Beautiful Dead 3: Summer

  But this is weird – they’re dead people and you’re rushing blindly to meet them. I heard Hannah’s grey voice telling me this as I drove on. That’s gross, Darina. You make my flesh creep.

  Jordan wouldn’t say it to my face. She’d wear her worried expression and discuss it with Logan. He would tell her how much I’d changed, how he couldn’t get close to me any more and he’d given up even trying.

  The black sky was vast, speckled with faint silver stars. A mule deer startled me by leaping out of the brushwood and into my headlights, almost sending me off the road. I gripped the wheel and drove on.

  At last I reached Foxton and the string of small wooden houses lining the highway. I threw a left at the old store, along the dirt track that followed the creek deeper into the mountains. I passed the spot where Matt Fortune and Bob Jonson had ridden their Harleys over the cliff.

  I recalled the moment – the roar of the two engines before they cut out, the perfect arcs they made in mid-air as they fell from sight. And then there was silence, and my certain knowledge that their deaths had freed Jonas.

  My tyres squealed as I took the bend. I left the fishermen’s shacks behind and headed on into emptiness. Not much further now before I reached the end of the track.

  There it was – the water tower on the ridge, more visible at this time of year because the surrounding aspen trees weren’t in leaf. Moonlight made the white trunks almost glow in the dark, acting as a beacon as I slammed the car door and began to run towards them.

  Come on, wings, bring it on! I thought. I was expecting to run into the barrier that kept out strangers, the weird sensation that a million wings were forcing you back, sending your head into a spin, thrusting demented visions of skulls at you, hovering overhead, grinning and sightless. Hunter and the Beautiful Dead did that – they had powers to raise the dead and send you screaming down the mountain a jabbering wreck, where no one in their right mind would listen to you but they would hand you strong coffee and tell you that it wasn’t real, you’d had a bad trip, and no wonder considering what had happened around Ellerton this past year – the four dead kids and all.

  I reached the water tower and there was silence. There was no wind, nothing to stop me from treading on through the frozen snow, down the steep slope past the fence, hearing my feet crunch through the surface, feeling myself sink at each step until I reached the empty yard.

  Zoom back to the view from the ridge and how did I look? I was a small black figure surrounded by white slopes, standing knee-deep in snow. I turned towards the house, changed my mind, decided to head for the barn instead. There were no lights, no sign of movement nor any clue that people had lived in this place for decades.

  Zoom back in, study my haunted face – dark eyes glittering – my trembling hand as I pulled at the barn door and it gave way. You can see that after the high of my experience in Kim Reiss’s room, I’ve lost hope again, am in despair.

  Phoenix. I try to whisper his name but nothing comes out. Nothing disturbs the silent shadows of the ancient barn.

  Hunter is playing mind games. He made me believe I’d see Phoenix, just to keep me hooked. The truth is he’s not ready to let the Beautiful Dead return, but he wants to keep me enslaved. Believe me – Hunter the overlord would throw me into this kind of torment without a second thought.

  I stared into the blackness of the barn. I sensed, but couldn’t see, its high roof arching over my head, the broken stairs to the hayloft, the rotting wooden stalls where they once stabled the horses.

  Then I went back out into the yard – a tiny black figure lost again in a gigantic white bowl. What did I do now? Walk out of the valley away from my dream.

  I set off. At first I didn’t look back. I’d come there on a surge of hope, like a huge wave gathering strength until it crests and breaks. I went away a spent force, to a hollow sound of pebbles sucked from the shore.

  I was halfway up the hill when something made me turn. I could see the square hulk of the barn in the moonlight and the empty log cabin across the yard. Nothing had changed. I turned again and continued on my way.

  ‘Darina.’ A soft voice broke the starry silence.

  I clenched my jaw, refused to turn. No, you don’t, Hunter. Not this time. But I did stop walking. I waited and listened.

  ‘Darina, it’s me.’

  ‘If this is another mind game …’ I said, turning at last.

  And there was a light in the house porch. It swayed and flickered as if someone was holding up an oil lamp, standing in the cold, wanting me to return.

  Finally! Yes, I turned and ran, staggered, stumbled down the hill. I was sobbing out of relief, blinded by tears, blundering against the razor-wire and ripping my jacket as I fought free.

  The light flickered on the porch. ‘It’s me,’ Summer said.

  You can tell a whole lot through someone’s voice. It’s not usually the first thing you notice, but when you pay attention you learn if they’re chilled or if they’re tense, happy or sad – you don’t even have to look at them.

  Take my own voice. I talk fast and soft. Jim is slow and loud. It makes me want to say, ‘Keep the noise down, I already got the message, thanks.’

  Voices match their owners. Think about it, test it out – you’ll see what I mean.

  Well, Summer’s voice fits her, and it’s special.

  ‘It’s me,’ she said, holding the oil lamp above her head. She melts my heart every time she speaks. It’s like honey; it makes you think of meadow flowers swayed by a warm breeze.

  I stumbled on to the porch. She led me inside the house, into the kitchen where she put the lamp on the table and waited for me to catch my breath.

  ‘Is this for real?’ I gasped.

  She smiled and nodded. ‘Hey, Darina. Take it easy, huh?’

  I closed my eyes and opened them again. Summer was still there. ‘Where’s Phoenix?’ I asked.

  ‘He’s on his way. He’ll be here soon.’

  ‘When?’

  I looked into every corner, ran upstairs to the bedroom, came down again.

  ‘Summer, I need to see him!’

  ‘I hear you,’ she said softly, a sigh mixed in with the words. ‘I understand.’

  ‘My God, you stayed away a whole lifetime!’ I slumped in the rocking chair by the empty grate. ‘I’ve been a wreck back here.’

  ‘I know. But you know Hunter – he makes the rules. He said no way could we come back until he was ready.’

  Taking a deep breath, in then out, I tried not to sound bitter. ‘So now he’s finally allowing it to happen. What changed his mind?’

  ‘He found someone he was looking for, then came to fetch us – me, Phoenix, Iceman and Donna.’

  I counted the Beautiful Dead as she named them. ‘What happened to Eve and her baby?’

  ‘I have no idea. She wasn’t in the group. We know not to ask questions.’

  ‘But don’t you wonder?’

  ‘Yes.’ Summer pulled her red woollen jacket close across her chest – the collar was embroidered with small white flowers. She wore a cream woollen scarf around her neck. ‘This time it’s just me, Donna, Iceman and Phoenix, plus the new guy.’

  ‘A new guy?’

  ‘Older, like Hunter. That’s all I know.’

  ‘So how come Hunter sent you ahead of the others?’ I already guessed the answer – it was Summer’s turn. She stood in line to be set free, after Jonas and Arizona, before Phoenix.

  ‘Tomorrow is my birthday. After that, I have twenty-one days before the twelve-month anniversary.’

  I had her birthday written in my diary, along with the date of the shooting – Saturday, April thirtieth. It was also engraved inside my head, burned on to the inside of my eyelids, acid-etched on my retinas – in other words totally unforgettable.

  ‘Hunter sent me to fetch you,’ she explained.

  ‘You were there with me in Kim’s room?’ Of course she was there, using her zombie power to stay invisible, listening to every wor
d and setting up the winged barrier. ‘It’s funny – Kim thinks my problem is that I’ll never see you walk into the room and say hi again.’

  ‘I know,’ she smiled. The shrink’s mistake appealed to her sense of humour, which, like everything else about Summer, was subtle. ‘You did good.’

  ‘I was about to fall apart,’ I argued. ‘I could’ve wrecked the whole thing for you.’

  ‘But you didn’t. You haven’t breathed a word.’

  I sighed. ‘Knowing that if I did, Hunter would never fix for you to come back to the far side – not you, or—’

  ‘Phoenix,’ she interrupted. Her face in the lamplight was indistinct, her eyes shaded. She lifted a hand to push a strand of fair hair behind her ear. ‘It’s tough for you.’

  ‘Tough doesn’t cover it,’ I laughed. ‘Think of a sword hanging over your head, ready for you to make one minuscule false move. If you do – whoosh! The blade goes for your jugular.’

  ‘Ouch!’ There was a silence, broken by the pop-pop-pop of the flame in the lamp faltering then plunging us into darkness.

  ‘Out of fuel,’ Summer explained, moving across the room towards the table where she unscrewed the top of the bowl-shaped well and poured in more paraffin. The sharp smell caught in my throat then a match flared and the lamp flickered back on. ‘I want you to do something for me,’ Summer said quietly.

  ‘Anything.’

  ‘Tomorrow, on my birthday, go visit my mom and dad.’

  ‘OK.’ I sounded cool with this, but didn’t feel it.

  Summer’s dad, Jon Madison, would most likely handle my visit, but her mother, Heather, was a different story. She was the high-strung artistic type and the rumour was she was nowhere near being over Summer’s death.

  ‘It’s going to be tough,’ Summer warned. ‘I’d go myself, but Hunter says no.’

  ‘You’re not to go near your own house?’

  She shook her head. ‘There’d be too much emotion flying around – me seeing my mom and dad, revisiting my old home. He says I wouldn’t handle it.’

  ‘Is he right?’

  ‘Totally,’ she said with a sigh. Then, more pragmatically, she added, ‘Our overlord is always right.’

  ‘So I’ll visit for you,’ I promised. ‘Tomorrow midday. I’ll report back, no problem.’

  ‘And between now and then you have to drive home.’ Summer came close and looked me in the eye. ‘That’s another of Hunter’s orders.’

  In the split-second it took for me to take in this information, I felt my stomach knot and I clenched my fists. ‘No. I need to be here when Phoenix arrives.’

  ‘I won’t fight with you. I’m only passing on what Hunter told me: “Say hi to Darina then send her home. Tell her to wait there until I call for her.”’

  ‘Wait? I’ve already waited a million years. Please, Summer, don’t make me leave.’

  I would stay there for however long it took. I would be standing in the barn doorway when the wind rose and the invisible wings beat, there when Phoenix materialized in a halo of soft white light.

  Summer was kneeling beside me, staring into my eyes.

  I wasn’t ready for it when she zapped me with her zombie strength and destroyed my willpower. Her eyes shone cold into mine and my head was sent spinning into an alien space – I was floating and weak as a kitten, ready to do whatever I was told.

  ‘Sorry to do that to you,’ she murmured as she led me out of the house and across the yard.

  I couldn’t fight it, not if my life depended on it. I was out of there minus my free will, heading up the snow-covered hillside towards my car.

  Summer’s voice drifted in the wind after me – the soft, love-song voice of my best friend who, second to Phoenix, I missed most in the world. ‘Hunter will call you back soon,’ she promised. ‘And I swear to you, Darina – Phoenix will be here.’

  There was blood on my hand. I hadn’t noticed how it had got there but I was in the bathroom, washing it away when Laura knocked at the door.

  I watched my blood mingle with the clear water in the basin.

  ‘Darina, are you OK?’ She sounded like she was trying to stay calm, but inside she was freaking out. ‘Where did you go? Do you know it’s past midnight?’

  ‘I’m OK,’ I insisted. ‘I was chilling, forgot the time.’ I splashed cold water on my face then dried it with the towel, opened the door of the wall cabinet and reached for a Band Aid. ‘Go back to bed, Mom.’

  ‘I couldn’t sleep until you came back. I was waiting for the sound of your car.’

  I pictured her hovering on the other side of the door, one hand clutching her dressing gown tight around her neck. A brick in the wall I’d built between us suddenly dislodged and I got a glimpse of what I was putting my mother through. Sliding my injured hand into my jeans pocket, I opened the door. ‘Da-dah! See, I’m cool.’

  Laura was pale; her eyes looked darker because of the smudged mascara. She was exhausted. ‘Why can’t we be … you know … the way we used to be?’ she pleaded.

  She meant me aged ten jumping off the school bus and running up the drive, her baking cookies, me kicking off my shoes in the hallway where Dad would trip over them when he came home from work. Yeah, she baked cookies back then. I practised gymnastics out in the porch.

  ‘We’re cool, Mom.’ I pushed past and disappeared into my room. Nice try, Darina, but you’re not fooling anyone.

  Jim noticed the Band Aid over breakfast. ‘What happened to your hand?’ he asked.

  ‘Nothing. I cut it on a can.’ I’d sat down at the kitchen table but I was only pushing cereal around my bowl, letting it go soggy. I was fixated on waiting for the call from Hunter.

  ‘Did you sleep?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘You don’t look as if you did.’

  I narrowed my eyes and stood up. I try not to say more than two words in any sentence I exchange with Jim. And a conversation never lasts longer than thirty seconds.

  He saw me grab my keys from the shelf by the door. ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Out.’ Anywhere rather than stay in the house with him. Understand, the guy has done nothing bad except get together with Laura after Dad left. He isn’t an axe murderer or anything.

  I got in my car and drove to town. It was still too early to visit the Madisons, so instead I chose a coffee in the Starbucks, plugged in my iPod and sat listening to some of the tracks Summer had laid down for her demo CD. On what would have been her birthday it seemed like the appropriate thing to do. There was a sad song she wrote for Zoey after Jonas died and Zoey was going through her surgeries, not knowing if she would walk again. Summer’s words about not getting to say goodbye seemed to get right inside Zoey’s head, to say what she must be feeling. The song was called ‘Red Sky’, and the guitar was the saddest thing you ever heard.

  ‘Hey, you.’ Jordan walked up to my table with Logan in tow.

  ‘Hey.’ I took out my earpiece, steeled myself for upbeat advice from Jordan and reproachful looks from you-know-who.

  ‘Cool,’ she told me.

  ‘What?’

  ‘To see you at the mall. Today especially – Summer’s birthday.’

  ‘It’s no big deal,’ I argued. ‘Besides, Jim was driving me nuts.’

  They sat opposite me, Logan’s legs way too long to fit under the table so he stretched them out to one side, blocking me in.

  ‘You don’t look great,’ Jordan told me.

  ‘Thanks. I was going for pale and interesting.’

  ‘Mission accomplished,’ Logan muttered.

  Jordan nudged him with her elbow. ‘School sucks,’ she reported, pointedly missing out any reference to my absences from recent rehearsals for Summer’s concert. ‘I’m late with two assignments.’

  ‘Only two!’

  She grinned, then got up to order coffee, which left me and Logan trying not to meet each other’s gaze.

  ‘It’s not what you think.’ Eventually he leaned across the table with his hands cl
asped. ‘Jordan and me – we’re not …’

  ‘Does she know that?’ I shot back. Jordan’s body language told me a whole different story.

  ‘I told her straight – I just want to be friends.’

  ‘Logan, for chrissake – work it out!’

  ‘I’m not into Jordan,’ he flustered.

  He still didn’t get it. ‘It’s not all about you.’

  Anyway, what was there not to be attracted to? Jordan is tall, curvy, high-cheeked, wide-mouthed adorable. She has long, dark, wavy hair to die for.

  She came back with two lattes. I picked up my iPod. ‘Enjoy!’ I told them as I stepped over Logan’s legs and made my way past the spot where the madman had aimed and fired.

  It was like waiting by the phone for the most important call of your life, only multiply that a thousand times. My mouth was dry, my heart racing as I took the elevator, found my car, then drove out of the car park.

  Maybe I should’ve stayed inside the house. That’s where Hunter expects me to wait. I almost turned for home, afraid that I’d missed the vital signal that he was ready for me to go out to Foxton.

  But the promise to Summer couldn’t be broken. I signalled left and headed for Westra.

  Like I said, the Madisons live in a big house on the edge of town. It’s set on a hill with open views of Amos Peak to the west, but compared to some of the houses out there it doesn’t make you feel like you shouldn’t walk on the rugs or sit on the couches. Summer’s parents aren’t into glitz.

  Maybe Jon Madison sees too much of that through his work, which is architect to the rich and sometimes famous. For instance, he designed the Taylors’ house nearby – Arizona’s parents are seriously wealthy through Allyson’s work as news anchor for a networked TV station. She’s a face on the screen in the corner of everyone’s living room.

  Or maybe it’s Heather’s taste that makes the Madison house so warm and welcoming. She’s into rich colours and natural surfaces. The floors in the house are polished wood, there’s pink granite on the kitchen worktops and hand-thrown pottery on the shelves.

  I used to love going there. Today would be less of a pure pleasure thing, I knew.