The Whispers

The Whispers - Part 5

In retrospect, the first vision had been the easiest. Katie, at least, she was able to save. That wouldn't be true for all of them. That first event almost seemed like a test. Could she do it? Could she handle it? Would she take the required action? Maybe if she'd botched it, freaked out, refused to call, or had herself committed, maybe that would have been the end of it.

About a month after interest in her had died down and Eloise was starting to feel "normal" again, there was another girl.

Eloise saw the thin, blonde girl first in a vision that came on while she was mopping the kitchen floor. One minute Eloise was washing the linoleum, the next she was looking at a wet ground littered with leaves. Golden late-afternoon sunlight dappled the slick debris, and the air carried the scent of burning wood.

"Get away from me!"

The cry rang out, bouncing off the trees, frightening a murder of crows. They went flapping, cawing into the air with the sound of the girl's voice. Right away, Eloise knew that this was a different kind of vision. She was above the girl and yet inside her somehow. She could feel her fear, hear her thoughts.

The girl was running; he was right behind her. She knew him. When he'd offered her a ride, she'd taken it-even though she knew her mom didn't want her to ride in cars with boys. But she was mad at her mom that day, sick of all the rules, the rigor of her life. She wanted a little bit of freedom, like all her friends had. Her mother was working that afternoon; no one would ever know if she had a little fun. For once. But then he wanted more than she had been willing to give. His hands had been too rough, his mouth too scratchy. When she said no and please stop, he hadn't seemed to hear. Or maybe it was just that he didn't care.

"Don't be such a prude," he said.

Now she was running from him. He was bigger, stronger than she was. There was no way she was going to outrun him; she knew that. So, rather than let him chase her down, she turned and held her ground.

"Get away from me!"

Eloise felt the vein throbbing in the girl's throat, the adrenaline pumping through her blood, the ache of overexerted lungs. The girl picked up a big stick. It looked menacing, but it had no heft to it as if it were hollow. But maybe, maybe she could use it to ward him off. She could poke him in the eye and get him between the legs.

"Calm down," he said. His voice vibrated with anger. "You're hysterical."

"Get back!" It was a panicked shriek.

"Shut up." Now she could see that he was as scared as she was, and that it was making him angry.

Eloise couldn't see the aggressor's face; it was a black and ghostly blue, kept from her vision for some reason. But he was slowly moving toward her. The girl started swinging as he drew nearer to her.

"Put down the stick," he said.

Why had she gotten in his car? Why had she taken that ride with him? It was the other boy she liked, but he had gone off with someone else. She was small and weak, with arms so skinny they embarrassed her. Eloise could feel the girl's heart beating like a bird in a cage.

He came closer, and she spun to run again. It was the leaves. She slipped and fell hard backward onto the ground. Her head connected with something hard and sharp. It hurt at first, in that surprising way that rockets through your body. But then it passed and she felt just a spreading, comforting warmth. Then her eyes were filled with stars. Then there was nothing.

Eloise came back to herself on the linoleum floor, the bucket tipped. She was lying on her back in a lake of dirty mop water, staring at the faux Tiffany shade over her kitchen table.