Together We Stand

by JA Lafrance

  Together We Stand

  Anthology

  Table of Contents

  Essentially Broken

  C. A. King, USA Today Bestselling Author, Edits donated by Karen Hrdlicka

  Finding Love Amongst the Empty Shelves

  Tracy Willoughby, with assistance from JA Lafrance

  Surrendering Hearts

  Kadian Tracey

  Essential Love

  K. Logan, Edits donated by Taylor Delong and Angie Martin

  Fighting for Him

  JA Lafrance, Edits donated by Leah Negron

  COVID’s Arrow

  V.J. Allison, Edits donated by Cameron Allie

  Wait for Me

  J.M Walker

  Cindy

  Lorne Oliver

  Ease Me

  AW Clarke

  Catching the Lovebug

  Jennifer Rose

  Love Beyond the Flames

  Tricia Daniels

  Soaked

  M. Jane Colette

  Cohen

  Andréa Joy, Edits donated by Nikki Holt Sexton

  The Last Bus Stop

  P. Stormcrow, Edited by Tracy Kisgen

  Bullet to the Heart

  Sue Langford

  Make Me Beg

  Cameron Allie

  Second Chance

  Gillian Jones, All edits donated by Quoth the Raven

  The Valley

  Bethany-Kris, Edited by Eli Peters

  Worth the Wait

  Scarlett Wells, Edits donated by Karen Hrdlicka

  Quarantine Love

  Jean Kelso, Edits donated by Maria Vickers

  No Rest for the Wicked

  Carey Decevito, Edits donated by Karen Hrdlicka

  Out of the Blue

  DD Prince

  Save Me!

  Maria Vickers, Edited by Becky Swafford Baldridge

  Misdirection

  Cassia Brightmore

  Handcuffs & Stethoscopes: Beat of My Heart

  Crystal St. Clair, Edits donated by Maria Vickers

  Just One Night

  Geri Glenn

  3rd Date Face-Off

  C.J. Lazar

  We See You Too

  Allison M. Cosgrove

  Checking Out, Mr. Right

  Leah Negron

  © Copyright, 2020

  Together We Stand Anthology

  Published by Together We Stand anthology

  Anthology Image donated by: Cassia Brightmore

  Photographer: LJ Photography

  Cover Design: Geri Glenn

  Formatting by: Carey Decevito, EmberLust Press

  ISBN - 978139304156

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person or use proper retail channels to lend a copy. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of these authors. To obtain permission to excerpt portions of the text please contact:

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  All the characters in this book are fiction and figments of the author’s imagination. No part of this story is based on any true events or anyone’s life. If any MC names are used by any real, or true person, it is coincidental and in no way based on them or any real- life human being, living or not.

  Each author in this anthology has given explicit permission to the others working in this piece that they may share and use each other’s characters in their stories. No author outside this anthology has permission(s) to use any of these characters for your own use.

  Together We Stand is an anthology created by Canadian authors or authors with Canadian roots.

  We dedicate this book to frontline workers and workers that are deemed essential. Our hope is that this book will show that we see you, we appreciate your hard work, and we support you! We will all be forever in your debt.

  THANK YOU!

  Sincerely,

  Geri Glenn, C.A. King, Cameron Allie, V.J. Allison, Cassia Brightmore, AW Clarke, M. Jane Colette, Allison M. Cosgrove, Tricia Daniels, Carey Decevito, Gillian Jones, Andréa Joy, Jean Kelso, Bethany-Kris, JA Lafrance, C.J. Lazar, Sue Langford, K Logan, Leah Negron, Lorne Oliver, DD Prince, Jennifer Rose. Crystal St. Clair, P. Stormcrow, Kadian Tracey, Maria Vickers, J.M. Walker, Scarlett Wells, Tracy Willoughby

  Essentially Broken

  C. A. King, USA Today Bestselling Author, Edits donated by Karen Hrdlicka

  Saving people is a gift, losing them a curse. Either can happen at any time. Such is the burden of an emergency room nurse — Essentially Broken

  Essentially Broken

  On some days it was the greatest gift of all, on others an inhumane curse.

  To anyone who worked in the medical profession, talent was a requirement of his or her job. Years of experience was the tool which made anything burdensome slightly easier to handle. Neither guaranteed success. Failure, for the most part, meant someone wound up dead. It wasn’t an easy way to live. That was what set nurses’ emotions apart from others. That was what made them different. The pain, the joy; only a member of the healing community knew the true extent of those mood swings: minute-to-minute, hour-to-hour, day-to-day.

  “Nurse!” The voice came from behind her. “A mask is required. If you don’t know the new rules, I suggest you read them over again... and this time memorize them.”

  The rules were everywhere and had been for over a year. It was impossible to avoid them. Every single detail was etched into the minds of the members of the staff. Safety came first. It had to or they’d end up the patients, or so they were told. Truth be known, the defence they were adding to thwart the virus was only paper-thin. Wearing protection was more a moral booster than anything else. Only a full hazmat suit was an adequate safeguard. This breakout wasn’t considered serious enough for that, yet. Either that, or it was a line the public was being fed since resources weren’t available. The latter was likely the truth.

  “Yes, Doctor,” Angelique replied, even though her shift hadn’t started yet. Being lax about protocols wasn’t helping. Two elastics extended around her ears, mouth and nose immediately fully covered. Next, plastic snapped on each of her hands, after which they remained held high in the air. It was best not to touch anything where possible, even with the gloves on.

  Playing the part, the same as everyone else on the hospital’s payroll, was an unspoken obligation each staff member attempted to fulfill. Carrying on life, in as normal a manner as possible, eased worried minds. People were frightened and they had a right to be. The situation wasn’t improving. There was no use applying additional straw to the camel’s back.

  Medical facilities of all types had it the worst. Diseases gained strength in confined areas, especially places where the sick congregated. Visiting a local health centre was dangerous, albeit necessary for some, but not all. People needed to understand Community General was no exception. It was the same as any hospital overflowing with cases in the middle of the night. Not only was the atmosphere dismal, but regardless of the face they put on, the staff was, too—all underpaid and overworked.

  There was no fun to be had there, either. A hospital waiting room was among one of the most
depressing places to be stuck in, even more so than a body dump. At least there, the pain and suffering was already over. From the nurses’ stations, even from behind a thick glass partition, all was heard: the moans and groans of desperate would-be patients, a particularly loud elderly woman blubbering over her arthritis, several parents holding screaming children.

  Angelique huffed. There was no end to the lineup of souls wanting to place their names on the list to be seen, either. The worst part was, most of those cases were treatable at home. Coming to an emergency room increased their chances of contracting the actual virus for those who weren’t already infected. Risk levels doubled for anyone who stepped foot inside, regardless of how much hand sanitizer they used.

  Masking strong emotions was always slightly easier than she anticipated. It was a matter of being prepared. They never went away completely, though. Instead, those feelings travelled through her veins, sent shivers up and down her spine, even left the beginnings of goosebumps behind as calling cards on her skin. The trick was to never once allow them to make it past her muscles and flesh to take on a visual form. Holding a poker face was an emergency worker’s first and last line of defence.

  Sadness filled bright blue eyes. It was time. Her mind counted to ten; eyelids closed. When they opened, their vibrant colour had dimmed to a steely grey, hardening with her soul as it prepared for the work ahead. Chart in hand, she headed to the first room to assess the patient.

  Ed Primpt, was a friend; a local ambulance driver, with two children, a wife, and far too much life left in his future for it to end right there.

  Angelique glanced around cautiously, placing her clipboard of notes on the patient’s bed. Hands clasped together. Slowly, they began to glow. It had already been decided; this man was going to live to see his family grow up. Palms separated, hovering slightly over the listless body, bright light extending down from them. Black fragments separated from his chest were pulled upward as if locked on and elevated by an alien beam.

  This was her gift—a godsend. She could pull most ailments from other bodies into her own, and once there, heal them. As soon as Ed was clean she’d move on, leaving the rest of the staff to believe the best outcome had miraculously occurred. As far as they knew, the patient merely had a bad case of the flu or food poisoning. The symptoms were the same, after all. As for Ed, he’d remain sleeping until the blood tests came back negative for the virus. She requested a sample test before exiting the room. Carl Binder was next on her list.

  Angelique inhaled deeply before entering the room. Sometimes life lingered past what the body was meant to endure. She already knew from his chart, Carl was in that category. Walking in confirmed her suspicions. He lay motionless on a bed of white, eyes opened, fixating on nothing but reliving the joys they’d taken in over the course of many decades. The person was still there, locked inside a virus-ravaged body, chest raising and falling, heart still beating. That was about all he was capable of anymore. His oxygen levels were depleted; skin already greying.

  Disease stages moved quicker in both the elderly and the young. Usually, once they were detected, the battle was already over. The crackling noises coming from his lungs meant even X-rays weren’t worth ordering. Adjusting morphine levels for comfort was the only medical option available for him. She exited the room, without glancing back. This was her curse—the devil’s will.

  Her ability was a present sent from both heaven and hell. With it, she had the power to decide who lived and who died. That was a choice no human was meant to bear. Of course, nothing ever came completely free. All abilities came with a price tag of some sort. Her talents were no exception to the rule.

  Physical bodies could only endure so much. That was a scientific fact. She wasn’t immortal. Such, being as it was, choices had to be made—a burden that fell heavily on her shoulders. There were nightmares, mental side effects. If it weren’t for her husband standing behind her, offering all his strength, she would never have been able to save even a single soul. He was her light to combat the dark—her pillar. He was her reason for marching forward and bravely battling the deadly. Together, they kept her secret. No one else could ever know. If others found out, if her secret was leaked, she’d be swarmed by people wanting everything from the virus to ingrown toenails healed instantly.

  That was the problem with the human race: they all had ME syndrome. No one understood limitations—no one had the ability to comprehend why their life, or their loved one’s lives, weren’t the most important. Her talent wasn’t as glorious as it seemed. Patients were still going to die. She was the same as any other medical professional, it was impossible for them to save every patient, no matter how much it pained her.

  “Nurse.” It was the doctor again. “You’re needed in room eight. We have a situation unfolding and it doesn’t look good. Prepare yourself accordingly.”

  Angelique nodded her reply; words weren’t necessary. A doctor saying prepare meant the definition of worst was about to change and not for the better. Eyelids closed, this time, when they opened, her heart had an extra layer of protection around it. She exhaled, the mask catching her breath.

  Children. She’d wanted her own before the virus reared its ugly head. Now, bringing life into a sickness-ravaged world had become a question of morality. Waiting to see if things improved in a year or two had been her answer.

  The doctor huffed by her side, breaking her from being swallowed by her own thoughts. “There are no more isolation chambers, especially not for a group this size,” he mentioned nonchalantly, tugging off a pair of gloves to apply a double dose of hand sanitizer, without even being fazed by the fact his hands were already chapped and red from its overuse. “This room will have to do for now.”

  He was distant—a man who had severed all connections to his patients—taking lack of emotion to a degree further than she was capable of. “Should I order tests?” She already knew the answer. The children were all positive. It was the virus. She felt their pain, heard their muffled pleas for relief.

  “No.” The doctor didn’t so much as flinch. “They were each administered a field test the moment the class showed signs of being infected.” Pen scratched on paper as he signed away their lives. “We’ll need added security in the waiting room. Parents will be rushing in. There can be no contact. It’s a wait and see situation from here in out.”

  That was a lie. He and everyone else already had already written the toddlers off as doomed. The death rate for children under ten was eighty-five percent from onset of symptoms. It would take a miracle for any to survive.

  “What about the teacher?” Angelique asked, eyes still fixated on the ward completely filled with beds. “Where is she?”

  “In another room,” the doctor answered, pushing a pair of glasses up the bridge of his nose. “There is still a chance she may recover, albeit a slim one. I see no sense in putting her through the torture of hearing the children’s cries.” An answer held no consequence in his mind. His thoughts were already busied with the next case. She was alone, left to her own devices. The door shut behind her.

  If she’d chosen to have a child, he or she would have been about the same age, perhaps even in that very class. They were young, too young to suffer such an atrocious fate. They’d done no wrong—none were old enough to knowingly sin. Stepping in as their saviour, however, meant giving up on all others for the rest of the day, maybe even longer. There were so many tiny bodies. The task would push her to the limit, perhaps even well past it. Healing them would render her special abilities useless.

  A bed rattled, its patient shaking. The seizures had begun. The fever was reaching critical levels. No medicine would break it. No treatments were known to stop its progression. It was now or never—save them or damn them.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, not to the children but to those who came after, the ones she wouldn’t be able to save. Her hands glowed, light purging darkness from each tiny body. For better or worse, the choice was made. There was no goi
ng back.

  “Are you okay?” Janet, another nurse, rushed to her side just outside the room. “You look paler than a ghost.”

  One hand reached out, using the wall as a means to steady the rest of her body. “I’ll be all right,” Angelique answered. “I just need a bit of air.” It was the truth. She was breathing, but oxygen wasn’t reaching her lungs. That was why she was dizzy. That was why her knees were weak. A punch straight to the chest would have been easier to deal with. “I’ll take my break now.” The exit was already in sight, the doors opening on approach in anticipation of her needing to flee.

  Air: even through the mask it was obvious there was nothing fresh about what she was inhaling. She glanced to the right, smoke rising to form clouds overhead. The odours from the neighbouring crematorium were the strongest by the emergency doors. It was a blemish for the healthy, yet a most convenient spot to place such a business. Deceased bodies were shipped there daily and dealt with immediately. There were no funerals, no ceremonies. Loved ones were lucky if they were notified. No news was bad news. Ashes of the dead were buried in large pits—faces and names of the fallen unspoken and forgotten.

  Flashing lights, a siren, an ambulance was coming in at a terrifying speed. Eyes widened, watching the patient transport take the final corner, the precious cargo inside no doubt in need of the best medical assistance available. Even without a special gift, she was a nurse—part of the hospital staff. She had the training. As long as one of them held on to hope, lives would still be saved.