John looked at Monica still sitting beside him in the car. He didn't know
what had happened. He looked around but cried out in pain as his body was
crumbling beneath him. He couldn't see out of the window because the glass
had shattered and the dark of the night limited his visibility.
He could hear sirens in the distance; he couldn't think why they were coming. He was in his car; he could just open the door and get out, maybe not. As he moved again he cried out in pain, as he was about to give in to the fear of dying threatening him. But Monica's movements beside him startled him.
She was alive, she had to be. She looked right at him; he could see she was alive. It was her birthday, he'd taken her out for a meal, and they were on their way back to his place. This wasn't supposed to be what happened.
Monica's eyes closed and the last thing he heard her say was his name.
When the paramedics and police finally arrived they took care of John first despite his cries for them to help Monica.
At the hospital John's wounds were soon stitched up. He'd gotten off lightly, considering. He was left in a cubicle waiting for the police to come and ask him what had happened. He just wanted to see Monica. No one would tell him where she was or if she was ok. He didn't care about anything else.
As the police questioned him and repeatedly explained to him that they had no information on his partner's condition, John sunk into a depression. It was becoming clear to him what had happened. The people that were trying to spare his feelings by not explaining things to him were only making things worse. Monica was dead.
He told the police everything he could remember but what he did remember wasn't of much use. He remembered seeing headlights, and not really thinking anything of it, until the lights were coming right at him. He remembered Monica calling out his name in panic as he swerved to avoid hitting the car heading straight into them. But it was no use, he took the car down a small hilltop and it toppled over several times before hitting the ground, luckily the right way up. That was all he could tell them.
The police left John to rest. But no sooner had they gone than he was up and wandering around looking for Monica. He checked every cubicle, apologising to all of the patients that he walked in on in the process. He couldn't find her. He ended up in the emergency room. He couldn't see what they were doing but he could see that it was bad.
Monica was lying on the bed, not moving, not doing anything. Her eyes were closed and John wanted to run in and open them so he could see her soul full gaze for one last time. Her face full of fear was the last thing he'd seen. He wanted her to sit up and laugh, to look at him with that smile that made every day seem like Christmas. But as he stood with his face against the window and watched the doctors working on her, he knew that he'd never get to see her smile again. Tears rolled down his face without him even realising it. The doctors pulled back and someone called out time of death. It was over.
John had left the hospital, left the city before he realised he'd been walking in the rain for almost two hours. In one straight line, heading to nowhere. He'd have to tell everyone. Everyone they worked with. Her family. How could he have let this happen? He went home and looked at his phone as the red light was blinking desperately trying to get his attention.
As he walked closer he saw that there were five messages for him. He knew who they'd be from. Someone would have let Dana know. Their closest ally at work. She'd want to come round and ask all the same questions that he'd already answered for the police. He didn't listen to her messages. He didn't pick up his phone. He left his house and walked to Monica's apartment.
When he got there he fumbled around in his pocket for the key to her front door. He opened it slowly praying she would be there to welcome him in and offer him a drink. But the apartment was silent. Even the early morning traffic had disappeared as if they were paying their respects. The thought of this made him angry, they didn't know her; they had no right to be upset or concerned.
The whole room had her scent in it. She had made her mark here so quickly. Her jackets all hung by the door, her shoes were all in a neat row under the table. It was Monica all over. How could she not be here?
He walked further into the apartment and sat down on her couch. He looked all around him and took in all the Monica he could get before he'd have to go on without her. He went into the kitchen where she had post-its on the refrigerator door. There was one with a recipe on for a Mexican dish given to her by her mother, there was one with a telephone number on it, and there was one that said 'February 9th - the big three-four, dinner with John at 8. Must pick out something new to wear.'
He took the small piece of yellow paper from the door and read it over and over to himself. The first thing he told her when he picked her up was how beautiful she looked, she'd blushed and told him it was some old thing she'd not worn for years. He went back into the living room and picked up her phone. Her mother's number was in her speed dial; he slowly pushed down the button and listened to the numbers automatically go through. When her mother answered the phone he went blank and she knew that something had happened to her daughter.
When John bumped into Dana the following afternoon she made him stop and talk to her. But he didn't want to talk. He wanted to keep busy, that was why he'd gone back to work. He was putting all of his energy into finding the person that had ran him off the road, the person responsible for Monica's death. Dana tried to talk him into going home, but it was useless. He was more determined than ever.
"John I want to find who did this just as much as you do. But there's something you need to know."
"Look, I don't have time right now, I just got off the phone with the police and they think that there may have been something wrong with the car that Monica and I were in. That maybe there was some faulty parts in there."
"John I just got off the phone too, with the detective in charge of the case. The area of the road that you were run off, there are speed cameras operating at all times, and they have reviewed the tapes several times."
"And? Did they get a plate number?"
"No."
"Why the hell not?"
"Because the tape does not show any car but yours within a three hour time lapse. It shows your car entering the space, and then losing control and going down off the hill."
John walked away with a look of pure anger on his face.
"John where are you going?"
"You're wrong! You think there was no other car? That I just lost control? Did you hear Monica calling out your name as she was terrified that this car was going to run us off the road? Did you see her face lit up by the oncoming headlights and make her look like a ghost?"
"John I don't doubt that you..."
"Did you see any of that stuff?!"
"No."
"Then don't you tell me what it is I need to do. You're wrong."
John walked away and went to the car rental that he and Monica had been hiring cars from for years. The young guy behind the counter recognised him straight away and a look of sorrow took over his face. Clearly someone had informed him of what happened. John walked up to him and politely brushed off his offer of condolences. He asked the young guy to give him all the papers he had on the car that they had been driving, and whether he was supposed to hand out that kind of stuff or not he did so straight away.
Whilst reading the papers John discovered that the car had previously had five accidents inthe last year. He pointed out the statistic to the attendant who just brushed it off saying there were a lot of crazy drivers out there. John asked if the car had been bought back and was shown outside to the car standing alone in the parking garage.
He went over to the car and had flashbacks of what happened. Seeing the car coming at them, Monica's face, hearing her panic, seeing there was no way to escape it. The car was a mess, but the company had been told that it wasn't a write off; as he got closer he saw that pretty much the only thing that hadn't been smashed was the rear view mirror.
He got closer and opened the door so that he could see his reflection. But as he looked deep into the mirror terror filled him as he saw Monica staring back at him, covered in cuts and bruises. He looked into the back of the car; there was nothing there. He looked into the mirror again and she was gone.
By the end of the day John had a full parts list for the car and was able to find out that the rear view mirror had come from another car before this one, and then three others before that. Every reason for it being removed from one car to another was a road accident, every time.
He got the police reports from each accident and all the information that he had gathered showed him that the first incident was in 1990, and that each time there was a death and a survival, and each survivor reported that another car had tried to run them off the road before they finally had no choice but to turn whichever direction they could to try and survive.
Every time the mirror was un touched. Never broken.
John went back outside to the car. It had gotten dark and he wanted to go home. He looked into the mirror again, and she was there again. He called out her name and cried as he thought he was going mad. She was trying to talk to him, and all he knew was he had to take this mirrorwith him.
He gave the files back to the attendant and went home. When he got there Dana was waiting for him on the doorstep.
"Go home Dana."
"Just hear me out John."
"No. I said leave. Get the hell off my porch."
He opened his front door and went inside, Dana followed him. He put down the mirror and Dana picked it up. When he saw her he quickly snatched it from her and was about to yell before he calmed himself down and took a deep breath.
"John what is this?"
"I said leave."
"No, I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what's going on!"
"Look! I told you that there was another car out there, I saw it, Monica saw it, it was there! I did some checking around and found out that that mirror has been involved in a total of 48 accidents in twelve years. And every time that mirror is the only thing that isn't destroyed."
"What are you saying?"
"That this mirror is somehow connected to what happened last night, to all the people that have died over the last twelve years."
Dana looked at John startled by his words.
"John this isn't like you. I know this is hard for you, I understand. But this isn't going to help you."
"I gotta know what happened out there. And if you don't wanna know then I guess you're not the friend that Monica thought you were."
John picked up the mirror and went into the kitchen. Dana followed him reluctantly and sat with him at the table as he examined the mirror. He told her what had happened at the car rental agency and again she looked at him like he'd gone mad. But he refused to let her doubt run into him. He knew that this meant something, and when Monica appeared in the mirror again he cried out to her and Dana looked into it to see what he could see. But there was nothing.
John went crazy, he stood up and was yelling at the mirror, Dana panicked. She tried to tell him it was just a mirror that there was nothing there, he was convinced that the reason she couldn't see anything was because she wasn't in the accident. She didn't have a connection to any of it. And that's when it hit him. He looked at the mirror and went outside.
He came back in with a hammer and looked at the mirror lying on the table. He threw the hammer down, repeatedly hitting it until it was in a thousand pieces. He cried and got angrier at each blow, and eventually Dana calmed him down and got him to sit still.
Hours passed and John went up to bed, Dana let herself out after seeing he was ok. He didn't understand. But then he didn't know what he'd expected to happen when he broke the mirror anyway. Seven years bad luck wasn't going to have any real big effect on him. Every time he closed his eyes all he could see was her face, Monica looking at him, smiling. Then the terror and panic as they ran off the road. And her whisper of his name, her last breath.
Nightmares plagued him all night, he never truly slept. And when his telephone rang it scared him half to death and he answered it wearily having lost all will to go on.
"John? John are you there?"
It couldn't be. Was he still dreaming? He rubbed his eyes and looked at his watch. It was almost 8.30pm, had he slept all day, was he even awake now?
"John where are you? We were supposed to be at the restaurant half an hour ago. John? John? What's wrong? Are you alright?"
John got out of bed and went down the stairs. He went straight into the kitchen and looked at the table. The mirror was still there. He looked at his watch again, this time for the date; it was February 9th, Monica's birthday.
John took a deep breath and answered Monica's pleas for him to speak.
"Monica are you alright?"
"Am I alright? I'm fine, what's going on? What's happened to you?"
"Do you want me to come over?"
"No. I'll um, I'll come to you, be there in about twenty minutes."
He hung up the phone and gotto Monica's apartment in no time, and as she opened the door she was wearing the outfit she'd worn the night of the accident. He smiled. He'd never felt so overcome with relief and confusion.
"John what's going on?"
"Pinch me."
"If that's my birthday present, you shouldn't have. Will you please tell me what the hell's going on? Are we going out or not?"
"No. I'll fix us something here, and I'll explain everything, you'll never believe it."
"What are you talking about?"
John laughed, and he was overcome with the urge to hug her. But in stead he went into the kitchen and remembered the broken mirror at home. This was real right? He knew that when he told her what had happened she'd say that the mirror was killing for people's souls, or that the original victim was causing the car to continually crash using the mirror as a way to get into this world and kill people so that they weren't alone. And he knew that this time, Monica was probably right.
He didn't understand how he'd got her back; he just knew that he was lucky. He watched her wait patiently for him to explain everything, and he smiled. She smiled back and he realised that he was in love with this woman, and he had to know that this wasn't just a dream.
"Monica, seriously, would you just pinch me?"
He could hear sirens in the distance; he couldn't think why they were coming. He was in his car; he could just open the door and get out, maybe not. As he moved again he cried out in pain, as he was about to give in to the fear of dying threatening him. But Monica's movements beside him startled him.
She was alive, she had to be. She looked right at him; he could see she was alive. It was her birthday, he'd taken her out for a meal, and they were on their way back to his place. This wasn't supposed to be what happened.
Monica's eyes closed and the last thing he heard her say was his name.
When the paramedics and police finally arrived they took care of John first despite his cries for them to help Monica.
At the hospital John's wounds were soon stitched up. He'd gotten off lightly, considering. He was left in a cubicle waiting for the police to come and ask him what had happened. He just wanted to see Monica. No one would tell him where she was or if she was ok. He didn't care about anything else.
As the police questioned him and repeatedly explained to him that they had no information on his partner's condition, John sunk into a depression. It was becoming clear to him what had happened. The people that were trying to spare his feelings by not explaining things to him were only making things worse. Monica was dead.
He told the police everything he could remember but what he did remember wasn't of much use. He remembered seeing headlights, and not really thinking anything of it, until the lights were coming right at him. He remembered Monica calling out his name in panic as he swerved to avoid hitting the car heading straight into them. But it was no use, he took the car down a small hilltop and it toppled over several times before hitting the ground, luckily the right way up. That was all he could tell them.
The police left John to rest. But no sooner had they gone than he was up and wandering around looking for Monica. He checked every cubicle, apologising to all of the patients that he walked in on in the process. He couldn't find her. He ended up in the emergency room. He couldn't see what they were doing but he could see that it was bad.
Monica was lying on the bed, not moving, not doing anything. Her eyes were closed and John wanted to run in and open them so he could see her soul full gaze for one last time. Her face full of fear was the last thing he'd seen. He wanted her to sit up and laugh, to look at him with that smile that made every day seem like Christmas. But as he stood with his face against the window and watched the doctors working on her, he knew that he'd never get to see her smile again. Tears rolled down his face without him even realising it. The doctors pulled back and someone called out time of death. It was over.
John had left the hospital, left the city before he realised he'd been walking in the rain for almost two hours. In one straight line, heading to nowhere. He'd have to tell everyone. Everyone they worked with. Her family. How could he have let this happen? He went home and looked at his phone as the red light was blinking desperately trying to get his attention.
As he walked closer he saw that there were five messages for him. He knew who they'd be from. Someone would have let Dana know. Their closest ally at work. She'd want to come round and ask all the same questions that he'd already answered for the police. He didn't listen to her messages. He didn't pick up his phone. He left his house and walked to Monica's apartment.
When he got there he fumbled around in his pocket for the key to her front door. He opened it slowly praying she would be there to welcome him in and offer him a drink. But the apartment was silent. Even the early morning traffic had disappeared as if they were paying their respects. The thought of this made him angry, they didn't know her; they had no right to be upset or concerned.
The whole room had her scent in it. She had made her mark here so quickly. Her jackets all hung by the door, her shoes were all in a neat row under the table. It was Monica all over. How could she not be here?
He walked further into the apartment and sat down on her couch. He looked all around him and took in all the Monica he could get before he'd have to go on without her. He went into the kitchen where she had post-its on the refrigerator door. There was one with a recipe on for a Mexican dish given to her by her mother, there was one with a telephone number on it, and there was one that said 'February 9th - the big three-four, dinner with John at 8. Must pick out something new to wear.'
He took the small piece of yellow paper from the door and read it over and over to himself. The first thing he told her when he picked her up was how beautiful she looked, she'd blushed and told him it was some old thing she'd not worn for years. He went back into the living room and picked up her phone. Her mother's number was in her speed dial; he slowly pushed down the button and listened to the numbers automatically go through. When her mother answered the phone he went blank and she knew that something had happened to her daughter.
When John bumped into Dana the following afternoon she made him stop and talk to her. But he didn't want to talk. He wanted to keep busy, that was why he'd gone back to work. He was putting all of his energy into finding the person that had ran him off the road, the person responsible for Monica's death. Dana tried to talk him into going home, but it was useless. He was more determined than ever.
"John I want to find who did this just as much as you do. But there's something you need to know."
"Look, I don't have time right now, I just got off the phone with the police and they think that there may have been something wrong with the car that Monica and I were in. That maybe there was some faulty parts in there."
"John I just got off the phone too, with the detective in charge of the case. The area of the road that you were run off, there are speed cameras operating at all times, and they have reviewed the tapes several times."
"And? Did they get a plate number?"
"No."
"Why the hell not?"
"Because the tape does not show any car but yours within a three hour time lapse. It shows your car entering the space, and then losing control and going down off the hill."
John walked away with a look of pure anger on his face.
"John where are you going?"
"You're wrong! You think there was no other car? That I just lost control? Did you hear Monica calling out your name as she was terrified that this car was going to run us off the road? Did you see her face lit up by the oncoming headlights and make her look like a ghost?"
"John I don't doubt that you..."
"Did you see any of that stuff?!"
"No."
"Then don't you tell me what it is I need to do. You're wrong."
John walked away and went to the car rental that he and Monica had been hiring cars from for years. The young guy behind the counter recognised him straight away and a look of sorrow took over his face. Clearly someone had informed him of what happened. John walked up to him and politely brushed off his offer of condolences. He asked the young guy to give him all the papers he had on the car that they had been driving, and whether he was supposed to hand out that kind of stuff or not he did so straight away.
Whilst reading the papers John discovered that the car had previously had five accidents inthe last year. He pointed out the statistic to the attendant who just brushed it off saying there were a lot of crazy drivers out there. John asked if the car had been bought back and was shown outside to the car standing alone in the parking garage.
He went over to the car and had flashbacks of what happened. Seeing the car coming at them, Monica's face, hearing her panic, seeing there was no way to escape it. The car was a mess, but the company had been told that it wasn't a write off; as he got closer he saw that pretty much the only thing that hadn't been smashed was the rear view mirror.
He got closer and opened the door so that he could see his reflection. But as he looked deep into the mirror terror filled him as he saw Monica staring back at him, covered in cuts and bruises. He looked into the back of the car; there was nothing there. He looked into the mirror again and she was gone.
By the end of the day John had a full parts list for the car and was able to find out that the rear view mirror had come from another car before this one, and then three others before that. Every reason for it being removed from one car to another was a road accident, every time.
He got the police reports from each accident and all the information that he had gathered showed him that the first incident was in 1990, and that each time there was a death and a survival, and each survivor reported that another car had tried to run them off the road before they finally had no choice but to turn whichever direction they could to try and survive.
Every time the mirror was un touched. Never broken.
John went back outside to the car. It had gotten dark and he wanted to go home. He looked into the mirror again, and she was there again. He called out her name and cried as he thought he was going mad. She was trying to talk to him, and all he knew was he had to take this mirrorwith him.
He gave the files back to the attendant and went home. When he got there Dana was waiting for him on the doorstep.
"Go home Dana."
"Just hear me out John."
"No. I said leave. Get the hell off my porch."
He opened his front door and went inside, Dana followed him. He put down the mirror and Dana picked it up. When he saw her he quickly snatched it from her and was about to yell before he calmed himself down and took a deep breath.
"John what is this?"
"I said leave."
"No, I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what's going on!"
"Look! I told you that there was another car out there, I saw it, Monica saw it, it was there! I did some checking around and found out that that mirror has been involved in a total of 48 accidents in twelve years. And every time that mirror is the only thing that isn't destroyed."
"What are you saying?"
"That this mirror is somehow connected to what happened last night, to all the people that have died over the last twelve years."
Dana looked at John startled by his words.
"John this isn't like you. I know this is hard for you, I understand. But this isn't going to help you."
"I gotta know what happened out there. And if you don't wanna know then I guess you're not the friend that Monica thought you were."
John picked up the mirror and went into the kitchen. Dana followed him reluctantly and sat with him at the table as he examined the mirror. He told her what had happened at the car rental agency and again she looked at him like he'd gone mad. But he refused to let her doubt run into him. He knew that this meant something, and when Monica appeared in the mirror again he cried out to her and Dana looked into it to see what he could see. But there was nothing.
John went crazy, he stood up and was yelling at the mirror, Dana panicked. She tried to tell him it was just a mirror that there was nothing there, he was convinced that the reason she couldn't see anything was because she wasn't in the accident. She didn't have a connection to any of it. And that's when it hit him. He looked at the mirror and went outside.
He came back in with a hammer and looked at the mirror lying on the table. He threw the hammer down, repeatedly hitting it until it was in a thousand pieces. He cried and got angrier at each blow, and eventually Dana calmed him down and got him to sit still.
Hours passed and John went up to bed, Dana let herself out after seeing he was ok. He didn't understand. But then he didn't know what he'd expected to happen when he broke the mirror anyway. Seven years bad luck wasn't going to have any real big effect on him. Every time he closed his eyes all he could see was her face, Monica looking at him, smiling. Then the terror and panic as they ran off the road. And her whisper of his name, her last breath.
Nightmares plagued him all night, he never truly slept. And when his telephone rang it scared him half to death and he answered it wearily having lost all will to go on.
"John? John are you there?"
It couldn't be. Was he still dreaming? He rubbed his eyes and looked at his watch. It was almost 8.30pm, had he slept all day, was he even awake now?
"John where are you? We were supposed to be at the restaurant half an hour ago. John? John? What's wrong? Are you alright?"
John got out of bed and went down the stairs. He went straight into the kitchen and looked at the table. The mirror was still there. He looked at his watch again, this time for the date; it was February 9th, Monica's birthday.
John took a deep breath and answered Monica's pleas for him to speak.
"Monica are you alright?"
"Am I alright? I'm fine, what's going on? What's happened to you?"
"Do you want me to come over?"
"No. I'll um, I'll come to you, be there in about twenty minutes."
He hung up the phone and gotto Monica's apartment in no time, and as she opened the door she was wearing the outfit she'd worn the night of the accident. He smiled. He'd never felt so overcome with relief and confusion.
"John what's going on?"
"Pinch me."
"If that's my birthday present, you shouldn't have. Will you please tell me what the hell's going on? Are we going out or not?"
"No. I'll fix us something here, and I'll explain everything, you'll never believe it."
"What are you talking about?"
John laughed, and he was overcome with the urge to hug her. But in stead he went into the kitchen and remembered the broken mirror at home. This was real right? He knew that when he told her what had happened she'd say that the mirror was killing for people's souls, or that the original victim was causing the car to continually crash using the mirror as a way to get into this world and kill people so that they weren't alone. And he knew that this time, Monica was probably right.
He didn't understand how he'd got her back; he just knew that he was lucky. He watched her wait patiently for him to explain everything, and he smiled. She smiled back and he realised that he was in love with this woman, and he had to know that this wasn't just a dream.
"Monica, seriously, would you just pinch me?"