Chapter 1
The man was tall and slender, dressed in dark clothing and carrying
an odd-shaped black satchel in the crook of his arm, and his eyes stayed fixed
on my headlights as my BMW slammed into him.
Everything from that point slowed down and turned fuzzy and out of
focus, like a dream sequence in a weird movie. The streetlamps and traffic
lights straight ahead faded, blending into a gooey mess of shapeless colors,
and the passing traffic disappeared. Everything had turned into a vast dark
stillness.
A feeling of iciness enveloped me as if someone had draped a wet
towel across my shoulders. The only thing that existed right then was the
horrible thud the man's body had made when my car plowed into him. The disgusting
sound resonated through me, filling my being. Mixed with the frantic beating of
my heart, the overall effect was deafening. My first instinct was to cover my
ears, but I needed to keep a tight grip on the wheel. Even so, the nauseating
sound continued resonating, growing louder, like some
wild African tribal beat.
I suddenly realized that the sound would intensify if I covered my
ears. Doing that might hold it all in. But I had to do something to take my mind off it.
I massaged my temples. Then I rubbed my eyes. Only then did I
discover that my hands were no longer gripping the steering wheel. I'd apparently stopped driving without even being aware of
it.
The BMW was no longer moving. The traffic lights remained where they'd been moments ago, suggesting that I hadn't gone very
far since the accident. I was sitting behind the wheel, staring at the
intersection a hundred or so yards straight ahead, where the lights had just
turned red. There was no traffic waiting there.
I wondered where everyone had gone.
Had the rest of the world disappeared? Or had I somehow escaped this
horror? Had I departed this life altogether? Had the mind-blowing act of slamming
into a person on the highway forced me to veer off the road and mash my vehicle
into the nearest building, killing me as well?
Or had my existence simply changed, blending into the strange foggy
blackness that had taken hold of me?
I continued staring at the lights. They'd
already turned green. A few cars came my way, creeping
through the intersection. They were moving much slower than moments ago, when I'd made my hasty departure from cold reality. Just before
they passed, they all merged into a single lane.
Were they being directed to merge? Or were
they simply trying to avoid something lying in the road behind me?
I forced myself to believe that the traffic didn't
matter. Nothing mattered because I was no longer a part of the picture. I had
no intention of grabbing the wheel and continuing my journey home. In fact, I
had no intention of doing anything. That was a no-brainer,
since I suddenly realized I was unable to move.
I had to move, didn't I? I couldn't
just sit here for the rest of my life. I was alive, wasn't I? Being alive was
part of life, wasn't it? People who no longer moved were usually dead or lying in
a coma in a hospital bed.
Since I wasn't in a coma, I decided that I
should continue acting the part of a living, breathing human being.
I decided to explore my surroundings.
I was surprised to discover that I was no longer on the highway. At
some point during the last few agonizing moments, I'd veered
off the road and pulled into a strip mall-although I had no recollection of
doing so. I had no recollection of doing anything once I'd
slammed into the guy who'd stepped out in front of me.
Had that actually happened? Or had I
imagined it?
The mind does strange things when you're
exhausted or stressed. I'd been pushing myself the last
few weeks. The office had literally gone crazy since
the new merger had graduated from whispered rumors to direct action. Everyone
was nervous, suspicious of the new faces wandering
about. Conference calls and meetings had taken up most of my afternoons, and I hadn't had time to do anything but drive to work, preside
over the meetings, argue about business strategies with the new faces, drive
home, fix dinner and sack out. Half the time, I'd
collapsed in the living room recliner the instant I got home. The other times, I'd nodded off even before I was able to finish my meal. I'd been running on all eight cylinders for much too long
and needed a rest. When you're in such a vulnerable
state, all sorts of weird, unexplained things can happen.
I had to consider that my imagination had been playing tricks on me.
I remembered the times during the last few days when I'd
left the house without my keys or cell phone. Yesterday afternoon, I poured a
cup of coffee, took a call on my cell and left the cafeteria
without taking the coffee with me. Two days ago, I pulled out the makings of a
sandwich from the fridge, got a call, went to my den to look for some papers and left the bread, turkey, cheese, pickles, and
the mayo jar on the counter until the next morning.
My brain had been on overload for too long and definitely
needed a recharge.
But would it make me imagine that I'd run
over someone? Would it go to such an extent to create such a horrible vision?
Maybe I had
imagined it. At least, I hoped I had...
How could I find out for sure? How could I know? What would it take
to convince me that my overworked brain had simply provided me with a
hallucination to force me to take it easy?
Just turn around and see
for yourself.
That sounded simple enough, didn't it?
If I saw nothing, I'd know right then that
I needed a rest. This time, I'd actually pay attention
to the signs and do what was necessary. I'd call in
early the next morning and tell Gloria I wasn't feeling well and needed some
time off. If a few days weren't enough, I'd call in
again and tell her I was going to take off the following week. I had vacation
time coming; they could handle things without me. If not,
I'd obviously hired the wrong people.
All I had to do to fix this was turn around and see for myself that there was no body, that my exhausted
brain had imagined the whole thing. I hadn't
run over anyone. I was extremely tired and might even have dozed off or just
zoned out for a moment or two. I might have hit a stray dog, for all I knew-or
someone's discarded Arby's bag. A number of things might have happened, things
that weren't so serious or traumatic...
But that didn't mean I hadn't run over someone, did it?
No. That terrible possibility clung stubbornly to my mind.
I continued sitting behind the wheel, my pulse hammering as I
gathered the courage to turn around. Could I do this? Did I have the balls
necessary to face my fear? What if I had run someone over? Could I deal
with it? Could I live with the knowledge that I'd
actually killed another human being?
It doesn't matter. You have to find out. It's the only way you'll be able to get through this moment.
Because, no matter what happened or didn't
happen, you can't just sit here like this!
After about a minute, I found the courage inside me and turned
around.
My heart practically leaped out of my chest.
About a hundred feet behind me, a dark, motionless figure lay just
off the curb. His crumpled satchel sat in the middle of the road, about twenty
feet from the figure's outstretched hand. A few yards
from where the figure lay, two police cruisers, lights flashing, blocked the
lane. One cop directed the traffic in the other lane,
merging both lanes into one so as not to disturb the scene.
The other cop was talking to the radio attached
to his left shoulder as he cautiously approached my car.
Chapter 2
I turned to face the front, closed my eyes
and willed myself to be somewhere else. This wasn't happening; it just couldn't
be. I hadn't
done this. I refused to believe that I'd just mowed
down another human being as if...as if-
As if he wasn't there in the first place?
Yes. That was it. He wasn't there. I
was driving down the road, minding my own business...and there he was. He'd just appeared-had simply materialized in
front of my car. It was as if he'd been snatched from
some other universe and placed right there in front of me, just one moment
before I-
The harsh rap on my window sounded similar to
the thump the body had made, and I jumped.
Pull yourself together. You can do
this. There's a cop out there and he's trying to get your
attention. You can't come apart at the seams now,
can you?
I could hold myself together; I'd done it
countless times before, hadn't I? I was a grown man. I'd
been married and divorced twice. Both women had soaked me, but I'd survived. I'd been running
Ellis & Associates the last nine years and had kept it going in spite of
the twists and turns the economy had taken. The Dow had dipped, dropped and stumbled more than a dozen times during those
years, but we'd survived. I even managed to keep the company going without
laying off people or lowering salaries. My employees respected me and trusted me.
Many of them even liked me.
I could definitely handle something like this.
Can you? I asked myself. This isn't about the economy, and it sure as hell isn't about two
women who divorced you because you spent more time at the office than you did
with them. This is the real thing. This is vehicular manslaughter, and you'd better
start taking it seriously...
Another rap.
"Sir? Please roll down your window..."
Reality had intervened again. Listen to it, my inner voice
persisted. If you don't, you'll be truly sorry.
Pull yourself together. Think. Focus.
I took a couple of deep breaths. There.
So far, so good... I rubbed my eyes, tapped my cheeks
and tried to focus. I'm Brad Ellis, I reminded
myself. I'm sitting here behind the wheel of my BMW
and I'm in one piece. To make sure I was right, I rubbed my palms together.
Yep. One piece. And my pants are still dry.
Now...focus on what's next...
The window. He wanted me to lower
the window. It couldn't be that difficult, could it? A man boasting as many
accomplishments as I just did should surely be able to perform such an
incredibly simple task.
For some reason, I found pressing the
damned button just as complicated as deciding which wire to cut on a bomb. The
button was right there on the door rest, just as visible and as accessible as
ever. It was there when I bought the car and had been there ever since. I'd never had trouble with it before...
Even so, I had trouble reaching it. My arm suddenly weighed a ton,
and my hand shook too much. To make things even worse, I kept pulling away from
it. Did I want to keep from lowering
it? Was this a subconscious attempt to keep the remnants of my world from
escaping? Or was this my feeble way to keep out the chilling reality of what I'd just done?
Whatever it was, I knew I couldn't hold it
off for long. It would infuriate the cop and make the
situation worse. But I just couldn't help it.
Another rap.
"Sir?" He sounded impatient.
You can do this, dammit!
I know I can...
What are you waiting for, then?
Gritting my teeth, I forced my arm closer to the door rest. After some furious groping, I pressed the button. The window slid quietly
down, and a wash of ice flowed in, chilling me to the bone.
Ice? In Florida? I really was losing it...
"Sir? You all right?" The cop sounded genuinely
concerned.
"I'm really sorry..." I couldn't think of
anything else to say right then. I wanted to tell him why I couldn't
open the window at first but guessed by his expression that he'd probably
already figured it out. "I'm kind of...well, messed up right now... I couldn't
manage...the window button...I just...I couldn't find the damned
thing!"
"Sir, would you please step out of your vehicle?"
"P-Pardon me?"
"Please step out, sir. I need to ask you a few questions."
Once again, my body had betrayed me. I knew where the door latch was,
but couldn't grab it. I wanted to switch on the
interior light to see it better but didn't want the
cop to think I was up to something. I'd never been in
this situation before but had seen enough cop shows to know that they had to be
suspicious of every move a suspect made during a traffic stop. For all he knew,
I could have guns or drugs in the car. After all, I'd
just slammed into someone and possibly even killed him. This man had to be
especially cautious.
But after a minute or so, he seemed to sense
my dilemma and reached inside to pull open the door himself.
"Thank you."
He nodded but said nothing. He had small light-blue or gray eyes. In
the haze of the streetlamp, I couldn't quite tell what
color they were. They'd looked cold at first, but I
could actually see a softness emanating from them.
I started to slide out and quickly got hung
up on my seat belt. Dammit. This man is
really gonna think I'm drunk!
"My seat belt. I guess I forgot all about
it..." It was all I could think of that made any sense.
"Go 'head and release it," he said.
To my utter astonishment, I managed to do it without strangling
myself.
"Please step out, sir..."
I nearly collapsed when the hard pavement tapped the bottoms of my
shoes. He helped me by grabbing my arm, and I straightened and leaned against
the side of the BMW for support. I wanted to give him an explanation for my
clumsiness but realized it might make my situation even worse,
if that was at all possible. After a few tense
moments, I discovered that I could stand on my own. I forced myself from
turning to my left, where my victim lay on the highway. The first time I'd seen him, it nearly destroyed me. I couldn't
possibly manage it again right now.
"Sir?"
The officer was speaking to me.
"Yes?"
"Are you all right?"
That was the most ridiculous thing anyone had ever asked me. I wanted
to tell him how I felt, but something inside me told me to choose my next words
wisely. With this in mind, I gave him a subtle version
of what was going on in my head at that moment. "No. I'm not. I just hit
someone. I'm not
all right. As a matter of fact, I don't think I'll
ever be all right again..."
As he watched me, I could see his eyes softening again. He looked
down at his pad and stared at it. I could tell he was trying to give me as much time as he could under the circumstances. He obviously
saw something on my face he seemed to understand-something he might have seen
before. He knew right off that this was definitely something
that needed to be handled delicately. However, he had a job to do. I knew that
as well as he did.
"Sir, do you need to be taken to the hospital?"
"I honestly don't know. I don't think I'm hurt..."
He held up his index finger about a foot in front of my face. "Can
you see this?"
I nodded.
"Keep your eyes on my finger, but don't move your head."
He moved it back and forth across my line of vision, very slowly.
Afterward, he lowered his arm. I knew what he was doing. "Have you been
drinking, sir?"
"No..."
"You've had nothing at all to drink?"
"I don't drink and drive. I stopped doing that in college when I
developed a brain cell or two."
He seemed satisfied with my answer and wrote something down in his
notebook. "I need to see your license, registration, and proof of insurance."
I reached for my back pocket. As soon as I did, I realized that I'd forgotten which pocket I kept my wallet in. This made my
urge to panic even more immediate. I'd been carrying
my wallet in the same pocket since I was old enough to drive. That was more
than twenty years ago. I shouldn't have any trouble at
all finding it right now.
Hell, you couldn't even lower the window two minutes ago!
This was indeed a critical situation, and if I wasn't
careful, I'd make a horrible mess of it. If I bungled anything else, this man
would certainly force me to take a sobriety test. But I had no choice. Once
again, I forced myself to do whatever it took to keep the panic away.
Think, Ellis. One thing at a time.
Then, finally, it came to me. I carried my wallet in the rear pocket
on my right side, where I'd been carrying it since I
first got my learner's permit.
I pulled it out and fumbled for the right cards, but my hands just wouldn't cooperate, and I dropped the damned thing. It
landed with a splat! on the pavement between my feet. I stood there like
an idiot, staring down at it as if I had no idea what I'd
just done or what I should do next.
"I'm really sorry," I said. I wanted to tell him that this was the
first time I'd ever been involved in something like
this. I decided against it. It would have come out wrong no matter how I said
it and would have made me sound like a demented idiot. Or worse-a drunken,
demented idiot.
"It's all right." He bent to snatch it up and handed it back to me.
This time I took special care opening it. I successfully
pulled out my driver's license and registration without dropping them again. Then
I handed them over. As he studied them, I found my insurance card and gave it
to him as well.
"One moment, please..." He turned and went back to his cruiser.
I stood there stiffly, forcing myself not to gawk at the scene. Several other vehicles had shown up. I still hadn't turned in that direction, but I could hear the
engines idling and several different voices barking orders and instructions. The
medical unit was probably there, and perhaps another
police cruiser. I turned to face the BMW, rested my elbows on its flawless
finish and tried very hard to keep myself from coming
apart. I closed my eyes again and struggled to convince myself that this was
not actually happening. I was not really here; I'd
imagined all this. I visualized my Winter Park condo
and even saw myself in the shower, scrubbing down after another torturous day
at the office. I could even see the drink I'd fixed when
I came home-a double Scotch and soda. It was waiting for me on the kitchen
counter as soon as I stepped out of the shower, toweled myself dry and-
"Mr. Ellis?"
The strangely familiar voice behind me jarred me forcibly out of my
daydream.
Pull yourself together!
Taking a deep breath, I straightened and turned around. I was about
to ask the cop how he knew my name. He was standing a few feet away, holding out my cards. I stared at them,
then at him, and after a few awkward moments realized that he knew my name
because he'd been checking my cards. Once that mystery
was solved, I began to wonder what I was supposed to
do. He pushed them closer, and the scrap of reason still clinging to my brain
suggested I take them. They were mine, weren't they? He was handing them to me
because he obviously didn't need them anymore.
It's really
a no-brainer. You majored in math and business
management, and even made fairly good grades in
Algebra and Trigonometry. You surely can figure out something this simple.
I took them and put them in my shirt pocket rather than try slipping
them back in my wallet. I had to do whatever was necessary to keep from
dropping things again.
"We'll need to ask you a few questions, Mr. Ellis. Would you mind
taking a trip to the Police Station?"
I wanted to ask him if I was under arrest. He hadn't
asked me to turn around, so I figured he wasn't about to cuff me.
"We have coffee at the Station," he said. "If you need medical
assistance-"
"Can you drive me?" I asked. "I'm too...too shaken up-"
"I understand. If you need someone to park and secure your car, we
can do that."
"I'd appreciate it. The keys are in the ignition."
"Can you make it to the cruiser? Or do you need a hand?"
"I think I can make it, thanks."