Элизабет Чандлер: Kissed by an Angel

Tristan looked down the road as if he could look back into time. He tried to remember the last minute of being alive. The light. An incredible light and voice, or message-he wasn't sure if it was actually a voice and couldn't remember any words. But that had come after the explosion of light. He returned to the light again and focused his mind on it.

A pinpoint of light-yes, before the tunnel, before the dazzling light at the end, there had been a pinpoint of light, the light in the deer's eye.

Tristan shuddered. He braced himself. Then his whole self felt the impact. He felt as if he were collapsing in on himself. He fell back. The car was rushing backward, like an amusement park ride suddenly thrown in reverse. He was caught in a tape running backward, with words of gibberish and frantic motions. He tried to stop it, willed it to stop, every bit of his energy bent on stopping the backward-racing time.

Then he and Ivy sat side by side, absolutely still, as if frozen in a movie frame. They were in the car and eased slowly forward now.

"Last glimpse of the river," he said as the road made a sharp turn away from it.

The June sun, dropping over the west ridge of the Connecticut countryside, shafted light on the very tops of the trees, flaking them with gold. The winding road slipped below, into a tunnel of maples, poplars, and oaks. It was like slipping under dark green waves. Tristan flicked on his headlights.

"You really don't have to hurry," said Ivy. "I'm not hungry anymore."

"I ruined your appetite?"

She shook her head. "I guess I'm all filled up with happiness," she said softly.

The car sped along and took a curve sharply.

"I said, we don't have to hurry."

"That's funny," he murmured. "I wonder what's-" He glanced down at his feet. "This doesn't feel…"

"Slow down, okay? It doesn't matter if we're a little late- Oh!" Ivy pointed straight ahead.

"Tristan!"

Something had plunged through the bushes and into the roadway. He saw it, too, a flicker of motion among the deep shadows. Then the deer stopped. It turned its head, its eyes drawn to the car's bright headlights.

"Tristan!" she shouted.

He braked harder. They were rushing toward the shining eyes.

"Tristan, don't you see it?"

"Ivy, something's-" "A deer!"

He braked again and again, the pedal pressed flat to the floor, but the car wouldn't slow down.

The animal's eyes blazed. Then light came from behind it, a burst of headlights-a car was coming from the opposite direction. Trees walled them in. There was no room to steer to the left or the right, and the brake pedal was flat against the floor.

"Stop!" she shouted.

"I'm-" "Stop, why don't you stop?" she pleaded. "Tristan, stop!"

He willed the car to stop, he willed himself back into the present, but he had no control, nothing would stop him from speeding into the whirling funnel of darkness. It swallowed him up.

When he opened his eyes, Lacey was peering down at him.

"Rough ride?"

Tristan looked around. He was still on the wooded road, but it was early morning now, gold light fragile as spiderwebs netting the trees. He tried to remember what had happened.

"You called me, hours ago, asked me what to do next," she reminded him. "Obviously you couldn't wait to find out."

"I went back," he said, and then in a rush he remembered. "Lacey, it wasn't just the deer. If it hadn't been the deer, it would have been a wall. Or trees or the river or the bridge. It could have been another car."

"Slow down, Tristan! What are you saying?"

"There was no pressure, no fluid. It went all the way down to the floor."

"What did?" Lacey asked.

"The pedal. The brake. It shouldn't have given out like that." He grabbed Lacey. "What if… what if it wasn't an accident? What if it only looked like one?"

"And you only look dead," she replied. "Sure fooled me."

"Listen to me, Lacey. Those brakes were in perfect shape. Somebody must have messed with them. Somebody cut the line! You have to help me."

"But I don't even know how to pump gas," she said.

"You have to help me reach Ivy!" Tristan started down the road.

"I'd rather work on the brakes," Lacey called after him. "Slow down, Tristan. Before you knock off another deer."

But nothing would stop him. "Ivy has to believe again," Tristan said. "We have to reach her. She has to know that it wasn't an accident. Somebody wanted me-or Ivy-dead!"