Burnout

by Taryn Eason

  I smiled, my face still red. “I'm all yours.”

  He pushed me down onto the bed and began kissing my lips, then my chest, and kept moving down. I sighed and ran my hands through his hair, following him as I bit my lip to restrain myself.

  He came back up, seeing me breathing heavy and staring longingly at my flushed face. “Are you ready?” He whispered, sending chills up my spine.

  “Yeah.” I smiled, my heart about to explode inside my chest.

  My hands explored and felt the muscles of his back tense with every movement, all in perfect sync with me. He was gentle and rough, a perfect gentleman and a womanizer. And he knew how to mesh both sides of himself together all too well.

  He was so perfect.

  Afterwards, he laced his hand with mine and kissed me gently. We lay for a moment, struggling to catch our breaths. Then he turned towards me and smiled sheepishly, breaking the silence, “Is it just me, or is this bed a lot less comfy than it was?”

  The sheets were burned and frayed, with a huge melted dent in the center of the memory foam mattress. “Oops.” I blushed, then I looked at him. There were burned handprints and claw marks appearing all over his back and sides. “Lye, oh my gosh, I'm so sorry.” I said, lightly brushing one of the handprints.

  He looked at the ones on his side with pride. “Don't be sorry for anything. That was the most amazing sex I've ever had. And you know what the best part is?”

  “What?”

  He plucked a burnt crusted piece of foam off of my back. “We’ve got seven more bedrooms to do this to.”

  I laughed and pushed him back down, kissing him some more. I had fallen for him so hard it seemed unreal.

  We got dressed and Lye decided to take me out to the city to eat at the best restaurant in town. Which, of course, he could get us into without a reservation easily. It was formal dress only, so that meant I got to spend the night staring at Lye in a black suit. I wore a red dress with heels and a full face of makeup, which I usually didn’t bother with because nothing burns your eyes worse than melted mascara.

  We took my car, since Lye had traded in his Audi for a matte black Maserati SUV, and I still preferred the intimacy of a two seater.

  About halfway there, we became aware of an vehicle following us.

  “Lye, who is that?”

  “I don't know.” He was tense.

  I tried to see the driver, but it was dark already. They were following us closely. It was obvious that they wanted us to notice them.

  We stopped at a red light. “Shit.” Lye said.

  “What is it?”

  “You see that?”

  I looked in the rear view mirror. The left headlight blinked a bright green for just a moment before turning back to its usual color. “What does that mean?” I asked.

  “It's the Glitch. That’s their sign.”

  I froze. No one from the Press was even alive anymore. Everyone who wanted us dead was gone themselves. It didn't make any sense. “H-how?” I stammered.

  He took his right hand off the steering wheel and held mine fearfully, before the light turned green. “I don't want to question it. We just have to get away before they try something.”

  He gripped my hand with such desperate intensity. In what he didn't say, I knew how afraid he really was. I was fearful too. I was immune to bullets when I was on fire, but this kind of uncertainty unnerved me. I had no idea what they had planned. Would they chase us to some isolated place? Would they rear end us, somehow lock us inside, and trust me not to burn my own car while they killed us? Both of those plans had too many flaws, and flaws were extremely out of character for Pierre. That is, if he's even alive.

  Remembering what happened in Chicago, I calmed myself. They knew I was virtually unbeatable, so they had to be desperate at this point. They were in the middle of a war, plus I had killed their best men. They had no ammo against us. I let go of his hand and placed it back firmly on the wheel, surprising him. “Focus on driving. We can either lose them, or we’ll fight them.” I opened my glove compartment to view the pistol Lye kept there just in case. “We’re not going to live in fear again.”

  He nodded and smirked, my reaction perking him up. He pressed the pedal down, pushing the car into gear underneath the red light. We left the SUV in the dust.

  They took off after us, still far behind. Our hearts pounded wildly. We rushed down the street, weaving through the other cars. When we finally got out of the heavy traffic, we were on a two lane highway headed away from the city. I looked back, relieved that we seemed to have lost them.

  We had just let our guards down, still exhilarated with adrenaline, when we saw a car with one green headlight coming from the other direction. It was a Tahoe, this one with an unusually heavy-duty metal brush guard covering the front bumper. By the time we realized what was happening, they had already weaved into our lane.

  Everything happened in slow motion. The car screamed to a halt and began to flip. The airbags deployed and I threw an arm up to brace myself before I could burn warm enough. We flipped again, glass shards flying all through the cabin as we struggled to save ourselves.

  By the time the dust finally settled, the SUV was gone. It seemed like it was designed only to be used as a battering ram, so it was still able to drive off. I looked over at Lye, my vision failing. He was reaching for my hand, blood all over his face and one eye closed.

  I cooled myself and tried to reach back, but my arm was too badly broken from the air bag. I couldn't heat up fast enough to protect myself fully, and I couldn't do anything for Lye. Glass shards were lodged into him and blood spots were beginning to form on his suit. I wanted to cry, but I couldn't. I couldn't even speak.

  “I-” he struggled. “I love you.”

  His eyes closed and his hand stopped reaching, and I was left sobbing alone.

  Chapter 27

  The next few hours were a blur of red and blue lights and people moving too fast. They pulled me away from Lye and put me into another ambulance, despite my protesting. I didn't want to go to the hospital for myself, I wanted to go with him. But they put me in a neck brace and strapped me to a gurney, so anything I tried was futile.

  Because of my concussion, I was awake for the surgery on my arm. I wished I could talk, but they said that it was a side effect of the concussion. I was lucky my brain wasn't bleeding like they thought. It was a miracle I was still alive.

  I didn't care, I just wanted to know where Lye was.

  After too many hours, my speech finally returned so that I could ask. My arm was in a temporary cast and my headache and pain was beginning to ease, thanks to my morphine IV.

  “Lye. Where's Lye?” I asked my nurse.

  “Who's Lye?” She responded.

  “He was with me, in the car. Lysander Adair. Please tell me he's okay.”

  She looked at me sympathetically. “I'm not sure, but I'll go find out and I'll let you know, okay?”

  “Thank you.” I replied, truly thankful for the morphine for keeping me from freaking out and burning the place down. Even if remembering how easily Lye got hooked on opiates made me want to rip it out of my arm, it actually had a purpose here. I had a broken arm, a dislocated hip, and another medical word that I couldn't remember that meant my cartilage had separated from my ribs, so I definitely needed some sort of drug just to stay lucid.

  I felt like it took hours for the nurse to return with an answer, but it was probably only a few minutes.

  “How is he?”

  “He's alive,” she started as I sighed thankfully, “but he's a lot worse off than you are. He's in the ICU, and he hasn't regained consciousness yet.”

  I stared forward silently to compose myself. I wanted to catch on fire and burn my way out of this hospital bed, and out of this nightmare. She sensed my emotions as she walked over to comfort me. “Do you have any family we can call? Your parents?”

  I steadied myself and spoke. “My sister. She can help us. Call Delilah.”

 
; She stared at the last name on my chart and put it together. “Oh.”

  She left me alone to make the call, so I tried standing up to go find Lye, but to no avail. I hurt too bad, and the second I moved at all, the needle in my vein would tug, paralyzing me in pain.

  They insisted that I wasn't well enough to leave my room, but after enough of my protesting, they put me in a wheelchair and granted my request.

  I passed by a mirror on the way there and saw a gash and a large bruise beginning to form on my forehead. Eyeliner and mascara were smeared underneath my eyes. I looked rough.

  She was right, I was lucky to be alive. I mean, I guess I was lucky I could shield myself from the glass and twisted metal. Even though the same powers that saved me had caused this mess. I just wish I could have done something for Lye. Having to go to the ICU to see him while I was in a regular room broke me.

  “Lye?” I asked, staring at his limp body. He was hooked up to a breathing machine, along with several other machines I didn’t recognize. He wasn't moving at all.

  “We contacted his parents and they're on the way.” His doctor said.

  “Is he going to be okay?” I asked, my hand hovering to touch his arm, but there were stitches and gauze over every limb, so I had nothing to make contact with.

  She sighed. “He had a lot of trauma from the wreck. As of right now, he's not breathing on his own, and his heart isn't beating on it's own. We can wait and hope for improvement, but his injuries are extensive. I don't know if he’ll be able to wake up.”

  My heart was shattered into a thousand pieces. I rolled closer to his bed, laid my head on his stomach lightly, and sobbed. He only needed to make it a little longer until Delilah came.

  I felt his chest move up and down. But it wasn't his normal rhythm, it was the machine. It felt odd and foreign. He smelled like antiseptic rinse and looked so unlike himself. Was this really Lye? Or was Lye already gone and this was just a shell being forced to breathe?

  Lye’s parents arrived a few hours later. I promised I'd pay them back for flying in on the first plane here, since they’d drained their savings on the tickets. His mother reached down and hugged me warmly in my wheelchair, being careful not to touch my arm.

  “I'm so glad you're okay, Maybelle.” She said tearfully before moving quickly to Lye’s bedside. There had been no improvement since I had been present, which I knew was a major bad sign.

  “Hey, Lysander.” She played with the tiny bit of hair showing through his bandages, her voice cracking. “I love you. We all love you.”

  I struggled back tears again. I had debriefed her over the phone about his coma, so she knew what to expect. But somehow, seeing another person interact with him in this state made me feel worse.

  The doctor came back inside and introduced herself to Lye’s parents.

  “I'm glad you're here now.” She said, inviting them to sit down on the couch in the room. “I have some difficult things to go over with you two. Is it okay if she listens?” She pointed to me.

  I steadied myself, afraid of burning through all of the medical equipment on me.

  “Of course.” Lye’s father stated, offended. “She's closer to him than we are. Anything about him she has as much a right to know as we do.”

  I shot him a thankful glance.

  “Alright.” She was unfazed. Dealing with upset family was just part of her job. “We got Lysander’s tests back earlier today.”

  She laid some papers on her lap. I couldn't read the results on them, but I still stared. “His head suffered lethal trauma in the collision, and many of his internal organs were damaged beyond repair. I'm so sorry to say it, but he will never wake up from this.”

  His mother sobbed, sending an electric shock of of anguish down my body. I closed my eyes and steadied myself, my faith still in Delilah.

  She continued. “The life support system he’s on could, in theory, keep him alive for a few more days, but since his internal organs aren't functioning, I don't expect him to survive the night. I understand if you all need a while to digest this information.” I imagined she was much less blunt before gaining the experience of giving this same speech to dozens of other families.

  Lye’s parents were both had tears streaming down their faces, holding each other’s hand desperately.

  “He's not going to die.” I stated, refusing to listen.

  “Honey, I know this is a hard time for all of you. It's a tough pill to swallow, and we have done everything that we could to help him. These tests show that your friend is clinically brain dead. Everything you see over there is just machines. He's not alive anymore.” She spoke.

  A flash of sympathy crossed her eyes before she stood and stepped outside, shutting the door behind her. I watched her wordlessly, thinking to myself. I wiped my eyes, staring at Lye’s lifeless, but still moving body. Was he really already dead? Could Delilah even help him at this point? Or was he already gone forever?

  I couldn't hold it back anymore and a sob escaped from my mouth. There was nothing I could do to help him. If I had Delilah’s powers, I would be dead, but he would be fine. I could have saved him before the paramedics showed up. But instead, I was here in my wheelchair, alive, while he's hooked up to so many machines that I couldn't tell what was him and what wasn't. It wasn't fair.

  Lye's mother reached down and held me while I cried. It was so embarrassing, crying in front of my boyfriend’s mother, but I couldn't help it. She was crying as well, and I put my cast behind her back in an awkward attempt to hug her back. Her embrace was warm and comforting, like a mother’s should be. She deserved so much better than to have to live through the deaths of both her sons. I began to heat up uncontrollably, but I knew I was too weak to be warm enough to burn her. I still pulled away just in case.

  “Delilah’s coming soon.” I said. “I hope she can still help him, but I'm so afraid,” I sobbed, “I'm so sorry I couldn't save him.”

  “Baby, it'll be alright. Whatever happens will happen. We’ll get through it.” She managed through her own tears.

  “I just wish I had some sort of control over it.” I admitted. I looked over at Lye’s father, sitting by his bedside. He still had tears in his eyes. I was getting so upset. I didn't want to leave Lye, but I had to get out of that room. It was too much to handle.

  I rolled up to my own room and asked my nurse to remove my IV. She declined, saying I was still too weak. I shouldn't have even left my own room. After she walked away, I removed the tape and pulled it out myself, watching the blood flow from my arm. I didn't want pain medicine. I wanted to feel how much I hurt. I wanted to believe I didn't save myself so that I would be able to still live with myself for not saving Lye.

  It was late that evening when Delilah’s flight arrived. She brought me clothes to wear instead of a hospital gown. She also brought another fire suit, this one red and black, since mine was forcibly cut off by the hospital staff.

  I didn't even greet her with a “hello”, I begged her to go immediately to Lye’s room.

  “You wouldn't want me to heal you first?” She asked, confused. Her security staff was guarding the door to my room.

  “No, I don't need it. I'll be fine. Please, Delilah, he needs you. I couldn't save him and he's going to die if you don't help him.”

  She looked down. “I can't do that, Maybelle.”

  “Why not?” I asked. “Is he too far gone?”

  “It's not that. I've already healed him once against his will, and against my own morals. I can't heal him again if he doesn't consent.”

  “Delilah, he's about to die if you don't help him. Please do this for me.” I fought back tears from my bed, trying not to break my already-impressive record of how many times I've cried in one day.

  She sighed, seeming almost bored with my words. Something was wrong. “Maybelle, when I first found my powers, after I left, I went straight to Africa first. I wanted to help all of the starving kids you see on the commercials because that's what a good person doe
s, right? Well, I healed a ton of them that day, but when I came back a few months later, they were in the same situation I had first found them in. Do you know why?” She asked.

  I was silent, looking down at the dried blood still forming a line from my arm to my wrist.

  “Because no matter how many people I heal, overpopulation will still exist. Food shortages will still exist. Evil people will still exist. I wanted to save the world with my power, but I learned very fast that it wasn't possible.”

  “Where are you going with this?” Every second she spent talking could be Lye’s last.

  “All people are the same. It doesn't matter how many people I save, they aren't saved for long. I can't keep running back every time those African children run out of food or else they'll never learn to grow their own, or to stop having children they can't feed.”

  I stared at her, horrified. This wasn't my sister. Delilah was so perfect that I hated her. This person seemed far from perfect, and I hated her even more. “Lye didn't ask for this. We were going on a date. He did nothing wrong. Please don't punish him.”

  “It's not a punishment!” She shouted, making me recoil. I'd never heard Delilah raise her voice so threateningly. “You shouldn't feel so entitled for me to heal him. Everyone’s so entitled to me! I literally can't leave this room without all the ‘tortured souls’ in the hospital begging me for help. And none of them deserve it. They'll all just go back to whatever they were doing that got them into their situations. That's why I quit doing this stuff a long time ago.”

  “Who are you?” I asked, staring in disbelief. “Because you're nothing like my sister.”

  She laughed a strange spiteful laugh. “I'm more your sister now than I've ever been. We share the Reeki, so we’re cursed to see the human world from the outside. That's why the Vikings were eager to leave it to the Lakinobes, so it wasn't their problem anymore. I just wish I remembered how innocent I was before I saw every single selfish person’s lament broadcast to me everywhere I go.”