EXTRACT FOR
Beyond Guilt
(Author Unknown)

Chapter 1

    

    The man was tall and slender, dressed in dark clothing and carrying an odd-shaped black satchel in the crook of his arm, and his eyes stayed fixed on my headlights as my BMW slammed into him.

    Everything from that point slowed down and turned fuzzy and out of focus, like a dream sequence in a weird movie. The streetlamps and traffic lights straight ahead faded, blending into a gooey mess of shapeless colors, and the passing traffic disappeared. Everything had turned into a vast dark stillness. 

    A feeling of iciness enveloped me as if someone had draped a wet towel across my shoulders. The only thing that existed right then was the horrible thud the man's body had made when my car plowed into him. The disgusting sound resonated through me, filling my being. Mixed with the frantic beating of my heart, the overall effect was deafening. My first instinct was to cover my ears, but I needed to keep a tight grip on the wheel. Even so, the nauseating sound continued resonating, growing louder, like some wild African tribal beat.

    I suddenly realized that the sound would intensify if I covered my ears. Doing that might hold it all in. But I had to do something to take my mind off it.

    I massaged my temples. Then I rubbed my eyes. Only then did I discover that my hands were no longer gripping the steering wheel. I'd apparently stopped driving without even being aware of it. 

    The BMW was no longer moving. The traffic lights remained where they'd been moments ago, suggesting that I hadn't gone very far since the accident. I was sitting behind the wheel, staring at the intersection a hundred or so yards straight ahead, where the lights had just turned red. There was no traffic waiting there. 

    I wondered where everyone had gone.

    Had the rest of the world disappeared? Or had I somehow escaped this horror? Had I departed this life altogether? Had the mind-blowing act of slamming into a person on the highway forced me to veer off the road and mash my vehicle into the nearest building, killing me as well? 

    Or had my existence simply changed, blending into the strange foggy blackness that had taken hold of me?  

    I continued staring at the lights. They'd already turned green. A few cars came my way, creeping through the intersection. They were moving much slower than moments ago, when I'd made my hasty departure from cold reality. Just before they passed, they all merged into a single lane. 

    Were they being directed to merge? Or were they simply trying to avoid something lying in the road behind me?

    I forced myself to believe that the traffic didn't matter. Nothing mattered because I was no longer a part of the picture. I had no intention of grabbing the wheel and continuing my journey home. In fact, I had no intention of doing anything. That was a no-brainer, since I suddenly realized I was unable to move.

    I had to move, didn't I? I couldn't just sit here for the rest of my life. I was alive, wasn't I? Being alive was part of life, wasn't it? People who no longer moved were usually dead or lying in a coma in a hospital bed. 

    Since I wasn't in a coma, I decided that I should continue acting the part of a living, breathing human being.

    I decided to explore my surroundings. 

    I was surprised to discover that I was no longer on the highway. At some point during the last few agonizing moments, I'd veered off the road and pulled into a strip mall??"although I had no recollection of doing so. I had no recollection of doing anything once I'd slammed into the guy who'd stepped out in front of me.

    Had that actually happened? Or had I imagined it?

    The mind does strange things when you're exhausted or stressed. I'd been pushing myself the last few weeks. The office had literally gone crazy since the new merger had graduated from whispered rumors to direct action. Everyone was nervous, suspicious of the new faces wandering about. Conference calls and meetings had taken up most of my afternoons, and I hadn't had time to do anything but drive to work, preside over the meetings, argue about business strategies with the new faces, drive home, fix dinner and sack out. Half the time, I'd collapsed in the living room recliner the instant I got home. The other times, I'd nodded off even before I was able to finish my meal. I'd been running on all eight cylinders for much too long and needed a rest. When you're in such a vulnerable state, all sorts of weird, unexplained things can happen.

    I had to consider that my imagination had been playing tricks on me. I remembered the times during the last few days when I'd left the house without my keys or cell phone. Yesterday afternoon, I poured a cup of coffee, took a call on my cell and left the cafeteria without taking the coffee with me. Two days ago, I pulled out the makings of a sandwich from the fridge, got a call, went to my den to look for some papers and left the bread, turkey, cheese, pickles, and the mayo jar on the counter until the next morning.

    My brain had been on overload for too long and definitely needed a recharge.

    But would it make me imagine that I'd run over someone? Would it go to such an extent to create such a horrible vision? 

    Maybe I had imagined it. At least, I hoped I had...

    How could I find out for sure? How could I know? What would it take to convince me that my overworked brain had simply provided me with a hallucination to force me to take it easy?

    Just turn around and see for yourself.

    That sounded simple enough, didn't it?

    If I saw nothing, I'd know right then that I needed a rest. This time, I'd actually pay attention to the signs and do what was necessary. I'd call in early the next morning and tell Gloria I wasn't feeling well and needed some time off. If a few days weren't enough, I'd call in again and tell her I was going to take off the following week. I had vacation time coming; they could handle things without me. If not, I'd obviously hired the wrong people.

    All I had to do to fix this was turn around and see for myself that there was no body, that my exhausted brain had imagined the whole thing. I hadn't run over anyone. I was extremely tired and might even have dozed off or just zoned out for a moment or two. I might have hit a stray dog, for all I knew??"or someone's discarded Arby's bag. A number of things might have happened, things that weren't so serious or traumatic...

    But that didn't mean I hadn't run over someone, did it?

    No. That terrible possibility clung stubbornly to my mind. 

    I continued sitting behind the wheel, my pulse hammering as I gathered the courage to turn around. Could I do this? Did I have the balls necessary to face my fear? What if I had run someone over? Could I deal with it? Could I live with the knowledge that I'd actually killed another human being?

    It doesn't matter. You have to find out. It's the only way you'll be able to get through this moment.

    Because, no matter what happened or didn't happen, you can't just sit here like this!

    After about a minute, I found the courage inside me and turned around.

    My heart practically leaped out of my chest.

    About a hundred feet behind me, a dark, motionless figure lay just off the curb. His crumpled satchel sat in the middle of the road, about twenty feet from the figure's outstretched hand. A few yards from where the figure lay, two police cruisers, lights flashing, blocked the lane. One cop directed the traffic in the other lane, merging both lanes into one so as not to disturb the scene.

    The other cop was talking to the radio attached to his left shoulder as he cautiously approached my car.

    

    



Chapter 2

    

    I turned to face the front, closed my eyes and willed myself to be somewhere else. This wasn't happening; it just couldn't be. I hadn't done this. I refused to believe that I'd just mowed down another human being as if...as if??"

    As if he wasn't there in the first place?

    Yes. That was it. He wasn't there. I was driving down the road, minding my own business...and there he was. He'd just appeared??"had simply materialized in front of my car. It was as if he'd been snatched from some other universe and placed right there in front of me, just one moment before I??" 

    The harsh rap on my window sounded similar to the thump the body had made, and I jumped.

    Pull yourself together. You can do this. There's a cop out there and he's trying to get your attention. You can't come apart at the seams now, can you? 

    I could hold myself together; I'd done it countless times before, hadn't I? I was a grown man. I'd been married and divorced twice. Both women had soaked me, but I'd survived. I'd been running Ellis & Associates the last nine years and had kept it going in spite of the twists and turns the economy had taken. The Dow had dipped, dropped and stumbled more than a dozen times during those years, but we'd survived. I even managed to keep the company going without laying off people or lowering salaries. My employees respected me and trusted me. Many of them even liked me.

    I could definitely handle something like this.

    Can you? I asked myself. This isn't about the economy, and it sure as hell isn't about two women who divorced you because you spent more time at the office than you did with them. This is the real thing. This is vehicular manslaughter, and you'd better start taking it seriously...

    Another rap. 

    "Sir? Please roll down your window..."

    Reality had intervened again. Listen to it, my inner voice persisted. If you don't, you'll be truly sorry.

    Pull yourself together. Think. Focus.

    I took a couple of deep breaths. There. So far, so good... I rubbed my eyes, tapped my cheeks and tried to focus. I'm Brad Ellis, I reminded myself. I'm sitting here behind the wheel of my BMW and I'm in one piece. To make sure I was right, I rubbed my palms together. Yep. One piece. And my pants are still dry.

    Now...focus on what's next...

    The window. He wanted me to lower the window. It couldn't be that difficult, could it? A man boasting as many accomplishments as I just did should surely be able to perform such an incredibly simple task.

    For some reason, I found pressing the damned button just as complicated as deciding which wire to cut on a bomb. The button was right there on the door rest, just as visible and as accessible as ever. It was there when I bought the car and had been there ever since. I'd never had trouble with it before...

    Even so, I had trouble reaching it. My arm suddenly weighed a ton, and my hand shook too much. To make things even worse, I kept pulling away from it. Did I want to keep from lowering it? Was this a subconscious attempt to keep the remnants of my world from escaping? Or was this my feeble way to keep out the chilling reality of what I'd just done? 

    Whatever it was, I knew I couldn't hold it off for long. It would infuriate the cop and make the situation worse. But I just couldn't help it.

    Another rap. 

    "Sir?" He sounded impatient.

    You can do this, dammit!

    I know I can... 

    What are you waiting for, then? 

    Gritting my teeth, I forced my arm closer to the door rest. After some furious groping, I pressed the button. The window slid quietly down, and a wash of ice flowed in, chilling me to the bone.

    Ice? In Florida? I really was losing it...

    "Sir? You all right?" The cop sounded genuinely concerned.

    "I'm really sorry..." I couldn't think of anything else to say right then. I wanted to tell him why I couldn't open the window at first but guessed by his expression that he'd probably already figured it out. "I'm kind of...well, messed up right now... I couldn't manage...the window button...I just...I couldn't find the damned thing!"

    "Sir, would you please step out of your vehicle?"

    "P-Pardon me?"

    "Please step out, sir. I need to ask you a few questions."

    Once again, my body had betrayed me. I knew where the door latch was, but couldn't grab it. I wanted to switch on the interior light to see it better but didn't want the cop to think I was up to something. I'd never been in this situation before but had seen enough cop shows to know that they had to be suspicious of every move a suspect made during a traffic stop. For all he knew, I could have guns or drugs in the car. After all, I'd just slammed into someone and possibly even killed him. This man had to be especially cautious. 

    But after a minute or so, he seemed to sense my dilemma and reached inside to pull open the door himself.

    "Thank you."

    He nodded but said nothing. He had small light-blue or gray eyes. In the haze of the streetlamp, I couldn't quite tell what color they were. They'd looked cold at first, but I could actually see a softness emanating from them.

    I started to slide out and quickly got hung up on my seat belt. Dammit. This man is really gonna think I'm drunk!

    "My seat belt. I guess I forgot all about it..." It was all I could think of that made any sense. 

    "Go 'head and release it," he said.

    To my utter astonishment, I managed to do it without strangling myself.

    "Please step out, sir..."

    I nearly collapsed when the hard pavement tapped the bottoms of my shoes. He helped me by grabbing my arm, and I straightened and leaned against the side of the BMW for support. I wanted to give him an explanation for my clumsiness but realized it might make my situation even worse, if that was at all possible. After a few tense moments, I discovered that I could stand on my own. I forced myself from turning to my left, where my victim lay on the highway. The first time I'd seen him, it nearly destroyed me. I couldn't possibly manage it again right now.

    "Sir?"

    The officer was speaking to me.

    "Yes?"

    "Are you all right?"

    That was the most ridiculous thing anyone had ever asked me. I wanted to tell him how I felt, but something inside me told me to choose my next words wisely. With this in mind, I gave him a subtle version of what was going on in my head at that moment. "No. I'm not. I just hit someone. I'm not all right. As a matter of fact, I don't think I'll ever be all right again..."

    As he watched me, I could see his eyes softening again. He looked down at his pad and stared at it. I could tell he was trying to give me as much time as he could under the circumstances. He obviously saw something on my face he seemed to understand??"something he might have seen before. He knew right off that this was definitely something that needed to be handled delicately. However, he had a job to do. I knew that as well as he did.

    "Sir, do you need to be taken to the hospital?"

    "I honestly don't know. I don't think I'm hurt..."

    He held up his index finger about a foot in front of my face. "Can you see this?"

    I nodded.

    "Keep your eyes on my finger, but don't move your head."

    He moved it back and forth across my line of vision, very slowly. Afterward, he lowered his arm. I knew what he was doing. "Have you been drinking, sir?"

    "No..."

    "You've had nothing at all to drink?"

    "I don't drink and drive. I stopped doing that in college when I developed a brain cell or two."

    He seemed satisfied with my answer and wrote something down in his notebook. "I need to see your license, registration, and proof of insurance."

    I reached for my back pocket. As soon as I did, I realized that I'd forgotten which pocket I kept my wallet in. This made my urge to panic even more immediate. I'd been carrying my wallet in the same pocket since I was old enough to drive. That was more than twenty years ago. I shouldn't have any trouble at all finding it right now.

    Hell, you couldn't even lower the window two minutes ago! 

    This was indeed a critical situation, and if I wasn't careful, I'd make a horrible mess of it. If I bungled anything else, this man would certainly force me to take a sobriety test. But I had no choice. Once again, I forced myself to do whatever it took to keep the panic away. 

    Think, Ellis. One thing at a time. 

    Then, finally, it came to me. I carried my wallet in the rear pocket on my right side, where I'd been carrying it since I first got my learner's permit. 

    I pulled it out and fumbled for the right cards, but my hands just wouldn't cooperate, and I dropped the damned thing. It landed with a splat! on the pavement between my feet. I stood there like an idiot, staring down at it as if I had no idea what I'd just done or what I should do next.

    "I'm really sorry," I said. I wanted to tell him that this was the first time I'd ever been involved in something like this. I decided against it. It would have come out wrong no matter how I said it and would have made me sound like a demented idiot. Or worse??"a drunken, demented idiot.

    "It's all right." He bent to snatch it up and handed it back to me. This time I took special care opening it. I successfully pulled out my driver's license and registration without dropping them again. Then I handed them over. As he studied them, I found my insurance card and gave it to him as well. 

    "One moment, please..." He turned and went back to his cruiser.

    I stood there stiffly, forcing myself not to gawk at the scene. Several other vehicles had shown up. I still hadn't turned in that direction, but I could hear the engines idling and several different voices barking orders and instructions. The medical unit was probably there, and perhaps another police cruiser. I turned to face the BMW, rested my elbows on its flawless finish and tried very hard to keep myself from coming apart. I closed my eyes again and struggled to convince myself that this was not actually happening. I was not really here; I'd imagined all this. I visualized my Winter Park condo and even saw myself in the shower, scrubbing down after another torturous day at the office. I could even see the drink I'd fixed when I came home??"a double Scotch and soda. It was waiting for me on the kitchen counter as soon as I stepped out of the shower, toweled myself dry and??"

    "Mr. Ellis?"

    The strangely familiar voice behind me jarred me forcibly out of my daydream.

    Pull yourself together!

    Taking a deep breath, I straightened and turned around. I was about to ask the cop how he knew my name. He was standing a few feet away, holding out my cards. I stared at them, then at him, and after a few awkward moments realized that he knew my name because he'd been checking my cards. Once that mystery was solved, I began to wonder what I was supposed to do. He pushed them closer, and the scrap of reason still clinging to my brain suggested I take them. They were mine, weren't they? He was handing them to me because he obviously didn't need them anymore.

    It's really a no-brainer. You majored in math and business management, and even made fairly good grades in Algebra and Trigonometry. You surely can figure out something this simple.

    I took them and put them in my shirt pocket rather than try slipping them back in my wallet. I had to do whatever was necessary to keep from dropping things again.

    "We'll need to ask you a few questions, Mr. Ellis. Would you mind taking a trip to the Police Station?"

    I wanted to ask him if I was under arrest. He hadn't asked me to turn around, so I figured he wasn't about to cuff me.

    "We have coffee at the Station," he said. "If you need medical assistance??""

    "Can you drive me?" I asked. "I'm too...too shaken up??""

    "I understand. If you need someone to park and secure your car, we can do that."

    "I'd appreciate it. The keys are in the ignition."

    "Can you make it to the cruiser? Or do you need a hand?"

    "I think I can make it, thanks."