Trent shook his head. Sam always complained about kids, but he never acted rude to them, so Trent thought there had to be some compassion in there somewhere.
“Tell Sam he can do firehouse tours for the next six months until he likes the children,” Frank said over the radio.
Sam scowled.
“You know the feelings between him and the kids are mutual?” Trent suggested.
“Got a call,” Frank interrupted. “Emergency Medical Response: reported difficulty breathing.” Frank relayed the address. They were close, and would probably arrive first.
Sam started the engine and put on the sirens while Trent and Keith grabbed the gloves and masks they’d need to assess the patient. They were on scene in three minutes, outside a small coffee shop where someone was sitting on the ground surrounded by three concerned bystanders.
“Step back, please,” Keith said, and tried to nudge them out of the way.
Trent wedged himself past the onlookers and froze for a split second. Chris sat on the concrete sidewalk, face pale, his breathing shallow. It hadn’t even clicked in his mind that the address was only a few blocks from Chris and Phoebe’s apartment. Where were the girls? Trent knelt beside Chris and began checking for injuries.
Keith pulled out a clipboard to write down information. “What’s your name?”
“Chris…Anders,” he rasped.
“I know him,” Trent said. “Chris, can you tell us what happened?”
“I was on my walk. I got dizzy very fast, and the next…thing I knew…I was on the sidewalk.”
Trent checked his pulse; it pounded faster than normal. He checked Chris’s airway. It was clear, but his breathing came in labored gasps.
“Do you have any medical conditions?” Keith asked.
Trent stopped and exchanged a look with Chris.
“I’m dying of cancer.” He tried to smile as if it were a joke.
“Ambulance is a minute out,” Sam relayed.
“Trent.” Chris reached up and grabbed his elbow. “I didn’t expect it to be so soon…” Fear glimmered in his eyes now, and it threatened to be contagious.
“Hold that thought,” Trent said firmly. “I’m not a doctor. Where are Phoebe and Aidan?”
“Campus. Aidan’s…class, and Phoebe’s meeting with her thesis…advisor.”
“I’ll call them.” Trent looked up; the ambulance had arrived. The EMTs went to work putting in an IV line while Keith filled them in on the information he and Trent had already recorded. Trent had to step back, not because he wanted to—he would have stayed by Chris’s side—but the paramedics needed room to work. It couldn’t be this soon, he thought. Not before Christmas. He didn’t want to panic. His job relied on him maintaining a clear head in all types of crises. But that was his friend being placed on a stretcher, and it was very hard to keep his mind away from the nightmarish possibilities that were trying to break in and drown him.
“Trent,” Sam said. “Frank said go ahead and ride with the medics. We’ll clean up here and pick you up at the hospital.”
Trent could only manage to nod and squeeze Sam’s shoulder to convey his gratitude. He climbed into the back of the ambulance and assisted the paramedic with hanging the fluid bag and putting an oxygen mask on Chris. He still looked pale. He had a fever, which could have several meanings, and Trent was trying not to speculate. He got out his cell phone to call Aidan. Phoebe might have been the more appropriate choice, but Trent worried about her reaction and wanted Aidan there with her.
Chris pulled the mask off. “I don’t want to scare them. Lie. Tell them I slipped.”
Trent put the mask back on and gave Chris a stern look. “I don’t need that kind of ire.”
“You’d survive,” Chris said wryly.
“You’d get more pity.”
Chris moaned and tugged at the mask again.
Trent fixed his hand over Chris’s. “Keep it on.” With his other hand he dialed Aidan.
***
Her phone vibrated again. Aidan grimaced, and tried to covertly get it out of her bag. Even off to the side at the assistant’s desk, her movements were conspicuous. She frowned. Three missed calls from Trent. He knew she was in class…her heart rate quickened and she ducked out the side door, punching the redial as she went.
“Aidan?” He sounded serious—too serious.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“You need to get Phoebe and come to Northwest Hospital’s emergency room. I don’t want you to panic, but Chris is on his way there now.”
It felt as though Aidan’s heart stopped beating.
“He passed out on his walk,” Trent continued. “He’s conscious and he’s not hurt, so we’ll just see what the doctors say.”
Aidan couldn’t speak. The floor dropped out from under her, her knees wobbled, and her lungs constricted without enough oxygen.
“I’ll be there,” Trent said.
He waited for her to be the one to hang up, which she finally did. She snuck back into class, grabbed her bag, and left; she’d explain to the professor later. She dialed Phoebe as she hurried across campus to the Psychology department. Phoebe would probably ignore her phone as well, in which case Aidan would just barge through the door to get her attention.
What was happening? She hadn’t thought to ask Trent. She supposed he wasn’t able to tell her much or he would have already, even though she had been practically comatose for the last part of the phone call. It hadn’t even been two months yet! What else could be cause for someone to go to the hospital? Aidan mentally kicked herself. Today her so-called superior mind failed to come up with an answer.
She found the hallway of offices and scanned the name plaques on the door. Again, her brain was fuzzy on remembering Phoebe’s professor. She spotted another student making their way down the hall and stopped them.
“I’m looking for Phoebe. Which office is she in?” At the grad level, all the students in the same department knew each other. The girl pointed to the one at the end of the hall. Aidan spurred forward and cracked the door. Despite the urgency, she did not want to make a scene. She caught confused looks as Phoebe and her professor looked up in surprise.
“I’m sorry. Phoebe, it’s important.”
Phoebe, who was much more prone to worrying, jumped up, her eyes betraying what she already thought might be the problem. She gave a hasty goodbye to her advisor and slipped out into the hall with Aidan.
“What’s happened?” she hissed, barely keeping her voice low enough to not raise alarm behind her.
Aidan’s level-headedness came swimming back to her now that it had to for someone else. She put her hands up in a gesture to calm Phoebe. “He’s on his way to the hospital.” Aidan’s voice came out much steadier than the thoughts in her head. “Trent’s there, and he doesn’t know what’s wrong yet.”
Phoebe’s bag started to slip from her shoulder. Aidan grabbed the bottom to hold it up until Phoebe readjusted the strap. “Is it bad?”
“He passed out. Trent didn’t sound upset. He just wanted to let us know to come down.” Aidan took Phoebe’s elbow. “I’ll drive.”
They hurried across campus to the lot Aidan had parked in that morning. She tossed her book bag into the backseat and started the engine before she’d gotten her seatbelt latched. They both remained quiet as Aidan pushed yellow lights and took tight turns around corners. Neither wanted to give voice to the horrors racing through their minds.
They arrived at the hospital and drove around the parking lot for ten minutes looking for a free space. Those precious minutes, trivial in any other circumstance, were now agonizing. Aidan could see Phoebe’s fingers growing whiter as they clutched her bag.
Please, just one space.
They finally found one. They half-ran across the lane to the emergency room entrance. Trent stood in front of the Restricted Access doors, waiting for them.
“Is he okay? What’s happening?” Phoebe blurted out.
Trent took her
by the arms to steady her shaking. “He’s fine. It’s the flu.”
Aidan felt relief wash over her. The flu. That didn’t sound anything like her horrific explanations.
“He’s got a fever and he’s dehydrated,” he continued. “They’ve got him on an IV and some medicine. They’ve run some tests to check on everything else, but the doctor thinks he just got rundown really fast and bed rest will fix it.” He waited for that to sink in and for Phoebe to calm down before he let her go. “He’s in Curtain Two.”
Phoebe took a deep, shuddering breath and nodded, though she still appeared to be in shock. She pushed open the doors and went back to find Chris.
Aidan’s shoulders sagged as soon as she was gone. “Thank you.”
Trent moved forward and wrapped her in a hug. “I was worried too.”
She gave a hoarse laugh. “Who knew the flu could be so scary.”
He rubbed her back and sighed. “I have to get back to work.”
She pulled back. “I know.” She wanted him to stay, wanted to ask him to stay, but didn’t want to make it harder for him.
“Uh, the doctor mentioned admitting him overnight, just for observation,” Trent said. “Chris was against it.” He furrowed his brow. “I don’t know whether to respect his wishes or hit him over the head.”
Aidan understood. “I’ll talk to the doctor.”
“I wish I didn’t have to leave you alone to referee.”
She sighed at the prospect. Chris wanted to go home. Phoebe wouldn’t want him taking any chances. “I’ll manage.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the fire engine pull into view. She nodded in their direction.
Trent turned around and acknowledged them with a wave. He gave her one more hug before letting go. “Let me know what happens. I’ll come by wherever he ends up staying.”
“Okay.” Aidan watched him leave, her heart aching from the space his absence left, especially when she needed him there, to hug, to hold her up. She could afford little lapses in being the strong one when he was around. It was odd—she had never considered herself the type to need such breaks from that role, in fact she had always been strong naturally, self-reliant and independent. How different this life was for her. Was humanity changing her? Or were there still things about herself after all this time that she had left to discover? She’d have to mull it over later. Right now, she had to resume the strong and supportive role, and go check on Chris and Phoebe.
She passed through the mechanical doors and looked for the number two above the curtained rooms. The ceiling curtain hung open, bunched to one side; Chris lay propped up in a bed with Phoebe standing next to him and holding his hand. He looked pale and tired, but Trent was right, it looked like the flu. It still would have felt less distressful if he were at home in his own bed.
“Hey,” Aidan said.
Chris smiled at her. “Hey.” His voice sounded tired, but not as bad as when he had come out of surgery.
“I heard you caught a bug.”
He sighed dramatically. “I guess I just needed more attention. Where’s Trent?”
“He had to go back to work. He’ll come see you tomorrow.”
Chris nodded. “He’s a good fireman. Did you know they respond to people who pass out on the street?” He said it almost humorously. “I always thought they just fought fires all day.”
Aidan grinned. “Yeah, he does more than that.” She sat down at the foot of his bed.
“Will they keep you overnight?” Phoebe asked.
Aidan caught the slight flash in Chris’s eyes, even though he calmly replied that they wouldn’t need to. Maybe she could find a way to talk to the doctor alone first…
Chris shifted under the sheet. “Could you find a nurse? I’m really thirsty.”
Aidan jumped up. “No problem.” She walked to the counter in the middle of the ER. “Can he have some water?” she asked a nurse. The guy looked toward Curtain Two and said he’d have to check with the doctor first.
Aidan waited, glancing around at the other patients who occupied beds. A mother rocked a young child in her lap while he breathed vapor through a long tube. Another man lay flat on his back, hooked up to one IV. He hadn’t been changed into a hospital gown and his clothes looked ragged and filthy. Aidan could smell a faint whiff of alcohol in that direction. She hadn’t been in a hospital since the early 1900s, and only then as a visitor. She’d never had need of a doctor for being sick or hurt. The phoenix had incredible regenerating powers, so injuries never remained for long. Accidents had sometimes caused tension when people noticed, and she had to hide the fact that she had healed much more quickly than any mortal would have. Most of the time though, she had the senses to ward off harm.
The nurse returned with the message that Chris could have ice chips only, and he directed Aidan to the machine where she could get some. The doctor would come by in a bit to talk to them. Aidan got a plastic cup, filled it with ice chips, and grabbed a plastic spoon from a group in a paper cup on top of the machine. She returned to Chris and handed Phoebe the cup so she could spoon-feed him.
“Are you feeling better?” Aidan asked.
Chris lifted the hand with the IV line. “This stuff is very nice.”
Phoebe laughed. “It’s not even something strong like morphine and he likes it.”
Aidan waited for the doctor to arrive. Then the refereeing would begin. She didn’t have to wait in anticipation long; he arrived only a few minutes later, clipboard in hand.
“Hello Mr. Anders. I’m Dr. Lee. Your test results look good. I’ve spoken to your oncologist and he agrees that there’s no sign of anything to be concerned about in relation to the cancer. But we think you should stay overnight, keep the fluids going, just to make sure we get this taken care of right away.”
“No,” Chris said forcefully. “I’d rather go home.”
“The doctor says you need to stay,” Phoebe argued.
“Is there a problem if he goes home?” Aidan asked.
Dr. Lee furrowed his brow. “No, he is fit to go home if he wants. He needs to get lots of fluids down though. That’s very important if we don’t want to see him back here in two days.”
“I can do that,” Chris promised.
“What else if he goes home?” Aidan asked.
“Why are you being so stubborn?” Phoebe asked Chris, and shot Aidan an irritated glare.
“Because I’m not dying and I want to be in my own bed,” he said, and threw Aidan an appreciative look.
She sighed, knowing the thin line she walked, and how she couldn’t get away without upsetting one of them. “We promise to make sure he does what he needs to,” she told Dr. Lee.
He nodded reluctantly. “Okay. We’ll keep him the full six hours he’s allowed to be in the ER, push as many fluids as we can, and then discharge him.”
“Thank you.”
Phoebe pouted and began to pace. As soon as her back turned, Chris mouthed a “thank you” to Aidan.
“I’ll go call Trent,” she said. “Try to rest.” Phoebe would forgive them both. Chris, as much as she, needed a sense of control, and he wouldn’t find it in a hospital. Aidan understood that. She also understood Phoebe’s belief that if Chris stayed in the hospital, it meant doctors were in control, and therefore the disease was in control. But control was an illusion. In any case, Aidan hoped she had made the right call.
She stepped outside and left Trent a voice mail. The pre-winter air felt good in her nose and throat—sharp and poignant. Her stomach rumbled and Aidan realized she had missed lunch. A Carl’s Jr. stood across the street from the hospital, so Aidan went back in and offered Phoebe the chance to get food first while Aidan stayed with Chris, but Phoebe insisted that Aidan go.
It was a short walk, but it had started to rain, and by the time she got inside it was pouring. Aidan didn’t have an umbrella, so it either needed to let up by the time she finished eating, or she’d have to dash back and get soaked. She ordered a burger combo and took a seat in the c
orner next to a window where she could gaze at the hospital. The lights from its paneled windows shimmered on the slick asphalt as if it were polished glass.
Now that she was alone, Aidan suddenly felt like crying. The tension and adrenaline were wearing off, leaving her feeling desolate and betrayed, like Fate had played a mean trick on them today, daring to pluck Chris out of the world, and then giving him back with a “fooled you!” She was glad it was just the flu, but it felt cruel nonetheless.
People moved around her slowly, as though they were wading through knee-deep water, like the rain pouring down the drains lapped against them, trying to pull them down. Ugh. Aidan was disgusted with herself. Never had she felt so melancholic and depressed. So what if people died? They had been dying since the beginning. No one lives forever. She tried to rile herself up with callous thoughts, but it didn’t work. Discouraged, she dumped the rest of her fries in the garbage and headed for the door. It was still pouring. She moved like everyone else seemed to—slow and drugged. Someone held the door open for her, and she vaguely remembered murmuring a thank you. It was as though she was walking in a dream world, everything gray and reflecting, quiet yet rhythmic with the steady patter of raindrops. She needed to get out of it. She managed to spur herself into a run back to the hospital and inside the ER where the clamor of televisions and people and the bustling about of nurses snapped Aidan back to reality. She took a deep breath and went back to Chris and Phoebe.
Phoebe sat in a chair against the wall. Chris appeared to be asleep. “Aidan!” she gasped quietly. “You’re soaked.”
She shrugged. “It’s raining. Is he sleeping?”
“Yes. I’ll ask the nurse for a towel or something.” Phoebe hurried away, leaving Aidan feeling touched. Even with Chris being the one in bed, Phoebe never forgot to take care of Aidan as well. That was how it worked between them. Yes, this was the environment she needed to keep herself in. No more going off alone to wallow, she decided. Maybe she should invest in an iPod for those times she couldn’t avoid being alone, such as on her way to class or work, or right before she went to sleep.
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