by B D Grant
A tension nags at me, a growing relentlessness that cuts through my darkness. Slowly, it turns into a dull discomfort, and my heartbeat throbs along steadily. I’ve never felt anything like this before since finding myself floating in the darkness. I haven’t really felt anything until now.
Then, it hits me like a fifty pound weight has been dropped on my chest.
I can feel!
I ignore the darkness, welcoming the discomfort. As my hearing returns, muffled voices interrupt my efforts.
“Everything came back normal, Mr. McBride.” It’s the doctor who ordered tests on my dad when we first got to the hospital.
“Then why is she not waking up?” Uncle Will asks.
“I don’t have the answer to that at the moment. I’ve lowered all of her dosages since ending the coma. All I can tell you is that she needs more time.”
“Giving her more time is not something her father is going to be satisfied hearing.”
The doctor’s voice is dry, “Waiting is rarely something that’s done gracefully. I’ll let you tell him.”
“Thanks,” Uncle Will says, although it’s clear he means anything but.
I try to open my eyelids. They raise enough to allow light in, but not enough for me to see anything. If I can barely open my eyes, then having a conversation is going to be as easy as running a mile at this point. Again, I remember the man’s words; he told me not to run and hide.
As I regain consciousness, my initial discomfort cranks up to full-on pain. My chest, shoulders, and arm are first. My senses return, and the pain spreads over my body, especially the lower half. I try to decipher exactly what is injured, and eventually I determine that it must be one of my legs. There isn’t anything I can do for the pain, so I try my best to ignore it. I listen to Uncle Will and the doctor instead.
The doctor is asking, “How are the kids transitioning?”
“You can ask them yourself. I’m having some of them brought in today.”
“I have a strict no return policy,” the doctor jokes. “Sorry if the staff didn’t go over that with you when we released them.”
“They’re complaining of more migraines.”
I hear footsteps pacing the room. The doctor mumbles, “Acute symptoms turning chronic…”
“Here’s a list of their names and specific symptoms they’ve experienced since leaving the hospital. Thanks to them, my school is out of sumatriptan. If you could help me out with that before the female faculty finds out, I’d appreciate it.”
“I’ll get you some more.” I open my eyes some more managing to get a better glimpse of the room. Moving for the door, the doctor says, “I’ll get their charts pulled and some rooms ready.”
“Good thinking,” Uncle Will says with a nod as the doctor departs.
Uncle Will rests a hand on the bed frame at the foot of my bed and rubs his other hand over his forehead and then into his hair. He looks much more worn down than the last time I saw him.
I attempt to talk again but manage only to expel a bit of warm air. Uncle Will’s hand slides down the back of his head onto his neck. He squeezes his neck before bringing both hands to his shoulders.
He’s staring down at my feet. If I could just will him into looking up at me and seeing that my eyes are open, maybe he would do something to help. The pain radiating from my lower body intensifies.
Uncle Will strolls out of my line of sight toward the ray of light coming from the window. His shadow streaks across the floor beside my bed, and he stops in the middle of the window’s light.
I squeeze my eyes shut, mentally shouting for my uncle to come help me. I need something for the pain. I open my eyes but his shadow hasn’t budged. I’m in danger, he’s in danger, my dad’s in danger, and I’m the only one who knows it.
Anger returns like a best friend from a long trip, wrapping its arms around me tightly. If some stranger thinks he can threaten me and my family when I finally have my dad back, he can think again.
I try to scream, “We are in danger!” A light wheeze is all that comes out.
The shadow on the floor turns momentarily. He must chalk it up to the air conditioner or something, because after a moment, his shadow turns back to the window.
I try again to channel all that I’m feeling. The combination of anger and pain alongside the fear of losing more gives me enough strength to make something resembling an actual, audible word. My, “We’re in danger!” comes out as a soft “dangeh.”
This time, Uncle Will doesn’t second guess himself. In the blink of an eye, he’s in my face. “Thank God,” he says, meeting my struggling gaze. He sinks his hand into mine as he calls out the door of my hospital room, “Doctor! Nurse! Anybody!”
I do my best to hold onto his hand. He’s talking to me now, but the pain has taken center stage. He lifts my hand toward him excitedly, and I wince. He immediately lowers it. My collar bone feels broken. He releases my hand and shouts something out the door more urgently.
A nurse rushes in, clearly shocked to find me awake. She peppers me with questions, but all I can get out is, “hurts” as I motion by wiggling my fingers haphazardly at my legs. Uncle Will tells her what happened when he lifted my hand. She checks the monitor that is spitting out a thin white ribbon of my vital signs and then hurries from the room.
“Rogues—” I say, sounding like the hoarse ghost of my previous self.
Uncle Will nods. “I know. We got them. You’re in the hospital. You’ve been out of it for a week since the attack—”
“In danger,” I wheeze. He shakes his head in disagreement but watches me try to speak until I finally get it out. “Rogues… are coming.”
“There are plenty of Dynamar in the building. You don’t have to worry.”
The nurse returns pushing a cart into the room. “I’m going to help you with the pain.”
“Don’t make me sleep,” I plea.
The nurse looks over at Uncle Will who watches with an equally concerned expression. “What are you going to give her?”
She pulls out a sheet of pills from the cart. Each white pill is in its own punch pouch for easy distribution. “Only going to ease the pain.”
A tear rolls down my cheek uncontrollably. From the pain, or from fear of returning to the darkness, I can’t tell. Uncle Will takes notice. “Will it make her drowsy?” I need to warn everyone, but the pain is making it hard to think.
“Honestly, yeah it will.”
“Is there an alternative?”
She holds the sheet over the cup, about to pop the pill into it. She glances at the screen displaying my medication list on top of the chart. “Just for now,” he adds. “You can give her that if her pain gets worse.”
The pills are returned to their drawer. She presses something on the screen that causes a different drawer to open. “I have a short-acting anesthetic that doesn’t cause fatigue, but you will be want something else soon.”
“I’ll take it,” I mumble.
I must be getting easier to understand, because she unscrews the top of a small spray bottle.
“Open your mouth and lift your tongue,” she instructs. To my delight, I’m able to do as asked. “I’ve paged the doctor,” she tells Uncle Will.
I’m given two squirts under the tongue.
“He’ll be in soon to check on how you’re doing.”
I close my mouth and cautiously swallow, expecting a foul taste. To my relief, it’s virtually tasteless.
“Welcome back,” the nurse says, placing the used bottle on top of the cart.
It works fast. By the time she’s left with the cart, my collar bone isn’t screaming at me; my leg pain isn’t as intense either. She gives us some privacy, closing the door behind herself. Uncle Will pulls a seat up to the side of my bed.
The volume of my voice improves as I tell him about my warning. “Rogues know where we are, and they’re going to come get us.” I swallow hard, wishing the nurse had left the spray bottle. “You have to believe me. We are al
l in danger.”
Uncle Will starts shaking his head again as he tries to make sense of what I’m saying. “Did you hear something during the raid?”
I have to give him credit for coming up with a logical explanation. “No,” I say, preparing myself for the look I’m about to her, “while I was asleep.”
“You weren’t sleeping, Taylor. You were in a coma.” His eyes squint as he thinks hard. “Are you saying you heard it from someone in your room while you were in a coma?”
I realize that I’m going to have to tell him everything. Having an unknown person that I can barely describe tell me that he’s coming after me sounds like a nightmare, not an actual event. In my hoarse whisper of a voice, I say, “I’ve kept some things from you. When I go to sleep, my mind sometimes connects with this lady.” I stare at him for a second, waiting to see if he’s taking me seriously so far. He maintains a serious expression as he stares back at me, so I continue. “She’s being held by Rogues. I know this because I can talk with her.”
He holds a hand up for me to stop.
“You should start from the beginning. When you first had this…this experience,” he says, crossing one leg over the other. He isn’t looking at me like I’m crazy and seems prepared to listen, so I take this for a good sign.
I do as he asked, and I tell him about my first encounters with Sidney, back when she was a mystery to me, as were the circumstances in which I found her. Somehow, he keeps his composure the entire time.
When I’m finished telling him about Sidney, I dive into what sets me apart from the average Seraphim. It’s then that he finally interrupts me. As I get to the part about my lunch dates with Cassidy he says, “Wait, Cassidy knows about this?”
I try nodding my reply since my throat is beginning to ache, but the motion feels more like an involuntary spasm. My shoulders start throbbing almost immediately from the tiny movement, so I decide speaking actually is the better option.
“Yes, I figured you knew. She’s been helping me—” I pause to take a breath. “Helping me hone in on lies. I’ve gotten a lot better. It used to take a long time to weed out the explanations behind the lies.” I’ve exerted myself at this point, and my body feels more like I’ve gone for a run than like I’ve been reclining in bed.
Uncle Will clearly had no idea about my time with Cassidy. I give him a chance to ask me questions, but he just stares at me, lips slightly apart but silent. There’s nothing left to do but keep talking, so I tell him about each of the meetings with Cassidy, my voice rasping. I also tell him what I saw in the basement during the raid, and I include Cassidy’s warning before the explosions went off.
When I am finished, I ask, “Do you believe me?” trying not to sound too self-conscious. Admitting all of this has made me realize just how crazy it sounds.
“I do,” he says without hesitation. “But this has to stay between us; need-to-know only.”
“Okay.” I don’t want people to know about all this anyways. Besides, I wouldn’t know how to accurately explain it if someone were to question me farther. Cassidy called it an advancing ability. I thought of it more along the lines of my ability expanding since I could do more as time went on, not necessarily that I could do things better, which seems like what the term “advancing ability” suggests.
“I haven’t told anyone about the woman in my sleep,” I confirm. “I had read part of a psychology book my parents got me and there was a section on schizophrenia—”
He cuts me off. “You aren’t schizophrenic.”
“I know. I was just going to gloss over the formal reasons why I’m not, just in case you were thinking that I am.”
Uncle Will stands. I’m confused for a second, and then I hear my doctor and the nurses’ voices from the hall.
“Another person I used to be close with could connect too,” he says quietly. Then, there’s a knock on the door.
I perk up, quickly spitting out before the incoming hospital staff can hear me, “You’re talking about my mom, aren’t you?”
He gives me my answer in the form of a smile.
My doctor enters and greets me with a clap. “Well hello there!” The nurse walks in after him and closes the door quietly behind her.
“Hi,” I say, settling back against my pillow.
“How are you feeling?” the doctor asks.
“Tired,” I admit.
“I’m not surprised,” he says, moving toward the paper being spit out of one of the machines I’m connected to. “Your body’s been through a heck of a lot recently. If you don’t mind, we’re going to give you a little checkup since you’re finally awake.” He takes what I’m guessing it my chart from the nurse. He goes over a couple of the medications telling the nurse what he wants to discontinue.
Uncle Will leans over from the other side of my bed to kiss my forehead. “Need to know,” he says in my ear before he pulls away. “Oh, and Karen wanted me to thank you on her behalf for pushing her away from those men,” he says loud enough for the doctor and nurse to hear. “I found a spot for her at The Southern Academy assisting some of the teachers who have the largest classes. She wanted to be here when you woke up, but I talked her into going with the first load of kids I got approved to move on our campus.” Before I can respond Uncle Will’s heading for the door.
“Where are you going?” I ask.
He turns and looks at me solemnly. “I’m going to get coffee.” He’s lying. His eyebrows rise, waiting on my response. He’s lying on purpose. The lie opens before my eyes easily, just like it did every time I worked with Cassidy. Being in a coma hasn’t affected that part of my ability in the least. He’s going to work on a game plan with a select few Seraphim whom he trusts. “Got it,” I say with a soft nod so as to avoid upsetting my fragile shoulders. “Don’t take too long.”
“Take good care of her,” he instructs the two others in the room. They are both going over the long paper displaying my vitals.
“Will do,” the doctor tells him.
“Don’t worry, you won’t be alone now that you’re awake,” the nurse assures me. “Your father will be over shortly.”
Chapter 6
Doherty’s cell phone rings as soon as he walks into his office. Ash rounds the corner as Doherty answers the phone.
Ash sets a folder on top of Doherty’s desk. Rubbing his temples, he waits on Doherty to give him the next round of interviews to review. The last couple he’s gone over, he hasn’t added much to since he’s agreed with Doherty’s notes on the subjects. He knows that his boss will most likely take it to mean that he’s too tired to put forth the effort of writing his own synopsis. With this in mind, Ash decides that once he gets the next stack of interviews in hand, he’s going to catch some shuteye before starting them.
“You’re working late,” Doherty says into the phone. He looks up at the clock on the wall. “It’s after midnight,” he says, registering his own surprise more than anything.
“And you need to remember that when you give me my eval,” Susan cheerfully says on the other line.
Doherty leans over to the growing stack of folders on the corner of his desk, grabbing a handful from the top. “I take it you’ve found something, then.” He straightens the folders before holding them out to Ash.
Ash looks at the thick stack without reaching for them. “Really?”
Doherty leans forward to wave them insistently in Ash’s face. “Yes. Now come on.” Ash reluctantly grabs them.
“Who’s that?” Susan asks.
“Ash,” Doherty answers, collapsing back into his chair. “Picking up the last of today’s interviews.” Ash hears his name and pauses looking over the folders in his hands.”
“He’s so slow. I would’ve had that done hours ago.”
Ash rubs his palm down the side of the folders quickly, daring them to cut him. “Is she talking crap?”
“That would be unprofessional,” Doherty says, his face straight as ever.
Ash snorts, “Right.” As h
e walks to the door, he says over his shoulder, “Tell her I have a life outside of work.” He shuts the door to Doherty’s office, feeling satisfied with himself.
“I heard that,” Susan says, unamused.
“Take that up with him. What did you find?”
“We found a connection. We have a picture of three of our dead bombers standing happily outside of a church that has a big, beautiful sign— Good Faith Fellowship. We’ve already tracked down the church’s location.”
“Nice work.”
“Don’t get too excited. We still haven’t found a single thing on the party responsible for the Texas bombing, and we’ve been unable to get ahold of anyone at Good Faith Fellowship either. It’s going to take us days to get to the church if we drive.”
“If you’re asking for permission to travel by train, go right ahead,” Doherty says, satisfied with the news. “We need this solved.”
She had wanted plane tickets, but Susan knew better than to count on it. She’d tried that fight with Doherty before and lost.
“Train it is,” she agreed.
“Anything else?”
“One more thing. The picture was given to Lane by a local reporter while we were following up with the hospital staff that were working during the incident.”
“Interesting.”
Having covered everything, Susan erases the list of topics she had made on her laptop before placing the call. “I thought so too.”
“Email it to me.”
“Already did,” she says, shutting her laptop and hoping that she might be able to leave it that way for the rest of the night. “Have they found a safe place to move everyone down there?”
Doherty narrows his eyes at the closed door of his office. “Who told you we were looking for new locations?”
Susan pinches the top of her nose right between her eyes. Suspicion doesn’t stop among colleagues, especially in this line of work. “I didn’t know it was that hush-hush.”