“Alright, Aurora, up and at ’em.”
The possibility of a car waiting outside made me wince. “Where am I going?”
“Not far…next door.”
“What’s next door?”
“The treadmill. It’s time to start physical therapy.”
I waited for him to laugh and say he was joking; he really needed to take my blood pressure and check my vitals. But he frowned when I didn’t leap out of bed and do something peppy, like a hundred jumping jacks.
“Um, I just woke up from a coma yesterday, and it sounds like I had some pretty major surgery.”
If there was ever a reason to get out of physical anything, surviving a head on collision should rank top.
“Yes, but you have special blood.”
I was starting to think it was mutant blood the way everyone talked about it in this place.
Physical therapy guy nodded at a neatly folded stack of clothing on the chair beside my bed. “I’ll wait in the hall while you get dressed. You have five minutes.”
Five minutes, I grumbled after he left. I was no doctor, but this wasn’t how you treated trauma patients. I peeled the sheet aside and took a tentative first step onto the cold linoleum floor. My hand gripped the mattress in case I was unable to hold up my own weight, but I felt sturdy once I got the second foot down.
After removing the hospital gown, I glimpsed a first look at my body. A line of stitches zipped up my chest over a four-inch scar. Nice. At least nothing was crushed beyond repair. My legs and arms weren’t even bruised. That only left my face.
I put on the gray sweatpants and army green T-shirt then entered the room’s corner bathroom. My fingers trembled over the light switch. Deep breath. I flicked it on.
All that anticipation just to end up face to face with…a blank wall. Seriously? Why not install a sink without a faucet while they were at it? Or maybe my face was so disfigured they’d removed the mirror altogether.
I refused to believe it. Mom would have shown signs of distress when she kissed my forehead.
Pound,pound,pound. My therapist wasn’t kidding about the five minutes.
“Time’s up, Aurora.”
At the end of the week, Melcher walked into my room with a woman who looked to be, like him, in her early thirties.
“Aurora, this is my partner, Agent Crist.”
Crist nodded curtly. She wore a frown as tight as the pony tail at the nape of her neck. In their matching suits, she and Melcher looked like missionaries.
They walked over to where I sat in the room’s only chair and stood on either side of me, forcing my eyes to ping pong between them.
“How’s therapy going?” Melcher asked.
I glared at him. “Is that what you call this, ’cause I feel like I’m training for a marathon?”
Usually I liked making people laugh. Not so with Melcher. His chuckle grated on my nerves. Agent Crist pursed her lips.
“We needed to make sure you were fully functional,” Melcher said.
“I’d say walking eight miles a day is functional enough.” I could have been half way home that very morning. Then there was the running my therapist threw in at the end of our sessions: one mile the first few days and now he had me pounding out two.
They should call this shock therapy.
“Well, I have good news. We’re releasing you…for now. But before you go, Agent Crist and I would like to go over the terms of your revival.”
I eyed Melcher suspiciously.
“You have been saved for a specific purpose—a chance to serve not only your country, but mankind.”
I don’t think so. The air force or military or whoever the agents represented must be desperate if they had to abduct teenage girls from accident scenes by way of recruitment.
Melcher gestured with his right hand as he spoke. “As I mentioned, you have a very special blood type and this blood, when injected with the right combination of modified organisms and viruses, makes you a deadly and powerful force against the demonic beings that plague this earth.”
Maybe I should have focused on the demonic beings part, but when my lips flew open I could only think of one thing. “You injected me with a virus!”
Melcher leaned in closer. “You have nothing to fear, Aurora. The virus won’t harm you so long as you take your monthly injection.”
“Monthly injection! Like a shot? For how long?” When Melcher didn’t answer a horrifying thought occurred to me. “For the rest of my life?”
“It’s not that bad, we’ve already administered your first dose,” Crist said.
I kept my eyes on Melcher. Something told me he was the one running the show. “Not that bad?” I repeated. “Why infect me with a virus in the first place?”
Melcher listened with patience. I was beginning to wonder if he ever frowned or if he was like one of those scary clown dolls with a perpetual smile stretched across its face.
“Think of it as a vaccination. Like a flu shot.” Melcher formed a steeple with his fingers. “As a field agent you will come into contact with all kinds of infected individuals. We do this for your own protection.”
“What do you mean field agent?”
“We’ll go over that during orientation.” Melcher stepped forward. Suddenly he was looming over me. “Do not doubt, Aurora, that evil is among us. It threatens our way of life. Candidates such as you are instrumental in keeping not only our country safe, but humanity itself. This is an opportunity to serve the greater good.” Melcher turned to Crist. “Have I left anything out?”
“Yes,” Crist said. Her eyes zeroed in on me. “You have no choice.”
Melcher cleared his throat. “What Agent Crist means to say is that your mother, as your legal guardian, has signed your rights over to us. We have saved your life and you, in turn, will save the lives of hundreds.” Melcher stepped closer. “You were an extremely expensive investment, Aurora. A new heart, kidney, and lungs—I think that was a record, don’t you, Agent Crist? If we’d had to replace any more organs we may’ve had our very first Frankenstein on the team.”
I resisted the urge to itch the stitches under my shirt.
Crist still had me in her glare. “Most girls in your shoes would have ended up as organ donors rather than receivers,” she said.
“That’s right,” Melcher said. “Still had a healthy spleen and liver up for grabs.” Again that smile. “Do you have any questions so far?”
I stood up. “Just one. When is my mom picking me up?”
Melcher and Crist shared a look.
“She’s in shock,” Crist said.
“She’ll come around.” Melcher turned to me. “Your mother will be here in an hour.”
My face relaxed. Fine, I’d get in a car one last time. Just to get out of there.
“We’ll see you again soon,” Melcher said, before he and Crist left the room.
Not if I could help it.
3
Team Fane
The face in the mirror had no eyes or lips. She was blurry, distorted. Every time I tried to look at her I had to look away. It was better not to tell Mom I was hallucinating. She was worried enough.
Maybe I was sick. Viruses. Melcher had used the plural.
Why would the agents save my life then make me sick?
Why would the agents save me at all?
I didn’t feel sick. I didn’t feel anything.
“Aurora!” Mom called from downstairs. “You’re going to miss the bus if you don’t leave soon.”
I took each stair carefully. Didn’t want to risk re-breaking any bones. It hardly seemed possible that they had healed so quickly to begin with. Rather than tell me to relax and take it easy, my doctor had told me to get plenty of exercise.
My foot hit the tiled entryway.
“Are you sure I can’t give you a ride to school?” Mom asked. “I’d like to.”
“I’d rather take the bus.”
“Can I pick you up?”
“No.”
<
br /> I zipped my backpack closed. She grabbed a white quilted parka from the closet and held it up, waiting for me to slip it on.
I stared at it. “Whose coat is that?”
“I got it for you. Don’t you like it?”
I liked my bomber jacket better, but it hadn’t made it through the wreck.
I slipped my arms into the coat sleeves without comment and pulled on my winter boots. Mom lifted the hood over my head as I moved to the front door.
“Have a good day. Call me if you decide you want a ride home.”
I nodded and walked into the fresh air, for once welcoming the cold prickle across my face. I’d been indoors for weeks. A dusting of snow covered the neighbors’ roofs and lawns. The driveways were clear. I averted my eyes when passing the empty spot next to the garage where my car should have been parked.
The lowerclassman waiting at the bottom of the hill glanced at me when I came to a stop several paces away from the cluster they’d formed.
I felt like I’d stumbled backwards in time to a bygone era—one in which I waited at the end of the street for the school bus.
Early morning commuters chugged past in their cars. The yellow bus came along eventually, its chains rattling around the rotating tires, and ground to a halt. I let everyone else board before I climbed the stairs.
I took one step down the aisle and stopped. The smell overwhelmed me: hairspray and perfume, BO and foul breath, all intertwined—thirty-eight bodies crammed inside a tin can. My head spun. I grabbed hold of a seatback to steady myself.
I resisted the urge to back up and climb back down the stairs. But I’d had enough of wasting away in square rooms. I slid into the first available spot and stared out the window. At least the movement didn’t bother me. I felt like I was in a submarine gliding smoothly through a current.
Denise waited until I walked all the way up to our lockers to give me a hug. “Welcome back! I wanted to visit you in the hospital, but your mom said they were only allowing family members. How are you feeling?”
“Fine.”
The halls were filled with chatter—the volume much too loud. I winced as a locker slammed shut beside me.
“Well, you look great,” Denise told me, head in her locker as she spoke.
“Thanks.”
Students stared at me and whispered quickly as they passed our lockers.
AJ, Denali High’s ultimate player, strode over. His sneakers squeaked when he stopped in front of us. He looked me up and down. “Hey, Aurora, I heard you were in a coma.”
“Leave her alone!” Denise snapped.
“Just askin’,” AJ said with a shrug before moving on.
“I’m sure the last thing you want to do is talk about it,” Denise said.
Her meaning was clear. Denise didn’t want to hear a word about the accident.
I didn’t want to talk about it anyway.
Denise pulled a three ringed binder out of her locker and stuffed it inside her backpack. “I’m so glad you’re all right. Can I help you with anything?”
“I’m fine…thanks,” I repeated.
“Okay. See you in math.”
Yeah, okay.
At least now I had an excuse to get out of gym. Even better, Scott Stevens spoke more than two words to me.
That afternoon, “Hi, Aurora,” was followed by, “Nice to have you back.”
My own friend had failed to say those words. I liked hearing it from Scott better anyway. It came with a smile.
Volleyball had been replaced by badminton while I was gone. Mr. Mooney let me get away with sitting out class the first two days, but by the third he decided to diagnose me as fit for participation.
“Sky, ready to jump back in?”
I paused on my way to the bleachers. “I’m not dressed.”
Besides, everyone was already paired up.
“Fane!” Mr. Mooney called. “Get out here. You can be Aurora’s partner.”
I tried not to flinch or show signs of distress. My last memory of Fane involved his tongue tracing his upper lip.
Fane stood up and gave Mr. Mooney a glare so dark it sent a shiver down my spine. It was the first real sensation I’d experienced since the accident. When his eyes moved to me I momentarily forgot to breathe.
Fane held my gaze a moment longer then slipped out of his leather jacket. I watched, transfixed. This was history in the making. Fane Donado taking off his coat.
All of his imperfections breezed out the door as soon as I got my first look at the six-pack straining against his cotton tee. My eyes must have been playing tricks on me. For a guy with such a slender build, Fane was surprisingly muscled.
Fane took deliberate steps down the aisle of the bench, straight to the edge. He jumped from the bleachers, causing them to rock in his wake.
I swear I felt a ‘thud’ inside the pit of my stomach when he landed.
Mr. Mooney nodded at Fane. “You two are playing Clayton and Tyler.”
Fane walked past me and took two rackets off the floor. He handed me one. I took it from his outstretched hand then followed several steps behind.
Part of me was relieved he didn’t say anything. All I could think about was the obscene gesture he’d made right before my world turned up-side-down. I hardly noticed the hair now. I was too distracted by his lips. And now his abs. Luckily, I wouldn’t have to look at either while we played side by side.
At the far court, Clayton and Tyler bounced birdies up and down on the strings of their rackets.
Clayton nudged Tyler as we approached. “Oh great. Goth boy and zombie girl. This should be fun.”
I took my place beside Fane. He held his racket loose and lazy. I barely held mine at all. Clayton pelted the birdie at me. I tried to shield my face and ended up dropping my racket.
“Oh, come on!” Clayton shouted.
I picked up the birdie and threw it over the net.
Clayton served the birdie to Fane, who smacked it over the net with the flick of a wrist. Tyler launched the birdie at me. It hit me on the shoulder, but I swung anyway as it bounced to the floor.
“Hello? Earth to Aurora,” Tyler called across the net.
“I think she’s still in a coma,” Clayton said.
“That’s game,” Tyler said. “Your serve.”
I picked up the birdie and handed it to Fane. It’s a good thing it wasn’t a real bird. Fane crushed it in his hand. Only for a moment. Only I saw. He relaxed and looked across the net. I felt that odd shiver return.
Fane smacked the birdie as though it were a fly. He walloped it right between Tyler and Clayton so fast neither boy had time to react. When they did manage a return hit, Fane gracefully flicked away any stray birds that came at me. I watched in fascination, fully engaged for the first time since the accident.
The boys tried to hit the birdie back. Fane had them racing across every corner of their court. By the end of the period they were out of breath. They took off without a backwards glance when Mr. Mooney blew his whistle signaling the end of gym.
As I walked past Fane I felt a twitch. Not my own. I felt the twitch of his hand wanting to stop me.
“Hey, you. Are you okay?”
If I had my full range of emotions left I’d laugh. He didn’t even know my name—that or it wasn’t worth saying.
He studied me carefully. “I’ve seen that look before.”
Now I was curious.
Valerie jumped down from the bleachers. “Fane!”
He didn’t pay attention to her. I held my breath waiting for him to tell me what he saw.
Valerie sashayed her way over to Fane. She held out his jacket. “I’m ready to blow this joint. Let’s get a bite.”
Her last words grabbed his attention, and he forgot me completely. Valerie looped her arm around Fane’s and they walked toward the double doors. I was right behind them, silent as a ghost. When I reached the hall entrance leading to the locker rooms I stopped. I saw his head start to turn. I knew he was going to look
back, but by the time he did I’d be gone.
I heard the Christmas music and smelled molasses before I walked through the door. “Jingle Bells” jangled inside my ears the moment I crossed the threshold. Mom was in the kitchen amidst trays of cut-out cookies. She bit into a gingerbread man as I walked in. She turned, crumbs falling from her mouth, swallowed, and smiled.
“I was feeling festive today,” she said.
I glanced at the dining room table, where she’d set out plates of sugar cookies shaped like angels and stars; bowls of colored frosting and bottles of sprinkles.
I knew why. Tomorrow Dad returned.
Mom asked me not to say anything about the agents. Not that I had much information to relay since she’d managed to avoid the topic since bringing me home. Dad only knew about the accident, that I was fine, and the car totaled.
I understood Mom’s concern. After their last argument we were lucky to have him home for the holidays at all.
Mom grinned. “That’s not all. Look what we’ve got in the living room.”
I followed her into the adjoining room. The branches of a fir tree nearly touched the ceiling. I could barely pick up its scent through the sugared cloud wafting from room to room.
“Do you like the tree?” Mom asked. “It was the best one on the lot.”
Meaning most symmetrical, I supposed. There were plastic totes lined beside the tree, lids pulled off and stacked against the sofa.
“Go on,” Mom coaxed. “Why don’t you put up the first ornament?”
I looked inside the tote. Because my mom was waiting, I grabbed the first decoration that touched my fingers.
The phone rang. While my mom answered I dangled a glittery star from my finger.
She returned to the living room with the phone pressed against her chest. “Aurora, it’s Agent Melcher calling to see how you’re doing.”
I continued staring at the star. “I don’t want to talk to him.”
Mom hesitated before returning the phone to her ear. “She’s doing better. Yes, school’s going fine. Her friends are, of course, happy to have her back—as are her teachers.”
Aurora Sky: Vampire Hunter Page 2