Dead in Bed by Bailey Simms, The Complete First Book

by Adrian Birch

  For the second time this morning, I heard someone knock at the front door. I hadn’t even heard anyone drive up this time; I was too focused on Morgan.

  Through the blinds I saw a black sedan parked in the driveway. Its windows were heavily tinted. There was no way I could see if there was anyone inside.

  Another knock came at the front door.

  This time it was my dad who answered. I couldn’t quite make out the male voice he was talking to, but I did hear my dad say, “Oh, yes. Yes. She’s upstairs. She’s awake. I just heard her up. It’s the first room on the left.” He called out, “Ashley, someone’s here to see you! He’s coming up!”

  I’d never been so frustrated with my father’s unquestioning trust and his idiotic country hospitality.

  Why hadn’t I tried to hide Morgan faster?

  I’d wasted too much time deciding what to do, and now someone was already here. Ian had a hunch that someone would come for Morgan, but I didn’t think even he knew how fast they would arrive. Now it was too late.

  Footsteps came up the stairs.

  I dropped to my knees and looked under the bed. The space was mostly filled with plastic bins containing my old clothes and school papers. It was too shallow anyway. I could never fit Morgan under there.

  I threw open my closet door. It was filled with hanging clothes and shoes, but there was probably just enough room for Morgan on the floor if I bent her legs and closed the door.

  It would have to do. I had no other choice.

  I pulled back the sheets, slipped my arms beneath her body, and lifted her from the bed. She felt incredibly fragile, but she was heavier than I thought she’d be.

  One of her legs slipped from my grasp. I had to set her on the floor before I made it all the way to the closet. Her head bumped hard against the carpet.

  Fuck.

  She started breathing even faster. She was still sweating, and she’d grown pale. She started to make little rasping coughs. A thin foam had appeared at the corners of her mouth. I was terrified that she was on the verge of death.

  There was a soft knock on the bedroom door.

  I grabbed the chair and wedged it under the doorknob as quietly as possible.

  I lifted Morgan’s ankles. I had no choice but to drag her the last few feet to the closet.

  There was another knock at the door. Whoever it was quietly said my name. “Ashley?” Another soft knock. “It’s me. Are you there?”

  I recognized the smooth voice of a professional singer and knew right away who it was. Bryce Tripp was in my parents’ house.

  I practically collapsed in relief.

  “I have your phone,” he said through the door. “I hope I’m not bothering you. Sorry for showing up so early.” He was playing it cool, but I could tell he was shaken by everything that was going on in town. He must have been stuck in Muldoon because of the roadblocks. “I hope it’s okay,” he said. “Your dad said I should just come up.”

  I set Morgan’s legs back onto the floor, moved the chair from the door, and opened it.

  Right away Bryce saw Morgan on the floor. “What the hell?” He knelt beside her. “What happened? Is she okay?” He gave her swollen eye a closer look. “Oh my God. She’s not okay.”

  “I can’t explain,” I said. “Not now. But I need help. Will you help me? Please.”

  “Yes,” he said. “Sure. What? Anything.”

  “Just don’t ask any questions. I’ll try to explain later. I have to get her someplace safe. She’s not safe here. I can’t carry her on my own.”

  “Whatever you say.”

  Bryce gathered Morgan’s limp body into his arms and lifted her. He was taller even than Ian, and he picked her up like she weighed no more than a pillow. He was wearing only a T-shirt and jeans, and when he stood cradling Morgan, the muscles in his arms tightened. He probably had to keep in such good shape for his stage presence and album covers, but now all of that working out was paying off in a much more practical way.

  When he looked at me with his icy-blue eyes, casually waiting to do whatever I told him to, the same wave of physical attraction I’d felt when I first spoke to him at the concert passed over me again.

  I instantly felt so guilty. Morgan was on the verge of death, and yet I was undeniably, if very strangely, turned on.

  “Follow me,” I said. “We have to get her out of the house.”

  I made sure no one was coming up the stairs or standing on the landing.

  “Hurry,” I said, leading Bryce quickly down the stairs and outside.

  Like just about every other farmhouse in Colorado, my parents’ house is on a lot surrounded by pole barns, grain silos, and farming equipment.

  I looked quickly at these options and settled on the old wooden building my dad just called “the shop.” It was where he worked on his swathers and bailers whenever they broke down, and it had a lofted storage area whose key he kept hidden under an old tin drum.

  “This way,” I said to Bryce.

  We trotted the fifty yards or so to the shop. I opened the large double doors, found the key to the storage area, and opened the lock.

  The bottom level had only a dirt floor. Old engine parts, an abandoned deep freezer, and retired, dried-out saddles cluttered the space. Everything was covered in dust. Long shafts of light shone through the cracks between the wallboards. A couple of pigeons flew out through a hole in the corrugated tin roof. Otherwise, everything was totally silent except for the sound of Morgan’s quick, labored breathing.

  I grabbed an old saddle blanket and shook it out.

  “This way,” I said. Bryce followed me.

  A very narrow, very steep, very worn-out wooden stairway led up to the hayloft. As Bryce followed me carrying Morgan’s weight, the wooden planks creaked. One even cracked a little, but the stairway held.

  The hayloft hadn’t been used for years, but there was still loose hay scattered all over the floor. If I had to, I could cover Morgan with hay and hide her that way. It was the best idea I could think of.

  I kicked some of the loose hay aside and laid out the saddle blanket in the loft’s farthest corner. Bryce lay Morgan on it. He felt her forehead.

  “She’s really burning up.” Bryce gave me an uneasy glance.

  She was panting even faster. And now there was a new rasping sound coming from deep inside her lungs. It sounded like she was struggling to pull in air. Her hair was so wet with perspiration that it was slicked against her scalp. It looked she’d just been doused with water.

  Maybe it didn’t even matter where we hid Morgan. It was hard to imagine that she could stay alive much longer in this state.

  * * *

  Bryce stayed with me by Morgan’s side all morning. He pulled his car behind the barn where it wasn’t visible from the house or the driveway, and he sat with me in the loose hay.

  I didn’t want him to leave. I was scared of taking care of Morgan all alone. I was also scared of being stuck with nothing to do except worry about Ian and Shawn. But I didn’t want to push my luck and hope for too much from Bryce. He hardly knew me.

  “My family’s going to start worrying about me,” I said. “I’d better go check in with them.”

  Bryce nodded. “I’ll stay here and keep an eye on her while you’re gone. I don’t mind.”

  “You sure you don’t mind? You don’t even know her. You don’t need to stay. Really. I’m sure you want to get out of here. You’ve done so much already.”

  He shrugged and smiled shyly. “What else am I going to do while I’m stuck in Muldoon?”

  I thanked him again and told him I’d be back in fifteen minutes, but when I got back to the house, everything had changed.

  Fried eggs lay cold and uneaten on the stove. My Mom sat with Danielle and the kids at the kitchen table. They’d given up on breakfast. They’d obviously figured out that Ian and Shawn were missing. Danielle was holding the crayon-scrawled note from Ian. My dad was on the phone. Ian must have told him the night before t
hat Mr. Hershel had died, because he was busying himself by planning a funeral.

  “Tomorrow morning,” he was saying somberly into the phone. “Yes. At their place. Make it if you can, Connie. We all understand.”

  Everyone glared at me like I was some kind of traitor when I stepped into the kitchen. Once again, I’d returned from an inexplicable absence.

  “Ashley, what is going on?” my mom demanded, standing as soon as she saw me. “Where have you been? Please, please tell me you know where Ian and Shawn are.”

  I told them everything I’d seen and heard that morning. I described the dark SUV and the military police that took Ian and Shawn away.

  My dad put down the phone. Danielle began crying hysterically. Tyler tried to comfort her, while Haley just stayed curled up in a little ball on a kitchen chair.

  “Where have you been?” my mom asked again.

  “I’ve been out looking for Shawn,” I lied. “With a friend of his,” I added, remembering that my dad had seen Bryce that morning. I decided that the best way to keep my family from telling anyone about Morgan was not to tell them that she was even still here on the property. “I’m going back to the house to lock up. I just need something to eat first.”

  “Are you sure about that, Ashley?” My dad was concerned. “You’d better be damn careful.”

  I nodded. “I will.”

  “There’s a service for Mr. Hershel tomorrow morning. I’d like you to be there.”

  “Sure.” I nodded again. “Okay, I will.”

  I hadn’t eaten anything for a day and a half. I was starving. Despite Morgan’s condition and Ian and Shawn’s disappearance, I had a strange, intense craving for a hamburger and a milkshake. I couldn’t get them off my mind, and yet it was hard to imagine ever having the chance to eat a hamburger again. It already seemed like some exotic, foreign meal. I had to make do with a roast-beef sandwich and a glass of milk. I piled the meat high and skipped the mustard. I made a second sandwich and packed it into a plastic bag for Bryce.

  On my way out I parked my car next to Bryce’s behind the barn, where it was hidden from view. I made sure no one was watching when I opened the shop doors. I closed them behind me and climbed back up into the hayloft.

  “How is she?” I asked Bryce.

  “Maybe a little better,” he said. “I think. Just a little.”

  Morgan’s breathing was still coming in quick rasps, and she was still running an extremely high fever. But it did seem like maybe her breathing had regulated a little. It was hard to tell in the dim light, but maybe some of her color had even come back.

  I don’t have words for how happy this made me.

  “Brought you a sandwich.” I handed the plastic bag to Bryce.

  He was sitting cross-legged, keeping a close eye on Morgan even while he began to eat.

  I said, “So, I have to confess something.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I don’t remember anything about what happened Friday night. Nothing. I drank way too much. Everything after the bar is totally blacked out.”

  Bryce smiled sheepishly. “I remember. You really don’t remember any of it?”

  I shook my head.

  “That’s a shame.” He smiled again, but more wryly this time. “Are you asking me to tell you?”

  I felt myself blush a little and turned away. “I wouldn’t mind.”

  “Well, I guess I could give you a recap.”

  “I was with you?” I asked lamely.

  He laughed. “Yeah. You were with me. You really don’t remember?”

  I shook my head. “I was with you the whole night?”

  “Most of it.” Bryce shrugged and smiled once again. He really was incredibly attractive, especially when he smiled.

  I glanced at Morgan. I couldn’t believe I was having this conversation right now, but I had to know what happened.

  “Okay, so tell me,” I said. “After the bar, what happened?”

  Bryce cleared his throat. “Well. After the bar… Let’s see. You and I went out for a smoke. And we kinda decided not to go back in. We thought maybe the motel would be a better idea.”

  “I know this is a stupid question,” I said. “But we—well… We...slept together?”

  Before he answered, Bryce gave me a long, cute shrug.

  “Well. All I can say is that it’s a shame you don’t remember.” He nodded, obviously thinking back to the night I couldn’t recall. Despite the depth of guilt I felt for cheating on Shawn, I was actually envious that Bryce could remember our night together and I couldn’t. “It wasn’t bad,” he said. I felt the warmth of his breath on my ear when he leaned over and whispered, “Honestly, you were kind of amazing.”

  I felt dizzy, and kind of like I’d turned into butter. It was all I could do not to throw myself at him right there on the loft even while Morgan struggled to breathe. I fought to suppress this new surge of attraction. I couldn’t believe how strong it was. What was wrong with me?

  I turned away and forced myself to focus solely on Morgan, checking her pulse. I was starting to worry that her breathing hadn’t actually slowed.

  “And then what?” I asked Bryce pragmatically. “I woke up alone. And without my cellphone!” I slapped his arm. “Where’d you go?”

  “Yeah, sorry about the phone,” he said. “I got out of there when your husband showed up.”

  “My husband?” What was he talking about?

  “I’ve learned the hard way that if a guy from the military shows up when you’re in bed with his wife, it’s better not to stick around.”

  “Wait,” I said. “What do you mean, ‘the military’?”

  “Well, his sweatshirt said ‘army’ and he had a big fucking gun. I kind of put two and two together and crawled out the back window.” He added sheepishly, “I’m glad you don’t remember that part.”

  “Shit!” I whispered. “Ian was there?”

  I knew he’d mentioned the hotel. So all this time, Ian must’ve known I cheated on Shawn. He’d just been too gracious to say anything. I couldn’t believe it.

  “That wasn’t my husband,” I explained. “He’s my brother-in-law. Didn’t I say so when I introduced him at the bar?”

  “Nope.” Bryce shook his head. “All you said was that your husband was in the bar somewhere. I just assumed it was him. That guy really wasn’t your husband? He sure was looking at you like he was.” Bryce laughed, amused. “And he sure did come after you like he was, too. But I admit I didn’t exactly stick around long enough to confirm one way or the other.”

  * * *

  It had been a mistake to hope that Morgan was improving. By noon she was breathing much harder than ever before. Her whole body was starting to convulse.

  As if that wasn’t bad enough, now we couldn’t keep her hand from making its way down into her sweatpants. Bryce tried to hold both of her arms to her sides, but as soon as he let up a little, she would just pull away and start…touching herself, doing something that would have looked a lot like masturbation if she weren’t unconscious. It was bizarre and terrifying. And horrible. I didn’t know how to react to seeing my best friend this way. It was like Morgan had been replaced by somebody else.

  I’d gotten so used to the sound of her quick, raspy breathing that when it stopped, it was like the whole world died with her.

  Everything was suddenly silent and still. There wasn’t even the sound of pigeons tiptoeing on the tin roof. Bryce just sat there, staring at Morgan’s motionless body.

  I remembered playing with Morgan on this very hayloft when we were kids. We used to hollow out nests in the loose hay and call them our “houses” and pretend we were visiting each other and that we were grown up. We used to plan out who we’d marry.

  Now, just like that, she was dead.

  Without my best friend, I felt numb. Not just numb to Morgan lying dead in the hay at my feet, but numb to everything. Numb to my family, numb to Bryce. Numb to myself. At the moment, I didn’t care if anyone lived or d
ied.

  Then something happened that I had no explanation for.

  Morgan’s body was on its back, her head thrown back at an awkward angle. When she’d died, she’d frozen in that stiff position, her slender white neck exposed and her mouth tipped open. She’d been lying like that for ten or fifteen minutes while I’d just been sitting there, shocked, trying to comprehend what had happened.

  But then—very, very slowly—she moved.

  As if she’d been simply sleeping peacefully, she stretched her shoulders. Then she slowly turned onto her side and rested her head on her hands.

  “What the—” Bryce turned to me, stunned, then he stared back at Morgan.

  I placed a finger on her neck and took her pulse.

  Her pulse was strong and fluttering away normally. Her awful panting was gone. She took slow, even breaths and released them without any rasping sound at all. Even some of her color had come back.

  “She’s alive.”

  I collapsed on top of her and sobbed.

  “Morgan,” I whispered. “I thought you left me. Don’t you ever fucking leave me again!”

  I still couldn’t rouse Morgan to consciousness, but I was almost positive now that she was going to be okay. She suddenly looked extraordinarily healthy, almost angelic.

  “Jesus Christ,” Bryce whispered. “I’ve never, ever seen anything like that.” He shook his head in disbelief. “I’m no doctor, but maybe the fever just had to break? I thought she was gone.”

  “So did I,” I whispered, holding Morgan’s hand.

  “I guess you just never know about things like this.” Bryce laughed softly, still amazed at what we’d witnessed. “A little while ago I was held up in the hospital overnight. They thought it was dysentery or something. I guess I had a bad chicken taco in El Paso. I was in bad shape, but I woke up feeling totally fine. They wanted to keep me there at the hospital, but I didn’t want to cancel my concert here in Muldoon. So I just walked out and left.”

  I laughed. “Remind me not to eat the tacos in El Paso.”

  I was elated. I’d thought that I’d never laugh again. A moment earlier I honestly wouldn’t have cared if I died, but now that Morgan was not only alive, but getting better, I had a new hope that maybe things might turn out okay after all.