Beyond Death

Somebody That I Used to Know

In the end, I didn't stick around waiting for Jennifer to fill me on what had happened. Curiosity and hunger drove me back into town all on my own. I wasn't up to face Pat and his questions—if he'd even ask me any, so far no one else around town had recognized me without my aunt or uncle also being present—so I headed for the little grocery store for something easy I could cook.

I was really craving pizza, but the nearest fast chain was about an hour away, and I'd never eaten frozen pizza in my life. This didn't seem like the day to start either.

At the little market, I found a box of penne pasta, a little carton of milk, butter, and a block of cheddar cheese—everything I'd need to put together some homemade mac'n'cheese, the second best comfort food. My stomach growled just thinking about all that gooey cheese melted onto piping hot noodles.

The man behind the check stand gave me a bland, empty smile. Funny thing was I couldn't place him either. Maybe he had moved to Meridian as an adult in this reality? Or maybe he had been one of the people who had died in the mud slide in my own world? That thought sent a little chill down my spine. It wasn't even that hard to believe, he looked like he would have been about the same age as Byron's sister, if she'd survived the accident.

With my arms full of food stuffs—I'd forgotten to look for Gladdie's stash of reusable shopping bags—I stumbled back to the SUV. It started to rain just as I reached the driver's side. My cell started vibrating too.

I sat in the front cab reading the article Jennifer had forwarded me: breaking news about the earthquake.

A tall hooded figure jogged past my window and into the grocer's, a dark blur that looked soggy even through the fogged glass.

According to the News and Weather report from the Seattle P-I's online website, the earthquake had originated from one of the deep underwater plates that riddled the Western Pacific Shelf, rather than from any above ground volcanic activity, which was some comfort. We were pretty far away from the active volcanoes found on the other side of the Puget Sound, but the Cascade Mountains were still uncomfortably close. There was something vague about the article too that left me wondering what had really happened. It wasn't like NOAA to provide so little information. No graph, no details about the precise magnitude of the quake, no quote from a named local geologist looking for their name in print.

I glanced up when the hooded figure ran back outside. The rain didn't seem to bother him as he walked by, one hand tucked into his front pocket and the other carrying a carton of milk. I smiled at the guy's dedication, not even a storm or a little natural disaster was going to keep this guy from his milk.

My breath stuttered and jammed in my throat as recognition flooded through me: I knew those broad shoulders, the slope the man's back, the rhythm of his stride, even that damnable hoodie bore a striking resemblance to the kind my own Byron had favored. Why wear anything nice when he was just going to get fish guts on it, that's what he always said, and I couldn't blame him for sticking to bland, dark fabrics that were better suited to hiding the salt water crusted into everything he owned—one of the hazards of working as a full time fisherman in a small region.

This Byron must have sensed me staring, he turned and glanced at the Wagoneer as he walked by. I wanted to duck down where he wouldn't be able to see me, but I knew how suspicious that would look. I stared down at my phone instead, practically boring a hole through the screen with the force of my attention. My heart continued to beat rabbit-fast, and I could feel my body sweating despite the chill in the air. I prayed he wouldn't look too closely, or even worse, stop. I knew from what Jennifer had told me that I probably didn't need to worry about him trying to talk to me even if he did recognize me in the rain. But still, the thought of meeting him when he wouldn't even remember our relationship—it made my heart hurt and my stomach squirm. I hated this. I hated being a stranger in my own home, to all the people I loved.