The Comatose

by Kate Myers

  My eyes go wide. What am I doing? I have to do something. I can’t continue to wait around doing nothing. I can’t let another moment go by without at least trying.

  I put the vial and syringe package on the bed between Skylar and me, and then reach across to the bedside table and pump a heap of sanitizer into my palm. The alcohol burns my eyes and singes all the tiny cuts on my fingers I didn’t know I had. I put on a pair of latex gloves from the box on the nightstand, take another peek at the door and open the syringe package.

  My hands shake, and I force myself to take a breath. I allow barely a fraction of a second to get my crap together. Examination of the vial shows a miniscule hole in the middle of the top, so I shove the needle of the syringe into the vial and move back the plunger, filling the syringe with blood. I pull the syringe out, holding it up to the light, and, doing the thing I always see in the movies, I flick the barrel a bit and squeeze gently until a teeny bit of blood dribbles from the tip of the needle.

  With the syringe in one hand, I turn to Skylar, fear washing over me with the realization I have no idea what I’m doing. I take my free hand to feel around on her arm, right above the ditch of her elbow. Somehow, the gods are on my side, because a lump of a vein sticks out saying hello, here I am!

  Without thinking anymore, I bring the syringe closer to her arm, feeling one last time to make sure the vein is there, and ever so gently, press the needle into her. Nausea hits me like a ton of bricks, but I force myself to see this through. I press the plunger and gradually empty the contents of the vial into her vein—my blood.

  I slap the syringe onto the table and fall to my knees beside her. She lies there, unmoving, unchanged, like nothing has happened and that I didn’t, mere seconds ago, inject my blood into her. I stare at her intensely, waiting for the slightest infraction. I press her hand against my forehead and suppress the tears welling in my eyes, fighting their way to the front. What have I done? What if this was all for nothing? What if I harmed her even more? I’m so stupid. This was so stupid. I was selfish. I should have never been so careless, so irresponsible and reckless.

  A noise from the door flickers in my ear, but I refuse to acknowledge it. Shuffling feet follow the person entering the room.

  Her voice is quiet, angelic even. “Are you asleep?” she asks. “That looks uncomfortable.”

  “No.” I sniffle.

  “Are you okay?” she says while coming closer. And then it’s like she sees or senses or telepathically knows. “Max…” Her voice grows. “What did you do?”

  “I just wanted to help,” I say, defeated.

  “Move,” she snaps. “I need you to move, right now.”

  I stay put, unmovable.

  She grabs something off the table and nudges me with her hip, pressing into the space between me and Skylar.

  Air, being squeezed, a sound I recognize as a blood pressure cuff. Seconds passing, feeling both like an eternity and like its spiraling out of control so quickly I can’t catch up.

  “Holy shit,” she mutters under her breath.

  I’m too afraid to look up, to face the reality of what I’ve done. I’ve never not wanted to exist so badly in my life. It’s not a feeling of wanting to die more than it is of just wanting to go away, to be wiped off the planet, never to have been there to begin with. That all of my actions could be erased, the words I’ve said, unspoken. Maybe those around me would be better off. I shut myself into the deepest darkest part of me I can find.

  “I have to go get Keith, just…just stay here, okay?”

  A million things run through my head, but the realization that I’ve put Skylar in more danger, that my actions can’t be undone, settles a weight on me I can’t bear to handle. The sound of Quinn rushing out of the room brings me back to my senses, and before I can even process what I’m doing, I’m in the hallway, and my feet are at the front door, and my hand is on the knob, and I’m turning it, and I’m outside.

  The sky burns vibrant shades of reds and purples, the sun setting on the horizon, something I would have once stopped and gawked at but now feel no satisfaction in its glory. An ache deepens in my chest and weaves its way through every fiber of my being.

  I walk, I walk so blindly and unknowing until I can’t see the light from the cabin. The tears that I can no longer fight make their way eagerly, cascading down each cheek. I bite the inside of my lip, blood pooling in my mouth, and the sensation brings me enough control to stop the tears from flowing.

  I slump against a tree and slide down until my butt is planted in the dirt.

  I don’t have the will to go any farther, figuratively or literally.

  23

  Quinn

  I don’t know how he did it. How he managed to steal a vial of his own blood. How he snuck it past his dad, how he snuck it past me. How he got the supplies he needed. How he figured out how to even get a vein, and how he managed to properly inject Skylar with his blood. Especially considering he’s such a baby about needles.

  He was incredibly stupid, selfish, and absolutely reckless.

  I should have known better given he was being super weird. I had a hunch that something was wrong, that something wasn’t sitting right. But I believed his lie about being tired and woozy from getting his blood drawn again.

  I was stupid for just letting that go, and now here I am, frantically searching the wooded area around the cabin to try to find him.

  Keith stayed with Skylar, and with Wiley somehow asleep already, Alex and I took off after Max. Alex decided we should split up, so each of us armed with a flashlight went in separate directions from the house.

  My only instruction from Alex being, “Don’t go too far, it’s not worth getting lost.”

  But I find myself feeling the opposite. The relationship Max and I have developed over the last couple of weeks has been such a welcome surprise. At first, he hated me, or, well, I guess I took his massive ignoring me as hatred. But then something broke inside him, and ever since that moment, our friendship has deepened. Loss will do that to you, it will break you, it will tear you apart, and it will form bonds with unlikely people.

  Max is like the brother I never had. The really idiotic but genuinely caring brother.

  And maybe it’s my desire to fix everyone else because I can’t fix myself that makes me desperate to find him.

  His love for Skylar is immense, passionate and raw. The relationship he and his dad share, the bond he has with Wiley—I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t envious, but that’s what drives me to help him; he has so much to live for, to be proud of and fight for. Even if I’m on the sidelines and play the smallest role, it would be nice to know I helped him hold on to the things and people he loves.

  “Max,” I whisper loudly, a contradiction in itself. “Where are you, you idiot?”

  The illumination from my flashlight shines fiercely, brightening up the darkness of night, showing me infinite rows of trees. My hope fades, and the realization that he could be anywhere consumes me heavily. I take a deep breath, check both left and right, and decide to put myself in his shoes and go straight.

  The forest at night fills all of my senses, the chatter of bugs in the distance, the thick smell of mud and fallen branches, the bright leaf-covered trees igniting from my flashlight. My eyes are a constant flutter, shifting from the ground directly in front of me, to ahead, to along the base of trees.

  A faint sound stands out from the rest, and I can’t seem to place it. Cautiously but quickly, I move in its direction. I hear it again and I’m drawn toward it. Something streaks across the ground in the distance, and I assume Alex is making his way toward the sound, too.

  I pick up my pace and jog toward the sound and flickering, and as I approach, Alex grab’s Max’s shoulder and pulls him abruptly off the ground. Max appears surprised and tries to rip his shoulder away.

  “Don’t be a child,” Alex demands. “You’re wasting all of our time. We’re going back to the cabin.”

  “I’m not go
ing anywhere with you,” Max replies.

  I reach the two of them, and Max avoids my eyes, staring at nothing in particular on the ground.

  “Hey now, calm down, Alex,” I say, trying to remove his hand from Max.

  “We’re wasting time. Why does no one seem to care we’re wasting time?”

  “Just give me a second with him,” I plead.

  “Whatever, you deal with him,” he huffs and storms off toward our temporary home.

  Without breaking his concentration on the ground, Max grumbles, “I’m sorry.”

  He sniffles, the familiar sound much louder and apparent now that I’m right next to it.

  “Listen, it’ll be okay, but we really need to go,” I say.

  “I can’t, I can’t go. Not there. Not after this.” He shakes his head.

  “Max,” I say, trying to get his attention.

  “No, I can’t. I won’t go back.”

  “Max, you have to listen to me.” I grab his arm, shake him a little. “Look at me.”

  He glances up, his eyes bloodshot, the remnants of tears dried against his cheeks. My heart breaks a little for him, and I realize he must not understand.

  “Don’t make me go there, not right now.”

  “It’s going to be okay, Max, she’s going to be okay.”

  “You don’t know that.” He raises his voice slightly, almost becoming delirious.

  “You don’t understand. You helped her. Please, come to the cabin with me so I can show you.”

  Suddenly, his eyes darken and come alive, and he speaks in a rush. “What? What do you mean? You’re lying.” His desperate gaze shifts toward the cabin and returns to me.

  “I can’t really explain. We haven’t made any sense of it yet. Your dad is doing some tests, but listen, whatever you did, it helped. So please just listen to me, we need to get back.”

  He stares at me in a way that terrifies me.

  “You’re not lying?”

  “No, I wouldn’t lie to you about this. Can we please go now?”

  “God, I’m such an idiot, I thought…”

  “Yeah, you sure are an idiot.” I laugh.

  “Wait, so she’s better? What are we waiting on? Come on.” He bolts away, leaving me behind in a cloud of dust.

  It takes me a second to process that he’s gone, and when I do, I take off after him. I try to catch up, but he sprints ahead, and considering his legs are a heck of a lot longer than mine, he covers much more ground than I can.

  He barrels through the front door, and it takes me another minute to catch up. When I reach the steps, I’m out of breath, my heart pounding feverishly, and my pulse heavy all over my body, thudding loudly in my ears.

  I go inside to find the sound of my heartbeat being drowned out by voices. Multiple people talking over one another. I drop my flashlight on the table by the door and make my way toward them, entering Max’s bedroom.

  “Max, what you did was incredibly stupid,” Keith says.

  I swallow down the lump forming in my throat and lean into the wall, willing myself to become invisible while a dad rips a son’s ass.

  24

  Max

  I clear the steps to the cabin in one leap and am through the front door and into my bedroom in record speed. I come around the edge of the bed, and Dad nearly jumps out of his skin.

  “What the hell were you thinking?” he demands.

  “How is she?”

  “You had no right, no right to do this, and no right to idiotically take off like that. Tell me what the hell you were thinking.”

  “You really need to ask what I was thinking? I had to do something. You won’t tell me anything. You and Quinn go and run your tests and keep the results to yourself. When were you going to tell me, huh?”

  It was never like this, the whole keeping secrets from each other thing. My dad and I have always been close, and even closer following Mom’s death. We had to be, we were all we had left. Our family stretches across the coast of California and Florida, and once the dust settled of my mom dying, no one really kept in contact anymore. It was like we were long forgotten. Wiley became our family and held together the pieces of brokenness in our time of need. The relationship my dad and I shared became closer than ever. There were the things we didn’t talk about, but not because we wanted to keep them secret, but because we’re guys and don’t gossip and talk feelings.

  Stuff like whether or not my blood could help the girl I love should definitely be on the list of stuff we talk about. This is a definite need-to-know thing. And the fact that he just didn’t tell me is unacceptable. Even if he didn’t know for sure, he could have told me. I’d rather him be open and honest than keep things from me.

  “What are you talking about?” he asks, pretending to be confused.

  “You know what I’m talking about. My blood. I’m not stupid, you know.”

  “You are, though. You really are. Max, what you did was incredibly stupid.”

  “You never used to keep things from me, Dad. Why wouldn’t you just tell me?”

  “I didn’t want to get your hopes up, okay? I know you and Skylar have some intense bond, you always have, since you were born you two shared something. And honestly, I can only imagine how this feels, finally getting her back after all these years and then having her ripped away again. I didn’t want to get your hopes up. I was trying to protect you.”

  “I’m not a child anymore,” I snap. “You have no right.” My head shakes and I point my finger furiously. “No right to not tell me things this important.”

  The anger bubbles up from somewhere deep inside, anger mixed with heartbreak and frustration and deceit. My jaw clenches, and a small hand touching my arm startles me.

  “Remember our talk?” Quinn pleads quietly but desperately. Her cobalt eyes sparkle as they bore into me.

  It’s then that I do remember. She told me he thought I would freak out, that he wanted to wait until he had something more concrete. They were afraid I would act irrationally.

  They were right.

  I stole my own blood, I injected it into Skylar in a frantic and completely foolish attempt to help, to do something.

  I was stupid, and here I am treating Dad like garbage for not telling me, for doing the thing he thought was right given my slightly reckless behavior around Skylar. Slightly might be the understatement of the year. She blinds me, makes me feel and think and act in ways I didn’t think I was capable. Not always in bad ways, but the thought of losing the good is creating this monster that will stop at nothing to save her.

  “Yeah.”

  She smiles and I’m surprised to find it calming the demon in me. I don’t know what I did to deserve her kindness, her friendship. Especially considering the circumstances. I would want nothing to do with me, but she manages to hold on to some shred of my humanity, keeping me afloat while I struggle through this nightmare.

  My eyes close, and when they open, I exhale, finding myself somehow more relaxed, pushing away the tension.

  “I’m sorry,” I offer.

  Dad rubs his temple. “Listen, I get it. I know this is hard, and I’m sorry for not being more open, but I’m just trying to protect you. Not give you false hope.” He swallows hard. “I’ve been there, holding on to every ounce of hope…” His eyes glaze, staring aimlessly off into the distance. Then, snapping back to reality, he continues, “I’ll try to be better with telling you things, as long as you do your best to not freak out on me. I’m trying, okay? Trust me, Skylar is important to me, too.”

  “That’s all I ask, thank you.” The sincerity feeling somewhat real in his words lifts a tiny invisible weight from my shoulders.

  Quinn interjects, “Good, glad that’s cleared up. Now, on to more pressing matters.” She motions to the sleeping beauty lying in my bed.

  “Right, yes. Well, initially, her vitals have improved but seem to be at a bit of a standstill. I’ll have to run further analysis to determine a more solid conclusion, but we seem to be
onto something. I’d like to run another sample of her blood against yours, Max. I’m not an expert on these matters, so this is a bit of a learning curve.” He frowns slightly. “But, nothing we can’t figure out.” He nudges Quinn. “You make a great partner.”

  “That’s good, though, right?” I ask, trying not to sound overly hopeful.

  “To have any type of lead in this foreign situation is definitely good. Obviously, nutrition helped, but only so much. The medication we’ve tried hasn’t seemed to make any difference. To see an actual improvement of any kind is great. Now it’s only a matter of figuring out the how and why, and how to amplify those results. I know it may seem like a good idea to just inject her with mass quantities of your blood, that isn’t necessarily a feasible option for either of you, so please for the love of everything holy, do not do that.”

  I raise my hands in surrender. “Okay, I won’t, but it does seem like a good idea from over here.”

  Quinn speaks up. “Medically speaking, not knowing what we’re dealing with in Skylar’s blood, not even knowing if she’s a proper recipient or how her body will react in the next twenty-four hours to the amount of blood that’s in her system now, it’s a horrible idea.”

  “That makes sense,” I respond.

  “So, on that note, I know time isn’t really on our side, but we need to let this marinate a bit. See what happens, at least overnight. Quinn will stay consistent with checking her vitals, and I’ll be busy plugging away in my makeshift lab. Can you handle that?” Dad asks.

  I observe a sort of gentleness I had almost forgot existed within him.

  “Yeah, I can handle that.”

  “Good,” he says. “Now, I’m trusting you, Max, nothing crazy. And you,” he points to Quinn, “keep an eye on him. I have work to do, and I can’t have you in here running some half-assed transfusion.”