*All characters are property of Stephanie Meyer (ditto for the last chapter, I just forgot to post it)

Buried Alive

Silence roused me to darkness. I lay there for a few moments, dazed but oddly calm. It was only when I discovered that I could move no more than a few inches that I began to panic. Where was I? I remember falling, then…nothing. It took a couple more minutes of desperate thinking before my mind recognized that I was underground. I was still wearing my thick protection suit and if I looked close enough, I could see clumps of dirt resting on the clear visor that covered my face. Alright, my mind rationalized, I am underground.

Oh my God, I'm underground! The fact that I couldn't move myself more than a couple of inches in either direction meant that I had to be at least a couple of feet below the surface. I fought down the urge to scream, forcing myself to breathe in slow, shallow breaths. I only had whatever oxygen was left in my protection suit and I did not know how long I had been unconscious. If I die now, I suddenly thought to myself, Charlie could save money on the burial. It's funny what you come up with in near-death experiences.

I knew what I had to do; I had to dig myself out. In theory, the idea was simple. Needless to say that the reality caused me a great deal more difficulty than I had anticipated. I began by slowly rotating my hands. If I could free my hands, I reasoned, than I could work on freeing my arms, and later my entire self. I worked with quiet determination, but each time I thought I made progress, a fresh wave of dirt would settle on my hands and I'd have to begin all over again.

I don't know when I decided to give up, or how long I had been struggling against the mound of dirt pressing down on me. I did know that it was eerily peaceful, lying there underground. (The dirt formed my own au naturel Temper-pedic mattress.) As far as I could see, there were two options: I could go to sleep (for an undetermined period of time) or, I could muse on whichever or whatever took my fancy.

So naturally, I began thinking of Edward Cullen. He was…different. Apart from the odd glowing thing, there was something else. Something behind those dead eyes, that was distinctly inhuman…

"Bella?"

I shifted my position slightly; had I really heard someone call my name?

"Bella! Bella! Where are you?"

Right, OK, so unless some mutant creepy-crawler was trying to woo me before assisting in my decomposition, someone was definitely calling me.

"Here! I'm here!" I shouted back.

"Bella?"

"Yes, I'm here! I'm here! Help me!"

"Keep talking, where are you?"

"Underground! I'm underground!"

The dirt around me began to shake, as if the dank earth itself was vibrating with my cries.

"I'm almost there," the voice said.

"Can you get here faster?" I called up, panicking now that I could sense a way out.

It began to get lighter. Someone was shoveling the dirt off of me, and the earth seemed to help my rescuer by shaking itself off of me. (In retrospect, I knew why the dirt was vibrating. But I only discovered that later). Gradually, Forks came into view. The gnarly Drippy Trees dropped their green goop onto the brown forest floor. I could see the ledge, about twenty feet up, where I must have stepped off of. And then I saw him—Edward—speak of the devil.

"Edward," I said.

He looked at me as if my brief visit to the bowels of Mother Earth had impaired my thinking, "Bella."

"So," (this just got awkward). "What, ah, brings you to this part of the woods?"

"I was on my way to school when I saw your hover car. I had thought that that old thing had finally croaked and was going to offer you a ride. But you weren't in the hover car."

I stared at him skeptically, "But why did you think to check here for me?"

Edward paused, "Dumb luck, I guess."

"You guess? Or is that all you're going to tell me?"

"That's all I'm going to tell you."

"Creep." I smiled at him to let him know that I was kidding (well, not completely), "Thanks, by the way."

"Your welcome."

I counted thirty-four seconds of awkward silence before Edward nodded and turned on his heel. "Um, Edward? Where are you going?"

"I'm getting out of this ditch. Are you coming?" He called over his shoulder without looking back.

He's weird, I decided. Nevertheless I followed him, and his bizarre glowing aura as it bobbed up and down as he walked. Maybe, my judgment was a little impaired...

[Fifteen or so minutes later, when Edward and I have reached the road and our hover cars]

Edward held open the door to the passenger seat of his hover car, "Aren't you going to get in?"

"Where are we going?"
"To the hospital."

"Why?"

"Because you might have a concussion or a fracture or some other injury from stepping off a small cliff. How did you fall off a small cliff again?"

"Hey! Number one: it was really foggy out, so I couldn't see anything. And number two, I don't need to go to the hospital, I feel perfectly fine."

"Not buying it. Get in," Edward insisted.

"No."

"Bella," Edward said exasperated.

"I don't want to get in."

"And why, pray tell, do you not want to go in. I'm only trying to help you."

"I was always taught never to enter a stranger's hover car."

"Do you know my name?"

"Of course I do, Edward. What kind of question is that?"

"Great, then I'm not a stranger. Now please get in the hover car. You're acting childish."

I tried one last-ditch effort, "Why can't we use my hover car?"

Edward glanced at my decrepit hover car, "Have you seen your hover car?"

"There's nothing wrong with my hover car," I mumbled as I climbed into the passenger seat.

Before he closed the door, Edward looked at me with a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, "Your hover car needs a walker and an IV drip."