When Lightning Strikes

Panicked, she blinked at the computer, trying to see clearly. An odd glow emanated from her keyboard, made the keys appear to be floating atop the polished

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mahogany of her desk. The computer made a quiet thump. The words on the screen blipped into nothingness, leaving in their stead a gaping, empty black square wreathed in impossible neon green light.

She tried to scream, but couldn't. A dull, pounding throb started at the base of her skull. Her eyelids slid closed and seemed to stick. She tried vainly to open them. A sandy dryness crept up her throat, made her achingly thirsty.

She tried to remain upright, but it felt as if someone had plucked a string from her insides and was slowly, inexorably unwinding her. She had a crazy, demented vision of what would be left of her when this was over. Nothing but a pile of old, rotted rope.

Sensations swirled like hot mists through her body, seeping, tingling into every drop of her blood. The impossible scent of roses mingled with dust clogged her nostrils, their smells so real and cloying that for a moment she couldn't breathe.

She started to fall forward. It was like a dream fall; slow and spiraling and unstoppable. Her forehead hit the keyboard, and this time the keys were icy cold. She shivered and hunched into a shaking ball.

Slowly, fighting it every step of the way, Lainie fell into the darkness that had come for her.

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Chapter Two

Lainie had never felt so relaxed. She sighed deeply, savoring the completely unexpected feeling. She couldn't remember the last time she'd awakened like this, with an almost effervescent sense of peace. She was used to greeting each day with a mixture of dread and distrust.

But not this morning; today she felt great. Refreshed, relaxed. The familiar pain in her hips and lower back had vanished, and for once she felt young at thirty-five instead of irritatingly old.

Then she remembered last night. It hadn't really been like going to sleep. It had been more like . .. falling.. . .

"Weird," she mumbled, hearing a scratchy early morning harshness in the word. She liked it. Anything was better than her regular voice. It was one of the few things she really couldn't stand about herself. Her too wide hips, she acc

epted; her fleshy thighs, she ignored. But her voice drove her crazy. It had a breathy softness that was completely at odds with her personality.

Reluctantly she cracked one eye open, expecting to see the bumpy, slightly out-of-focus mountain range of computer keys.

She saw dirt. A lot of dirt.

She blinked and tried again, opening her eyes slowly this time.

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She was sprawled on the main road of a quaint, old-fashioned town. On either side of the street were false-fronted wooden buildings shoved together like wobbly blocks, their entrances connected by a sagging, gray-planked boardwalk.

She frowned. The place looked like every cow town west of the Pecos in the late 1880s.

The detail was flawless. Hell, she half expected Linda Evans and Kenny Rogers to come striding out of the nearest saloon, maybe with Reba singing in the doorway.

She sat back on her heels and put her hands on her thighs. Where was she? And how had she gotten here?

She hadn't been drunk enough to leave her house last night. Had she? Had she somehow boarded a plane headed southwest?

Fear quickened her heartbeat. No ...

She couldn't have. She remembered falling asleep at her computer.

You remember? The word came back at her, ice-cold and cruel. Back in her teenage years, when she'd been doing a lot of drugs, she had often wakened in strange places. And what she remembered usually had only the barest link to reality.

Was that the explanation? Had she been so high?or low?on Jack Daniel's and sleeping pills that she'd slipped into her old routine?

It hadn't happened to her in years. Not since before she got pregnant. Motherhood had saved her, given the tough little girl from the streets a safe haven and a place to belong. Lainie was smarter now, more responsible. She wouldn't have gotten so blind drunk that she'd accidentally board a plane. She no longer had anything to run away from.

Except an empty house . ..