" A Chance Meeting part 2 "
He knew he should let it go. He knew that the woman he had seen couldn't possibly have been Lucy Knight. Lucy Knight, even if she was alive, would be well into her fifties, not still a fresh faced young woman. That was ludicrous to even think, and yet he couldn't shake the idea from his head.
She had recognized him. That was what bothered him. She knew him and a small town doctor in upstate New York had no reason to know him. He wasn't a force in the world of emergency medicine. His research wasn't published in the major journals. Outside of Chicago, the Carter name wasn't well known. He certainly wasn't the best known of the Carter clan either. So how had she known him?
And that was why he found himself sitting in a car, waiting outside the staff parking lot of the Auburn Memorial Hospital. It was crazy. It was technically stalking, and he had taken vacation time in order to do it. He had to know, though. He knew that, realistically, it was just an uncanny resemblance. Lucy hadn't been a uniquely exotic woman after all. He wondered if perhaps Lucy had a child that she had never spoken of. Liz Farrell was an attending, according to his son, which meant that she had to be in her late twenties if not early thirties. It was possible that she was Lucy's daughter, and it would please him immensely to know that Lucy had left something of herself behind. So he had taken a week off to hang around an upstate New York hospital in hopes of spotting the elusive Liz Farrell. In some places, it was called stalking, so he kept the nature of his trip to himself. He was dredging up the past and deep down, he knew it wasn't a good idea. He should let sleeping dogs lie, and dead women rest peacefully, he knew that. Yet he had to know. He knew he couldn't let it lie.
He perked up as he spotted her crossing the dark parking lot. She was moving with a purpose, intent. It was eerie. He had seen that intent look before, when they had been searching for a little girl's father. It couldn't just be a daughter, he thought suddenly. It was Lucy, right down to the faintly exasperated look she gave the sticky car door.
He carefully tailed her as she drove through the small city. He knew what her address was, and he had learned enough about the city to know that she wasn't heading home. It was strange, really. She drove her car fast, heading south. He followed, taking great care not to get too close. After forty five minutes or so, she pulled off into what was clearly a public beach. The sign read Long Point State Park and from what he could see, it was basically a small campground and stony beach beside a lake. There were picnic benches and tall shady maple trees. While the actual beach was mostly cobble stone, he could almost imagine what a popular spot it would be in the summer. In late fall, with the trees turning colors, it was still pretty, but it held an air of abandonment. It was a lonely place, he thought. There were lights ringing the lake, but the park was dark. It was an odd place for a young woman to go, and he decided to park outside of the park. It was just a hunch, but he had a bad feeling suddenly. Besides, he reasoned as he parked in a dirt road that led off from the park, I'm not supposed to let her know that I'm following her.
He carefully walked through the treeline. It was thick with brush and since he had a good view of the picnic pavilion, he decided to remain hidden there. She was sitting on top of a picnic table, wearing a dark trench coat, the sort his grandfather had called a drover's coat. The coat wasn't Lucy's style, but the gangly relaxed way she sat reminded him of her, as did her frustrated expression. She was waiting for someone, he decided, but she wasn't happy about it. It was a strange place to have a rendezvous. He felt his tension rise a notch.
Another car pulled up. A man got out, a large bulky man that was also wearing a long coat. She got up. Carter was struck by how small she looked, how tiny compared to the man. There was menace surrounding the man, though aside from being large, there wasn't anything special about him. Just a large fellow who looked Irish, judging by the broad features and red hair. Carter crouched down low. He had a feeling something bad was about to happen.
" So you came. I thought you were a coward, Knight." As the man spoke, Carter felt a rush of sudden vindication. Even though it raised many many new questions, he felt a strange sense of relief. He wasn't crazy. However it happened, whatever bizarre circumstance caused it, he was looking at Lucy Knight. Somehow, Lucy was alive. For the moment, that was what mattered.
Lucy stood up. Her body was tense, he could tell. " I never said I was a coward, Sean. It just doesn't have to be this way. We don't have to fight." Her voice brought it home for him. It was that same, almost righteous tone she used when she thought she was right.
The man laughed. " Thinking like that makes you weak." With a flourish he pulled out a sword. " There can be only one."
Lucy withdrew a small sword from her jacket. " I know." She waved the sword like she knew how to use it. " It won't be you."
Carter watched in frightened awe as the two people clashed swords. He had seen sword play before, in plays and on television, but he had never seen it in real life. It was scary and rough, and both people were sweating and grunting from the effort. While it looked effortless, he could see both of them tiring. After ten minutes, both had cuts and he could see blood on them both. He wanted to stop them, but he sensed that he was watching something secret. He was seeing something that he wasn't meant to see and he wanted answers to his many questions. If he stepped out and stopped the fight, he knew instinctively that he would not only be placing himself in grave danger, but he would also never get the answers he wanted.
The man, Sean, had reach and size on Lucy, but she was fast, lightening fast. She slipped in and out, and in one fell swoop, she slashed across the man's thighs, hamstringing him quite effectively. He fell to his knees, dropping his sword. Lucy kicked the sword away. In horror, Carter watched as she raised her sword and brought it down on the man's neck.
He gasped. He couldn't help it. He had seen a lot of things in his life, including murder, but he had never seen anything quite so bizarre. The man's body was still twitching, and Lucy stood there, looking tired and forlorn. She hugged her arm to her chest, obviously pained by the gash on her chest that should have put her in the hospital, and toed the man's body. The sword was still in her hand, held loose, with blood dripping onto the cement of the pavement. He almost got up then, to confront her, but something held him back. It wasn't done, he realized. Until it was finished, whatever it was, he was better off being fifty feet away. It was instinct, possibly the strongest instinctive feeling he'd ever had, and he wasn't fool enough to disobey it.
There was an electric feel in the air. The hair on his arm rose and his skin tingled. He watched from his hiding spot. Lucy seemed to sense the electricity too. She looked up, expectantly. Carter gasped again as a bolt of lightening slammed into her. Over and over, it rained down on her. Her sword was like a lightening rod, and he could see the electric current roll over her like a bright white wave. The wind picked up, and he suspected that between it and the lightening, if there had been any buildings nearby, they would have lost their windows.
As quickly as it started, the flurry of lightening ended. Lucy dropped to her knees, breathing hard. It seemed obvious that she was exhausted. He could see the sweat dotting her forehead and her hands were shaking. It was over, he thought as he rose to his feet, and now I can get some answers. He brushed off the leaves and dirt and strode toward the pavilion. He didn't know what he was going to do. He had just seen a woman he thought was dead behead a man. Then she had been struck by lightening. That was certainly not normal. Then again, neither was flying across the country to stalk said dead woman.
She didn't seem to hear him. He got within ten feet of her before he said anything and then it was just one word. " Lucy."
She looked up at him, obviously startled. He saw the recognition in her eyes again. He was right, he knew it. Liz Farrell was an unperson, a fake. Kneeling before him, holding a bloody sword and looking not a day over twenty six, was Lucy Knight. Her eyes widened and she rose to her feet shakily, the sword still in her hand. It worried him, but not much. There was an explanation. He couldn't imagine what it was, but he assumed there was a reason for what he had just seen.
" Carter." She looked him over, her expression somewhere between sad and worried. " What are you doing here?"
He almost laughed. " What am I doing here? What are you doing here? You were dead. There was a funeral. I had nightmares for years. I spent three months in rehab and three years in therapy trying to stop feeling guilty about your death. And here you are, alive. Alive and looking just like you did, but it's been thirty years. What the hell is going on?"
She blushed and looked down at her feet. It was an achingly familiar look. It was how she looked when she'd been caught in a lie. " John... I'm sorry, but you can't possibly understand. Go home. Go back to your family and forget everything you saw. Lucy Knight died thirty years ago. Go back to Chicago and let it rest. You're better off not knowing the answers you want."
" Damn it Lucy, you don't get off that easy! You were dead! You just killed a man! You were just struck by lightening over a dozen times! I think I deserve a damn explanation!" He was shouting, but he didn't stop himself or lower his voice. Suddenly all of the pain that he thought had gone came rushing back. The image of her, lying on the floor gasping for air came to him. It was an image that had haunted him for years." Do you know what it did to me? Do you?"
She was quiet. Her hand clenched the sword. " I knew. It hurt. It hurt like hell. Carter, you need to forget this. It's in the past. I'm sorry you were hurt. You will never know how sorry I was, but nothing good can come of this. You can't ever know the answers you want." Her eyes sparkled with tears.
" Why not?" He felt his anger growing. " What's to stop me from going to the papers tomorrow and telling them about the murder you committed tonight?"
She eyed him carefully. He could see her expression change subtly. With a sudden twist, the sword in her hand went from by her side to up against his neck. For the first time, he felt a flash of fear. She had the look of someone who didn't want to do something, but knew they had to. It was grim determination he saw in her eyes. That, and sadness. " John, I liked you. I even loved you, and there hasn't been one day since that Valentine's day that I didn't think about you. If anything good came out of that night, it was that you lived." Her voice grew softer, but she held the blade hard to his neck. " You saw something tonight you were never meant to see. If you say anything, you will be killed."
" By you?" He knew the answer was no. He could see it in her eyes.
She dropped the sword. " No Carter, not by me. By the others. We have rules. Not many, but no one breaks them. If you say anything, you'll mark yourself for death. We read the papers, we scan the Internet. People who talk, die. What you saw is impossible to prove and the ones who know it was the truth will kill you, because it's a secret, and you can be eliminated. I don't want that. I don't think you want that either."
He knew she was telling the truth. They, whoever they were, didn't have the compunctions she did about killing him. It made him feel cold inside. He wasn't ready to die, that he knew. " Lucy, I won't say anything. I just want to know what happened."
She stepped backward. " I can't. Go home, Carter. Let it go. Forget about tonight, and go home to your family." She turned and trotted off towards her car. In seconds she was gone.
I can't let it rest, he thought as he watched her car head up the hill and out of the park, I can't. I have to know what really happened.
He knew he should let it go. He knew that the woman he had seen couldn't possibly have been Lucy Knight. Lucy Knight, even if she was alive, would be well into her fifties, not still a fresh faced young woman. That was ludicrous to even think, and yet he couldn't shake the idea from his head.
She had recognized him. That was what bothered him. She knew him and a small town doctor in upstate New York had no reason to know him. He wasn't a force in the world of emergency medicine. His research wasn't published in the major journals. Outside of Chicago, the Carter name wasn't well known. He certainly wasn't the best known of the Carter clan either. So how had she known him?
And that was why he found himself sitting in a car, waiting outside the staff parking lot of the Auburn Memorial Hospital. It was crazy. It was technically stalking, and he had taken vacation time in order to do it. He had to know, though. He knew that, realistically, it was just an uncanny resemblance. Lucy hadn't been a uniquely exotic woman after all. He wondered if perhaps Lucy had a child that she had never spoken of. Liz Farrell was an attending, according to his son, which meant that she had to be in her late twenties if not early thirties. It was possible that she was Lucy's daughter, and it would please him immensely to know that Lucy had left something of herself behind. So he had taken a week off to hang around an upstate New York hospital in hopes of spotting the elusive Liz Farrell. In some places, it was called stalking, so he kept the nature of his trip to himself. He was dredging up the past and deep down, he knew it wasn't a good idea. He should let sleeping dogs lie, and dead women rest peacefully, he knew that. Yet he had to know. He knew he couldn't let it lie.
He perked up as he spotted her crossing the dark parking lot. She was moving with a purpose, intent. It was eerie. He had seen that intent look before, when they had been searching for a little girl's father. It couldn't just be a daughter, he thought suddenly. It was Lucy, right down to the faintly exasperated look she gave the sticky car door.
He carefully tailed her as she drove through the small city. He knew what her address was, and he had learned enough about the city to know that she wasn't heading home. It was strange, really. She drove her car fast, heading south. He followed, taking great care not to get too close. After forty five minutes or so, she pulled off into what was clearly a public beach. The sign read Long Point State Park and from what he could see, it was basically a small campground and stony beach beside a lake. There were picnic benches and tall shady maple trees. While the actual beach was mostly cobble stone, he could almost imagine what a popular spot it would be in the summer. In late fall, with the trees turning colors, it was still pretty, but it held an air of abandonment. It was a lonely place, he thought. There were lights ringing the lake, but the park was dark. It was an odd place for a young woman to go, and he decided to park outside of the park. It was just a hunch, but he had a bad feeling suddenly. Besides, he reasoned as he parked in a dirt road that led off from the park, I'm not supposed to let her know that I'm following her.
He carefully walked through the treeline. It was thick with brush and since he had a good view of the picnic pavilion, he decided to remain hidden there. She was sitting on top of a picnic table, wearing a dark trench coat, the sort his grandfather had called a drover's coat. The coat wasn't Lucy's style, but the gangly relaxed way she sat reminded him of her, as did her frustrated expression. She was waiting for someone, he decided, but she wasn't happy about it. It was a strange place to have a rendezvous. He felt his tension rise a notch.
Another car pulled up. A man got out, a large bulky man that was also wearing a long coat. She got up. Carter was struck by how small she looked, how tiny compared to the man. There was menace surrounding the man, though aside from being large, there wasn't anything special about him. Just a large fellow who looked Irish, judging by the broad features and red hair. Carter crouched down low. He had a feeling something bad was about to happen.
" So you came. I thought you were a coward, Knight." As the man spoke, Carter felt a rush of sudden vindication. Even though it raised many many new questions, he felt a strange sense of relief. He wasn't crazy. However it happened, whatever bizarre circumstance caused it, he was looking at Lucy Knight. Somehow, Lucy was alive. For the moment, that was what mattered.
Lucy stood up. Her body was tense, he could tell. " I never said I was a coward, Sean. It just doesn't have to be this way. We don't have to fight." Her voice brought it home for him. It was that same, almost righteous tone she used when she thought she was right.
The man laughed. " Thinking like that makes you weak." With a flourish he pulled out a sword. " There can be only one."
Lucy withdrew a small sword from her jacket. " I know." She waved the sword like she knew how to use it. " It won't be you."
Carter watched in frightened awe as the two people clashed swords. He had seen sword play before, in plays and on television, but he had never seen it in real life. It was scary and rough, and both people were sweating and grunting from the effort. While it looked effortless, he could see both of them tiring. After ten minutes, both had cuts and he could see blood on them both. He wanted to stop them, but he sensed that he was watching something secret. He was seeing something that he wasn't meant to see and he wanted answers to his many questions. If he stepped out and stopped the fight, he knew instinctively that he would not only be placing himself in grave danger, but he would also never get the answers he wanted.
The man, Sean, had reach and size on Lucy, but she was fast, lightening fast. She slipped in and out, and in one fell swoop, she slashed across the man's thighs, hamstringing him quite effectively. He fell to his knees, dropping his sword. Lucy kicked the sword away. In horror, Carter watched as she raised her sword and brought it down on the man's neck.
He gasped. He couldn't help it. He had seen a lot of things in his life, including murder, but he had never seen anything quite so bizarre. The man's body was still twitching, and Lucy stood there, looking tired and forlorn. She hugged her arm to her chest, obviously pained by the gash on her chest that should have put her in the hospital, and toed the man's body. The sword was still in her hand, held loose, with blood dripping onto the cement of the pavement. He almost got up then, to confront her, but something held him back. It wasn't done, he realized. Until it was finished, whatever it was, he was better off being fifty feet away. It was instinct, possibly the strongest instinctive feeling he'd ever had, and he wasn't fool enough to disobey it.
There was an electric feel in the air. The hair on his arm rose and his skin tingled. He watched from his hiding spot. Lucy seemed to sense the electricity too. She looked up, expectantly. Carter gasped again as a bolt of lightening slammed into her. Over and over, it rained down on her. Her sword was like a lightening rod, and he could see the electric current roll over her like a bright white wave. The wind picked up, and he suspected that between it and the lightening, if there had been any buildings nearby, they would have lost their windows.
As quickly as it started, the flurry of lightening ended. Lucy dropped to her knees, breathing hard. It seemed obvious that she was exhausted. He could see the sweat dotting her forehead and her hands were shaking. It was over, he thought as he rose to his feet, and now I can get some answers. He brushed off the leaves and dirt and strode toward the pavilion. He didn't know what he was going to do. He had just seen a woman he thought was dead behead a man. Then she had been struck by lightening. That was certainly not normal. Then again, neither was flying across the country to stalk said dead woman.
She didn't seem to hear him. He got within ten feet of her before he said anything and then it was just one word. " Lucy."
She looked up at him, obviously startled. He saw the recognition in her eyes again. He was right, he knew it. Liz Farrell was an unperson, a fake. Kneeling before him, holding a bloody sword and looking not a day over twenty six, was Lucy Knight. Her eyes widened and she rose to her feet shakily, the sword still in her hand. It worried him, but not much. There was an explanation. He couldn't imagine what it was, but he assumed there was a reason for what he had just seen.
" Carter." She looked him over, her expression somewhere between sad and worried. " What are you doing here?"
He almost laughed. " What am I doing here? What are you doing here? You were dead. There was a funeral. I had nightmares for years. I spent three months in rehab and three years in therapy trying to stop feeling guilty about your death. And here you are, alive. Alive and looking just like you did, but it's been thirty years. What the hell is going on?"
She blushed and looked down at her feet. It was an achingly familiar look. It was how she looked when she'd been caught in a lie. " John... I'm sorry, but you can't possibly understand. Go home. Go back to your family and forget everything you saw. Lucy Knight died thirty years ago. Go back to Chicago and let it rest. You're better off not knowing the answers you want."
" Damn it Lucy, you don't get off that easy! You were dead! You just killed a man! You were just struck by lightening over a dozen times! I think I deserve a damn explanation!" He was shouting, but he didn't stop himself or lower his voice. Suddenly all of the pain that he thought had gone came rushing back. The image of her, lying on the floor gasping for air came to him. It was an image that had haunted him for years." Do you know what it did to me? Do you?"
She was quiet. Her hand clenched the sword. " I knew. It hurt. It hurt like hell. Carter, you need to forget this. It's in the past. I'm sorry you were hurt. You will never know how sorry I was, but nothing good can come of this. You can't ever know the answers you want." Her eyes sparkled with tears.
" Why not?" He felt his anger growing. " What's to stop me from going to the papers tomorrow and telling them about the murder you committed tonight?"
She eyed him carefully. He could see her expression change subtly. With a sudden twist, the sword in her hand went from by her side to up against his neck. For the first time, he felt a flash of fear. She had the look of someone who didn't want to do something, but knew they had to. It was grim determination he saw in her eyes. That, and sadness. " John, I liked you. I even loved you, and there hasn't been one day since that Valentine's day that I didn't think about you. If anything good came out of that night, it was that you lived." Her voice grew softer, but she held the blade hard to his neck. " You saw something tonight you were never meant to see. If you say anything, you will be killed."
" By you?" He knew the answer was no. He could see it in her eyes.
She dropped the sword. " No Carter, not by me. By the others. We have rules. Not many, but no one breaks them. If you say anything, you'll mark yourself for death. We read the papers, we scan the Internet. People who talk, die. What you saw is impossible to prove and the ones who know it was the truth will kill you, because it's a secret, and you can be eliminated. I don't want that. I don't think you want that either."
He knew she was telling the truth. They, whoever they were, didn't have the compunctions she did about killing him. It made him feel cold inside. He wasn't ready to die, that he knew. " Lucy, I won't say anything. I just want to know what happened."
She stepped backward. " I can't. Go home, Carter. Let it go. Forget about tonight, and go home to your family." She turned and trotted off towards her car. In seconds she was gone.
I can't let it rest, he thought as he watched her car head up the hill and out of the park, I can't. I have to know what really happened.