In Dead Men's Shoes

Chapter 2

"We have no explanation for it, sir," the nurse said, her voice soft despite the harshness of Davey's demeanor. It didn't help that he hadn't slept all night. As of 7 a.m, on the same day that Catalina Steinbeck had been found all but lifeless a hundred miles from home, she lie in the hospital bed, completely and utterly... herself.

Save for some physical wear and tear, that is. Yet somehow, all the 'emotional trauma' that was supposed to take weeks of recovery had vanished. Now Catalina seemed simply confused. She remembered none of what had happened after about midnight. She definitely remembered no "help me" text. Though in all honesty, I hadn't actually asked her. With all the crowds surrounding her with curiosity, I figured it best to let her breathe.

According to the driver of the ambulance, Catalina snapped out of her supposed 'trance' when she awoke in the hospital. She had passed out cold on the drive at sixteen past five. I had gotten the text at five-twelve. Which meant that somehow, despite her violently unstable condition at the time, she somehow gathered the strength to send a message to me.

To me.

Now I was the one in the trance. I snapped myself out of it. This was life and death, not the Bachelorette.

I could only imagine what the message meant. Actually, that turned out to be a bad decision. I stopped imagining.

The crowds had dissipated with the sunrise. I decided to step into Catalina's room.

Davey was alone in the room when I opened the door, and I almost turned around to leave him alone.

"It's okay, Jess," he said. "You should see her." He stood up, and in a second, I was left in the room with Catalina's shallowly breathing form and the faint beeping of a heart monitor.

Catalina groaned when she saw me. "What the hell is going on? Dude, this shit hurts." And by 'this shit', she was gesturing to her whole body. Considering the state she had been in a couple hours ago, her demeanor came as a shocking, but not unpleasant, surprise. Also, she was clearly rather doped up on painkillers.

I had to ask.

"Did you send me a text this morning? A few hours ago, you texted me hel - um, you texted me."

"I texted you hell?"

I hesitated, and she furrowed her eyebrows, before speaking. "I didn't text you anything."

"Okay," I said. "Yeah - I figured you would say that." I did, but hearing her affirmations didn't help my stomach from twisting into knots.

Catalina looked over towards a bedside table where her phone lie next to a small vase of flowers. "I don't remember - I, uh. they said my phone was in my pocket when they brought me in here. An officer said he thought he had it, but I don't really know. I only came to when I was already changed."

Her face took on an expression of distress, as though unfortunate memories were being replayed in her mind like horror movies. God, I wished I had never said anything at all.

"You know what? Forget I ever said anything."

"No, no, I -" Catalina blinked, and I could swear that for a second, her eyes turned a deep, heavyset blue, her gaze looking as though it belonged to an old, tormented man, and not that of a lithe tenth-grade girl. Her face grew sallow and blank. "I needed help." Catalina's words had an eerie emptiness, void of emotion, as though they had slipped past her without consciousness. The way she spoke stood all my hairs on edge without warning.

I waited for a solid fifteen seconds, almost too on edge to breathe. I felt as though a ghost had cast a shadow over the two of us, and I didn't dare move, lest I disturb whatever waking spirit had begun to dance in the edges of my mind.