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eBook Category: Science Fiction
eBook Description: Between Heaven and Hell tells the story of Daniel Cho, an overworked Washington, DC paramedic that stumbles on the impossible: a man who walks away from a fatal accident. As Daniel digs deeper into the mystery, he's drawn into a web of danger and intrigue built to conceal an impossible fact. Immortal beings calling themselves angels and demons are real, and they walk among us.

eBook Publisher: Fictionwise.com, Published: 1997
Fictionwise Release Date: March 2005

This eBook is part of the following series:

• Jeff Kirvin's Unification Chronicles Series

39 Reader Ratings:

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Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: eReader (PDB) [266 KB] , ePub (EPUB) [262 KB] , Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [238 KB] , Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [1.4 MB] , Palm Doc (PDB) [269 KB] , Microsoft Reader (LIT) [232 KB] , Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [276 KB] , hiebook (KML) [593 KB] , Sony Reader (LRF) [240 KB] , iSilo (PDB) [221 KB] , Mobipocket (PRC) [276 KB] , Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [303 KB] , OEBFF Format (IMP) [349 KB]
Words: 81433
Reading time: 232-325 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format:  Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud DISABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED

The Accident

It was a bright and sunny day in Washington DC, and Daniel Cho found himself at the scene of an accident. It was a terrible three-car pileup. Some jerk in a Volkswagen had come tearing up M Street and plowed right into a station wagon, upending it and flipping it into a pickup truck. All three vehicles were totaled, and the wreck completely blocked off the intersection.

Daniel had been walking home from the mini-mart, and he looked forlornly at his single bag of groceries, the pistachio ice cream already melting in the DC heat. Just my luck, he thought sardonically. And on my day off, too. Daniel set down his groceries, sure that he'd never see them again, and waded into the carnage. Already he could smell the familiar odor of blood, gasoline and motor oil.

In the distance, he heard the familiar sounds of ambulance sirens, but they were too far away and the traffic blockage too heavy for them to arrive in time to do any good. Daniel approached the first car, the Volkswagen that caused the accident. He knew instantly that the driver was beyond help. He hadn't been wearing a seat belt, and the impact had rammed the steering column directly through his chest. Daniel gagged in spite of himself. No matter how many times he'd seen it, he still wasn't used to death. The interior of the car was coated in blood, and the reek wafting from the car was stomach-churning. The driver, a man in his mid-thirties, still stared straight forward, his lifeless eyes focused on the horizon. Odd, Daniel thought, they usually look surprised.

Daniel shook off the mental picture of the man's lifeless eyes and moved on to the station wagon, still propped at a forty-five degree angle over the pickup. Here, he could do some good. What had formerly been a red Ford now more closely resembled a crushed beer can, but the passenger compartment was relatively unscathed. Two kids were in the back, belted securely but knocked unconscious, and their mom was up front belted, slumped over a deployed airbag and starting to stir. The door was badly mangled and certainly wouldn't ever open again, and glittering broken glass covered everything. Getting them out wouldn't be easy, and Daniel knew he couldn't do it alone.

He turned back to the street and grabbed the nearest gawking pedestrian, a largish man in jeans and a Redskins t-shirt, by the arm. Daniel flashed what he hoped was a conspiratorial grin. "Ever been a hero?" he asked.

The man pulled back slightly, and began stammering a reply.

"Don't worry," Daniel added. "I'm a paramedic. I just need an extra pair of hands. You game?"

The man considered a moment, then nodded. Daniel smiled and led the man back to the car, and together they eased the woman out of the car through the broken driver's window.

Following Redskins' example, more people joined in on the rescue effort, struggling to free the kids and the driver of the pickup. Eventually, Daniel assumed the role of foreman, stepping back and directing the rescue. As he watched the now freed and conscious children run up and embrace their mother, as he watched a group of total strangers united to rescue yet another stranger from the wreckage of his truck, Daniel marveled at the inherent nobility of the human race. People always rose to the occasion. It was just a shame it always seemed to take the worst sort of fortune to bring that spirit out. It was a shame that idiot in the Volkswagen would never be around to see it.

As if to drive the point home to himself, Daniel glanced over to the ruined Volkswagen. He froze at what he saw there.

Or didn't see, actually. The corpse was gone.

What kind of a sicko would steal a bloody corpse in broad daylight? Daniel wondered. He scanned the crowd, looking for signs of the theft.

Near the edge of the crowd Daniel spotted something that made Daniel feel bitterly cold, even on a hot summer's day. The driver of the Volkswagen was calmly walking away, seemingly oblivious to the gaping, bloody hole in his chest. The man looked over his shoulder once, making sure he wasn't followed, before turning down a side street. Daniel recognized the face as easily as if it had been his own.

"Sir?" one of the volunteers asked Daniel, patting his arm.

Daniel turned away from the walking dead and faced the volunteer, a pretty college student. "Yes?"

She was a little taken aback by Daniel's attitude, but she asked her question anyway, regarding the placement of the truck driver, now that they'd removed him from the wreckage. Daniel answered her quickly, then ran off in the direction of the corpse. He turned the corner of the side street the man had gone down, but it was no use.

The VW driver was gone.

VA XKZ-947.

Daniel sat in the locker room of the firehouse where he worked, staring at a slip of paper with the license plate number of someone that should be dead.

Only he wasn't.

Or was he?

Daniel leaned back, his head rocking back against his locker door with a hollow thump. The gunmetal lockers and dingy tile floor looked dark and menacing all of the sudden.

Am I going crazy?

"Danny boy!"

Daniel looked up to find the imposing form of Herb Sloan towering over him. Tall, white-haired and barrel-chested, Herb was on the downhill side of fifty and easily the oldest paramedic in the city. He'd been repeatedly offered an easier job in a hospital, but he'd hear nothing of it. Being a paramedic was in his blood, and he was the spirit of the firehouse. Daniel couldn't imagine the place without him.

"Hi, Herb."

Herb squatted down, bringing his eyes level with Daniel's. "Why the long face, Danny?"

Daniel looked up at his friend, one of the few he had the time for. He glanced at the slip of paper again, then back at Herb.

"You got a minute?" he asked.

Herb sat down next to Daniel. "Shoot."

"What's the worst you've ever seen?"

Herb paused, remembering. He scratched his prominent chin and stared at the ceiling. "Let me see...

"I know! About eleven years ago, I was at this tenement in Southeast. The whole dump shoulda been condemned, but you know this town. There was a fire, and the whole damn building imploded. There were half a dozen people out of maybe twenty still alive, and all of them trapped under the fire in the basement. Some of them had started out on the fourth floor. The ones that didn't make it ... Why do you ask?"

Daniel looked at the slip of paper again before answering. "I saw something today," was all he could get out.

"What?"

Daniel looked at the older man, saw the camaraderie and friendship in his eyes. "Look, I know people always begin stories like this with 'I know this sounds crazy, but', and usually they turn out to be crazier than the stories. I don't know if that's the case with me yet, so just hear me out, okay?"

Herb nodded.

Daniel relaxed a little and told Herb about what he had seen, including the corpse casually wandering away from the scene. Herb was silent throughout the story, and for a long moment afterward.

"That's some story," he said finally.