Surrogate

  Suddenly Robbie saw the light shift. Shadows danced within that brilliance--shadows that reminded him of Carrie's face. Their movement was strange, warped, and she appeared as though she were under water, with her hair splayed wildly around her head. Her lips parted; but all he heard was the dull static of white noise in his head.

  He sensed he was moving, probably still sliding toward the edge, but his thoughts were too jumbled for him to care. Besides, he couldn't have moved even if he'd tried; his body had stopped responding.

  A brilliance enveloped him, and he flinched as pain surged through him. His whole body spasmed, and he heard himself groan. His world spun, and he knew he was falling, but even that was wrong. It was slow, almost as though he were floating. His mind fogged over in panic and he tried to sit up but couldn't. All he could move were his eyelids. He forced them open and found that although the harsh brilliance of the lightning had vanished, the world still glowed, and that glow came from Carrie.

  His wife should have been farther away, especially once he'd started falling, but she was next to him, close. Her skin seemed to brighter than most of what was around her, almost as though it barely contained light, and glimmers of it seeped out of her pores.

  Beneath Carrie's seemingly translucent skin, Robbie could see a faint shadow of something not-completely human.

  Carrie's hair stood on end as before, and her palms, turned face up, almost seemed to be carrying him, but they weren't. She wasn't that close. Her eyes seemed to glow. His eyes widened in their supernatural beauty, and he found he had to look away. It was too much.

  In short, the way Carrie seemed to glow, she looked like a star, casting her light over him, and the breath caught in his throat as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing. Had he been struck by lightning? Was he seeing things? That had to be the answer because this couldn't be real, not in a million years.

  Rain splattered his face, and even though Robbie wanted to open his eyes, he felt too dizzy. The last thing he needed was to pass out. He had done that only once--the first time he'd given blood in high school. Everybody had laughed because he had been this big high school quarterback who'd hit the floor. That's what he felt like right now and why he didn't want to move, at least not until the queasiness had stopped and he was able to regain his bearings.

  Even with his eyes closed, he knew his body was moving. He could sense it. Had he not felt ill, he would have tried to figure out what was going on, but it was all he could do to focus on breathing and staying conscious. He felt hot. Hell, the world was on fire, and not even the downpour of rain could put the blaze out.

  It could have been five minutes or an eternity before he heard Carrie speak to him. She was calling his name. Even now, he could hear the slightly foreign pronunciation of his name, and that was what he focused on. He didn't know why. There were a million things to think of, but all he could settle on was the strangeness of Carrie, a woman he'd known most of his life. There should have been no mysteries.

  Despite the dizziness assaulting him, he forced his eyes open. Robbie found Carrie kneeling before him, her hands now uselessly poised in her lap. She didn't know what to do with them. Those hands were awkward there, what with the swell of her belly.

  "Robbie, can you hear me?" Carrie spoke louder and leaned toward him. Water beaded in her hair and spilled onto his face, joining the rainwater already there.

  In the background, Robbie saw the house, rising large and imposing, toward the sky, and it confused him.

  "What happened?" His voice was low and weak, matching exactly how he felt.

  "You were struck by lighting and fell off the roof." Carrie pushed her hair behind her ears and wiped some of the water from her cheeks.

  Part of Robbie wanted to take what she was saying at face value, which would be the easiest thing to do, but he knew better. No matter how long he lived, he was never going to get the image of his wife standing on the roof during a storm from his mind.

  "We should get you inside," she said, taking his arm to help him. "Can you manage?"

  That right there was a giveaway. Had he fallen from the roof, Carrie would never have let him get up. She would have called for an ambulance and kept him still. For a few seconds, he considered arguing with her but then thought better of it.

  "Yeah, I think I can walk," he finally said. Carrie took his arm, ready to support him if necessary. That's when he thought of how Carrie had appeared a few moments ago, her hands upturned as though carrying something while he supposedly "fell" to the ground.

  He wanted to claim he was all right, but the dizziness was still his constant companion. He almost fell down getting to his feet, and had Carrie not been holding so tightly, he would have.

  Robbie flinched at such a stupid, awkward situation. He was used to being the strong one--that was his place--but this reversal was almost as disturbing as the fact that Carrie felt far stronger than she should have. He was much taller than she was, and normally the weight of his body would have been more than she could have shouldered, especially with the additional weight of the baby.

  Still Carrie somehow managed to walk without hunching as she supported him. Although it didn't set well with him, he leaned on Carrie as they edged toward the door. It was harder going than he'd expected because of the severe wind and downpour. More than once, he had to close his eyes to stop the spinning, yet she kept them both moving, heading into the dark house.

  Once inside, Robbie took a deep breath, relieved to be out of the rain. He prepared to stop, but then, as Carrie kept pushing him, he let her lead him to the living room. Although he knew he was muddy, he didn't care as he eased himself to the floor.

  The world was still spinning, and he wished he could find a way to make things go still. Clenching his eyes shut, he took a deep breath, promising he would get up soon and then finally get to the bottom of all of this. He'd force himself to ask the questions he'd been avoiding because he hadn't wanted to know, because living with the lies was easier. But now the truth was in front of him, demanding his attention whether he wanted to give it or not.

  "Are you all right?" Carrie asked.

  Robbie took another deep breath before slowly opening his eyes. Carrie sat on the bed, her arms folded across her chest. Her long hair spilled down her shirt, water dripping from the end.

  "I'm fine," he managed, slowly easing himself to a sitting position. He frowned and studied her, searching for signs of difference that might confirm he wasn't crazy, but as far as he could tell, it was Carrie. Still, now he knew better now. Somehow he'd known better since the accident, yet a part of him refused to believe it, no matter what anyone said.

  Despite not feeling sure-footed, Robbie forced himself to stand, wanting to feel he was on equal footing with whoever or whatever stood there when he finally spoke his mind.

  "You're pale, Robbie. Perhaps you shouldn't be standing."

  "Maybe not," he agreed, stepping toward her. Every part of him ached, and his world was changing. He could feel the rumblings of the earthquake, and everything was about to break apart no matter how hard he tried to hold it together. "But right now it doesn't matter." His voice cracked.

  Carrie stood and pushed the hair from her face. "You're acting rather strangely."

  "Am I?" His voice was deeper than it should have been as he took another step closer. He could almost reach out and touch her. Looking down, he knew it would be so easy just not to ask, to let things go on the way they had been--to lie to himself--but he couldn't.

  He took another step closer.

  "Robbie--"

  "What are you?" he demanded.

  "I...I'm your wife," she finally said, her face blank.

  "No," he answered. "You are a lot of things, but you're not Carrie." His whole body stiffened with rage, an emotion he hadn't expected, hadn't had a clue would be coming--yet here it was, a white-hot poker in his chest that burned and burned until there was nothing left.

  "Robbie, maybe you should get some rest. You
're talking crazy."

  "Crazy?" he repeated incredulously. "No, this isn't crazy." He took another step toward her and watched her back up. Although up front her expression seemed filled with concern, he suspected there was a lot more going on below the surface.

  Still, what she was thinking was far from his most pressing concern. No, what he really needed to know was what had taken Carrie's place. What had it done with her, and why.

  Grateful he felt some of the dizziness and nausea receding, allowing him to feel stronger, he upped his pace, forcing Carrie's look-alike against the bedroom wall, where he planned to confront her and get some answers once and for all.

  "Tell me what you've done with Carrie," he growled, feeling his patience snap as it occurred to him to wonder whether Carrie might be still alive and in danger. What if this being knew where she was and he could force her to take him to his wife?

  "Robbie, it's me," she said, offering a very convincing smile. He wanted to believe her--God help him, how he wanted that--but he knew it was wrong. She might look and sometimes act like Carrie but there was a huge difference between looking like and being them.

  "You're not Carrie," he snapped, lunging to close the final distance between them.

  She backed up so fast she hit the wall hard enough to knock a portrait of the two of them to the ground. It fell glass-first and shattered on impacting the hardwood floor below. It was just a picture, Robbie realized, but that picture had been taken when they'd honeymooned at Panama Beach, Florida, so many years before, and when the glass broke, so, too, did some part of Robbie. He grabbed her wrists, only intending to keep her confined--to get his answers. That was all he cared about.

  "Robbie, let go. You're hurting me." She struggled against him.

  "Then tell me what I want to know," he demanded, gripping her wrists hard and slamming them to the wall just above her head.

  She gasped, and her eyes widened as she took in Robbie's enraged expression. In that instant, when their eyes met, Robbie heard her speak, but the woman's lips never moved, yet the voice was deafening. It echoed in his head.

  "So you wish to know the truth," she said. "Very well--but remember the truth cannot be unknown, no matter how much you might come to wish it."

  Before Robbie could even think to reply, a series of images filled his mind, starting with his wife's car driving down the road toward their house and ending with the appearance of a shadowy, ghost-like figure standing before a severely bruised and bloodied Carrie, who was too weak even to keep her eyes open. Her face was pale, and she was shivering. Carrie's voice was barely more than a whisper as she asked the shadow to save her baby.

  He wanted to argue against what he saw, but no words came, especially not as he saw Carrie slump. The shadow tore wide the car door and jerked the front dash back so it could gently lift his wife's body from the wreck, leaving a pool of blood behind. Robbie wasn't sure how much blood Carrie had had left, but he knew it hadn't been enough, and the being embraced her. One moment Carrie's body was visible, and the next, it had disappeared into the shadow's as the being slowly took on Carrie's form.

  Stunned, Robbie abruptly released her and stumbled back. He closed his eyes, trying to drive the sight of Carrie's body from his mind. Pain surged through him, leaving him reeling, and he felt tears surging. When he finally opened his eyes, their wetness spilled down his face, leaving him raw and gasping. He could barely stay on his feet, and the world was spinning again.

  "You said you wanted the truth." The voice that spoke to him was more foreign now than before, and when Robbie looked up, he realized that while the sound came from the woman he'd once believed to be his wife, the sound didn't come close to matching her physique anymore.

  Robbie savagely rubbed his face. "What have you done with my wife?"

  It was a futile question; he didn't want the answer; he just wanted Carrie.

  "She's in me. I couldn't save her, but I sensed the life inside her, and I knew it would die if I didn't do anything."

  Robbie watched her as she spoke, and despite hearing the words, he realized her lips weren't moving. In that moment, he wondered how he ever could have believed the person in front of him was Carrie.

  "What are you?" His voice wavered.

  "A traveler a long way from home." She stepped toward the window and peered out at the sky. "I never meant for your wife to be hurt. I almost collided with your wife's vehicle, and she lost control."

  "So what you showed me...." his voice tapered off, and he waited for her response. It came as a slow nod.

  "And the baby?" He tried to tell himself not to ask, that he was better off not knowing, but he had to find out. The baby was now all he had left of Carrie--all he would ever have.

  "Come to me. I'll show you." She didn't turn and face him. Her strawberry-blonde hair appeared bluish in the night.

  The muscles in his back tensed, and for a few seconds, he stood there, trying to get his world to stop spinning. He tried to brace himself for what he would find. He hadn't been able to fully grasp that Carrie was dead. Anything beyond that seemed beyond belief. The baby had to be all right. It had do.

  Trying to keep his faith, Robbie forced himself to step toward her, stopping a couple of feet behind, his hands dangling at his sides, fingers twitching uncomfortably.

  As she slowly turned, Robbie found his body stiffening, waiting for...something. Part of him wanted to back away, but he knew this was the moment of truth. She looked at him and stretched out her hand, reaching for his. Even in the moonlight that seemed to sneak through the cloudy sky, her skin appeared translucent and otherworldly. Carrie had been beautiful, but this being was stunning.

  No matter how much he tried to lift his hand and take hers, the fear coursing through him was too strong, rooting him to the spot.

  "Take my hand. Please." the voice was soft, reassuring, but the fact that it wasn't Carrie's kept him from totally trusting her. She waited for him to move, and when she realized he wasn't going to, she slowly reached down until her fingers could latch onto his. The gesture was familiar, and Robbie flinched as the pain of his loss once more overwhelmed him.

  The being stared into his eyes as she slowly lifted his hand toward her abdomen, both their hands touching the soft silk folds of her gown.

  "What are you doing?" Robbie stammered beneath the weight of fear dragging him down.

  "You'll see," she promised. Her hand forced him to apply pressure, gentle first, but then, when it seemed it might hurt her or the baby, he quickly started to struggle.

  "Stop it!" he yelled.

  But she didn't, no matter how hard he fought, and then, when he feared the pressure might be too much, both their hands slowly sank below the skin and deeply into her belly. He tried to pull back, but she refused to release him.

  "What the hell?" he muttered, staring as her abdomen suddenly started to glow, almost as though there were a light behind her. In that moment, he could see the outline of the baby's form, pretzeled as it was inside the traveler's abdomen. Even as he watched, rendered speechless with awe, their hands drifted toward the baby, a perfectly formed being so beautiful it stole Robbie's breath.

  The being guided Robbie's hand toward the child's face, and together they stroked the soft skin, her hand just barely atop his. The baby felt the movements and turned its head to blindly open its mouth in their direction, rooting. It lifted a small, loosely clenched fist that uncurled as it felt Robbie's hand. Those tiny fingers eased themselves around one finger and tightly grasped it.

  Staring at a miracle more beautiful than he ever could have imagined, Robbie suddenly found himself crying, saddened by this small wonder his wife would never be able to share.

  Chapter Twelve

  Sunlight poured into the living room as Robbie forced open his eyes. For a moment, he was disoriented, not really remembering why he was sleeping on the couch instead of in the bedroom with Carrie. What had happened?

  Then, in a maddening frenzy, it all came back to h
im. Sitting up, he looked down at his hand, remembering last night when he'd touched the baby, something that should have been

  impossible. There'd been a time he didn't believe in the impossible, but more and more these days, the impossible was fast becoming all there was.

  His stomach rolled unpredictably, and the acid left him raw. He had wanted to be grateful for the life of his child, and he was, but there was a deeper pain--a boiling anger at the loss of Carrie. Beyond that, Robbie still had a million questions that needed to be answered.

  Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to get off the couch. He started to head for the kitchen when he caught sight of himself in a passing wall mirror, and the reflection suggested a stranger, someone he himself would barely have recognized. His hair stood on end, and out of habit, he tried to pat it into submission--never mind that it wasn't working. In the morning light, his face was pale, especially in contrast to the stubble lining his jaw. Normally, the first thing he'd do was shave. Carrie had never liked facial hair, but now the weight of the world was resting on his shoulders. He needed to find some answers. Besides, Carrie wasn't here anymore to object to his failings, so did it matter?

  Taking a deep breath, he walked, trying to remember what had happened after he felt the baby, but there was nothing after that. Of course, his thoughts had been muddled, and he still couldn't explain being able to touch his child's hand while inside...her.

  As he'd half-expected, Robbie found the woman he'd though was his wife in the kitchen. Her strawberry-blonde hair framed her face as she sat at the table in front of a cup of coffee. She stared into space, seeming lost in thought. She still wore a nightgown and the fluffy pink robe he'd bought Carrie last Christmas, and looking at her, part of Robbie wanted to forget last night and go back to the feeble belief she was his wife.

  "How long have you been up?" he asked, forcing himself to step to the cupboard, get a cup, and pour himself some coffee before sitting across from Carrie. Usually, he would've have immediately taken a sip of coffee, but today he just set the cup on the table and leaned back.