JACK WAS AT the bottom of a dank, wet drainage tunnel. He smelled earth, rain and blood. It was dark and he couldn’t see even a few inches in front of him. The ringing in his ears drowned out everything else. He felt as if there was something nibbling at his ankles. Rats? He hated rats. Just the thought of them made his stomach lurch. He tried to shake them off but couldn’t move his legs. No, not rats. It was pain. Shooting, biting, sharp pain that now went careening up his calves.

His thoughts were confused and morphed into one another, creating a senseless universe. That was it, he reasoned. He’d been catapulted into some black hole. Floating. Spinning. Weightless.

And alone. Utterly, completely alone.

Except for the pain. The pain was his bedfellow. His traveling companion. It overtook his entire body now. His spine felt as if someone had shot it with molten steel. His skull pounded in agony. He couldn’t open his eyes for fear that the tiniest beam of light would penetrate him like bullets.

Surely, he was dying.

This was what it was like at the end, he thought. Every cell in his body felt as if it had been shot with electricity strong enough to fry him to ash. No human could endure this kind of torture and live. No human would want to. This was the moment, that sliver of awareness that he was about to give up the ghost. And in his moment of choice, Jack knew it was okay to let go. Except for his sister and brother-in-law, he had no one. No wife. No children. No one would mourn him. He wouldn’t be missed.

Then he heard a familiar male voice, though he couldn’t place it.

“9-1-1? There’s been an accident. Hurry. We’re going to lose them!”

* * *

LIKE THE HIGH-PITCHED, irritating buzz of a mosquito, a voice reached into Jack’s consciousness. Impossible as that was to accept, he struggled to figure out what it was saying.

“Jack? Can you hear me? Help is coming. Stay with me.”

Jack had expected to talk to an angel upon dying, but this was a man’s voice. A young man who sounded vaguely like the new recruit he’d hired for his insurance agency, Owen Jacobs. Yes. His mind slowly ground into gear.

“Jack,” Owen said. “Can you hear the sirens? The cops are here. The ambulance, too. It’s going to be okay.”

Jack didn’t hear sirens. It took all his effort to listen to Owen’s voice, which he was positive was coming to him from the other end of a tunnel. Jack wanted to answer Owen, but there was so much blood in his mouth, all he could do was choke, cough and spit. His tongue refused to obey his commands.

Now that he was a little more aware, though, his training kicked in. Apparently, even in his last minutes on earth, he was an insurance agent through and through. He wanted to know all the particulars. Where was he? What happened? Why was he paralyzed and in pain? And what was Owen doing here in this tunnel, if that’s where they were? He wanted facts. Even if Owen was talking to him, Jack couldn’t be sure he’d understood all the words. Each wave of pain smothered reality like a desert haboob that engulfs land, water and all living creatures. Jack’s world now contained only himself and the pain. The incessant, unrelenting, excruciating pain.

For some reason he couldn’t open his eyes. Something had glued them shut. He forced himself to listen, to make out even the faintest sounds, but Owen’s voice had faded and all that was left were the surges of his pounding blood and rapidly beating heart. Mercifully, that one sound told him he was still alive. For the moment.

Just as Jack’s mind was beginning to ease away the fuzzy edges of confusion, a searing, debilitating pain shot across his forehead, making him feel as if his eyes had just been scorched out of their sockets.

Everything went black. Jack was floating in the galaxies again.

* * *

SOPHIE MATTUCHI HAD a little over an hour before she began her weekend night shift as a cardiac nurse in the ER at Indian Lake Hospital. Sophie had signed on for the extra hours because the ER was shorthanded and because she saw the need. Sophie always saw the need.

Although it was an unusually foggy evening, she pulled on her running shoes, determined to fit in a run around the three-mile running trail that circled the lake. It had been a rainy and cold early June, and before that, she’d felt as if winter would never end after a record four-foot snow pack that stayed until late March. Still, she hadn’t missed a single day’s run since she’d taken up the sport two years ago to keep her weight under control and her mind off Louise Railton’s extra creamy homemade ice creams. The city had installed LED street lights all along the trail that allowed fanatics like Sophie to run in just about any kind of weather.

Sophie

Скачать книгу