Too Young to Die

by Michael Anderle

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Well, maybe the door in the chamber below you isn’t locked,” he pointed out.

  “Oh. Good point. Give me a moment.” Scuffling sounds followed and he imagined her hanging upside down out of a hole in the ceiling. “I think you’re right,” she said, her voice muffled. “Okay, so I drop down, get out, and come get you.”

  “No, there might be patrols. Let’s have you drop down and then help me down as well.” Although the thought of jumping so close to the edge was terrifying, the floor of the chamber below did extend somewhat farther.

  “If you say so.” She sounded dubious. “Okay, one sec—”

  “Shhh!” he hissed suddenly. He could hear voices in the corridor outside and the dull thud of footsteps. A few seconds later, a key scraped in the lock and his door creaked open to admit the bandit leader. He stepped in and the door was closed and locked behind him.

  “You’re awfully confident,” he observed and studied his captor. “I could tackle you off the edge.”

  His visitor only raised his eyebrows. Justin thought he saw something glimmering but the flicker of it was gone in the next moment.

  “Why did you come to the ruins?” he asked.

  “There was a job posting in East Newbrook,” he said wearily. “Not even a job posting, really, merely someone saying there might be good loot in the ruins.”

  “Oh? And who was this someone?”

  “I don’t know. It was one of the pieces of paper the town crier put up.” He threw his hands up. “Does it matter?”

  “Given that this only turned into ruins two months ago and no one offered a reward? Yeah, it does.” The bandit crouched to look him in the eyes.

  “Wait, two months ago all of this was…fine?” He couldn’t keep the incredulity out of his voice.

  “Good acting,” the bandit said derisively. He stood and wandered a few feet away. “Try again,” he called over his shoulder. “And make it more believable this time.”

  He was distracted from his anger by the glimmer he saw again at the man’s waist. Curious, he tried to picture a box lid opening as the witch had suggested, but nothing happened. Then, in a strange wash of inspiration, he remembered a summer day at the beach when a wave ebbed to show the stones and shells in its wake. As the water receded, the shoreline was revealed.

  A chain of magic at the bandit’s waist became instantly visible. Tendrils of magic extended up and down from it to burrow into his leather armor, and a trail led to the door. That was why he wasn’t afraid, he realized—he knew that no matter what happened, he wouldn’t go over the edge.

  The man looked at his waist in surprise, then at his prisoner, and his eyes narrowed. “I knew it,” he said. “The witch sent you.”

  “Oh?” Justin challenged. “Since you seem to be deciding everything about us, what then?”

  “Then we kill you,” he said bluntly.

  A strained silence followed.

  “If, on the other hand, you came on your own…” The man smiled and showed his teeth. “Maybe we can make a deal.”

  He considered his options. As far as he could tell, the best option was to play along for now, whether or not he intended to make a deal. That said, of course, was it better to admit their association with the witch or not?

  His knowledge of magic was likely suspicious, he decided. He had to spill the beans.

  “We set out from East Newbrook on our own,” Justin said. “We planned to search the ruins for ancient artifacts. Yesterday, while trying to retrieve a donkey that had run away, we encountered a massive wolf. It and I fought and I wounded it, but it turned into a man, who told me a witch had cursed a group of bandits and that I could free them by killing her.”

  The bandit watched him suspiciously, his arms folded.

  “We weren’t sure what to do,” he continued. “Shortly before we met you, we went off the road to a little shack, thinking there might be supplies we could use. It didn’t look as if it had been inhabited in some time but a witch was inside. She held us captive with a spell and told us to find you and kill you—that you were killing the forest and, even before you preyed on flocks, you’d been bandits.”

  “She told you we were killing the forest?” Fury hardened his captor’s tone. “No—that’s her magic—her curse because she uses magic that isn’t natural. She’s the reason we became bandits. It wasn’t our choice. She wanted our town and our tower, so she fought us for it. That’s the reason for the ruins, and she cursed us when she couldn’t drive us out. We’re bandits now because it’s not safe to be around humans. When the change comes over us…we can’t always control ourselves. Sometimes, we attack.”

  Justin stared at him, genuinely torn now.

  “She needs to die,” the man said fiercely. “This tower was ours for the taking and it’s not like she had any more right—” He broke off. “We have a potion,” he stated coldly. “It will incapacitate her and make her weak enough to kill. None of us can use it as her curse alerts her to our presence. But you could do it. You could free us all. We’ll give you a day to decide.”

  The door opened to let him through and slammed again behind him before the loud footsteps of the bandit group walked away. He peered out the tiny opening in the door but didn’t see any shadows to suggest a guard had remained.

  “Zaara, did you hear that?”

  “Every word. How did he know you were sent by the witch?”

  “I used the spell she taught us,” he explained. “I finally made it work.” He slumped against the wall. “I have no idea who to trust, though. Did you hear what he said? About how she had no more right to this place than they did?”

  “Yes.” Her voice was contemplative. “I did, now that you mention it.”

  “What do you think?” Justin asked her.

  “I’m…not sure. If we have to side with one, I guess I’d side with her. If she were someone like Sephith, she’d have lackeys to help her fight the wolves, wouldn’t she? Or she’d simply be able to kill them. And whatever they were doing before, they’re hurting more people now.”

  “Wait.” He peered at the wall. “What you just said—if we have to side with one. What if we didn’t?”

  “Wait, what?”

  “What we need is information, right?” he asked her. “We need to get out of here, take the potion, and find out who’s right before we deal with anyone.” He listened and waited, but she made no response. “What do you think?”

  “Let’s do it,” Zaara agreed.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Mary looked at the clock for what felt like the twelfth time in twenty minutes.

  She sighed when she realized it had only been ten minutes.

  The building’s owners had been able to restrict the FDA agents from entering again by citing the exact language of what appeared to be an injunction, although she didn’t fully understand it. From the snippets of discussions she’d picked up, it seemed the entire process reeked of corruption and power plays. Whether this was true or not was moot on some level. Yes, they could fight it, but whoever had orchestrated it had done so with a time limitation in mind. When the twenty-four hours were up, they would have no legal grounds to keep them out.

  Jacob, back from jail on bond, was cloistered with Nick and Amber as they conference-called with the lawyer. Mary had tried to sit in on some of the meetings, but between the technical terms being thrown around and her guilt, she wasn’t much of a help at this point.

  It didn’t improve her mood that she wasn’t useful at all. She couldn’t help the PIVOT team, she couldn’t help DuBois prep Justin for a potential move, and she couldn’t help Tad with his work in the senate.

  She looked at the clock for the thirteenth time. Only twelve hours and forty-two minutes were left.

  A light touch on her shoulder startled her and she turned, expecting to see Tad there—hopefully with perfect news.

  It was DuBois, though. She hoped her face didn’t fall too obviously and cleared her th
roat. “Can I help with anything?” she asked him.

  “No. But I can help you. I can put you back in the game.”

  Mary stared at him. “Are you…sure? Can you do that?”

  “No,” Amber called from the side of the room. “He can’t. But we’re all screwed anyway so I say go for it.”

  “Ms. Garcia, please don’t say things like that while I’m on the line.” The lawyer sounded pained.

  “Oh. Right. Sorry. Mary, don’t go into the game. Help the doctor clean up. DuBois, stop suggesting things you know are illegal.” She gestured at the older woman, then the pod, and gave the man a thumbs up.

  Mary smiled, but her eyes stung with unshed tears. These three kids weren’t much older than Justin, and they were utterly prosaic about their chances of facing legal action. She let DuBois usher her to the pod and sat.

  Tina flashed into her mind. For now, the girl was a blank, a faceless entity. She hadn’t looked up her social media profiles and preferred to avoid the chance that she would send an angry message. To control the rising snarl of fury, she pressed her fists hard into the soft bottom of the pod and tried to push the thoughts aside. These people put their livelihood on the line for Justin, and where was Tina? Off Scott-free and uninjured although she claimed she was miserable.

  The girl wasn’t miserable enough, she decided.

  “Mrs. Williams?” DuBois looked concerned. He held sterilizing wipes in his gloved hands as he frowned at her. “Are you all right?”

  She thought of snapping a response that it was a ridiculous question, but she held her tongue. The doctor had his moments but he meant no harm—and he did the best he could to help her now. He had noticed her worry and it would concern him as he was putting her into the game. That was what she had to focus on. He was doing all he could to give her the time with Justin she desperately wanted.

  “I’m…yes, I’m all right.” She forced a smile.

  He nodded, but he left an expectant silence as he swabbed her temples and wrists.

  “I’m thinking about the woman who was with Justin in the car,” she explained.

  “Was she killed?” he guessed.

  “No,” Mary said bitterly. “No, she’s fine.”

  “That’s a relief.” DuBois smiled at her. “Did you know her well?”

  “I barely knew her and it’s not—” It is not a relief. Mary cleared her throat. She held one wrist out for an adhesive pad. “Her parents and I set her up with Justin. She was driving the night of the accident, was going way too fast, and crashed the car. The girl is fine and Justin is like this.” She gestured at the pod with her free hand.

  To her surprise, DuBois still did not speak. He looked briefly at her as he put the pad on her other wrist and then began to position the neural pads around the sides of her face and at the base of her skull.

  “I don’t want to wish pain on her,” she continued. “But it isn’t fair. She reaches out to me constantly for news about Justin and I can’t bear to write back. I can’t—she has no idea of the pain she’s put us all through. Tad and I are in hell, you and the rest of the team might wind up in jail, and none of it would have happened if she’d been careful.”

  The doctor nodded now. Instead of hooking her up to the machine, he took a seat nearby. “I know that feeling,” he said.

  “You do?” she asked, surprised.

  He nodded again, his expression thoughtful. “It felt unfair when my research was shut down the first time.” He held a hand up and took a very long time to choose his words. When he spoke, his voice was oddly flat and she could see how hard it was for him to try to understand the twists and turns inside someone else’s mind.

  “I understand that it’s not the same as having a child in a coma. But I think it may be more similar than you think. I don’t mean to be disrespectful, not at all. That project was my life’s work. I enjoyed it because it was difficult, but I also toured hospitals and saw people in comas and their families. I did everything right so I could help them because I believed that what I needed to do was create the treatment.” He shook his head and she saw that the fallout still did not make sense to him on a fundamental level. “I spent every day for years working on that research. I handpicked my team and I never took a day off. When it was shut down, it wasn’t that I had done anything wrong. It was something totally meaningless, and it would cost so many people their lives.”

  Mary hunched her shoulders. DuBois seemed so vague that she had never considered that he might feel this way.

  “You seemed so calm about it,” she said hesitantly.

  “It’s been years since then.” He smiled at her and then, as if to assure her that he was still the same person she’d known all this time, he stripped his gloves off and pulled out a bag of popcorn. “And most of this stuff…well, it took me a year before I could even go into the lab,” he added as he munched on a handful of caramel corn. His low-key demeanor did not match the words but she could see that he meant it.

  “What changed?”

  “I realized that continuing to be angry would accomplish nothing,” he said. “Other researchers didn’t understand. They told me projects were called off for all kinds of reasons and I shouldn’t be angry. That wasn’t a good reason to me. Why would I feel less bad to know that other lifesaving projects had been shut down for bad reasons? It only made me feel worse.” He looked completely baffled. “What did make me feel better was realizing that nothing I could do would change the fate of that project. I only had the skills to do research, and if I stayed in my apartment and was angry all day, I wouldn’t do any research.”

  Mary considered this.

  “I didn’t like being that angry,” DuBois explained. “I blamed myself for things that did not make sense at all. I would tell myself that if I had studied law, maybe I would know how to appeal things better than my university—even though if I had been a lawyer, the project would never have existed at all. I thought about what would have happened if I’d gone to one of those companies. Maybe if the treatment was beneficial to them, they wouldn’t have stopped it. But I couldn’t go back in time.”

  “You can’t change the past,” she agreed. How many times had she read that sentiment in celebrity interviews and self-help books?

  “Exactly,” he said as if she had come up with the quote on her own. “That is a good way to put it. I could not change the past and it was no use being angry at myself for not knowing different areas of study.”

  “I have felt useless,” she admitted. “I don’t understand the technology, I’m not a doctor, and I can’t help Tad with any of this. I don’t know what to do except feel guilty that all of you are in this mess…” She hung her head. “I’ve failed my child, Doctor. I can’t help him.”

  “You can’t?” DuBois fixed her with a firm look. “I don’t think that’s correct, Mrs. Williams. You and your husband chose together to find the best doctors you could and placed Justin in our care. You made sure the team was functioning well. You brought food in and I remember you telling Jacob to sleep. You told us things we could put in the game to make him happy.” He shook his head. “I am not sure why you think you cannot help him. You have been helping him. All of us, too.”

  Mary shook her head. “I…don’t know if I’ll ever really be able to believe that,” she admitted. The rest came out in a rush, an admission she hadn’t even shared with Tad. “I don’t go to confession anymore. I’m afraid the priest will hear how angry I am. I’m afraid God will hear how angry I am. I would never want someone else’s parents to suffer for this, but I wish it was Tina in a coma and not Justin. It isn’t fair and it doesn’t make sense.”

  “I imagine she feels the same way,” DuBois said neutrally.

  She studied him silently for a moment. “She…does,” she admitted. “She told me so in an email.”

  “Can you imagine writing that email?” he asked. His face was distant and contemplative. It wasn’t a rhetorical question and he was not making a point. He was imagining
it. “She emails you to ask how he is. She wants him to be better because she does not think it is fair that he was injured and she was not. She is…miserable.” He nodded as if checking an equation and realizing that it balanced. “She also knows that you are in pain and wishes she could take it away.”

  Mary said nothing. She felt the first stirrings of guilt.

  “You could tell her that he is improving,” he suggested. “We have seen measurable improvement. Maybe it would help her to know that.”

  Her lips twitched in a strange smile. DuBois was very good at putting the pieces together but he still didn’t understand—not really. He could not comprehend the outward force of her anger or her desire to have Tina be miserable.

  And, with his simple, easy suggestion, she felt her anger unwind somewhat. She remembered the moment when she’d stood in her kitchen and realized that to wish the coma on Tina was to wish her anguish on her parents. She didn’t want that. And when she thought of the girl, she saw now that she’d wished grief on her without ever really thinking about that grief.

  She remembered being young. How would she feel if it were Tad in a coma and she was at fault? She couldn’t imagine that and she swallowed uncomfortably.

  “Thank you,” she told DuBois. She took his hand and squeezed it. “Thank you.”

  “Of course.” He stood and motioned for her to lie back.

  “Please…will you pull me out if Tad calls?” she asked.

  The doctor nodded and she had the sense that he would take her directive seriously. He wouldn’t let her linger in the game if it were bad news.

  His assurance was comforting.

  Mary closed her eyes and breathed out. Her vision began to fuzz into pure white, and in seconds, the feed from the video game took over. She did not see DuBois shut the lid of the pod but she was smiling.

  Soon, she would see Justin again.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  “I want to say,” Zaara called over the wall, “that if I die by falling through the floor, I’ll be really angry about it.”