His eyes move away from mine and go somewhere else, far, far away. I swallow hard, having a pretty good idea where his words will lead us but unable to stop them.
“My little sister.” He tries a smile, but tears flow out again. “She was such a good baby; she never cried. She must have gotten sick from the rain or something. We both got soaking wet the night before.”
I exchange a short glance with Colin; his face mirrors the same I feel while Ben continues his tale.
“I never meant to stay out with her that late. My mom was really pissed at me; she works nights at the hospital. Worked, I mean.” He swallows, and Colin hands him another bottle of water, which Ben gratefully accepts.
“Anyway, I was babysitting as always, and Jenny, my girlfriend, calls and says she wants some ice cream. So, I pack up Lilly, and we meet Jenny. Jenny loves Lilly.” He smiles wistfully at Colin and me.
“But then we ran into the guys. Lilly didn’t care; she was sleeping, so we stayed out ‘til like one or so. But on our way home, it started to rain. I tried to shield Lilly as much as I could from the rain, but I guess she did get wet and probably caught a cold. Anyway, she was crying bloody murder when I got up a few hours later, and my head was splitting...”
He hesitates; his eyes are begging me for forgiveness before he continues. “It’s hard to describe. There was suddenly so much hate inside of me towards her. And my head was throbbing, and she wouldn’t stop crying.”
“I picked her up, and she tried to bite me.” He shakes his head, still in disbelief over the encounter. “Bite me; she is only a year-old. Shit. And then I couldn’t stop myself. Just as my mom walks in the room, I take Lilly, and throw her against the wall like a football.”
His voice breaks, cries constrict his throat, rendering him unable to speak for a while. He cries so hard; his shoulders heave from it. I embrace him. He keeps sobbing, looking up at me again: “You want to hear the weird part? After I threw her, my head stopped aching for a while.”
He takes a deep breath. “Whenever I hurt somebody, my head stopped hurting, like it was some kind…. of reward or something.”
“It’s not your fault,” I say simply. And when he doesn’t seem to hear me, I say it again. And again. Until he does.
When my words finally penetrate his mind, he looks up at me. Bloodshot eyes beg me to make it better.
“It’s. Not. Your. Fault.” I reiterate.
“What do you mean.” he sniffles.
“This is a lot to take in, okay? So, stay with me and hear me out, okay?” I wait for his nod before I take a deep breath and dive in.
“Aliens are attacking Earth. They put nanobots in the rain, which got into anybody’s brains who was unlucky enough to get wet. Okay? It’s not your fault.”
“Nanobots.” He seems confused. “Aliens? Are you joking with me? Please don’t joke with me.” His voice almost breaks. Torn between hope for absolution and fear of what it means.
“No. I wish I was. I wish this whole thing was just a bad dream. But there were nanobots in your brain that made you do… what you did. It’s not your fault.”
“I killed Lilly….and I killed my mom.”
“I watched my dad die after he killed somebody and then tried to kill me. I found my mom and my sister dead after they killed each other.” I offer.
His head perks up a little, and his eyes are wide. “For reals?”
I nod. “For reals.”
I glance down at his leg and see angry red lines going out from his wounds. I pull on the tear on his pant leg some more and see the lines are about ten inches long already.
“You have a nasty infection and blood poisoning. Those lines? They’ll kill you if they reach your heart.” I point to the lines. “Let’s get you cleaned and doctored up.” I wait for his nod of consent.
“We’ll get you some food, too; when was the last time you ate?”
His lip twists in pain, “Ice cream.”
Even though I don’t know how long ago that was, I get the picture, and again my heart constricts with empathy for him and everything he had to endure. “Come on, then.”
He leans heavily on Colin and me while we help him into the bathroom Doctor Paton indicated. Colin offers to help him, but he declines. So we rejoin the others in the small staff break room, where they have been patiently waiting for us, and fill them in on what we learned.
Despite us being somewhat triumphant about getting Ben back, his story tears at our hearts and makes us realize how many more stories just like his are out there. I think about the maniacs I have killed and wonder.
“Don’t.” Colin looks sharply at me.
I blink my eyes confused. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t think about them like that. You did what you had to do to save yourself and others.” I eye him doubtfully. “Well, let me ask you this then. Let’s say you were one of them.”
“Okayyyy.” I drag the word out, putting all my doubt into it.
“You have already killed some people and are about to kill some more. Would you want to live and keep doing it, or would you want somebody to put you out of your misery?”
I don’t have to think about it. “Put me out. But now that we have a cure….”
He shakes his head. “We can try to save as many as we can, but if we are in a fight, you need to let go of it and shoot first; otherwise, you might get killed, or one of us.”
I understand what he is telling me; I do. But I’m also not sure how I’ll react in that situation anymore. I had problems before killing the maniacs, but now that we found out that we can heal them… I understand what Colin is telling me, but to say I’m conflicted is an understatement.
“Ahem.” Professor Dunn rises. “Let’s use this moment for something else. I wanted to tell you. Remember the plant?”
He has our attention. There is no way to forget the plant; remembering the scent alone makes my mouth almost water.
“We started to focus our research on how to kill it.” Dunn continues.
“What plant?” Colin and Doctor Paton ask simultaneously.
I keep forgetting that Colin was gone during our latest adventures, so we wait for Blake to fill the two of them in, before the professor can get into his lecture mode. Colin looks thoughtful as he indicates to the professor to continue after he and Paton are caught up.
“As I was saying, we were concentrating on how to kill it. One thing that kills it, of course, is what we already suspected, which is a colder climate. But since they are warming everything up, I doubt we will see much of a winter.” He snickers at his own joke and waits for Sven and Astrid to stop giggling.
I raise my eyebrows; I didn’t think it was much of a joke; it must be an insider thing.
“Oh wait, I forgot to mention one thing before. Where are the pictures, Astrid?”
“Oh, the pictures. Wait ‘til you see those.” She rummages in her purse for her phone and finally finds it. We wait patiently while she scrolls around and then hands it to Martin for perusal. Martin’s forehead wrinkles, but he doesn’t say anything before passing it to Colin, who gives it to Blake and so on until it reaches me.
It’s a picture of the plant, which has grown a lot bigger since I last saw it, almost tripled in size, with more flowers and buds. I narrow my eyes, trying to figure out what I’m supposed to be seeing.
“The ground.” Sven finally exclaims, exasperated as if I’m dense.
I find what he wants me to see, and my heart sputters a few times.
“One morning, we came to work, and we found those!” Sven exclaims, waving his arms. Around the plant on the floor are three tiny skeletons.
“What are those?” I ask.
“Mice.” Astrid answers.
“We have since discovered that the smell of the plants attracts them. They take a bite or two and die a convulsing death.” I shudder at the image. Astrid really knows how to mince her words.
“Afterwards, the tongue we observed earlier comes out and licks the
bodies away until all that remains are the bones. Want to see a video?” We all wave our hands no.
“We’ll take your word for it,” Martin says for all of us.
“Anyway, after each consumption of something larger than a bug, the plant has a huge growth spurt, plus another bud appears.” Astrid finishes.
“I would like to see it,” Paton says and reaches for the phone after Astrid has put the appropriate video on.
“They are scavengers, like vultures,” I suggest.
The professor nods. “Yes, but they also lure their prey to them. With their scent.”
“Oh, God, the smell,” I say.
“What smell?” Colin asks.
Astrid pulls out a small, sealed plastic bag. Inside I recognize the leaves of the plant in question.
“It can’t be explained; you have to experience it.” She tells Colin.
“Be prepared to fall on your knees and worship it.” I laugh, and Blake high fives me.
Colin gives us a condescending look, but Blake and I just smirk; he’ll see. Astrid opens the bag just a tiny bit and moves her other hand around to make the scent dissipate towards Colin. I catch myself wanting to get on my tiptoes to get a whiff.
Blake catches it and grins but refrains from saying anything. With bated breath, we watch his brother fumble. He doesn’t exactly go on his knees, but it’s close. His eyelids flutter, yes flutter, it’s over so quick I would have missed it, hadn’t I scrutinized his face the entire time. His right arm shoots forward as if he wants to take the bag. Astrid quickly takes it out of his reach, sealing it in the process.
“Wow. Okay, I get the smell thing.” Colin laughs.
“It’s pretty intoxicating.” The professor agrees. “Anyway, we are trying to come up with a method on how to exterminate it best. No known weed killer has any kind of impact on it.” He holds up his hand and ticks of the methods he and his assistants have used. “Neither do any kind of parasite since it simply eats them.”
He is about to hold up a third finger when Martin interrupts him: “Yeah, yeah, we get it. So, what does kill it?”
Using his fingers again, the professor starts. “Well, fire, of course, oxygen or carbon monoxide deprivation or simply pulling it out by the roots and burning it.”
He looks satisfied with himself. We wait. Everything is quiet until Martin asks what we are all wondering: “That’s it?”
All three academics nod their heads in unison. While I lick my suddenly dry lips, Martin furrows his brows in disbelief. Colin and Blake both look disappointed and angry. That is not a lot to go by, I think, despondent. The professor was right; we won’t be able to freeze the plant unless somebody comes up with a genius idea of dumping tons and tons of ice on the flower. Fire appears to be the last option, I think grimly. That’s not much.
The silence stretches on until Colin asks, “How fast do they grow?”
The professor straightens the glasses on his nose. “Very fast. When your dad brought me this plant, it was like this big.” He holds out his hand, indicating how small it was. “What you see now is not even a weeks’ worth of growth.”
Colin holds out his phone, showing us a picture. “A buddy of mine sent me this a few days ago; I didn’t really appreciate what to make of it until now.”
I crane my neck like the others, trying to get a better look at it. I gasp when I do. “Is that Los Angeles?”
Colin nods, “Yes, what’s left of it, after the bombing.”
All I see is a sea of red and orange—flower after flower after flower, growing over a decimated landscape. The bombs did a number on the city; nothing recognizable is left standing. Just rubble on top of rubble amidst the flowers. Not the other way around. It truly is a sea of red and orange. It would be a beautiful sight if it weren’t so frightening.
“My buddy said this was highly classified. I thought he was joking.” Colin seems to ponder his own words.
“So, they do know.” I muse.
Everything goes quiet for a few seconds.
Chapter 27
“Ben is taking a long time.” I realize suddenly.
It’s been almost thirty minutes since we left him to go get a shower. Colin and Blake move as one, and I’m right on their heels, followed by the rest of our motley crew. Colin reaches the door first and knocks.
“Ben?”
“Try the handle,” I call out impatiently.
He tries, but the door doesn’t budge.
“Ben,” Colin calls out again. Through the door, we can hear the rushing of water in the shower, but nothing else.
Colin steps back; without another word, he kicks the door’s handle, hard. He tries the handle again, and low and behold, it opens, swinging inward. Colin rushes forward. I can’t see anything; the door and Colin are blocking my view.
“Shit,” he exclaims.
The doctor pushes me aside and rushes in. “Turn the water off. Somebody get me some rope or a belt.” Paton barks out orders like a pro.
I turn on my heel and run to the MRI room where we left the rope after cutting it off Ben. It’s right where we left it. I snatch it and run back, sliding on the slick, tiled floor. Everybody gets out of my way as I storm back into the tiny bathroom. This time nothing blocks my view.
Ben is lying dead or unconscious on the wet floor; blood from his cut wrists covers the white tiles, his eyes are open and unseeing. I’m almost certain he’s dead and hand over the rope. Paton and Colin quickly grab one of Ben’s arms and tie the cord around it to stem the flow of blood, which isn’t very much of a flow at this point. But as little as it is, it seems to pulse out with each low heartbeat. That has to be a good sign, right?
“Is anybody AB positive?” Paton calls out while Colin lifts Ben out of the shower.
“I’m.” I raise my hand, blushing, unsure if I was supposed to raise my hand.
“Come with me, young lady; the rest of you wait outside.”
He leads Colin and me into an examination room, where Colin puts Ben on a polished steel table and steps back. Paton has a stethoscope in hand and pushes Ben’s shirt up to listen for a heartbeat.
I search the room for things he’ll need. In one of the drawers, I find the essentials for an I.V. It’ll work for a transfusion in a pinch.
“There is nothing to sew with.” I cry out, frustrated.
“This is an imaging center, not a doctor’s office,” Paton states calmly. “I have a heartbeat. Come over here, Vivian. Good, that’s what we need.”
He points at the supplies I found, and I sit down in the chair he indicates, right next to Ben.
“Where is the closest doctor’s office?” Colin asks.
While I put a tourniquet on my arm, Paton is swabbing it with alcohol, a needle already in his hand.
“Right next door. On your left. Nobody is there, though.”
Colin is already out the door, calling for his brother. Martin looks like he wants to follow his sons but realizes they have everything under control. The twins and the professor stand huddled in a corner, silently talking to each other.
Paton moves around purposely; not one step or gesture is wasted, and not much later, he has me hooked up to Ben. A tube is connecting us while I stand with my arm raised by his head. The other end is in Ben’s arm, just above the tourniquet, still cutting off his blood supply towards his hands.
A few minutes in, I start to become a little woozy, but Ben’s color is beginning to return, which I take as a good sign. Paton has Ben hooked up to a monitor, and we can see that his heart rate is starting to pick up as well by the increasing beep and the rising digits. Forty-five, forty-nine, fifty-six. You get the picture.
I’m holding onto a pole, which is housing the I.V. fluids Paton will give Ben and me as soon as we are unhooked from each other, to replenish both of our fluid losses.
Colin returns, sewing kit in hand. “Your neighbor might not like you for a while; we had to break a window.”
“I’ll explain it if I have to and gladly
pay for it,” Paton says nonchalantly. “You know how to sew?” he asks Colin since I’m busy hanging by the pole, still giving blood.
“I practiced a few times.” Colin nods. “It’s not pretty, though.”
“Won’t matter; here take his left hand.”
Colin sits down next to me and takes off the saturated bandage wrapped around Ben’s wrist.
“What did he use?” I ask, peeking over Colin’s shoulder; the wound on Ben’s hand is ragged and ugly.
“He broke the mirror and used shards,” Colin tells me in a stony voice.
I shudder. That must have been a lot of pain, and he not only kept doing it, but he also did it to his other hand. His desperation is hard to fathom. So much pain, I think, and stroke the kid’s brown hair back, even in his unconscious state, his face looks tortured.
“Poor kid.”
Colin pauses from his sewing; his eyes meet mine. In his, I can read the same sorrow I feel. “He’ll have to live with this for the rest of his life.”
I nod. I hate myself for it, but I can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, Ben would have been better off if we had let him die. I don’t know. I really don’t, and thank God it’s not my call to make. Right now, we are saving his life, whether he wants it or not.
Chapter 28
Ben is still sleeping when I wake up the next morning. My entire body hurts, and I take a couple of the painkillers aunt Corinne gave me and my antibiotics. After they were done stitching up Ben yesterday, Doctor Paton took care of his leg as well. He hooked him up to I.V. fluids and Penicillin, which Colin and Blake also liberated from the next-door office.
We took Ben to our house, pole and all, and they put him in Blake’s room while the brothers took turns watching him overnight.
After I woke up this morning, I made coffee and took two cups upstairs to whoever was on Ben watch, which turned out to be Colin. Now, we sit on opposite sides of the bed, sipping our coffee and watching Ben sleep. Every once in a while, he sighs or moans, but he doesn’t wake up.
The Rain | Part 1 | The Beginning Page 24