Disclaimer: The characters from "Final Destination 2" don't belong to me, nor do the events from the first two films. Everyone else does.
A/N: Set a year of F.D.2 The more reviews I get, the more chapters I will post so please review (honestly) and please enjoy
Chapter One
Portents
Kimberly Corman was uneasy and, from past experience, being uneasy made her nervous; she had learned long ago to trust her instincts and feelings, knowing that everything could tell her something. So, when the uneasy feeling crept down her spine as she washed glass dinner plates, her mind clicked onto heightened alert. She placed the plate into the sink, shutting off the water, glancing around her, eyes roaming the Spartan kitchen. Uneasy feelings weren't appreciated but they were listened to, something her late friend Clear Rivers had taught her.
Seeing nothing deadly or out of place in the sparse kitchen, Kimberly sighed, resting her elbows on the kitchen counter and running her wet fingers through her hair. The feeling passed as quickly as it had come, but she found herself unable to feel at ease, for there was a cold pit still in her stomach.
As Kimberly reached to turn the faucet back on, her nose began to itch, tickling and burning. She rubbed it with her palm, trying to block out the smell that was tingling her sense; she found she couldn't place the smell, almost as though she had never smelt it before. Before Kimberly could detect the origin of the smell, it disappeared, the itching disappearing with it.
A frown appeared on her face as she picked up the wet dash and a worn, damp rag; she began drying the dish, letting the stillness of the house enclose her, the silence wrapping around her like a blanket. She attempted to remain as silent as possible, knowing that she almost felt better when things were quiet.
* * *
The over whelming smell of gas chocked her, shoving itself down her throat. It filled her lungs, driving out the cool air and replacing it with the burning gasoline. She gagged, attempting to refill her lungs with clean air but all she could breathe in was the gas.
It was difficult, now, for her to breathe at all, the gasoline filling her head, making it difficult for her to remember to open her mouth to attempt to replenish her lungs. Dizziness clouded her vision but she couldn't see anything anyway, for the area was dark and unfamiliar.
Finally, the dizziness and pain became too much and she succumbed to the fiery temptation to die.
* * *
She didn't realize that she was having trouble breathing until she awoke with a start, struggling to catch her breath; she was shaking violently, hair stringy with sweat. Her chest rose and feel rapidly as she sucked in breaths, the lingering feelings of being smothered clinging to her brain, the unmistakable scent of gasoline seeming to hang in the air.
She continued to shake violently and she shivered, despite the mid-spring heat that filled the house. Her green eyes scanned the area, looking for signs of danger or fear, of anything out of the ordinary.
Everything was as it should be and she was still alone in the house, bathed in afternoon sunshine. Sighing, she dropped back onto the couch, pulling a thin blanket around her shaking form, closing her eyes and burrowing her face against a pillow.
'It was just a dream', she assured herself, 'just a dream.'
* * *
"I smelled something strange today." Kimberly informed Officer Thomas Burke as he asked her about her day.
Thomas frowned at her, staring at the woman he had loved for almost a year, trying to read her expression; she was often a mystery to him and that was okay with him most of the time because he often didn't want to know what was plaguing her mind: the pain, the death, the scars. Her constant fear, despite the fact that she should have none. But then, he figured that fearing for your life was a hard habit to break.
"Something strange?" Thomas repeated, searching her face. "What do you mean?"
Kimberly shrugged helplessly, frowning as well. "I was doing the dishes and then I smelled something...strange, and it burned my nose but I couldn't figure out where it was coming from or what it was. Then it was gone." She explained, thinking back to the uneasy feeling that she had felt in the kitchen.
Thomas felt shivers skitter down his spine, despite the fact that Kimberly might simply be jumping to conclusions. Was she insinuating that Death was coming back to get them, that it had waited long enough? It wasn't supposed to happen that way, they had cheated Death and they both knew that.
"Kimberly", he began patiently, "just because you smelled something strange doesn't mean anything." He wasn't sure if he was trying to make Kimberly feel better or himself.
Kimberly, however would have none of it and continued. "What if it was a sign?" She persisted, narrowing her eyes at him. "Clear told me to always pay attention to the signs." She reminded.
Thomas sighed, running his hands through his hair, leaning against the back of the couch. "Kimberly, you can't keep doing this; everything you see if not a Sign of Death. We beat Death, we did so please, stop doing this to yourself." He pleaded, taking her lithe, scarred hands in his.
She offered him a wavy smile, nodding slowly. "You're right, you're right...it's just that...it's almost been a year since..." She trailed off, shrugging, suddenly uncomfortably. She couldn't explain what she felt and she wasn't sure she wanted to. If she had paid more attention to the signs before, maybe more people would still be alive; maybe Clear and her friends...maybe she wouldn't be gripped by terror every time the shadows shifted.
If Bludworth, the Mortician, was right -which Thomas believed he was and she did as well, knowing that she would go crazy if she didn't- then they had been ripped off Death's list. Her drowning and being revived had given Death new life; they were safe, Death wasn't stalking them anymore. Yet, she couldn't help but look at the signs, couldn't stop jumping at shadows.
Thomas smiled and gently kissed Kimberly on the forehead. "Whatever you smelled probably just came from upstairs." He told her, raising an eyebrow.
Kimberly smiled as well, knowing that he was probably right; their upstairs neighbors were often rowdy, the price for living in an apartment. Anything unusual that happened in the apartment complex could often be blamed on the Pattersons upstairs. "God, sometimes, I hate this place." She griped as Thomas stood up, kissing the top of her head as he walked past her.
Thomas shrugged, though Kimberly couldn't see the gesture while he was in the kitchen. "For thirty bucks a month, I'm surprised we don't have cult members for neighbors." He called from his spot by the sink.
Kimberly smiled, feeling much better then she had only moments ago. She opened her mouth to agree but before she could form any words, the stifling odor from before returned, filling her nose and mouth, choking her. Kimberly gagged, coughing, attempting to breathe despite the thick air; now it wasn't just a smell, it was in the air, real, thick and overpowering.
She continued to cough, attempting to block out the choking air. By the time Thomas reached her, asking what was wrong, the air and its odor were gone. Kimberly took a deep breath and pressed herself against Thomas' chest, hair spilling across her face. "It was the smell again but this time it was stronger...different." She told him, not bothering to look his way.
At first, Thomas didn't know what to say, he was too confused; he understood that, for some reason, Kimberly could predict Death but he didn't understand why she could still do it...now, after they had beaten Death. What could she possibly see now? "Kimberly..." He began but stopped when she pulled away from him.
"Thomas, stop, don't say anything. I know what I saw...what I felt." Kimberly said, finally meeting his gaze. "It was a sign, but I'm not sure what it means." She frowned, now staring down at her feet.
Thomas sighed, knowing there was nothing he could say to get her mind of Death and its signs. "What did you smell?" He asked when he realized he hadn't before.
It didn't take Kimberly a long time to answer. "Gas."
A/N: Set a year of F.D.2 The more reviews I get, the more chapters I will post so please review (honestly) and please enjoy
Chapter One
Portents
Kimberly Corman was uneasy and, from past experience, being uneasy made her nervous; she had learned long ago to trust her instincts and feelings, knowing that everything could tell her something. So, when the uneasy feeling crept down her spine as she washed glass dinner plates, her mind clicked onto heightened alert. She placed the plate into the sink, shutting off the water, glancing around her, eyes roaming the Spartan kitchen. Uneasy feelings weren't appreciated but they were listened to, something her late friend Clear Rivers had taught her.
Seeing nothing deadly or out of place in the sparse kitchen, Kimberly sighed, resting her elbows on the kitchen counter and running her wet fingers through her hair. The feeling passed as quickly as it had come, but she found herself unable to feel at ease, for there was a cold pit still in her stomach.
As Kimberly reached to turn the faucet back on, her nose began to itch, tickling and burning. She rubbed it with her palm, trying to block out the smell that was tingling her sense; she found she couldn't place the smell, almost as though she had never smelt it before. Before Kimberly could detect the origin of the smell, it disappeared, the itching disappearing with it.
A frown appeared on her face as she picked up the wet dash and a worn, damp rag; she began drying the dish, letting the stillness of the house enclose her, the silence wrapping around her like a blanket. She attempted to remain as silent as possible, knowing that she almost felt better when things were quiet.
* * *
The over whelming smell of gas chocked her, shoving itself down her throat. It filled her lungs, driving out the cool air and replacing it with the burning gasoline. She gagged, attempting to refill her lungs with clean air but all she could breathe in was the gas.
It was difficult, now, for her to breathe at all, the gasoline filling her head, making it difficult for her to remember to open her mouth to attempt to replenish her lungs. Dizziness clouded her vision but she couldn't see anything anyway, for the area was dark and unfamiliar.
Finally, the dizziness and pain became too much and she succumbed to the fiery temptation to die.
* * *
She didn't realize that she was having trouble breathing until she awoke with a start, struggling to catch her breath; she was shaking violently, hair stringy with sweat. Her chest rose and feel rapidly as she sucked in breaths, the lingering feelings of being smothered clinging to her brain, the unmistakable scent of gasoline seeming to hang in the air.
She continued to shake violently and she shivered, despite the mid-spring heat that filled the house. Her green eyes scanned the area, looking for signs of danger or fear, of anything out of the ordinary.
Everything was as it should be and she was still alone in the house, bathed in afternoon sunshine. Sighing, she dropped back onto the couch, pulling a thin blanket around her shaking form, closing her eyes and burrowing her face against a pillow.
'It was just a dream', she assured herself, 'just a dream.'
* * *
"I smelled something strange today." Kimberly informed Officer Thomas Burke as he asked her about her day.
Thomas frowned at her, staring at the woman he had loved for almost a year, trying to read her expression; she was often a mystery to him and that was okay with him most of the time because he often didn't want to know what was plaguing her mind: the pain, the death, the scars. Her constant fear, despite the fact that she should have none. But then, he figured that fearing for your life was a hard habit to break.
"Something strange?" Thomas repeated, searching her face. "What do you mean?"
Kimberly shrugged helplessly, frowning as well. "I was doing the dishes and then I smelled something...strange, and it burned my nose but I couldn't figure out where it was coming from or what it was. Then it was gone." She explained, thinking back to the uneasy feeling that she had felt in the kitchen.
Thomas felt shivers skitter down his spine, despite the fact that Kimberly might simply be jumping to conclusions. Was she insinuating that Death was coming back to get them, that it had waited long enough? It wasn't supposed to happen that way, they had cheated Death and they both knew that.
"Kimberly", he began patiently, "just because you smelled something strange doesn't mean anything." He wasn't sure if he was trying to make Kimberly feel better or himself.
Kimberly, however would have none of it and continued. "What if it was a sign?" She persisted, narrowing her eyes at him. "Clear told me to always pay attention to the signs." She reminded.
Thomas sighed, running his hands through his hair, leaning against the back of the couch. "Kimberly, you can't keep doing this; everything you see if not a Sign of Death. We beat Death, we did so please, stop doing this to yourself." He pleaded, taking her lithe, scarred hands in his.
She offered him a wavy smile, nodding slowly. "You're right, you're right...it's just that...it's almost been a year since..." She trailed off, shrugging, suddenly uncomfortably. She couldn't explain what she felt and she wasn't sure she wanted to. If she had paid more attention to the signs before, maybe more people would still be alive; maybe Clear and her friends...maybe she wouldn't be gripped by terror every time the shadows shifted.
If Bludworth, the Mortician, was right -which Thomas believed he was and she did as well, knowing that she would go crazy if she didn't- then they had been ripped off Death's list. Her drowning and being revived had given Death new life; they were safe, Death wasn't stalking them anymore. Yet, she couldn't help but look at the signs, couldn't stop jumping at shadows.
Thomas smiled and gently kissed Kimberly on the forehead. "Whatever you smelled probably just came from upstairs." He told her, raising an eyebrow.
Kimberly smiled as well, knowing that he was probably right; their upstairs neighbors were often rowdy, the price for living in an apartment. Anything unusual that happened in the apartment complex could often be blamed on the Pattersons upstairs. "God, sometimes, I hate this place." She griped as Thomas stood up, kissing the top of her head as he walked past her.
Thomas shrugged, though Kimberly couldn't see the gesture while he was in the kitchen. "For thirty bucks a month, I'm surprised we don't have cult members for neighbors." He called from his spot by the sink.
Kimberly smiled, feeling much better then she had only moments ago. She opened her mouth to agree but before she could form any words, the stifling odor from before returned, filling her nose and mouth, choking her. Kimberly gagged, coughing, attempting to breathe despite the thick air; now it wasn't just a smell, it was in the air, real, thick and overpowering.
She continued to cough, attempting to block out the choking air. By the time Thomas reached her, asking what was wrong, the air and its odor were gone. Kimberly took a deep breath and pressed herself against Thomas' chest, hair spilling across her face. "It was the smell again but this time it was stronger...different." She told him, not bothering to look his way.
At first, Thomas didn't know what to say, he was too confused; he understood that, for some reason, Kimberly could predict Death but he didn't understand why she could still do it...now, after they had beaten Death. What could she possibly see now? "Kimberly..." He began but stopped when she pulled away from him.
"Thomas, stop, don't say anything. I know what I saw...what I felt." Kimberly said, finally meeting his gaze. "It was a sign, but I'm not sure what it means." She frowned, now staring down at her feet.
Thomas sighed, knowing there was nothing he could say to get her mind of Death and its signs. "What did you smell?" He asked when he realized he hadn't before.
It didn't take Kimberly a long time to answer. "Gas."