Page 1 of Double Reverse

Part One

How in the absolute fuck did I find myself in downtown Savannah on a Saturday night…alone??? Oh, that’s right because my best friend broke her ankle and bailed on our girl’s weekend. I mean I hope it doesn’t hurt, but dammit I was really looking forward to this trip. I have been laying low since the latest political debacle, my ex-husbands, not mine. However, even though we divorced two years ago the press still loves to drag me into the middle of the horseshit. Which is why I decided to go ahead and come alone. Tequila and Lemons, or however it goes.

Breasy bought us tickets to this ghost tour. I’m trying really hard to pay attention to what the tour guide is saying, but the October air is chillier than expected. Tugging the oversized flannel tighter around me, I silently chastise myself for only wearing a tank top with no bra underneath. The ripped skinny jeans are doing absolutely nothing for my legs. Part of me wants to just call it a night and head back to my cozy Airbnb, but the stubborn bitch that lives rent free in my head is screaming, ‘NO!’

Thankfully it’s a relatively small group. The last thing I want to do is make mindless chit chat with a bunch of strangers. There is an older couple celebrating their 40th wedding anniversary, ‘Next year they might become part of the tour’, a younger couple on their honeymoon, and yep you guessed it, a couple that just got engaged. Then there is me, a solo woman of 40. God what was I thinking.

Our guide, I think he said his name is Charlie, starts walking down the street. Following, I let the couples take the lead so I can admire the city at night without getting in the way. As long as I keep them in my sights it should be fine. As we round the corner, I bump right intoMr. Newly Marriedbecause I was too busy, lost in my own little world. I quickly apologize and step back. Looking around the group, I see Charlie has led us to a…hearse, of all things. Softly shaking my head, I’m the last one to climb into the cramped space. Thankfully I got the seat next toMrs. I’ve Been Married Forever. Glancing over, our eyes meet, and she gives me a warm smile as she pats my knee. Well, that was really nice, I think before scolding myself for what I thought earlier about the older couple. Something in her gaze shifts, almost like she knows something I don't. Considering she is as old as sliced bread, she probably does.

After driving for what feels like hours in the cramped hearse, but in reality is only 20 minutes, we arrive at the gates of Bonaventure Cemetery. Aswe start to pile out, Charlie starts telling us about the history, but all I can do is drink in the gorgeous oak trees dripping with Spanish moss. I have always loved cemeteries, but this is definitely one of my top favorites. I visited for the first time 10 years ago, Breasy knowing how much I love it surprised me with the tour tickets. As much as I would love for her to be here with me, I’m glad I forced myself to come. This will be my first time seeing it at night.

Charlie swinging his little lantern leads us over to one of the most famous graves in the cemetery, Little Gracie Watson. Gracie was the daughter of a popular hotel manager who died suddenly of pneumonia after being photographed in her Easter finery. Her monument is based on that photograph. I didn’t have to pay attention to Charlie to learn that. Honestly, I completely tuned Charlie out after the first five words out of his mouth. I get he must dress in the top hat and cape for the tours, but does he have to be so nasally? Plus, I keep getting the feeling I’m being watched. The creepy vibe sends goosebumps dancing across my skin causing me to hike my shoulders up to my ears. Rolling my shoulders I shake off the feeling, I’m with a group of people, what could possibly happen.

We make our way around the cemetery stopping at the most noteworthy spots, but I find myself drawn to a massive Celtic cross. Something about it seems to pull me in. While ‘The Couples’are snapping photos trying to capture the paranormaland asking questions, I sneak away to get a closer look at the cross. The closer I get the more it seems to ‘hum’. Almost as if energy is vibrating out of it. What I’m sure is only a few seconds pass by, but when I snap out of my trance, I turn my head to see that Charlie and his band ofHappily Ever Afters, has disappeared. My heart begins thudding against my rib cage as I frantically look for them.

I jog down the lane until it splits into four points. Squinting my eyes, I peer down each line. Even though the moon is full, the darkness makes it hard to see anything in the distance clearly. I can’t even pinpoint the distinct light from Charlie’s lantern. Panic clenches my chest and my pulse pounds loudly in my ears. I turn my head to look down the lane on the right when all of a sudden, I hear a crunching of what sounds like boots behind me. Not even bothering to turn and look, I burst into a run. The soles of my Chuck Taylors slapping against the sandy dirt path. ‘GET OUT OF SIGHT’, the voice in my head yells. I am not athletic, and I am definitely not a runner. My lungs are burning, my thighs are rubbing, but I keep pushing forward. I make a sharp turn between a row of tall tombstones before darting into a cluster of mausoleums. The way they are spaced allows me to zigzag between them. I’m entirely out of breath and my muscles are screaming.

Slowing my pace, I notice a row of bushes shielding the next mausoleum over. I creep overmaking as little noise as possible and crouch down behind them pressing my back as hard as I can against the stone structure. Gulping down air as quietly as I can in an attempt to slow my heaving chest, I strain my ears to see if the footsteps are still following me. My aching legs are beginning to tremble in the bent position. Since I don’t hear anything but a symphony of cicadas, I slide down the cool stone sitting flat on my ass. Confident I’m alone I reach for the phone in my back pocket only to find it empty.

“FUCK!” I whisper shout leaning my head back.

Since I have no phone and no idea where Charlie and his band ofHappily Ever Afterswent, I might as well rest here a little longer. Now that the adrenaline is wearing off, I start shivering against the chill. Bringing my knees up to my chest, I try stretching the flannel around them, but it’s no use. I’m far from skinny. Squeezing my eyes closed, I try to think of what I need to do next.

I’m in a cemetery in downtown Savannah. At night. My tour guide is nowhere to be found. I lost my phone somewhere while I was running. Oh, and someone is stalking me. How do I end up in these situations?

Placing my hands in the sandy dirt I push myself up from my sitting position. I wipe my hands on my jeans and dust away the debris from my ass.I take a moment to look around before moving. The chase has me all turned around, so I don’t honestly know where I am. This cemetery is 100 acres, but I won’t get anywhere if I don’t start walking. Hesitantly, I take a step forward. When no one bum rushes me, I take another step and then another. However, I still can’t shake the feeling I’m being watched. I decide to weave my way back through the mausoleums hoping to backtrack my way to the front gate. You would think my ‘5 star’ (his words not mine) tour guide would have noticed me missing by now.

What if my mind played tricks on me earlier? What if I didn’t hear footsteps?I slap my palm to my face,what if the sound I heard was my tour group?That sounds exactly like something I would do. According to my ex-husband I constantly overreact.Well maybe I wouldn’t have overreacted if he didn’t have nefarious dealings with the Chicago mafia.

The sound of crunching leaves draws me out of my thoughts, immediately stopping me in my tracks. I don’t flee right away instead; I strain to listen as the blood rushes to my ears from my pounding heart.

One heartbeat. Silence

Two heartbeats. Silence.

Three heartbeats. Crunching leaves.

Four heartbeats. Twig snaps.

Five heartbeats. Distinct footsteps.

My eyes widen, someone is definitely out there. The fight or flight instinct kicks in, willing my sore feet to move. I take off pumping my arms hard as I barrel down the path kicking up sand in my wake. The sound of the footsteps behind me picks up speed spurring me forward. I wheeze through burning lungs, my muscles screaming in protest, but I don’t slow down.

Approaching a curve, I glance back over my shoulder trying to get a glimpse of who or what is behind me. But before my head can fully turn, two strong arms come out of nowhere wrapping around my waist and jerk me off my feet with a scream.

We crash into the thick brush, turning at the last second so my attacker takes the brunt of the fall. I land hard on the body beneath me, knocking all the air out of my lungs. Struggling against the arms still locked around me I manage to push up slightly on my forearms. Still gasping, I look up. Even through the darkness I see a set of eyes boring into me. The rest of the face is covered by a ghost skull mask. Using what little breath I have; I open my mouth to scream. Anticipating this, he brings a gloved hand around clamping it down on my mouth, the other keeping me in his firm embrace.

The man under me doesn’t say a word, he just shakes his head ‘No’. I don’t know why, maybeit is the pure terror coursing through my veins or maybe it’s the look in his eyes, but my jaw relaxes. Removing his hand from my mouth, he places a finger to his lips in a ‘shh’ gesture. Wrapping his arm back around me, we stay locked together. The only thing I move are my eyes, examining as much of the scene before me as my position allows. The mask makes it impossible to distinguish any facial features. Which I assume is why he is wearing it.

Trailing my gaze down I breathe in the heady masculine scent of him. I can tell by his bare neck and broad shoulders he is extremely well built. A black t-shirt is snug across bulging biceps. He is also wearing one of those military vests, which is currently digging into my chest. A name patch on the right side says ‘Alpha’. I roll my eyes when I read it. Irritation spikes when I realize this could all be a prank. Just a group of gamer guys having a laugh. Well, I don’t find it funny at all. I’m cold, exhausted, and just want to go soak in a hot bubble bath.

Placing my palms flat I push against him wiggling to get free. He doesn’t stop me, instead he just gives me an amused look knowing he is stronger. This just adds to my frustration.

“Get. Your. Hands. Off. Of. Me,” I snarl through clenched teeth. ‘Alpha’ gives me a low chuckle in response. My jaw hinges open at the audacity.

“If you know what’s best for you, you’ll let me go. You have no idea who I am,” I warn.

“Oh, we know exactly who you are, Dabria Devereaux,” he says in a deep honeyed voice. My eyes round and I slam my mouth shut so fast my teeth clack together. How does he know who I am? I mean I was married to Barrett Devereaux, State Senator of Illinois, but that doesn’t explain the current situation.

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