Rescue Me

Sammy Gordon watched the glittering diamonds in the evening sky, twinkling as they crawled forward to meet him. He could smell the burnt rubber of failing tires, and his mind registered, somewhere far away, the rending of metal as his VW Beetle tore through the guardrail overlooking the Pacific Ocean. He reached out in a drug-addled stupor, tried to grasp the iridescent jewels painted on the midnight canvas, but the car's nose dipped as it began its plunge.

The old Volkswagen crumpled as it slammed into the water, and Sammy felt his ribs snap under the seatbelt. Windows shattered, and arctic water engulfed his broken body. He screamed, and a viscous death filled his lungs. He slipped into January darkness, frigid and unyielding.  

A flash of green light, and then silence.

Where am I…?

A library? What the hell?

Tall shelves filled a shadowed room, disorderly rows lurching into the shadows beyond the meager light at his feet. The musk of old pages filled his nostrils, and he breathed deep in the stagnant air. He doubled over in a fit of coughing, and then straightened. He yelped in surprise.

He was not alone.

Standing before him was the strangest man he had ever seen. He was tall, but not thin. He had jet-black hair that was parted straight down the middle of his scalp, folding over the sides of his head in perfect symmetry. He was older than Sammy, and dressed in black – shirt, tie, slacks, and coat.

The stranger smiled, a dazzling look that drew Sammy with an animal magnetism. But it was the eyes froze time…brilliant emerald orbs that glittered in the dim. The stranger offered his hand, and Sammy took it.

Sammy was transfixed in the stranger’s grasp; it was pale, but strong. Perfectly-manicured nails were perched atop lean, supple fingers. It was a strange thing to consider, but the man really had good hands. Firm hands.

The world lurched, and suddenly the two men sat across an old table.

“Hello Samuel,” the stranger spoke.

“He-hello,” Sammy stuttered. “What…uh, what is all this?”

“You’re in transition.”

“Transition?”

“Yes. Which means, Samuel, that you are dying. You’re not dead yet – but you will be soon.”

Sammy’s mind spiraled as jerked back in his chair. “Dying? What? Where the hell am I?”

The stranger leaned forward, face was suffused with intensity.

“You’re in a place that’s very special to me. A place where I can help people. Where I can help you.” He reached across the table again, once more grasping Sammy’s hand. “Would you like me to help you, Samuel?”

Sammy’s heart pounded in his chest, and he could hear a low rush of wind in his ears. He had an immediate sensation of falling, then the jolt of terrible impact. An icy wind ripped the breath from his body, and he was suddenly cold – so damn cold. The roar in his ears grew, and spots danced in his vision. He shivered with terrible convulsions, and finally knew the stranger was telling the truth.

Help me.

His lips were moving, but he couldn’t hear the words tumble from his mouth. He was fading, slipping into oblivion, but the stranger’s grip never faltered.

There was a brilliant flash of green, and the world went black.