by Vivien Reis
"My head hurts again."
She was quiet for a moment, and then spoke with a softness Ben wasn't used to hearing from her. "Maybe you should go talk to someone. A psychologist or something."
"Yeah." In a town as small as theirs, there was only one psychologist—Dr. Brandon's brother—and he didn't want to tell him all of his problems.
"I just feel like you need to get some things off your chest."
She was closer to the truth than she knew. The guilt over his mother's condition, the confusion about her involvement in his father's attack, the grief of his father being brain-dead and the helplessness about his sister was like a wall of bricks piling high on his chest.
The bell rang and Cora left after giving his arm a small squeeze.
Gym class was next and he was relieved when the coach announced they’d be watching a video about nutrition. He wouldn't have to worry about finding something to do for an hour that didn't aggravate his head. Mr. Husfelt wheeled out a cart with a large TV, an extension cord trailing behind it.
The lights dimmed and the entire class spread out on the bleachers, hollowed footsteps echoing through the gym. Ben sat all the way at the top, leaning against the wall.
From his vantage point, he could see a couple students dim their phone screens all the way so they could play a game. Their lives were so simple compared to his. None of them had a dying parent. None of them had a mom wanted for murder. He would do anything for the high school problems he thought he’d had two weeks ago.
The low lights helped with his head, but the brightness of the TV sent a shock of pain through his skull.
He closed his eyes, trying to imagine the sounds of Mr. Flynn's video, slowing his breathing. The meditation had been working. Hadn't it? It had been two days since any symptom of a headache. Was that all in his head too?
Small hairs on his neck and arms stood up straight and a chill passed over him. He jerked his head, sure that someone had breathed behind him, but there was no one there. He tried to rub the sensation out of his neck.
His quick movement made several classmates turn his way. Their eyes were too large, filled all around with black, their faces sunken. He scrambled away, tripping sideways on the bleachers before righting himself.
Their faces returned to normal. He blinked hard. They were staring at him with bewilderment.
No, not just them. The entire class was watching him now. His face burned red and he couldn't think of anything else to do. He grabbed his bag and left, fighting the urge to sprint out of the room.
The PE teacher didn't even bother to stop him. He went straight to the parking lot and got into his truck, his head erupting with every pound of his heart.
Breathe. His hands shook violently, the pain in his head magnifying his anxiety, building and growing. He needed to calm down.
Mr. Flynn’s video was still open on his phone and he played it again, closing his eyes as he tried to focus on the sounds, the waves.
It ended quickly, but the tremor in his hands had subsided. When he opened his eyes again, Avery was standing directly in front of his truck.
Ben didn't want to see anyone right then, let alone talk to someone. But the boy slowly walked around to the passenger door and opened it.
"Decided to skip after all?"
He didn't have the energy to respond, so he gave one small shake of his head.
"Come on, I want to show you something."
"No." Ben's voice was quiet, small.
"It'll make you feel better," he singsonged.
"Look, man. I'm tired. I don't feel well so just leave me alone."
The cold draft coming from the open door sent a shiver over Ben that he hoped the boy didn't see.
"Come on. Two minutes."
Ben finally turned to face him and then a different sensation washed over him. His head cleared slightly, the pain yielding. He subconsciously touched his temple, thinking he was imagining the diminished pain, worried it would come back with a vengeance.
"It looks like you could use a distraction."
Could it be that simple? Maybe he just needed something to take his mind off of...his mind.
"I'm not making any sense," he whispered under his breath. But Avery didn't hear. The boy was walking around to the driver-side door. It creaked open, loud and rusty, and Avery waited.
Ben's body moved for him. He got out of the truck and followed Avery to the woods, wondering how far they would be walking.
He didn't know who this boy was and watched him warily. What if he was taking Ben out there so they’d be alone together? What if Avery knew the people that had attacked his dad and kidnapped his sister? It was far-reaching, he knew, but a lot of far-reaching things had happened lately.
As far as Ben knew, he was the only one left in his immediate family. Maybe being the only survivor wasn't something he wanted anymore.
“Of course it is,” a voice somewhere deep in his mind rang.
They walked in silence, deeper and deeper into the woods, the cold biting at Ben's fingers even through his jacket pockets. He wasn't sure if it was the cold or the fresh air that helped, but the pain behind his eyes hadn’t returned.
The path narrowed, seeming to disappear altogether. Since they were heading away from the mountain, the landscape had flattened, nothing but browned leaves on the forest floor and skinny trees and underbrush as far as he could see.
Finally, Avery stopped in the middle of the trail and Ben stepped around him to see what he was staring at.
A deer lay in the path, wheezing for air. Green fluid seeped from a wound in its belly, a mass of maggots squirming over one another to get closer to the rot. Ben's hand went to his nose even though he couldn't smell it from the distance.
"What happened to it?" Ben asked.
When he stole his eyes away from the deer, Avery wore an odd expression. He was studying it like a photographer would a lion attacking a gazelle. With no emotion.
"Looks like someone shot it. The wound got infected."
Ben knew as much—he wasn't sure why he asked at all.
"What should we do?" The wind changed and the pungent smell reached Ben.
"She's beautiful, isn't she?"
All Ben could see was the festering wound. She didn't look beautiful at all. "She's suffering."
Each wheeze from the creature made Ben's stomach turn over anew.
"But she's fighting. As bad as she is, she hasn't given up. Look." He pointed to the nearby brush, which the deer had crushed down from her struggle to keep moving. "This is life right here. All of us, struggling just to live another day, another minute. There's something so pure about it."
Ben took another long look at the deer. Its eyes were wide with fear. "We should do something."
The boy stood transfixed until Ben almost repeated himself.
"Yes." Something glinted in the light. A hunting knife. Avery held it loosely in his hand, standing so still he looked like he wasn’t breathing.
Ben took a step back, fear closing his throat. Had he brought that thing to school? Had he planned on using it today? It was about eight inches long. Nearly the same length as the weapon...someone...had used on his father.
But the boy didn't notice. He strode up to the animal, her limbs twitching in an attempt to get away.
Without pause, he plunged the knife into her throat.
Dark red, almost-black fluid pooled around the blade. It slid easily from the animal’s neck, blood rushing from the deer. Ben reached up, holding his own neck, watching the blood spill from the animal but feeling it between his fingertips, rushing down his chest. It slowed into a pulse and then even more into a trickle.
Just like his father had bled.
The deer's twitching limbs stilled and the muscles around her eyes relaxed.
Avery stood over it, the pool of blood spreading to kill his boots.
Ben was simultaneously sick and overcome with something he had never felt before. He watched the life drain out of the
deer's neck, out of its eyes.
“Power,” the voice told him. He shoved the feeling down, hating his mind for even thinking that, and then he bolted, the image of the deer staying with him no matter how fast he ran
Before he knew it, he was riding in his truck, not remembering even getting in it.
A horn blared. He swerved back into his lane. The overcast afternoon light seemed too bright. The right side of his brain ached, deep, deep down in his skull.
He took a huge breath and appeared in front of Gran's house on his hands and knees, panting like he had just run miles. Pain blossomed behind his eyes and through the back of his brain.
The doorknob twisted in his hand and he stumbled inside, looking back to see his truck door was still open. When had he gotten out of it?
"Ben?" Gran's blurry outline materialized in front of him.
"Medddic—" The word lodged in his throat like a dry cotton ball, suffocating him. His legs buckled and then Gran was jerking him up to a sitting position.
"Open your mouth."
The order was muffled, but he did it, and then two pills were on his tongue. Something wet, water, touched his lips, and he choked down the tiny pills.
"We're going to the doctor. Come on." Gran's bony hands tugged under his arms, guiding him back up.
She led him toward the door and suddenly they were in the car, already driving. Ben's right temple exploded into a burst that lit up his right eye. A lightning bolt had struck his brain, searing through his neck and down his spine.
The shaking started with his hands and feet and spread over him until all he could see was red.
Crimson.
Scarlet.
“Blood.”
# TWENTY-FOUR
"Please, come in."
Ravi had barely stepped inside before Mrs. Cole closed the door. Her mind seemed elsewhere. The smell of an old home and warm blueberries hit his nose.
"Ben's sleeping in the back room."
She wasn't whispering, and he picked up on the implied note in her statement—Ben had another bad headache and had taken the heavy dose of medicine that seemed to knock him out.
As a temporary patch, it might have been best, but not for the long-term. The longer the medicine delayed Ben's transition, the harsher the reaction his body would undergo. Ben was smack in the middle of the Turning Point, where his body would accept or reject the change. It was up to Ravi to ensure Ben made it safely to the next stage.
"Thank you so much for stopping by. I'm glad you called." She strode toward the kitchen and Ravi hung his jacket on the back of a dining room chair. Her home was cozy, shelves stacked high with cookbooks and glass cases filled with collectible figurines.
"Of course, Mrs. Cole. You know how much your family means to me."
The lines in her forehead smoothed over. "Can I get you anything? Water? Coffee? I just made scones, too."
"Scone and coffee, please."
He knew from experience it was better to take the offer than refuse, otherwise she would periodically keep offering. He accepted the large triangular pastry and a hot cup of coffee with a smile.
She shuffled back toward the oven and he sat, running his hand over the lace tablecloth.
"How is he?" he asked, as she scooped another scone off the baking tray for herself.
Mrs. Cole huffed and headed to the kitchen table, tucking a leg underneath her as she sat. "Not good. He had a bad episode two days ago. The medicine doesn’t seem to be helping anymore. It just makes him sleep through the pain but doesn't stop the headaches from coming."
Of course not. The medicine was facilitating the transition, but doing so too quickly—Ben’s mind wasn’t able to keep up.
"What did the doctors say?"
The pastry crumbled under her fork but she didn't take a bite. "Nothing helpful. I'm about to take him to a specialist in Hartford. Dr. Brandon is usually so much more helpful but he just keeps running the same scans, as if he expects the results will change. Which are non-existent, by the way. They have no idea what's going on with him."
Ravi could count the times on his right hand that Mrs. Cole had been anything but composed—when her husband had passed away and when Mary had nearly miscarried and lost her own life in the process.
Now her son was brain dead, her daughter-in-law and granddaughter were missing, and her grandson was suffering from serious medical issues. More had happened to this family in the last two weeks than any twenty families should experience in an entire year.
"Have you expressed these feelings to the doctor? Tell him you're going to take Ben to a specialist and I'm sure he'll try something else first. Dr. Brandon is the best doctor we have in Logan's Bluff."
"Being a big fish in a little pond doesn't make you a whale."
He couldn't help a grin spreading across his face. "You're right. I just know how difficult it will be ferrying Ben to appointments in a city that's over an hour away. You're already dealing with a lot right now."
Mrs. Cole's eyes had enough of a shine to them that Ravi wondered if she would cry. She took a deep breath and continued. "The sheriff hasn't had any new information on Abi, either."
"Nothing new at all?"
"Just that these people weren't actually working at the station, like they originally feared. I guess that's good...there's not a mole at the police department, or whatever it is they're called."
"If they weren't there then how did they redirect Abi's call?"
"Some business about hackers and mirrored devices. To be quite honest, I have no idea. There’s been a few anonymous calls that didn’t amount to anything, and since they’re not sure there’s foul play involved, they weren’t able to issue an amber alert. Ridiculous. But that's all they've figured out in the week she's been gone."
"How's Ben handling it?" Ravi had wanted to work with Ben’s mind a bit more, and to do that he needed Ben at school, where they could work together under the guise of tutoring. Missing two days of school set them back on helping Ben’s transition.
“I’m not sure he’s handling it at all. I can tell he’s worried he’s on the same path as Mary, but I have no idea what to say to him.”
Because it looks like he is. The words rolled away from her as if she’d spoken them aloud.
Ravi was conflicted. He wanted to comfort her, to tell her that Ben would make it through but he couldn’t. It didn’t look good for Ben. They would keep pushing until the end came—until he made it through or…
He looked up, watching as Mrs. Cole sipped at her coffee, lost in thought. "How have you been?"
Her expression was puzzled and then exasperated. Like she hadn't thought of herself at all. "Holding it together. I think that's all that matters."
Ravi reached out and grabbed her hand, stilling the fork that was pulverizing the poor scone on her plate. "I'm here for you, you know. I'm ready to help out in any way I can."
"Oh, honey, that's really—"
"Any way I can. Grocery shopping, staying with Ben so you can take a minute, driving him to any appointments. I'm here."
She was softening at the idea of it and a pulse of success spread over him.
"I guess it would help a lot if you could watch him in the evenings. I've been wanting to talk to the sheriff and a private investigator recently but I don't want to include Ben in any of that."
Ravi felt a fire at the mention of a private investigator. Did she really not have any faith in their police department? He thought of the sheriff, Jeremy, and how hard he must be working. Nothing like this ever happened in Logan's Bluff. The majority of his workload revolved around Mrs. Cole and her family now.
Even though Ravi had his own suspicions about what happened with Mary and Abi, he wanted to make sure that Mrs. Cole wasn't asking the wrong questions. Secrecy wasn't optional, and the King's Army was making enough of a public scene lately as it was.
"Just say the word and I can be here."
They agreed on two days later, a Tuesday, when Ben would alrea
dy be staying with Ravi in the afternoon.
"I think I'll drop him off in the morning, so you can give him a ride home, if that's all right. That way you can stay here a while longer. And anyway, the doctor suggested Ben not drive by himself, but I can’t bring myself to take his keys away.."
It was no matter to Ravi, he agreed without protest.
He needed more time with Ben now, and this seemed the best way to do it. Ravi left Mrs. Cole's house with a swelling of accomplishment in his belly.
The intensity of Ben's sessions was about to increase.
# TWENTY-FIVE
Soft. Like clouds up in a bright blue sky. Something comforting pressed down gently on her, like her favorite blanket as a child.
Birds squawked somewhere in the distance, birds she had only ever heard on TV. Seagulls. She could imagine their white bodies and gray wings flying high above the ocean waves, almost sense the rustling of their wings against her skin.
Her skin.
Awareness came back to her in a slow sweep, spreading gently over her body.
The wave brought pain. It wasn't unbearable. It was almost nice. The pain told her she was still alive.
But then it grew. Muscle fibers felt strewn with pieces of glass, and her chest ached as it rose and fell with each breath. She opened her eyes.
White was the first thing she saw. Her eye muscles screamed and she squinted, groaning. White fabric was suspended above her—a canopy on a bed.
Her body weighed too much, and turning her head was like moving mountains. To her right was a wall of open windows filled with a blue sky. The salty ocean breeze wafted in, rustling the fabric above her.
She turned her head slowly, slowly, and looked left.
Someone was watching her.
Abi's eyes widened and her body tensed, making her gasp in pain despite the fear.
"It's okay," the girl hurried to say. "My name's Myra, remember?"
Abi stared at her. She did remember. It felt like years ago since they had met. But what was she doing here? Where was here?
"You probably have a thousand questions, but let me start with the basics." Her smile was warm, comforting. "You've been asleep for a little over thirty-six hours, and you're far from any of the people that did this to you." Her expression became serious, and Abi felt like Myra somehow knew exactly what she had been through. "I just want you to know you're safe here."