Something to Remember

Rachel Jordan's world changed after her accident. It continues to alter while she's on vacation. She's confused and can't remember simple things. She's losing people and memories, and fears her mind is going too. The only thing that remains constant is a mysterious man who appears out of nowhere and haunts her every step.

Excerpt from Something to Remember

Shirley Hailstock

Car lights popped up over the rise. Coming from no where, they blinded her. Rachel Jordan squinted and swerved, trying to miss the erratically weaving vehicle. Sweat bathed her brow and her mouth went dry. Using only a split second, she glanced at Margaret sitting in the passenger seat. Fear froze her sister's face into a grotesque scowl.

Rachel knew she was going to hit the mountain. She’d come around the curve at forty miles an hour–a full fifteen miles less than the legal limit. But the lights were suddenly there, directly in front of her. Surprised and frightened, her body went instantly cold. Goosebumps, the size of Robin’s eggs, rose on her arms. Her stomach plummeted as if she were on a giant roller-coaster that had just gone over the top. She gripped the hard-ribbed plastic wheel as she fought to control the car, but it had become a two-ton missile hurtling downhill toward the unknown.

Rocks and gravel pinged the windshield as the car left the paved road and plowed through the shoulder. Dirt flew upward like water hit on a fast run. The tires churned the black earth, creating a heavy cloud that was too dense to see through.

Rachel bit her lip, her foot pumping vigorously on the brake. But the car's momentum propelled it forward. She wondered how long she had to live, ten seconds? twenty? How far was the guard rail? Would it stop the car or let it plunge into the ravine below? Or would the mountain be her fate? She couldn't see which form of death awaited her.

The bottom of the car crunched over rocks, smashing them like walnuts. Suddenly a pocket opened in the dust cloud. The mountain loomed in front of her, large, black, solid and on a direct collision course with the metal box that would be her coffin. Frantically she fought the steering wheel, cranking it to the left as if she were the captain of the Titanic and the ill-fated iceberg lay dead ahead. The wheels locked and the car slid, refusing to change its course.

Rachel's actions were rapid, faster than her breathing. She held her breath as if her body had forgotten the exercise of inhaling and exhaling. Around her time slowed down. The mountain came toward her with excruciating slowness. Somewhere she heard a high-pitched whine, as if someone had stepped on a cat's tail. Her arms were tired. It took all her effort to pull the steering wheel. Still the mountain approached her, a massive giant with shrouded shoulders beckoning her to her death.

Flashes of her mother's perfume, her thirteenth birthday party, the night Tommy Miller kissed her behind the garage, careened through her mind. Her life passed quickly before her in snatches of memory as vivid and colorful as if the experience was being repeated. She felt the joy of being named prom queen and the sadness that engulfed her when her father died of lung cancer the week before her college graduation. Was she about to join him?

Rachel yanked harder on the black wheel, willing it to turn, willing the tires to follow her command and escape a sure death. The car's lights raced toward the imposing mountain. She gasped, still hearing the whining and wishing it would stop. She was going to hit the wall. She knew it. And knew there was nothing she could do to prevent it.

Impact!

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