by Jasmine Walt
19
Maddy was on her death bed.
Brennan had arrived at the hospital in the early afternoon, but he could do little but wait helplessly as the doctors and nurses worked to stabilize his sister. He and Greg sat in stony silence as the night wore on. His nephew seemed strung out, worse than he had looked the last time they’d met, and Brennan knew he was going through Chamalla withdrawal. The timing couldn’t have been worse for the young man; he would want to escape reality now more than ever.
Before the clock struck eight, a doctor emerged from the operating room. His gloves were coated with blood. He threw them in the trash before removing his surgical mask. Greg blanched at the sight of his mother’s blood. He looked like he was going to be sick to his stomach. Brennan’s heart felt for the young man. He was struggling to cope with his sister’s sudden downturn, too.
It had seemed like just yesterday they were playing hide-and-seek.
“Doctor,” he said, shaking hands with the man in white. “How is she?”
“She’s stable, but still critical.” He led Brennan a little way away from Greg and spoke in a hushed whisper. “We had to drill holes to relieve some of the pressure in her skull. It has slowed the swelling, but—” The doctor hesitated, and Brennan felt his heart turn cold. “Your sister slipped into a coma shortly after surgery.”
Icy tendrils spread throughout his body. His hairs raised on end, and he felt his mind go numb. The doctor said something that he couldn’t hear, as if the words were drowned before they could reach him.
“What was that?” he asked. His voice betrayed him, and the doctor put a hand on his shoulder.
“I said that I would seriously recommend seeking professional help.”
“You’re a professional,” Brennan said. “That’s why we’re here. Help her, please.”
The doctor frowned and shook his head sadly. “Not help for her,” he said. “A grief counselor, for him.” He gestured with his eyes toward Greg, who was huddled on the floor with a vacant expression on his face.
It was a moment before the full impact of his words hit Brennan. “No,” he said. “Not again. Maddy is my sister, she’s all I have left!” His voice was a harsh whisper. His eyes, bloodshot and rimmed with tears, searched the doctor’s desperately. He kept his words low so that Greg wouldn’t overhear. “There must be something else you can try. Anything.”
“I’m afraid there is little more that we can do,” the doctor replied. He looked mournfully back at the operating room. “Even if this were a normal case, the chances of recovering from a coma diminish with each day that passes. In her condition, I’m not sure such a thing would even be possible.”
In her condition. Brennan understood. Hell, he had even gone through it before. But knowledge and experience did nothing to soften the blow, to lessen the loss he felt. His sister was all he had left. And she was all Greg had ever had.
The mind was a fragile thing. Strong mental assaults could Fracture a mind, such as he had done to the Sleeper in the library. In Maddy’s case, it was the result of an overzealous use of Chamalla’s predecessor in the drug market. Her mind and body no longer connected properly. It was no great secret that Maddy’s life had been shortened after being Fractured; in many ways, she was already dead.
“Damn you,” Brennan growled. He didn’t know if he was cursing God, or the doctor, or even himself, but he knew that someone, somewhere, had hell to pay for this. He looked at Greg with the knowledge that his mother was on death’s door. There was no coming back from that.
The doctor patted his arm lightly and gave them a moment. Brennan walked over and joined his nephew on the floor. Greg continued to stare at the wall, disconnected, obviously trying to keep his emotions from overwhelming him. Only the occasional sniffling of his nose gave him away. Brennan waited patiently, knowing that no amount of words could console him if he wasn’t receptive to it. It was a while before Greg finally wiped a hand at his eyes and spoke.
“What did the doctor say?” he croaked.
Brennan chose his words carefully. “They operated on her,” he said, “and they managed to relieve some of the swelling in her brain. She’s stable now.”
“Do they know what happened?”
“He didn’t say. My guess is that her condition just got worse.”
“It’s treatable, though. She’s better since the surgery, right?” he asked hopefully. “When can we go see her?"
Guilt banged relentlessly against Brennan’s heart. Receiving the news—and accepting it—was the worst part of the grieving process. He had heard it years ago when Mara had been slipping away. His reaction had been less than stellar; in fact, he had tempted fate in his mad denial of the truth. Brennan wished he could be anywhere other than here, yet he knew this was exactly where he needed to be. With Greg, and with Maddy, until the end.
“Greg,” he started, “I don’t know any other way to say this but to give it to you straight. And I need you to listen to me when I say this, because it’s the truth. Do you understand?”
His nephew nodded slowly, his lower lip trembling. Brennan steeled himself. It was one thing to receive the news, to go through that kind of anguish; it was another thing entirely to be the messenger.
“Maddy was a kind and loving sister to me, even when we were little kids growing up. She always looked after me, and she always had time to play games on my schedule. And as we grew up, we stayed close—though now I wish I could have spent more time with her. Perhaps I could have kept her on the straight and narrow…” He broke off and chuckled at the absurdity of that thought. “Though the straight and narrow was never a path that interested your mother.”
Greg’s eyes were glossy with unrealized tears, but he still managed a weak smile.
“Anyway,” Brennan said with a sobering sniffle, “she soon became pregnant and had you. You could not have found a more glowing mother anywhere. She absolutely adored you, and you were the light of her life ever since that day. To hear her go on about you, your first steps, first words, first crush in school—it’s what eventually convinced your Aunt Mara and I to try and start a family of our own. You were everything to her.”
At those words, Greg broke down in unabashed sobs. Brennan pulled his nephew against him and let his shirt be darkened with tears as he cradled him under one arm. Not all of the tears were Greg’s.
“It would be an injustice to say she didn’t live a full life. She laughed, she lived, and she loved. There isn’t anything left here for her to do,” he said gently. “Now it’s our turn to honor her life, her legacy, and let her move on.”
Greg shook as he huddled against Brennan’s massive frame. His sobs racked his whole body, and they rose in volume as he poured out his grief. It was a deep release of emotion, and Brennan knew that his nephew understood that his mother’s body couldn’t stay plugged into the machines any longer. Brennan grieved, but he found that most of his grief was transformed into sympathy for his nephew, who would not soon forget the pain he now felt.
“Greg,” Brennan said after a long while. It was deep into the night when he spoke. “Do you want to say goodbye?”
His nephew looked up wordlessly and nodded.
They entered the hospital room where Maddy Warner was still hooked up to a machine. It was a dark room, empty of anyone but the two of them. Greg went and took his mother’s hands between his own. Brennan watched fresh tears roll down his nephew’s cheeks as he spoke quietly, his last words to her a secret soliloquy. Some time passed, and the boy finally let go of her hands. She was a pale and silent statue, and Brennan took a moment to remember her as she had been, a smiling little girl playing with her brother.
A single tear escaped and slipped down along Brennan’s jaw as Greg returned to him by the door. He said one final farewell to his sister, and uncle and nephew alike were reluctant to leave the room. Finally, they departed in silence, leaving Maddy’s spirit to find its way.
20
The morning sun was a
welcome relief in the valley.
Warm light dried the caked mud of their footprints and helped turn much of the marshes back into grasslands. Unfortunately for Jeremy and his father, Uncle Rick insisted on starting their trek two hours before sunrise, and today’s hike hardly fared better than yesterday’s.
Still, the chill in the air following the storm had dissipated, and the skies were clear for as far as the eye could see. It seemed that fortune was finally favoring them. They made good progress without having to break camp and carry the tent, and the journey to the lake that Uncle Rick had spotted was an easy one. They passed through open fields broken here and there by small forest glades. The grasses grew as high as Jeremy’s waist, and he heard small creatures scurrying about in the underbrush near his feet. This was an untamed wilderness that was unaccustomed to humans; they had never learned to fear them. Maybe that was how Ellie had gained such easy control over them, both in reality and in her dreams.
They crested one final hill before the lake was in sight. It reflected the morning sun and stretched for at least a mile before them. A forest of tall pines surrounded the lake, and its shimmering surface was spotted with a smattering of tiny islands. A flock of birds flew over the water as the three men looked on from the hilltop.
“It’s beautiful,” Jeremy said in awe.
“That it is,” Nathaniel agreed. “I bet we’ll be getting visits all year ‘round just to see a view like this.” The lake glittered like a diamond under the rising sun.
Uncle Rick cupped his hands into fleshy binoculars and peered about. “There,” he said, pointing to an adjacent hill. “That’s where we should build. It’ll have a perfect view of the lake during the day and still be able to see the sunset from indoors. Imagine a seasonal hotel with swimming in the summer and ice skating in the winter.”
Nathaniel nodded. “We should go check it out, though, and make sure that it’s solid enough for building.”
Uncle Rick nodded. “Get the lay of the land.”
“Exactly.”
Jeremy took off before his father had finished the word. He was getting hungry, and the sooner they arrived at the other hill, the sooner they could break for lunch.
He grievously misjudged the distance. It was a solid hour of hiking through tall grass and thick brambles, and the three men were sweating heavily by the end of it, even Uncle Rick. The heat of the summer sun was returning, and it didn’t do them any favors.
“Let’s stop here,” his uncle suggested. Jeremy and Nathaniel both fell onto their knees without protest. Uncle Rick leaned against a boulder and took out a water bottle. “You two should be drinking, too,” he said firmly. “You need to stay hydrated, or you’ll collapse before you even realize there’s a problem.”
Jeremy nodded tiredly and retrieved a bottle each for himself and his father.
“Look at this view, Nate,” his uncle continued. He breathed deeply, his barrel chest expanding to an impressive size. He clambered on top of the boulder and sighed in contentment. “This is definitely the spot. Smell that fresh air! When that lake freezes over in winter, you’re going to have yourself a fantastic place for ice skating.”
“Uncle Rick,” Jeremy said, “can you finish your story from yesterday? The one where you were lost in Brazil?”
He looked down at his nephew in surprise. “That’s right, I never completed it, did I? All right, well, I’ve forgotten where I was in the story…”
“You were disguised as local militia,” Jeremy supplied immediately. “And there was a drug lord.”
Uncle Rick gazed at him with a peculiar look in his eye. “Yes, of course. You have the memory of an elephant,” he praised.
You don’t know the half of it, Jeremy thought. His father moved in closer to hear the story as well. Uncle Rick positioned himself so his feet dangled off the boulder and he cleared his throat.
“Right, well. My buddy Jimmy and I were deep in hostile territory now, deep in the shit. We couldn’t drink a lick of the water; breathing the air was bad enough, humid as it was.”
“Why couldn’t you drink the water?” Jeremy asked.
“It was poisoned,” his uncle said matter-of-factly. Nathaniel sat up a little straighter upon hearing that. “That was our mission, you see? We couldn’t stop their drug smuggling; there were just too many shipments on the ground and coming by sea for that kind of approach. And if we dropped in and snuffed el jefe, the next man in line would just take charge.”
“I think they speak Portuguese in Brazil,” Jeremy said.
“Would you stop interrupting?” His words were plaintive, but Uncle Rick’s smile betrayed his natural amusement. “As I was saying, there was no stopping the shipments and no headhunting. So we poisoned the water supply. Hell of a drug, it was; knocks out the immune system in hours and carries pheromones at the same time. We lowered their ability to fight infection, then the pheromones attracted mosquitoes and other nasty things.” He scratched at a phantom itch in his neck. “I think that’s what attracted so many of the blighters to us, actually. We must’ve breathed in enough of the water vapor to make us attractive, but without the lowered immune response.”
Nathaniel held up a hand. “Hang on,” he said. “That was a lot of unfamiliar mumbo jumbo bio-talk coming from my big brother, the harmless world traveler. And since when did you start killing people?”
“They were bad guys, Dad,” Jeremy said in his uncle’s defense. He turned to look into Uncle Rick’s face. “You only killed the drug lord and his cartel, right?”
“Of course! Nobody else got hurt,” he reassured them.
“Well, that’s a relief,” Nathaniel said. He stood and stretched, and a few places in his spine popped in response. He took a long stride away toward a copse of trees. “Back in a minute. Nature calls.”
“I’ll alert the media,” Uncle Rick yelled after him. He jumped down from the top of the boulder and landed heavily beside Jeremy, who could have sworn the ground quivered slightly.
“Woah, watch it there!” Jeremy cried, sidestepping his uncle’s landing. The two of them leaned against the enormous rock and admired the beautiful vista. “Was that story true? Did all of that really happen?”
Uncle Rick chuckled and tugged his beard scruff absently. “Every word of it,” he replied, his voice deep and rich and jolly again. “I really enjoyed my time down south, though, apart from the work. Nice people, great food.”
Something still nagged at the edge of Jeremy’s thoughts, and he had to concentrate to realize what it was. “Growing up, I always thought that you were a world traveler.”
“I am! All seven continents, many times,” he boasted.
Jeremy sighed. “No, I mean, as a peaceful traveler. Like, sightseeing, getting your picture in front of the Louvre and the Pyramids. Something more along the lines of Peace Corps, or the Foreign Legion.”
“You have to be French to do that.”
“The way you tell it, it sounds like you were a mercenary.”
“I prefer to think of myself as a sort of secret agent,” he said, puffing out his chest.
“I don’t think secret agents are supposed to announce that they’re secret agents,” Jeremy said with a laugh.
“I’m retired.” Uncle Rick peered out into the distance. “What’s that?”
Nathaniel came crashing through the trees, screaming incoherently. His pants were unfastened, and he held them up with one hand as he sprinted toward the two of them. He waved with his free arm as he shouted.
“Bear!” he yelled. “Run, move, NOW!”
Behind him, a roar rose up from within the trees.
Nathaniel tripped and fell as he secured his pants, and Uncle Rick moved to pick him up even as he pushed Jeremy forward with one arm. They moved with speed that only hysteria could inspire, the mania that pushed bodies past their breaking point and gave mothers the strength of ten bodybuilders. Jeremy had never pumped his legs so fast or so hard in his life, and he heard his heart pounding against his s
kull.
Running was awkward in his too-large boots, and more than once he threatened to twist an ankle on an unlucky step. It was only Uncle Rick’s constant speed and strength that kept them moving, and they reached the hill from which they’d first spotted the lake in under twenty minutes. The last part of the run was the uphill climb, and Jeremy collapsed on the ground when they reached the top.
His father was in no better shape. He wheezed and clutched at his chest, which his sweat-soaked shirt was clinging to tightly. Uncle Rick breathed loudly beside him, winded but without any other obvious discomfort. Jeremy felt his aching feet covered in a thin film of fluid; most or all of his blisters must have broken during the sprint.
“Did you get a good look at it?” Uncle Rick finally asked.
Nathaniel shook his head. “It was…big. Really big.” He looked him up and down for a moment. “Maybe even bigger than you.”
“At least you have the energy to make jokes,” Uncle Rick said grimly.
Nathaniel sobered quickly. “Right. It was enormous—”
“You’ve already said that.”
“—and it had black fur all over.”
“A black bear in these parts…during summer? Are you certain?” Uncle Rick earned a level look from his brother. “All right,” he said, hands up. “Then the best thing for us to do—”
Another roar sounded, not too far away from where they stood. They could hear something large scraping the bark from trees as it lumbered through the nearby forest. Uncle Rick squarely faced the two of them.
“You need to go. Now!”
“What about you?” Jeremy asked.
His uncle gripped him by the hand to hoist him up, and Jeremy’s vision blurred and magnified at the same time.
It was a wholly unnerving experience, and it took Jeremy a moment to realize what had happened. In all their time together, he and his uncle had never made skin-to-skin contact. The firm grip was like a vise on his arm, one he couldn’t escape. Memories flooded his waking mind without warning, sudden recollections of a past that wasn’t his—only now they were. Experiences filled his brain to bursting, every recounted story from his childhood suddenly reinforced with visceral knowledge, the memory of every adventure. He was drowning in it.