Earthbound

By Val Tobin

Voted #23 in ReadFreely's 50 Best Indie Books of 2017 Awards.

Nothing says bad day like waking up dead.

Software developer Jayden McQueen is dead, but it’s not in her stubborn and controlling nature to say die. When she’s offered a chance to return to the physical plane to bid a final farewell to her loved ones, she seizes it.

Who wouldn’t want to attend their own funeral?

Warned that her time on this side of the veil is limited, she promises to return before the deadline. Then she discovers her death was murder and not the heart attack her family believes.

Refusing to leave until she uncovers the truth behind her death, Jayden enlists the help of a mysterious spirit who seems to know a lot about her and her family. Together they peel away the layers of this mystery, but when they get to the bottom, a dark horror awaits them. Now, not only is Jayden earthbound, she’s caught in a trap from which there may be no escape.

Hell hath no fury ...

Alone and in despair, Jayden must learn to let go or endure a lifetime of hell at the hands of a sociopath who would use her for his personal gain.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Val Tobin
• Release date: Jul 24, 2017
• ISBN: 9781988609027

Val Tobin

Val Tobin writes speculative fiction and searches the world over for the perfect butter tart. Her home is in Newmarket, Ontario, where she enjoys writing, reading, and talking about writing and reading.

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Acknowledgements

Thank you to Andrea Holmes; Val Cseh; Michelle Legere; John Erwin; Alis Kennedy; Wendy Quirion; Diane King, owner of The Hedge Witch in Sharon, Ontario; Mark Watson of AngelEarth Studios; my editor, Sephera Giron at Scarlett Editing; and my cover designer, Patti Roberts of Paradox Book Cover Designs.

Find That Place, the song referenced in the story, is used with permission, courtesy of Mark Watson of AngelEarth Studios and is found on the CD Reflections by Mark Watson.

Concepts explored in the story draw on a variety of teachings, including those of Doreen Virtue, Ph.D., whose courses I attended in Kona, Hawaii in 2008 and 2010, and my education in parapsychology through The American Institute of Holistic Theology

DEDICATION

To all the earthbound spirits. May they find their way home. And, as always, to Bob, Jenn, Mark, Chanelle, Savannah, and Jack

Chapter 1

The first thing I noticed about being out of my body was that everyone in the hospital room appeared brighter. They glowed. The second thing I noticed was that I was still shaped like me. I wasn’t a ball of light floating around the room.

My spirit body, when I examined it, shimmered with an aura like everyone else’s, but it was transparent. I held up my hand and could see through it—not to bones or anything internal, but to the blue coverlet on the bed where my physical body lay.

Tubes snaked from my arms, and my chest rose and fell, so it appeared I wasn’t dead. However, I looked hideous: greasy, dull brown hair clumped in thick strings on my pillow or plastered against my face; dark circles under my eyes that made them look as if I’d been in a rumble; and lips that could have used ten applications of lip balm.

Which made me realize the third thing: Inside, I was still me. If I was dead—which was possible, since the machines might have been forcing my body to mimic life—then I hadn’t elevated to a more saintly version of me. Judgment and cynicism still came easily.

Damn.

Shouldn’t death have made me more evolved?

And where was the tunnel? The light? My dearly departed loved ones? Shouldn’t someone who could tell me it wasn’t my time be here?

More importantly, where was my family?

Medical personnel were the room’s only other occupants, and they were leaving. All looked as if they’d fought a valiant battle, and perhaps they had. They’d tried to save me, and, while the results were nothing to high-five about, they hadn’t declared me dead.

No sooner did thoughts of my family wink out of my head than I found myself in a waiting room. Two men and two women I didn’t recognize sat on a couch along the west wall of the room, staring at the floor.

My eighteen-year-old daughter, Silver, sat on a padded metal chair, elbows on her knees, face in her palms. Her long, brown hair veiled her hands. She wore the same jeans and long-sleeved, green T-shirt she’d had on when I’d last seen her.

Rory, my ex-husband, perched on the edge of another chair next to her. Also in jeans and a T-shirt, he stroked Silver’s back with one hand while he held his girlfriend’s hand with the other.

Clara Spencer. A classy lady. Even in what I assumed was the middle of the night, she had on what I can only refer to as an ensemble: blouse, blazer, skirt. Her short brown hair was smooth and glossy.

I liked her. She was pleasant, and she hadn’t been boinking Rory while we were married, so all was good on that front.

At least my ex had found a decent replacement for me when our marriage broke apart. Clara would help him get through this as long as he didn’t screw it up.

He should have already married her, though I wouldn’t wish that on any woman. He’s not a jerk or abusive, but life with him can be silent and lonely. Strong and silent may sound sexy, but living with it had been depressing.

The doctor who’d been at my bedside entered the room, and everyone looked up with fatalistic hope in their eyes. When he said Rory McQueen? the four strangers in the room resumed staring at the floor.

Rory and Silver leapt up. Clara began to rise and then sat again, back rigid against the chair.

Doctor, is she …? Rory choked.

She’s alive, but her heart is weak. I’m sorry. She might last the night, but it doesn’t look good. The doc hesitated. His nametag read Dr. Richler. The bags under his eyes looked almost as bad as mine.

Thanks for knocking yourself out to save me, Doc. I hoped to thank him in person one day.

Richler continued. You can go in and see her. Take as long as you need. If there’s anyone else who might want to say goodbye, you should call them.

What do you mean? My mother doesn’t have heart problems. She’s only forty-six, Silver said.

She had a catastrophic coronary. Richler checked his chart. The paramedics revived her once already. Her heart won’t take another episode and there’s a ninety percent likelihood she’ll have another one.

No. Silver waved her hands at him, shooing his words away. Tears streamed down her face.

Rory hooked an arm through hers.

Take us to her, please.

They followed Richler from the room, Clara lagging a few steps behind.

I tried to walk along with them, but, apparently, when you’re disembodied, you simply think your way places. No sooner had I decided to go back to my room than poof! There I was.

My body hadn’t changed since the last time I’d seen it, but I inspected it anyway.

Having one foot in the grave hadn’t made me more intuitive. I couldn’t tell if I was about to have another heart attack.

Death has never frightened me. I’m a risk taker, a live-in-the-now kind of gal. The idea of exploring a new dimension excited me, but I didn’t want to leave my kids. If an opportunity to avoid dying arose, I’d take it.

Rory’s voice approached. He doesn’t talk much, but when he does, he’s loud. I heard him assuring Silver that everything would be okay. Nice of him to do that, but not practical. Her mother was dying. You can’t pretend that falls under the everything-will-be-okay umbrella.

I closed my eyes and tried to feel something. Love for my children flooded through me. The expected sadness didn’t follow. Was it because I was still with them?

My son, Marc, was probably on his way from university. He attended the University of Toronto, so it wouldn’t be a long drive to the hospital in Aurora, where I assumed I was. It’s the closest hospital to my home in Newmarket.

How I’d gotten here remained a mystery.

Richler had said I’d had a heart attack, but I didn’t remember what I’d been doing when it happened. The last thing I remembered was …

Oh, damn. Damn.

I’d been arguing with Silver. We’d been loud. Yelling at each other.

Oh, not that. Anything but that.

I opened my eyes.

Silver stood in the doorway, her face pale and tear stained, her eyes red. She held her hands clasped so tight in front of her the knuckles were white. The aura of light around her was white with blue and orange patches. No understanding of its meaning came to me.

The light around Rory was also white but streaked with yellow and green. Clara’s light was white, red, and violet.

For once, I regretted not studying any of that new age crap people believe. Sure, I’d picked up the odd article, and when I was in university, I took a couple of philosophy courses. But I’d never cared about anything I couldn’t observe with my senses.

Dad? Silver whispered. She crept to her father, her gaze never leaving my body.

Yeah, honey? Rory hugged her tight.

Mommy’s going to die and it’s all my fault. She broke into quiet sobs. The sweet kid. She was trying not to disturb my rest.

No, sweetie. You saved her when you called 911 and gave her CPR. He spoke with confidence but one look at my body in the bed belied the words.

I yearned to go to Silver and found myself standing beside her. Assuming my hand would go through her if I touched her, I gently set it on her shoulder. It hovered there. I couldn’t feel anything from the contact.

She shivered. I’m so cold, Daddy.

It’s okay, sweetie. I’m here. His arms wrapped around her shoulders, cutting through my forearm.

I winced and stepped away from them. The touch hadn’t affected me—I’d felt nothing—however, the visual was creepy.

From behind us, Clara spoke. Would you like to wear my jacket, Silver?

No, thank you. Her voice was muffled against Rory’s chest. It went away.

My touch had made her shiver.

Excellent. It meant there was something there for her to feel.

I moved to the machines monitoring my vitals, breathing for me, and pumping fluids into me. I touched the heart monitor.

It beeped.

Oh, God. Oh, Daddy. Mom! The machine.

The fear and despair in Silver’s voice forced me away. No time to experiment—not if it made them think there was a problem.

Rory leaned over my bed and put two fingers on my neck.

Her pulse is steady. Maybe it’s a problem with the machine.

My invisible touch had affected the heart monitor. I filed the information away for later.

Later. Hah.

Who knew what later would bring? When my body died, would I disappear? Or would that be when the famous tunnel appeared and my dead relatives came to collect me? Where the hell were they, anyway?

At the very least, my grandmother should have shown up to guide me through this. I’m certain I was her favourite—my sisters always told me so. I didn’t want to think about my sisters yet, though, so I pushed them from my mind.

Another frantic cry from Silver yanked me out of my head. Any of the machines that could make noise were doing so, and my body flopped and twitched like a landed fish.

Richler shot into the room, other medical personnel right behind him. He rushed to the bed and yanked the blanket off me.

Get these people out of here, he snapped at a nurse, though she was already ushering my family out.

I can’t say why, but I followed them. The logical thing to do would have been to stay there to see if they succeeded in keeping me alive. But I was conditioned to listen to authority, and when he said get out, I left.

The last thing I heard was Richler shouting, Clear!

Chapter 2

My death day was officially September 29, 2016.

We weren’t in the waiting room ten minutes before Richler returned with the tragic news. Drops of blood decorated the front of his shirt.

Jesus, Doc, what did you do to me to make me spray blood?

Hot on the heels of that thought came the realization that I hadn’t disappeared. Neither had any dead relatives or a tunnel to the light appeared. Was I supposed to wander Earth for eternity? I didn’t like the sound of that. No wonder ghosts have a reputation for crankiness. Life sucks and then you die, and then death sucks?

On the bright side, I wouldn’t have to go to work ever again—unless I wanted to haunt the place. That thought brought a smile to my face. I had some coworkers I wouldn’t mind waking in the middle of the night with moans and rattling chains.

Richler gave my family the I’m-sorry-for-your-loss spiel. To be fair, he did look regretful. And exhausted. He’d worked hard to save my life. I was sorrier for his failure than I was for losing my life. There must be something about bodilessness that makes you complacent about your death. Or maybe I was in shock.

What did it mean that I experienced feelings without a body and its chemical reactions?

As I contemplated all this, my gaze fell on the four strangers still sitting in the room. One of the men and both the women watched the scene, grief and relief it wasn’t their loved one evident in their eyes. The other man, however, kept his gaze focused on the magazine he’d been reading, his expression relieved, but not in the dodged-a-bullet way the others displayed.

While I watched, he calmly closed his magazine, set it on the end table next to his chair, and exited the room. I popped into the hallway after him.

He headed toward the elevators, his stride long and purposeful. It was as if he’d been waiting for this news, and now he could leave. Why? Who was he? I didn’t recognize him, so perhaps his departure at that moment was a coincidence.

But if he was waiting for news of a loved one, why would he leave?

Sounds of grief from the waiting room drew me back in, and I shrugged off the mystery man. I had enough to contend with without waxing paranoid. He could have been heading to the cafeteria—probably couldn’t handle watching another family face what he might face soon.

My biggest regret at the moment was that my family didn’t know I was still with them. I wasn’t worried. Silver had sensed me before, and I’d affected the heart machine when I’d touched it. That meant I could make them notice me. I’d find a way.

But ghosts who’d gone before me had probably thought the same thing and had failed. Sure, psychics had always insisted spirits were around us, but I’d never seen physical proof.

I’d promised my mother I’d come back with proof if I died first.

When I was in my twenties, my mom, my two sisters, and I had a girls’ night at my mother’s place. We’d pulled out the blender and over margaritas had a slurred and somewhat confused discussion about the afterlife.

My mother is a firm believer, and so is my sister Lois. Sarah and I are more scientific minded. We want peer-reviewed studies.

At some point, my mother made us agree that whoever died first would return to the others with evidence of the afterlife. Sarah was sure that was impossible. For once, I was more open-minded about something than she was. I agreed.

Now, I was on deck to haunt my siblings and my sixty-five-year-old mother.

I hope none of them have a heart condition.

***

We all grouped around my bed. Richler told Rory, Silver, and Clara they could stay in the room with my body for as long as they wanted. When he asked them if they wanted the hospital chaplain to come and pray with them, they agreed.

After Richler left, Marc appeared. He was a mess. I could tell he’d been crying, though he’d composed himself by the time he reached my room. At the sight of my corpse, he fell apart and threw himself into Rory’s arms. Silver put her arms around Marc as well, and they huddled together until the chaplain walked into the room.

Reverend Elizabeth Parsons brought with her a calming energy that soothed my grieving family. They gathered around my bed, holding hands, and she said the Lord is My Shepherd prayer. I was an atheist, though my beliefs were evolving by the second. I hadn’t seen proof of God yet, but I’d left my body and hadn’t died. Anything was possible.

Prayer certainly couldn’t hurt, though I wouldn’t relate to most of it. The words made the kids cry, which bothered me. I detest seeing my kids cry, even if it’s out of love for me. An ache to hold them became unbearable. Without thinking, I touched each child’s shoulder with my hands, which sank through to the wrists before I pulled away.

Both kids shuddered, and Marc said, Mom?

Oh, my babies, I’m here with you. I’d give anything to hold you both one more time.

I had to make them hear me.

Yes, it’s me. My voice sounded mechanical and strange, but I heard it.

No one else did. The reverend finished her prayers, and Rory, Clara, and Silver all stared at Marc with expressions of worry.

They’d dealt with the reality of my death, but Marc was still a newbie to it. No doubt, the others feared he was losing his mind from grief. A flattering thought, but Marc was stronger than that. Silver was the fragile one, and she had guilt to contend with. I worried more about her.

The room grew brighter. It glowed. A pull, strong as a riptide, dragged me backward.

No. Not now.

I fought it, but with no ability to grasp anything, it sucked me in. The last thing I glimpsed before darkness engulfed me was my son’s bewildered face.

***

Everything was dark, but I was conscious and aware. Other spirits swirled around me, and I sensed their panic. A roaring in my ears irritated me, but when it cut off, the silence grew eerie.

A light up ahead was my target. The light at the end of the tunnel is a real thing.

I popped out of the darkness like a pinball out of the shoot and found myself in a wheat field. Children played in the distance and adults wandered around wearing blissful expressions. Crows circled overhead. When I glanced down at my body, I discovered I wore a white nightgown with pale-pink trim and dotted with tiny flowers.

Above me, the sky was yellow-tinged and grey clouds puffed out of the tunnel I’d exited. In the distance, where the people were, the sun shone down in all its glory.

I tried to inhale but discovered I couldn’t breathe. A craving for fresh air and the meadow scent that should have permeated the air overtook me, and I struggled to suck it