by Amalie Jahn
“Have you clocked in?” she called, pushing an elderly man in a wheelchair through the waiting room.
“I was just on my way,” he replied, motioning toward the door.
She shook her head. “I’ll have Gloria swipe your card. I need you to take Mr. Fletcher here to the restroom to get washed up. It seems he’s had a bit of an accident.”
The stench coming from the man indicated what kind of accident he’d had and it wasn’t the type which involved a motor vehicle. Although he initially balked, Jose quickly remembered his job as an orderly was a means to an end. Changing the old man’s pants now was the only way he would have access to the others later, so with that in mind, he left his bag behind the triage desk and hurried Mr. Fletcher to an unoccupied restroom.
He cleaned the man quickly and proficiently, redressing him in a pair of standard issue scrubs while avoiding both eye contact and small talk. When he began working as an orderly right after high school, tasks involving human waste often made him consider other career options, but six years later, he knew he could never leave. The access it gave him to complete his life’s work was unsurpassed, so he quickly learned to overcome his squeamish tendencies.
After returning Mr. Fletcher to his wife in the waiting room, he was immediately called to help restrain a new arrival who was hopped up on hallucinogens and threatening to tear an examination room apart.
“He thinks we’re trying to kill him,” one of the shift nurses told him. “And he’s seriously strong, so be careful. Dr. Unger’s already in there and has been calling for back up, but I didn’t know where you were.”
Without the slightest hesitation, Jose hurried past the support rooms toward the treatment area where he heard the man screaming obscenities and threatening the staff. The room’s door was no longer closed for privacy and exposed the scene inside as he approached.
“Listen, Kirk, no one is trying to hurt you,” Unger was telling the patient when Jose rushed up behind him. “Just set down the scissors so we can find out what’s really going on.”
Kirk, a formidable looking teenager, stood against the far wall wielding a pair of surgical scissors he’d obviously scavenged from a drawer somewhere in the room. The terror in his eyes convinced Jose the kid truly believed his evasive actions against hospital personnel were necessary for his survival and that there would be no reasoning with him. Mascara stained the cheeks of a pretty brunette pleading quietly from the corner of the room for him to stop, while Vanessa and Gloria stood behind Unger, positioned to flee if necessary.
“Come on, baby. Just chill out, okay? Please?” the brunette begged. “Let’s just forget any of this ever happened and I’ll just take you home.”
“NO!” he screamed at her, “you’re in it with them! All of you together! You’re all trying to kill me but I won’t let you!”
Jose immediately wished there was another man in the room. He knew with Unger’s help he could restrain Kirk, but the adrenaline surging through the kid’s veins made him unpredictable. There was no telling what he would do if they provoked him further.
Unger turned to Vanessa. “Has security been called?”
She appeared poised, but did not take her eyes off the boy. “Yes, of course, but someone said they were outside dealing with a fight in the parking lot. Who knows when we’ll see them.”
Kirk’s eyes darted around the room and Jose sensed he was planning to make his escape. Lives would be in jeopardy if he was allowed to leave the room and there was no telling what type of chaos would ensue. He took a step closer to the teen.
“Hey, border bandit,” Kirk sneered. “Stay away from me. I’ll kill you if I have to! Nobody will care if there’s one less Sanchez in the world!”
The words sliced a nick in Jose’s composure – no one ever cared he was a fourth generation American of legal descent, but it wasn’t enough to provoke him into action prematurely. He ventured another step forward with Unger by his side.
“Ready?” Unger whispered.
“Yeah,” he replied.
The men tackled the boy in one fluid motion, Unger on his left side and Jose on his right, pinning him against the wall. Vanessa fumbled for a set of zip tie cuffs in the bottom drawer of a cabinet as Kirk wrestled to free himself. Once she found them, she ran to Unger who quickly strapped his left hand into the tie while Jose continued to restrain Kirk as best he could, cautious of the scissors which were dangerously close to his body.
“Get off me, Chalupa!” Kirk spat as he thrashed his head in sheer defiance. “I’ll kill you, I swear it!”
After securing the boy’s left hand, Unger slid behind him in an attempt to reach his other side, but as he lessened his grip, Kirk seized the opportunity to lunge forward, stabbing the scissors into Jose’s thigh. He cried out but didn’t release the boy, jamming his shoulder securely into his chest. Within seconds, Unger slipped the tie over Kirk’s right hand and pulled tightly on the restraint, forcing him to the ground.
“Oh my God, Jose,” Gloria cried out, noticing the blood pooling in a ring on his scrubs.
He brought his hand to the wound, testing to see how deeply he’d been pierced. “It’s nothing,” he replied, as she hurried to his side. “I don’t think it even needs stitches.”
Security arrived as the police were being called and Gloria led Jose into an adjacent room to look at his injury.
“Seriously, it’s fine. I’ll just change my pants and put on a Band-Aid,” he said.
Gloria slipped on a pair of latex gloves. “Nonsense,” she replied as she carefully began cutting a hole in his pants to expose the wound. “Just let me make sure that little punk didn’t do any serious harm.”
He allowed her to examine him as it gave her peace of mind, but he knew there would be no lasting damage. As she cleaned and dressed the puncture, prattling on about how they didn’t get paid enough to deal with crazy people, he allowed his mind to wander to the new ICU patients. It was always hard when he had to make a choice and tonight he could only choose one person on the floor. To choose more than one would be far too risky. He couldn’t chance exposing his intent. By the time Gloria finished, he’d weighed all his options and made his decision. He hoped it was the right one.
The police were escorting a subdued and restrained Kirk out of the ER as Jose sought out Vanessa to tell her he was going on his break. He slipped unnoticed through the lobby to where the elevators carried him back to the second floor.
It was still peaceful there as he crept down the hallway, hugging tightly to the wall so he could duck into an alcove if one of the nurses made an appearance. When he arrived at the room of the patient he’d selected, he wasted no time getting straight to work.
Chloe Hall lay before him, sleeping soundly as she’d been when he first looked in on her earlier in the evening. Selecting her out of all the possible ICU patients wasn’t an easy decision, but he knew in his heart she wasn’t going to make it and that he was the only one capable of putting an end to her suffering. He gently brushed the wisps of hair across her pillow, whispering a simple prayer for her soul, and then Jose placed his hands upon her chest and surrendered himself to what he knew needed to be done.
CHAPTER
4
THOMAS
Friday, August 26
Baltimore
“Is he expecting a mistrial? Does he think I’m gonna visit him in prison?” Mia raked her fingers through her auburn hair, securing it into a messy bun with the rubber band from her wrist. “I just don’t know why he would say he’s going to ‘see me soon.’”
Thomas stood up from his mother’s kitchen table, where the three of them had just finished eating five-bean casserole for supper. “Are you sure that’s what he said?” he asked as he cleared away her plate.
“I’m positive.”
He watched her gnawing on the cuticle around her thumbnail the way she always did when she was deep in thought. It bothered him she was still preoccupied with what she thought she saw Dalton say to h
er from across the crowded courtroom. It wasn’t like her to waste time dwelling on something so arbitrary.
Thomas’ mother, Mildred, spoke up as she loaded the silverware into the dishwasher. “You know, dear, ‘soon’ is a relative term. Maybe he didn’t really mean ‘soon.’ Maybe he just meant ‘later.’ Like ‘see you later.’”
Mia narrowed her eyes and shook her head slightly. “Uh. He chose all three of those words for a reason. ‘See’ meaning he’s actually going to physically set eyes on me. ‘You,’ as opposed to anyone else. And ‘soon’ signifies in the immediate future – not 50 years from now when the penal system grants him compassionate release.” She finished off her can of soda and carried it over to the recycling bin across the room. “There’s no question that he said what he did for a reason. I just have no idea of what that reason might be.”
Mildred returned to her seat at the table, resting her hands on the chipped green Formica while Thomas washed the casserole pan at the sink. “Now don’t you go borrowing trouble,” she said, in the motherly tone she typically reserved for him but had begun using more frequently with Mia as well. He wondered if Mia felt comforted by his mother’s growing affection for her as he scrubbed the last stubborn beans out of the dish. “That evil man is going to be locked up in a federal prison for a very long time. No sense worrying about him anymore. You did your job. There’s nothing more to do.”
Although the two women had bonded quickly while holding vigil together at the hospital following his gunshot wound to the head, there was a lot Mildred still didn’t understand about Mia. Looking at her now, brow furrowed, stewing about Dalton, there was no doubt he still had a bit to learn about Mia himself.
He set the dish on the counter to dry. “You think there’s something more going on?”
She peered up at him, brooding beneath her lashes. “Maybe.”
“You talked to Jack about it? Or you wanna run something past me?”
He didn’t mind sharing her with her partner, Jack. They were more like siblings than coworkers, and he was certainly no threat to their relationship, especially considering he and his wife, Stella, were only weeks away from having their first child together. The truth was, he felt safer knowing Jack was looking after her out on the streets, day in and day out. Not that she needed protecting, but there was always safety in numbers.
Mia pushed back from the table. “I think I might need some fresh air. Wanna go for a walk?”
He knew this was code for ‘I’d like to talk privately, away from Mildred,’ which probably meant she wanted to talk openly about their abilities.
“Sure,” he told her. “Lemme grab my shoes.”
He met her on the front sidewalk. Her chin was cocked, eyes closed, soaking in the last rays of evening sun.
“Still kinda muggy out,” he said, opening what he was sure was going to be a heavy conversation.
She kicked a rock into the street and shrugged. “Summer in Baltimore. When isn’t it muggy?”
He chuckled, taking her hand in his. He liked that she was less reserved at his mom’s house, out of uniform. “So, let’s talk. What’s going on inside that head of yours?”
“You sure you wanna know?”
He wanted to know everything about her. “Of course. You haven’t been yourself since the verdict. There’s gotta be a reason why. It’s almost like you’re not satisfied with how it all turned out.”
She sighed heavily, dropping his hand in favor of stuffing them into her own pockets. It was a bad sign.
“There’s something we need to discuss, and I need you to keep an open mind.”
His heart sank. Maybe her sour mood didn’t have anything to do with the trial after all. “Is this about moving in?”
Since her roommate Chelsea was getting married in November, in order to save money, Mia had agreed to stay with Thomas and Mildred once her lease ran out. As much as he knew it was a matter of convenience for all of them, he also hoped she was excited at the prospect of living together. He certainly was.
She shoved a shoulder into his arm. “It’s not about moving in,” she groaned. “How many times do I have to tell you we’re solid?”
“I have abandonment issues,” he deadpanned.
“No kidding,” she replied, rolling her eyes playfully.
They waited at the street corner for the light to change before he continued. “So if it’s not about living together, then what is it I need to keep an open mind about?”
She’d picked up the pace and he was having trouble keeping up. Clearly she was nervous about something.
“So remember when we figured out you, Kate and I all have the same birthday?”
“Yup.”
“And we also decided we all have some sort of ability – my auras, the way you sense impending danger, and how Kate made stuff happen.”
“Yup.” He wondered where this was going and how their abilities had anything to do with Dalton’s conviction.
“Since the whole commissioner thing went down, I’ve been doing a bunch of research about abilities. About what we can do and about other people like us.” She gazed across the street at a bulldog barking at them as they passed. “Actually, that’s a lie. I’ve been researching people with psychic abilities since I was a kid.”
This didn’t surprise him. Mia was nothing if not relentless in her quest for information, serving her well in her line of work. That she was unable to keep her inquisitive nature from her personal affairs made perfect sense. And although her disclosure resulted in more questions than it did answers, he chose to simply ask her why.
She shrugged. “As a kid, it was a way to lessen the isolation I felt, since my family insisted I keep my abilities to myself. I guess I just wanted to feel connected to other people who knew what it was like to be different.” She paused, lifting her chin so their eyes met for the first time since leaving the house. “But now, my research is about something more.”
His jaw tightened but he didn’t interrupt.
“I’ve been reading about a prophecy.”
“A what?” He was incredulous and he resisted the urge to groan.
“Ugh. I knew you would have this reaction, which is why I didn’t really want to bring it up. But now, I don’t think I have a choice.”
Images of his third foster mother bubbled to the surface. A medium who swindled unsuspecting patrons out of their hard-earned money, Madame Freakshow had often spoken of prophecies and powers.
And Madame Freakshow was a fraud.
“I don’t think I want to have this conversation with you,” he said.
She stopped dead, planting her feet as if they’d been cemented to the sidewalk. “Thomas, I love you. And I know it makes you uncomfortable to even talk about this stuff, much less consider the possibility it might be true and that you might be a part of it. But I need you to be all in. Because I don’t think I can let this go.” Tension strained between them as she stared him down. “The last time I didn’t see something all the way through, someone died.”
It pained him to know she still felt responsible for Kate’s death when, all things considered, he was far more to blame. And the fact that she was making an emotional scene right in the middle of the street meant he was going to have to get over himself. Mia needed to be heard.
Awash with resignation, he straightened his back and squared his shoulders. “Okay,” he said. “I’m listening.”
In an instant, her demeanor changed, as if a dam had burst within her. She grabbed his hand and began dragging him down the street. He ran along beside her, just short of a jog.
“When I met you and couldn’t see your aura, it freaked me out. Like, big time. Because I’d never experienced any problems with my abilities until that point. And then, when I saw a dark aura around Dalton, I was sure there was something wrong with me. I started researching to see if I could find other instances of psychics experiencing changes in their abilities, and I stumbled upon a prophecy.” She glanced at him from the corner of
her eye, presumably assessing his reaction to the word. He remained stoic, despite feeling as if he was being kicked in the gut. Evidently, she equated his silence as acceptance and continued. “The more I think about it, the more I’m convinced it’s real. And the more I’m convinced we are two of the fourteen people it describes.”
It was Thomas’ turn to freeze where he stood. “You think you and I are part of some prophecy?”
She didn’t reply immediately, but instead slipped her phone from her back pocket and began scrolling through her browser. Then she held it out to him. “Here. Read it for yourself.”
Seven Light - Seven Dark - Seven Sins
The Sevens Prophecy (With Regard to the End of Days)
There will come a day when seven psychic children of the light and seven psychic children of the dark will be born. From the moment of their birth, strong powers will be in place to bring the seven light together and the seven dark together to form two separate but equally powerful groups. The first seven to gather all in one place will seal the fate of the world – dark for hell, light for heaven. At that point the seven deadly sins will take over the world or cease to exist.
He read it. And then he reread it.
It was preposterous.
“You’re not serious about this?”
She snatched her phone and stuffed it back into her pocket. “I’m completely serious. I don’t think I can afford not to be. And I don’t think you can either.”
Maintaining his composure was taking every bit of strength he had. Mia’s revelation rekindled the disappointment and anger he felt when she’d first revealed her gift to him. But he called to mind Mildred’s wisdom. Faith, she’d often told him, involves believing in things you cannot see. And sometimes it involves believing in people.
She’d been right about that.