The guy who beat the shit out of people when he got pissed.
The philosophical heart struggling with PTSD.
I knotted my fingers together and found myself praying.
Will. Finn.
Don’t be irrational and emotional, AJ, I chided myself. This wasn’t some twisted moral choice. Both boys would be okay. There was no lesser of two evils choice with this. I regarded the obvious facts: I didn’t know if Finn was alive, and Will could likely have another seizure.
The lights in the hallway flickered twice.
Will’s snoring stopped.
“Mom?” his dry voice rasped.
I smiled. “Hi, honey.”
“Where am I?”
I rested a hand on his chest, his bony frame thinner than usual beneath my fingers. The wheezes in his chest vibrated into my hand.
“We’re in a hospital. You, you—” I couldn’t say it.
“My head hurts. My body, it went all funny, Mom. I felt like I was under water.”
“You—” I stopped to regain control. I rubbed his cheek, and then squeezed his hand. I said firmly, “You had a seizure. It’s like your brain had to shut down for a second and reboot, restart. Like when you turn off a computer.”
“Did I do something wrong?”
“No,” I said with a fragile voice. “It happens to some people.”
“Is it because of my brain thing? That you told me about. The autism?”
He struggled to sit.
“No, honey. This is different. It happens to some people with or without autism,” I repeated.
“Is it going to happen again?”
“It could, but you’re in the hospital.” I threaded my larger fingers with his smaller ones. “They’ll keep an eye on you, and if it does happen, you can take medicines and they’ll take care of you. You’ll be okay.”
“How long do we have to stay here?” He coughed.
I got the water from the bedside table and handed it to him. “A few days.”
His face crumpled. “But Finn.”
“We’ll take care of that. Don’t worry.” I turned and dug through his backpack beside me. “Here, I have Douglas. Dougie’s first time to a hospital.”
He took him and nestled the plush, golden dog on his pillow. He then laid his head down and blinked a few times. He coughed, hoarse, lungs rattling.
A hospital worker—doctor or nurse, I didn’t know, my mind a whirl of people in blue scrubs and white overcoats—entered the room pushing a cart. “We need to do a nebulizer treatment now that you’re awake, hon.” She passed a glance to me. “These are in high demand right now.”
I sat on the chair while she situated the mask on his face. I was not unfamiliar with this treatment, as we’d used it once or twice after a cold and once after pneumonia. Now, it served as treatment for those suffering from the aftermath of inhaling shards of rocks and earth innards…sharp, piercing daggers tumbling down their throat and into their lungs.
The woman looked at me for a moment. Her lips crinkled into a tiny smile. “I’m a respiratory therapist. He’s in excellent hands, ma’am. He probably won’t need an x-ray. His symptoms appear minor. We’ll monitor him and see how this goes, then determine if he needs an x-ray.”
“We wore masks,” was all I could muster. What about before that? The poisonous gases? Did the masks do anything for those? Seizures and respiratory problems. My mind jumped to the long-term effects of both, fears circling.
This was all my fault.
She nodded, her gray hair bouncing in her loose bun on her nape. “Good, good.”
I was thankful she didn’t divulge the nitty gritty—ha, no pun intended, I thought, nearly snorting—on ash and the particulates. My geologist lying in the bed was already an expert on all that, and as a result, so was I.
He fidgeted with the mask on his face. She readjusted it.
“We’ll do it for about ten minutes, William. Breathe normally, but every four or five breaths, take a deeper breath. Can you do that?”
“Mom calls me Will.”
“Okay, Will.”
He nodded. “Four or five? Which one is better?”
“You choose,” she said, cheerful kindness infused in her tone. She shoved a loose strand of hair behind her ear and pushed her glasses up on her head as she leaned in to read the monitor. I wondered how long she’d been awake. Everyone here appeared haggard.
“Okay. I will do five.”
“I’ll be back in ten minutes,” she said. She squeezed Will’s hand, then mine with a reassuring look.
I swallowed the dryness in my throat. I then coughed. Perhaps I’d need that nebulizer next.
I pasted on an encouraging smile as Will breathed normally and every fifth inhalation took a deeper breath as the fine mist treatment entered his lungs. I pulled out the two books from his backpack, holding each out until he gave me a thumbs-up. Wizard cats it was.
I read to him for a few minutes as he breathed in, then deeper, the whooshing motor of the pump and vaporized air flow the only sounds other than my voice.
The therapist returned after fifteen minutes. The clock was behind Will’s head, saving me from his keen observation that it had been more than ten minutes.
“Rest, honey,” I said after she removed the equipment and left the room.
“Sing the states song?” he requested through a yawn.
I sang it and rubbed his cheek.
His eyelids fluttered.
I hummed and then let silence settle upon us as he yielded to sleep.
I yawned, too. I could escape for a few minutes. He’d be okay for a few minutes. I needed to get fresh air. Not something I could do in a hospital or in the current atmosphere that was Colorado. Coffee would have to do. If their cafeteria was even up and running.
I left the room and glanced both ways.
“Looking for Reid?” one nurse said from the desk.
I spaced out momentarily. My wayward companion. How could I have forgotten about him? He was indeed like a ghost…He’d gone to check on a ride, my brain reminded me. “Yeah.” I handed her the clipboard with the questionnaire.
“He went to speak with the officer at the main desk, first floor. Coffee is in the cafeteria. You look like you need it. I should warn you they’re swamped, and we haven’t been able to get food deliveries in a few days. You’ll be lucky if you can get a cup. They have to save most for patients.”
“Thanks.” I halted in my step and licked my lips. When I had checked in, I had only given my name. Had Reid told her his name? That sexy smile was an asset, but…Reid’s jacket only said GREGORY on it; he had pocketed his ID. I scratched my head, dog-tired.
Still, something didn’t sit well with me. My fingertips prickled, and I shoved them into my pockets. I asked boldly, “You know Reid?” This was his hometown area after all, I told myself. Of course, he might know people, even if he lived in Colorado Springs now. Yet…I fidgeted with the key in my pocket, sensing my radar blip.
“Of course. He used to come to the hospital all the time after the accident. Everyone knows Reid.”
My mouth dropped open. I snapped it shut. I wasn’t expecting that answer. Hell, my first thought had been maybe she had dated him.
That nagging familiar uneasiness shook me. Despite my lack of sleep, my neurons were firing fast. I removed my hands from my pockets and resumed my cradling, hugging myself tightly. “Why? What accident?”
I glanced down the corridor, half expecting the subject of our conversation to be ambling toward us at any moment.
The nurse barely looked at me and continued with her work. I shifted on my feet. When I hadn’t moved yet, she tapped her pen and gave me a penetrating glare of impatience. “Is there something else?”
My pulse grew fitful. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to pry.” Okay, yeah, I did. “This is the pediatric wing. Not sure how…”
Nurse Gail Chapman, per her badge, heaved a sigh, and her tone softened. “Everyone knows Mr. Gregor
y here, Mrs.…?”
“Sinclair.” Caffeine-deprivation caused me to grit my teeth. She remembered him but not me?
With a yawn, she weaved a pencil through her hair to pull the long auburn locks into a low bun. “Small towns know all the dirty secrets.”
Huh? I blinked. “This is the pediatric wing.” My jaw hurt, and I forced a polite smile. My look must have reflected my contempt.
“Of a small hospital,” Gail added, with uplifted eyebrows.
Did she want me to read her mind? Lady, I am tired.
She passed a glance to the coworker—supervisor?—behind her and then leaned closer to me, lowering her voice and finally divulging, “I know Reid from high school, too, right before it all happened,” she clarified. “Anyway, they brought his sister over from McMillian Oaks a few days ago.”
It? I was certain blankness fell across my face. So much for my neurons firing. “The accident?” I fed her a line, hoping I had heard correctly.
“It’s a long-term care facility. They had to transport many of their patients here after their generator lost its juice. He’s probably checking on her, too.”
I swallowed. Dread loomed in my throat. “What? Why?” I said, tripping on my own words.
The nurse compressed her lips and gave me a look of pity.
Screw pity. I had seen enough of that to last a lifetime.
The supervisor from behind cleared her throat and approached. “Gail,” she said sternly.
She wrinkled her brow and shrugged, then returned to her work.
I mumbled a thank-you. My head spun as I reached the elevator. Reid’s sister was here? I mentally thumbed through all our conversations like they were filed neatly in a cabinet. All the times we talked about his sister, albeit it was minimal, he’d always spoken of her in a way that implied she was okay and he was going to check on her, like any loyal sibling would do, especially since she was all the family he had. She was a teacher.
She was here. In a hospital. Moved from a long-term care facility? Why? Had she sustained an injury—a broken leg that needed physical therapy? Chronic pain associated with a disease? Cancer treatment? Autoimmune disease? The nurse said “accident,” though.
I passed the coffee vending machine, despite the allure of the brown frothy cup of java on the display. I made for the elevator and pushed the first-floor button. With each ding of a passing floor, my fingers tingled, and my heart thumped louder in my ears. There had to be an explanation.
The elevator chimed, and the doors slid open. As they did, I almost hit the close button to hide inside.
I emerged into a swarm of people in the hospital lobby. I had blocked them out when we arrived a few hours before. Now, they awoke me like an electric zap. Much like the mobile unit in Lamar, mobs of families, uniformed Guard and army soldiers, and hospital employees moved around in a synchronized dance. For a moment, it reminded me of what Will used to say he felt like—a buzzing beehive.
With heavy steps, I treaded to the information desk, which was also overrun with people making inquiries. The Guard soldiers, one man and one woman, who looked as frazzled as I felt, were fielding questions and concerns. Reid wasn’t there in the long line. After another glance around the overrun lobby, and to no avail, I returned to the elevator, my dread not abated. I reached the pediatric floor, ignored the enticing coffee vending machine again, and was back at Gail’s desk.
“Look, I know you can’t give information on patients, but I need to find my friend.” There, I’d said it. Was he my friend? Was he more than a companion on this long hellish journey? Well, I’d slept with him! I sighed. “Reid. His sister. I don’t need to know her room. Just the floor.”
“I’m sorry I can’t,” Gail said. However, as her superior shifted and turned the other way, she held up three fingers.
I nodded.
Back to the elevator I went, after a quick check on Will. Fast asleep. Despite all the walking, which was a lovely release on my deprived muscles from days of driving, I couldn’t quiet my unease. My knees knocked.
I pushed the button, and the ceiling lights flickered again. Stairs, it was.
The third floor also hummed with activity. Extra stretchers and patients and bottlenecks of people lined the hallways, making it easier for me to slip past the primary reception and nurse station to begin poking in rooms. Most of the doors were open, and disregarding my guilt about being nosy, I went room by room. I turned a corner, down another corridor, checked all the rooms. No Reid. I made it to the end of the wing, indicated by closed automatic doors and a sign that displayed directions to other wings and wards. I turned around to give the rooms another glance.
“This is ridiculous,” I mumbled.
I continued my search nonetheless.
There he was, approaching as I’d envisioned him on the other floor, toting two coffees. One for his sister? His face lit up when he saw me.
“Reid.”
“AJ, I was on my way to see you.” He handed me one of the coffees. “For you.”
There went my theory. I took the coffee. “Thanks.”
“Coffee in the cafeteria is sludge…instant packs with bottled water. This is from a Joe’s Java across the street. They’re serving meals and drinks to any and all until their supply runs out. Most of the residents in town have been evacuated to safer places south, but the ones that remain are the mandatory workers, volunteers, and those relocated from the harder hit areas. It’s nice to see some generosity among the chaos.”
I wrapped both hands around the coffee, its heat a mild comfort to my cold fingertips. The scent of cinnamon wafted to my nostrils. “Reid.”
“Yeah?”
“Your sister’s here, in this hospital. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Despite his deeper tan complexion, color drained from his cheeks. His hand tightened around his coffee. He opened his mouth to speak, and then stopped. He blew a breath. “I…” Another exhalation.
“You can tell me.”
“It’s better if I show you,” he said, nodding toward the direction from which I’d just come. We entered a darkened hospital room that housed two beds and with what seemed like more equipment than I could imagine. A frail woman in a blue polka-dotted gown lay in the first bed. She was connected to a ventilator, eyes closed. She had long dark brown hair and tan skin like Reid, though her complexion lacked the golden luster Reid’s usually held.
“I…,” I began, wordless.
He placed his coffee on the table. Then he reached for mine, took it, and set it beside his. “She resides at a nearby long-term care facility. They lost power after the eruption. They brought her here this week.”
“Is she in a coma?”
“Yes.”
To my surprise, tears found their way down my cheeks. I’d thought I shut off the waterworks. “I don’t understand. You said she’s a teacher.”
“She is a teacher.” He shook his head. “She was a teacher.”
I grabbed his hand. “Reid.” I steeled myself for whatever he had to say. “Just tell me, okay?”
He straightened upright and drew his look away from me. In fact, it was fixed on his sister. I stared at her, too, unable to look away. Her chest rose and fell as the ventilator worked oxygen into her body. Smooth, freshly washed wavy hair cascaded around her face. She had high cheekbones, thin, angled eyebrows, and pierced ears absent of earrings. Her skin lacked the vigor I imagined she likely had, well, before. Her body was gaunt beneath the gown and blankets. Reid’s worn copy of Lewis’s The Great Divorce lay on the bedside table.
Reid swallowed. “Lily and I had our differences. She is younger, but I think we had the roles reversed. I was the rebel; she was the rule-follower and overachiever. I did a lot of stupid things before and after my military career. I made shitty decisions in the wake of my deployment.” He rubbed his chin. A ridge of ripples formed in his forehead as he gathered his thoughts.
I braced myself. I knew already.
“Guys drink and smoke way to
o much when we’re on base or abroad. It passes the time and helps us deal with the crap we’d seen or had to do. It’s when I began reading the philosophical greats. A deck of cards loses its appeal after a week or two, and you can’t exactly play board games by yourself. I had to escape the demons,” he said with a slight snort and dry, sad smile. “I returned home unsure what to do with myself. Books and a few classes weren’t enough to dampen the ghosts. They didn’t block the memories. I was angry. I drank. A lot.”
He stepped closer to me and reached to touch my arm, but then quickly retracted his hand. He hunched his shoulders, chin down. To my surprise, I didn’t recoil, despite the emotion that knotted my stomach. Reid had been an angry alcoholic. Was he still?
God, there was more. The evidence lay in the bed before us.
His eyes clung to mine, imploring. Painful memory filled them. “I’ve been sober for five years now,” he said in defense.
He stopped himself, brushed a hand through his hair, and continued.
“One night, shortly after I’d come home, six years ago, having completed my stint with the army, Lily was on a date with a guy I knew from high school—a guy I urged her against dating. He was a jerk. He had a bad rep and got out of a sexual assault charge in high school mostly due to who he knew, parents in the right place and all. She called me…hysterical. He’d hurt her.”
I inhaled sharply.
“No, well, he didn’t do that,” he said reading my shocked mind. “He’d come close. She got away from him and ran to the local drugstore and waited for me. She called for me to get her. I had been drinking a lot that night. My parents were in poor health—my dad’s dementia and my mom’s chronic pain—and they didn’t drive anymore. Not too many taxis run in the later hours here.” He released a throaty groan. “I wouldn’t let her take one even if they had been available. I had to get her myself. Stupid ego, I suppose,” he added quietly.
He pumped his fist, looking down at his tattoos.
Ne obliviscaris. Never forget. The idea that the tattoo wasn’t from his army days had never occurred to me before now.
“Anyway. I picked her up. I was too proud to admit that I’d been drinking, but she saw right through me. I drove to the bastard’s apartment. She waited in the car while I beat the shit out of him.”
Will Rise from Ashes Page 29