move because our body won’t let us.

Got to start the car, we keep thinking, willing our hand to reach up and turn the key in the ignition.

Dull thoughts, knees hurting, steam hissing.

Got to start the car again…

This time, when I pulled out of her, I did it shakily, slowly, like I was getting out of that scrunched, seething compact car and stumbling away from it.

I was weaker, but still okay. Amanda Lee, though?

Not so sure.

“Hey,” I said, going back to her. She was dazed, her hand cupped over her chest, her body quaking harder. Was she only freezing from my touch? Or worse?

“Amanda Lee?”

I wanted to shake her, but then she blinked, leaned forward, her breathing harsh. She could only shake her head, gasp for oxygen.

Out of pure worry, I did the last thing she’d wanted me to do. Automatically, I touched her, only meaning to try and ghost-heal or something . To do whatever I could to help her.

But that’s not what happened at all.

Because of the visceral car crash, her defenses were down for a splinter of time. At even a slight touch, I zoomed right in.

For the first time ever, I crashed through the black wall she’d erected around her emotions, just like I was bursting through a bank of dark ice.

In my empathy, the whir of her thoughts circled my vision. It was like she was in shock from the car accident. She’d brushed right by death, and moments of remorse had taken her over.

Standing over a grave, touching the headstone.

Thinking of blond hair, blue eyes, a secret smile that said, “Someday they’ll all know.”

Thinking of the one voice that had mattered more than anyone else’s before it’d been silenced.

Her voice…

Unlike most times when I’d been jarred out of a human, this exit was slow, like I had lost heart and was trudging away from the person who’d taken it.

Numb once again, I hovered over Amanda Lee, waiting for her to tell me why she’d been lying to me about knowing Elizabeth Dalton.

After a few minutes, Amanda Lee let her hand fall away from her chest.

She was still shaking. “I’m going to guess that you know.”

I wanted answers too much to fly off the handle. “You were friends with Elizabeth?”

She sent me a lowered glance, like she was trying to puzzle out just how much I’d gleaned from my empathy. There was a bit of accusation there, too, but she wouldn’t dare chide me for accidentally going where I shouldn’t have gone with her.

Instead, she merely rubbed her arms, probably still cold from my empathy. “I should have been sure about what I was doing. Should have waited for a vision or feeling to tell me that this exercise wouldn’t get out of control. I knew you were trustworthy, but that obviously wasn’t enough. I was too eager. You’re important to me, and I wanted to see that you were going to be okay during intense hallucinations.”

“This isn’t an explanation I’m hearing.” My tone was so even-keeled that I barely realized it was my own.

She was still quaking. So was her voice. “I was going to tell you everything.” Then she swallowed. “Eventually.”

My laugh was cutting, electric blades. “You’re just going to talk in circles, aren’t you?”

“I…” She let out a beaten sigh. “You have to understand. I was so afraid you’d leave me. I didn’t want you to think that I was too close to this case, that I lacked perspective.” Her gaze was devastated. “You’re the only one I have in all this, Jensen.”