One Kiss: An Apocalyptic Urban Fantasy (Transmissions from The International Council for the Exploration of the Universe., #1)

by E. J Kimelman

  "Yeah," I said, my lips dry, throat aching.

  I opened the door, and he turned and grabbed my hand. That buffer of electricity was there but felt more like pins and needles than a live wire. I wondered how long it would take for the drugs to totally leave my system. It occurred to me I should tell Dr. Tor about it. "Darling," Emmanuel said.

  "Yeah?"

  "Call me if you need anything."

  "Okay," I said, pulling away from him. The door creaked when I slammed it shut. As I went around in the revolving door, Emmanuel's eyes found mine for just a moment before I entered the hospital lobby.

  ****

  Dr. Issa Tor and a representative from "Be the Difference" waited for me in an office. They stood up when I came in and smiled at me like I was some kind of hero. "Thank you so much for doing this again," Dr. Tor said.

  The representative, a man in his early fifties with gray hair, a friendly smile, and the pallor of a person who spent too much time under florescent lights, held his hand out to me. "I'm Jimmy Gandolf," he said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you."

  I reached out to shake his hand but there was a snap of static electricity and we both pulled back. And then we laughed. "Sorry about that," I said, looking down at my hand. It looked fine. Normal. Pulsing? I breathed in, smelling the current in the air. Issa looked at me, his thick expressive brows bunched together. Jimmy Gandolf shook his head. "Sorry about that," he said.

  I smiled. "No problem, I mean, I'm sorry. I, um..." I looked at the small conference table and the chairs around it. Paperwork on the table, several pens.

  "Please," Issa said, picking up on my eye movements. "Let's sit."

  "Yes, thank you," I said, taking the closest chair.

  There were no windows in the room. Blond wood cabinets were labeled with things like tongue depressors, needles and gloves. There was a biohazard sticker on the trash can in the corner. The air was stale, smelling of carpet cleaner and French fries. I could picture staff stealing away in here for lunch. It was quiet.

  We sat down, me on one side, them on the other. Jimmy was about to start explaining the paperwork to me. He'd taken a big breath and made his face serious, confident, grave almost. I held out my hand. "Before we get into all that," I said. "There is something I need to tell you. I don't know if it affects the procedure today but I was drugged last night."

  "What do you mean?" Dr. Tor asked, his face going a little bit pale.

  "I was at the parade where the attack happened."

  Both men sat back from the table, as though my words had pushed them into their chairs. I smiled and blushed, feeling awkward all of a sudden. As if being there, witnessing that horrible thing, left a stain on me. My face burned hotter when I thought about after the parade. The way I'd attacked Michael. The way I'd felt Emmanuel's heart beating... mesmerizing.

  "Can you excuse us for a moment?" Issa asked, turning to Jimmy.

  Gandolf was surprised. He gripped the arms of his chair and his neck snapped to look at Issa like a lizard, fast and focused. They stared at each other for a moment. Tension built in the air until I felt a little like I was suffocating. I wondered why they would make a room like this with no windows. Wasn't that illegal?

  Gandolf pushed his chair back; it scraped on the linoleum floor. He cleared his throat before nodding at me, then left the room. There was silence for a few moments after the door clicked shut. I like that sound, of well-oiled metal jolting into place.

  Issa spread his fingers on the table and smiled at me. "So you were at the parade?"

  "Yes, and I was drinking and I think someone put something in my beer." I said it with my shoulders back, like I wasn't ashamed.

  Issa nodded. "What was your experience?" he asked.

  "The..." I paused for a moment, my mouth hanging open, unsure how to describe the feelings that had ridden me. That I could still feel traveling through my veins. "I guess you would call them physical hallucinations."

  "In what way?"

  I stared at the table, focusing on the grain of the fake wood. "Like..." I wet my lips, feeling that emptiness, the need to be filled. "I could feel things." I glanced up at the doctor. He was staring at me, his eyes narrowed, head nodding slightly, as if he was agreeing with me. "I could feel my friend's heartbeat. And..." I didn't want to tell him about Michael, it wasn't really any of his business.

  Issa leaned forward and smiled at me. I kept my eyes off his. "Darling, I'm your doctor. You can tell me anything."

  I picked up the glass of water and took a quick sip. "I kissed someone—without realizing I was doing it," I answered honestly. I looked up at him, he didn't seem surprised. "I had to be pulled off him."

  Issa nodded. "We can continue with the operation," he said.

  "Don't you want to test me or something?"

  He shook his head. "That's unnecessary. I'll invite Jimmy back in." He stood and we continued. Everything was the same as the other two times I'd donated. We signed paperwork. The operation was explained to me. Needles in my hips, extraction of bone marrow, etc. I wouldn't be awake for any of it. 100, 99, 98, 97, and I was gone.

  ****

  I came out of the darkness slowly, like I was deep in a crevice in the earth but could see a slit of light above me. Floating up toward it, I felt a sense of peace. I blinked at the bright light and saw a figure standing over me. My mouth felt dry and I swallowed, though it seemed more difficult than it needed to be. I blinked again and the face above me came into focus and then blurred.

  But the hair, the red golden hair was so familiar. "Megan?" I said, straining to open my eyes. When I did there was nothing but fluorescent tubes of light above me. Struggling with a woozy head and weak arms I pushed myself into a sitting position. I was in a long hallway, my gurney pushed off to the side. A doctor and nurse I didn't recognize walked by, their heads down, conferring with each other.

  I looked down the hall and thought I saw her hair, its effervescent red bouncing through a door at the end of the hall. "Megan," I tried to yell but only a croak came out. Pulling the thin blankets off me, I swung my legs to the side of the gurney and lowered my feet to the floor. It was laminated, and cold against my bare toes. "Megan," I said again, using the gurney to push myself into a standing position.

  "Darling, you shouldn't be up," I heard behind me but I stepped toward the door. My legs were soft and unsure; I stumbled a step forward and clutched onto the gurney to keep from falling. A hand touched my shoulder and I wheeled around, flailing out at the person trying to stop me. It was Dr. Tor. He took a step back to avoid my attempted blow. His hands up, he said, "Darling, you need to lie back down."

  My vision darkened at the edges, keeping the doctor at the center of a pinpoint. I turned again toward the door I'd seen Megan go through and stepped toward it, determination strong in my gut. I felt a tug on my arm and looked down to see the needle in my IV straining to break loose. I ripped it out, a small spurt of blood followed.

  "Darling." It was the doctor again; he was in front of me. "You need to lie down." I tried to push past him but ended up just kind of falling onto him. He held me up, his arms around my waist; I could feel his fingers on my naked back.

  "No," I said. It came out hoarse and low, barely a protest. But I pushed back at him.

  "Darling, please," he said, his voice close to me, his breath touching my cheek.

  I wrenched free, falling backwards, landing on my hip. The cold floor felt almost like it was wet against my bare skin. Suddenly a nurse was by my side. "Darling, what are you doing?" she asked, crouching next to me.

  "Megan," I said.

  Her face fell into a deep frown that conveyed sympathy and disappointment, all in one sad expression. "Megan's gone, sweetheart. I'm sorry, but she's not coming back."

  The edges of my vision darkened again, slowly closing on the nurse's lips, bare and honest. "No," I whispered before the darkness enveloped my vision.

  ****

  When I woke again the sun was slanting through a wi
ndow to my left, covering my body in a warm glow. I was in a real bed this time, a blanket and sheet tucked around me. The IV was gone. The TV in the upper left corner of the room was on.

  "You're awake," a voice said. I turned right to find I had a roommate: an older white guy, his mustache yellow, an oxygen feeder resting on it. He wore the same sort of gown as I did. It was loose around his shoulders, so that I could see gray hairs sprouting from his chest and back, reaching toward his face.

  "Yes," I said, my voice cracked. I swallowed, feeling the saliva travel down my dry esophagus. Turning to my side table, I saw the ubiquitous yellow cup with its straw. I reached out and took the cup in my fingers. The movement made me realize how much my body ached. Then the memory of falling in the hallway came flashing back to me. Embarrassment chased on the memory's heels. I sipped at the water, realizing what a fool I'd made of myself. That had never happened to me. I'd always woken up feeling totally fine. What was different this time? I felt a shiver as I remember with vivid detail Megan leaning over me. A hallucination? I wondered. Or a reason to hope?

  "Can you believe this?" the man said, pointing at the TV. I looked up to see the news playing. "That guy who survived the crazy druggie attack. He got killed right here in this hospital."

  "He did?" I said.

  "Yeah, aren't you listening to me? Someone stabbed him through the eye," he said.

  "Oh," I said.

  "Don't you realize what this means?" he said, leaning toward me, the oxygen tube straining against his upper lip. "It's starting."

  "What?" I asked.

  "Alright, that's enough of that, Mr. Combers," a nurse said as she walked through the door.

  He looked over at her. "You're on the front lines," he told her. "I'll probably be gone by the time it really begins."

  "What begins?" I asked.

  But the nurse pulled the curtain between our beds. "Don't be listening to him, Darling."

  "The end," he yelled through the curtain. "The end is coming!"

  "Alright, Mr. Combers," she said, placing her fists on her ample hips. "That's enough out of you."

  A half-hearted grumble was the only response. She turned her attention to me and smiled. "How are you feeling?" she asked.

  "Sore," I said with a smile. "And embarrassed."

  She waved a hand at me. "Oh, sweetheart, don't worry about it. Everyone is affected differently."

  "I've never been affected that way before," I said. While I knew in the logical part of my brain it was impossible for Megan to be bending over me, her hair rich and lush like before she got sick, in my heart I wanted to believe, wanted to have proof she was not really gone. Maybe it wasn't a hallucination. Maybe none of them were.

  "Things change," the nurse said. "Dr. Tor wants to keep you overnight." She picked up the blood pressure cuff next to my bed and reached for me. I let her take my arm and wrap the sleeve around it.

  I shook my head. "No, I'm going home," I said.

  "You'll have to sign out against doctor's orders," she said, pumping the cuff with one hand while she put her stethoscope into her ears with the other.

  "I'm fine with that," I said. She listened to my heart and looked at her watch. I waited until she released the pressure on the cuff. "Where are my clothes?" I asked. She sighed but gave them to me. I dressed quickly and checked myself out. Rushing onto the elevator, I felt a swell of relief that I'd gotten out of there.

  <<<<>>>>

  "Why were you so happy to have left?"

  "Well," Darling smiled. "I'd made a real ass of myself, hadn't I?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "Calling out my dead best friend's name. Imagining her."

  "You thought it was a hallucination?”

  "I didn't know. But I couldn't stay there. I had to get out of there."

  <<<<>>>>

  CHAPTER NINE

  I had serious trouble sleeping that night. It seemed I was at war with my sheets. One minute I was burning hot, throwing my blankets to the side, and the next a chill ran through my body and I pulled all my coverings back over my body, up to my neck, sometimes even dipping my head under the folds.

  Dreams came to me as whispers; not sure if I was awake or asleep, I heard Megan's voice saying my name in her singsong voice. It was the way she'd wake me after staying up all night writing, creeping into my room, planning on roping me into her arrangement. I felt her hand on my shoulder. "Come on," she said and laughed, a tinkling sound that made me smile.

  "Just five more minutes," I mumbled, my lips hardly parting, my eyes keeping closed, nothing but darkness across my vision.

  "Be careful," she said, and I felt her breath right on my ear. My eyes popped open and I flipped over expecting to see her sitting there, but I was alone. The window was open, the curtains shuffling in the breeze.

  I crossed the room and looked out onto the back courtyard. It was early, the sun just peeking over the buildings, casting a gray pink on the empty space below. I heard a rattle and then a cat bolted into the middle of the courtyard. The feline's back was arched, its teeth barred at an unseen opponent. I waited but nothing else happened. The cat eventually stalked off, its fur slowly unfurling as it disappeared into a shadow.

  I climbed back into bed, pulling the covers up to my chin. I fell back into a fitful sleep. Finally I got out of bed around noon, realizing that sleep was over; there was no making up for the restlessness of my night.

  I went out to my balcony and stood looking down at the street. Two musicians played on the corner. The notes from their string instruments blended with their voices. People walked in pairs and small groups. Laughter and bright conversation interplayed with the song.

  Over the course of Megan's illness I'd become hyper aware of my cellphone, knowing that a call could come from the hospital at any moment. So when I heard the phone vibrating where I'd left it with my keys, I hurried inside to answer it.

  "Darling Price?"

  "Yes."

  "This is Dr. Issa Tor."

  "Hi, Doctor," I said, my mind racing back to the last moment I'd seen him, when I was half-naked on the floor. "How are you?"

  "I'm fine," he said. "I was calling to check on you."

  "I'm good," I said, brightening my voice so that he would believe me.

  "That's good. No swelling, flu-like symptoms? You're sleeping okay? Eating?"

  "I'm fine," I said. "How is the patient?"

  "She's doing great," he said, his voice soft. "I think you saved her life."

  I felt tears well in my eyes and a lump form in my throat. "No, Doctor, you saved her, I just provided the raw materials."

  "Without 'raw materials' like yours I'd be lost." I couldn't help but laugh, a small hiccup. "Do you have anyone looking after you?"

  I looked around my empty living room. "Yes," I lied.

  "The guy who dropped you off?" he asked.

  "What?" I asked, feeling suspicious.

  "I saw you get dropped off," Issa said, "by your... boyfriend?"

  "No, he is my bandmate." I said it for myself as much as for Issa, so I'd remember that the next time I thought about Emmanuel's heartbeat vibrating through my entire body.

  "Oh." Issa sounded disappointed. "So who is looking after you?"

  "Someone else," I said.

  "Okay," he said, his tone unsure. "How did you sleep?"

  "I'm fine," I said again.

  "Please, Darling."

  The word please surprised me. All the doctors we'd dealt with, and I couldn't remember any of them saying please. Especially not like that. "Please what?" I asked.

  I could hear him breathing. "I'd like to come check on you. Would that be okay?"

  "You want to come to my house?"

  "I don't think you slept well last night. I think your body is hurting. I think that you're in need of..." His voice faded for a moment but then he continued. "I want to come to your house. There is something that can help. Please."

  It was the "please" that got me. "Okay," I said, a
nd gave him the address.

  He arrived thirty minutes later. His knock was quiet but firm. I'd gradually felt weaker and weaker since getting off the phone with him. When I checked the peephole and saw him standing there holding a brown paper bag, I was worried I might collapse. The smell of Chinese food wafted in when I opened the door. Issa held up the bag. "Wonton soup," he said.

  I felt lightheaded. The door was the only thing holding me up. "Come in," I said, my voice sounding weak and soft.

  Issa stepped into the hall and passed me. I went to close the door and fell with it, stumbling forward. Issa's hand shot out and held my elbow, keeping me from falling down. "Thank you,." I tried to get my feet under me. "I'm fine," I said even as the edges of my vision darkened. I began to slide down the closed door. I heard the paper bag thunk onto the floor. Issa's hands pulled me up, wrapping me in an embrace. His face was right above mine. His eyes were piercing and sharp, looking at me hard. I felt so hungry I could die.

  He picked me up, slipping one of his arms under my knees and cradling my shoulders with the other. I didn't have the strength to hold on. My head lolled back, bouncing with his movements. When he lowered me onto the couch I blinked, my lids too heavy to hold open.

  "Darling, can you hear me?" he asked. My eyes slid shut. I felt his palm cradle my cheek, his long fingers dip into the hair at the nape of my neck.

  I blacked out.

  Energy rushed in with one long breath and radiated in my chest like a heartbeat. Thump, thump, thump, it pushed out into my limbs, tingling at the very tips of every digit.

  My eyes sprung open. Dr. Tor was right there. Startled, I sat up quickly and my lips crashed into his. Then I was grabbing onto the hair at the back of his head and forcing my tongue into his mouth. Wet and hot and needy, the link between us radiated. I recognized this feeling. This great burst of life exploding inside of me, draining out of him. This was how I killed my stepfather. This was a hallucination.

  I felt's Issa's hands on my shoulders, trying to push me back onto the couch. His tongue entwined with mine, he fought me. I collapsed back, my chest heaving, body tingling. Issa fell back, dropping onto the coffee table. He stood up quickly, wobbled slightly, then took two steps away from me. "Holy shit," he said. "I'm sorry."