End of the Road (Ghost Stories Trilogy #1) Read online

  “Mom, I’m fine.” I pushed her hands away and took some shallow, but calming breaths.

  There was a knock on the door before it opened. Lieutenant Adams’ head appeared and I told him to come in.

  “Hernandez, you look better,” he said after meeting my parents. Eric had gotten up and stood next to him. “It’s a goddamn media circus down in the lobby. That video of your rescue has gone viral now and it’s everywhere. I came to let you know I gave the hospital strict instructions you are not to be disturbed and are unavailable for comment.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Yeah, well this whole situation has the potential to get crazier. Say the word miracle and all the religious nut jobs start to have a party. Next, someone’s going to find Jesus Christ in their oatmeal.” He paused and regarded my parents with weary eyes. “Er, hope I didn’t offend anyone?”

  “Not at all,” my dad said.

  “So Hernandez, care to tell me what the hell happened when you went on your walkabout through the wildfire?”

  For the third time that afternoon I told my story. Eric chimed in with what he witnessed. Adams paced across the narrow room and nodded occasionally. When we finished, he stopped and stared at me. “Wow, I’ve got no explanation…other than what you’ve already considered.” His phone vibrated and he snapped it off of his belt to read the display.

  “It’s the Director of Communications for the county, I have to take this.” Adams excused himself and stepped out into the hall.

  “You know this will all blow over when something more exciting happens,” I told my parents.

  “Elena, what if this was a miracle? You can’t let it pass by without acknowledging it,” my mom whispered in my ear as she smoothed the skin on my forehead. I closed my eyes and let the comfort of the familiar gesture wash over me.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  When I woke up later, Eric and my parents were gone. A doctor stood at the side of my bed looking down at me. She had thick dark curly hair streaked with white, which brushed the tops of her shoulders. A hospital identification card was clipped to the lapel of her lab coat. The white fabric contrasted with her dark olive skin, very similar to my own. Assuming she was there to check my vitals, I sat up and adjusted the pillows behind me.

  “Am I still alive?” I joked.

  “Yes, miraculously so it seems,” the doctor answered in a soft voice.

  “When can I be released?”

  “I don’t know. That’s up to the attending physician.”

  “Well, you’re a doctor aren’t you?’

  “Yes, but an Oncologist. I saw the news and thought it was a great coincidence you were at this hospital. I have to talk to you about your experience.”

  She sounded almost frantic and I feared Lieutenant Adams’ orders hadn’t been conveyed enough. Was this woman a religious nut or a journalist in disguise? The knowledge that she appeared while I slept unattended didn’t help ease the apprehension I was feeling.

  “Can I see your ID?”

  The doctor nodded and unclipped the plastic card from her jacket. She handed it to me and I compared the picture to the woman in front of me. Her hair was longer in the photo and she was younger, but I could tell it was the same person. I checked the name - Dr. Mariella Sanchez. The card appeared to be official with a holographic image of the hospital’s logo imprinted on the surface. Satisfied, I gave it back to her.

  “What do you want, Dr. Sanchez?” I asked her and I admit, my tone wasn’t very pleasant.

  She opened her mouth, hesitated and shut it before trying again. “This is going to sound crazy, which is why I haven’t told anyone before.”

  “So you chose me, a complete stranger?”

  “I think, at least I hope, you’ll understand once you hear my story.”

  “All right, go ahead. Today has been full of crazy, why not add some more?”

  I was not expecting what she said next.

  “My mother died near where you were rescued. I actually communicated with her ghost there.” she paused and seemed reluctant to continue as if her story would be too much for me to handle.

  “Go on,” I said.

  Dr. Sanchez proceeded to tell me about her mother, Juanita, and the strange encounter she had with her close to five years earlier.

  “You said there are others?”

  “Yes, they communicated with me by writing in the dirt. I couldn’t see them, only my mother before she apparently crossed over, but seeing the stick move mid-air and spell out answers in the dirt, in response to my questions…well, it was almost too much to believe.”

  “Dr. Sanchez, why didn’t you tell anyone?”

  “Please, call me Mariella. My Uncle Pedro was there and witnessed it, but he has since passed on. I told my husband at the time and he wasn’t convinced. Since I’m a doctor, I didn’t want to put my professional reputation at risk.”

  “I can understand that, it’s the same with being a law enforcement officer.” I took a sip of water from a small plastic cup on the tray next to my bed. “Mariella, aren’t you curious who those people are…were?”

  She shook her head and shrugged. “I was, a little bit, but not enough to do anything. I hadn’t expected to meet my mother’s ghost there and after she had moved on there really wasn’t a reason for me to go back.”

  “Well, I’m sure as hell curious and I’m going to find out.”

  Mariella reached into her pocket and pulled out a business card; setting it on the table next to my cup. “Call me if you have any news or any questions. It’s good to be able to share my experience - validating, you know?”

  “Yes, I’m glad I’m not crazy or the whole thing wasn’t a hallucination.”

  She smiled and tucked a chunk of hair behind her ear. “Good luck with everything,” she said and left the room, the door whispering shut behind her.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  I woke the next morning feeling a hundred times better. My lungs didn’t rattle when I breathed and the tightness of the burns on my arms had eased. I stretched and my dad looked over at me with a smile. The television was on low and he sat in one of the chairs watching the news. My mom dozed in another chair with one of the coarse hospital blankets wrapped around her like a shawl. Eric was gone. I had mixed feelings about his absence and didn’t know what that meant, so I shelved the response away to process another day.

  “Am I yesterday’s news, Dad?”

  “Afraid not, chica. Your boss was right; the crazies have come out to play.”

  “Great.” I watched the coverage with the volume on low, but it still woke my mom up We watched as several people attempted to gain access to the spot where my rescue had taken place. The area was newly scorched and still near the wildfire, yet this didn’t deter the dedicated. A line of my colleagues fanned out along the highway, guiding traffic through and forming a human barrier to keep the lanes free. A group wearing matching black t-shirts, which said “Ghost Trackers” in white, tried to step over a construction barricade but they were stopped. Other people were kneeling and bent over in prayer at the side of the road.

  “What the hell?” I whispered and turned the television off. “This is craziness.”

  “It sure is. Apparently every reporter has called the hospital wanting to interview you. Including the Today Show,” my mom said, her eyebrows arched up and she tipped her head at me to emphasize the importance, “the Today Show, Elena.”

  “I heard you the first time,” I said, wanting to pull the blanket over my head and hide. “I’m being released today and I really don’t want to talk to anyone. I can’t explain what happened.” I didn’t tell my parents or Eric about Mariella’s visit and had tucked her card in the waistband of my underwear before they returned to my room the night before.

  “Don’t worry, your boss said he has an escort arranged and they’re taking you out through a side entrance instead of the front.”

  “Say ‘No Comment’ like they do on T.V,” my mom added suddenl
y sounding like she was a public relations manager.

  I just wanted to go back to work and carry on as usual. Not that I wasn’t grateful for being rescued, but I could do without the attention.

  A nurse came in to check my vitals and I asked her when I’d be discharged. She told me I had to wait for the attending doctor to sign off on my release.

  The doctor showed up two long hours later and after asking a few routine questions, I was free to go. He left and a Phoenix police officer came into the room.

  “Your escort will be here momentarily.”

  “Thanks.” I waited until he was outside again before getting out of bed. My mom handed me one of her embroidered cloth bags and I went into the small bathroom to change. Jeans, a long sleeved green t-shirt, underwear, and some toiletries were all packed neatly into the bag. I pulled the items out one by one.

  “Will those clothes work?” my mom called. Her voice muffled by the door.

  “Yes, thanks!” Eager to replace the hospital gown, I pulled the shirt over my head and caught a whiff of smoke. Remnants of the wildfire still clung to my hair.

  I opened the door to see three of my fellow officers standing by the wall of cabinets across from my bed; Eric was one them. He stood with Charlie O’Reilly and Dave Thompson.

  “You ready, Elena?” he asked. I nodded and picked up the plastic bag my uniform had been placed in by the hospital. The smell of smoke coming from the opening was strong and it tickled my throat, causing me to cough. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m fine. Let’s go.” There was an unintentional edge to my voice. The officers formed a circle around me and my parents, like we were the presidential family and they were Secret Service assigned to our detail. Eric stayed to my immediate left and took the bag out of my hand. We proceeded down the hall, patients and hospital staff watched us as we passed. There were six total in our group and we crammed into one elevator. When the doors opened to the ground floor, instead of turning right toward the main entrance, we made a left. Minutes later we walked through the cafeteria, out a side door and into a back driveway used for deliveries. So far so good; we hadn’t been spotted. Almost as soon as this thought surfaced, I heard someone shout, “There she is!”

  Chapter Fifty

  BOB

  “Jesus Christ, what the hell is going on?” I asked the others. We stood underneath the charred remains of Juanita’s mesquite tree and watching the escalating commotion gather around us. Instead of combatting a wildfire, the police were trying to hold back a swarm of religious zealots, paranormal nut jobs and anyone who had spare time on their hands. I just about bust a gut when I caught a glimpse of a Shaman in the crowd. His tribal robe and ceremonial head dress were hard to miss.

  “Well, Bob, you wanted to get someone’s attention, remember?” Lawrence said.

  “Yeah, but I didn’t do anything this time.”

  “Something is definitely going on. I’ll be back,” Georgia said and she disappeared. She reappeared at the edge of the line of people, just past the bright orange barricades. The sun almost washed her out completely and I had to strain to follow her progress.

  ***

  GEORGIA

  Being among so many people at once was overwhelming and even though I didn’t breathe, I felt claustrophobic. It had been so long since I had been around a large gathering like this. In fact, the night I died was the last time. Rage triggered by the memory of my death, pulsed through me and I shook it off to focus on the conversations going on around me. I overheard various prayers, which were more wishes for miracles. I moved past a young woman wearing denim shorts and a tank top. She shivered as I went by - I saw goose pimples travel up her exposed arms. She exhaled and her breath came out in a whitish cloud through chattering teeth. She glanced around with a shocked expression on her narrow face. Interesting, I thought to myself and continued on. The crowd on the side of the road separated and I saw a news van. A reporter stood in the shade of the van with a mirror in her hand. She was applying makeup and securing flyaway hairs. I moved in closer.

  “After this piece I’m calling it a day,” the reporter said.

  “Do you have enough for a follow up story?” her cameraman asked.

  “God, do I ever. Look at these people. One freaky, unexplainable thing and they come out in droves.”

  “What do you think happened?”

  “Are you recording?”

  “No.” He flipped a cap over the lens and moved from behind the camera.

  “A woman was carried out by something not visible to the eye. I think it has to be paranormal. I mean, I’ve never believed in ghosts, but this evidence is pretty convincing.”

  So Frank’s heroic efforts hadn’t gone unnoticed. What happens next? I thought to myself as I made my way through the crowd and back to the others.

  A shout erupted from near the barricade and in a flash I was on the other side and next to Bob. “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “Some people have broken through the barricade. Oh shit, they’re heading towards Juanita’s memorial!” He vanished and I didn’t hesitate to follow. I reappeared under the branches of the mesquite tree and didn’t have a chance to prepare for the man who passed right through me. I sensed his energy and then a strange suction-like sensation as he exited.

  “Hey over here!” he yelled back to a group of three other guys and two girls. They practically knocked each over in their haste. Two of them moved through me and joined their friend who was peering over Bob’s handiwork.

  One of the guys bent over and picked up some of stones, then let them drop to the ground without returning them to their rightful spot. This pissed me off so I gathered up my energy, scooped up the rocks and set them back in the holes where they belonged, next to several glass pieces that had melted into the sand.

  “Holy shit! Did you see that?” a guy in a red t-shirt yelled.

  “I’m getting out of here,” a girl with long, curly brown hair said and tugged on the other girl’s shirt. They turned to go back to the crowd, but were stopped by a police officer.

  “All of you need to leave,” the officer said. His voice was deep and commanding. So much so, I almost started to follow the trespassers. The police offer made sure the group followed his orders and then walked over to Juanita’s memorial. He examined the rows of stones then unclipped a device from his belt and held it up in front of him. A flash lit up the area and that’s when I realized it was a camera.

  We, meaning Lawrence, Frank, Peggy and Bob, formed a semi-circle in front of Juanita’s memorial after the police officer left. The violation of what we considered sacred ground put us on the defensive. We stayed and watched the line of people come up to the barricade only to be denied access.

  The reporter I overheard earlier approached with a cameraman behind her. Another woman, shorter and older than the reporter, stood next to her. She had thick salt and pepper hair which blew crazily in the wind. She wore a long, flowing dress that was similar to the dress I had died wearing and have worn ever since. The reporter pointed towards us and appeared to be in heavy negotiations with the policeman. With each shake of the officer’s head, the reporter pulled her skirt up a little bit until she was showing enough leg to audition as a stripper, something I knew about. From the angle of the officer’s head, it was obvious he noticed.

  I was disappointed, but not surprised, when the policeman conceded and moved the barricade aside so the reporter, woman, and cameraman could get through. The reporter flipped her mane of hair and gave the officer a big smile. He smiled in return, looking almost dazed, before returning his attention back to the crowd, which had dwindled a little bit as the afternoon wore on.

  The reporter’s heels kept getting dragged down into the sand and she took unsteady steps towards us. I couldn’t help but laugh. I glanced over at Peggy and she was laughing too. Bob was transfixed on the reporter’s legs.

  “What are they doing?” Frank asked Lawrence.

  “Who knows. This day has been f
ull of surprises.”

  We watched as the cameraman, who we learned was named Will when the reporter addressed him, began filming around Juanita’s memorial before the reporter and other woman came to stand in front of it. The reporter held a microphone and once Will had counted down from three, she started speaking.

  “This is Heather Williams reporting live from just off I-17 in Yavapai County, near where yesterday’s dramatic rescue took place. The sensational video has left millions of people wondering exactly what happened. I’m here with Sedona psychic, Lucinda Moonstone, who will hopefully offer some answers.” She stepped to the side and gestured to Juanita’s memorial. “Lucinda, this appears to be a marker for someone who has passed on in 1952.”

  “Yes, I agree.” Lucinda’s voice cracked and she coughed once to clear it. “In fact, I believe what was captured on video yesterday may have something to do with this Juanita who died here.”

  “Are you able to make contact?” Heather asked.

  “I will make an attempt,” Lucinda said and closed her eyes. She inhaled deeply through her nose and exhaled loudly out of her mouth. She did this three times while Heather watched; her microphone poised and ready.

  “Bob, here’s the psychic you wanted,” Lawrence said.

  “Yeah, this could be our moment!”

  I shared in the excitement, but when nothing happened for a few minutes, I started to get bored. Will shifted from one leg to the other while keeping the camera trained on the psychic. A sweat stain blossomed at the small of his back, the light blue fabric transformed to dark.

  Lucinda’s deep breathing stopped and she opened her eyes.

  “Oh it’s so sad, so terrible,” she said in a trembling voice.

  “Did you make contact?”

  “Yes. Juanita was murdered here…by her husband.”

  We all looked at each other in confusion. “What is she talking about?” I asked Lawrence.