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By Lisa Jane Smith

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By all the laws of nature, she should be frozen now. But she was standing. She could even shuffle a step forward. Only to realize she had no idea which way to go. She still didn't know where the road was. Worse, it would be getting dark soon. When that happened, she wouldn't even be able to see her own tracks. She could walk in circles in the woods until her body gave out again. "See that white oak tree? " The voice was behind her left ear. Gillian turned that way as sharply as her rigid muscles would allow, even though she knew she wouldn't see anything.

A lean face that still had traces of a summer tan. Cheekbones to die for and eyes to drown in. A certain elegance of carriage. And that half-friendly, half-quizzical smile. . Except that he wasn't smiling now. He looked shocked and worried. Gillian couldn't get a single word out. She just stared at him from under the icy curtain of her hair. "What hap-No, never mind. " At school he was thought of as a tough guy, an independent rebel. But, now, without any hesitation, the tough guy scooped her up in his arms.

A huge dark place, with the feeling of being vastly complicated somehow. As if space here were folded or twisted-and maybe time, too. She was rushing through it, flying. Points of light were whizzing by-who could tell how far away in the darkness? Oh, God, Gillian thought. It's the tunnel. This is happening. Right now. To me. I'm really dead. And going at warp speed. Weirder than being dead was being dead with a sense of humor. Contradictions . . this felt so real, more real than anything that had ever happened while she was alive.

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