Chapter 123
- Josh -
Tears hung in my eyes. It took everything I had to keep steady—to keep my hands from shaking in front of the nurses, to keep my voice from cracking when they asked what had happened.
"Kid… kid? What's your name, son?" One of them asked while they prepped a tray.
I cleared my throat as best as possible. "Coff—My name is Josh; I am Becky's boy...friend.Well, my boyfriend and I are just friends."
"Well, I need to know what happened to your 'friend' so I know how to treat her wounds properly. Every time you kids leave this place, one of you comes back injured. You did find Thomas, so I can't say much, but regardless, you guys need to consider your safety."
"Hum... would you believe me if I said we were fighting demons?" I asked, trying for a weak half-smile.
She smirked, then softened. "Ha...With this dome thing we are trapped under, I can't say I don't believe you, but really, what happened to Becky?"
I told her. The warehouse, the mirror, the shards that had rained like stars—and the one that had pierced Becky in the chest. I watched her face as I spoke; the skepticism turned to concern, then to action.
"Stay out here," she ordered. "I'll look for glass while we operate." She stepped away and then came back, breathless. "We need O-negative. She's losing too much blood. She's crashing."
"My brother and I are O-negative," I blurted. The words were automatic; I didn't even think about how loudly I said them. Two nurses glanced my way, and one jerked me back into the room.
"We need you to lie on this bed next to your friend. We will lower her bed and feed a direct line from your arm to hers, letting gravity do its work. Once her vitals go back to being stable, we can perform surgery."
They strapped me in, and I watched the monitors—the low pressure, the fast heart that rattled like a loose gear. Fifteen minutes of the transfusion felt like fifteen years. I felt every inch of it, heat pouring out of me as blood moved. When they finally cut me loose, someone clapped me on the shoulder and muttered, "Good man," as if the world could be reduced to those two small words.
Evan joined me, settling his weight into a chair next to me. "Kaysi is doing better," he said softly, "but she is still sleeping. The burns are still pretty bad." Evan sighed. "Sit down; you need some rest. You have been running nonstop for 3 days."
"I just had to give Becky blood before they could operate on her. The wounds were so bad she was bleeding everywhere."
"What happened in the warehouse?"
"She learned pretty much everything she knows—all of my past, all our secrets. There was a mirror demon that could somehow warp space. Even with Becky's time powers, she was still no match. Becky could stop time, but the demon would work outside the realm of reality."
"I see, so we have another new enemy to watch out for. I don't understand why you don't have any injuries."
"Becky locked me in this crystal ice coffin thing to protect me.
Evan's hand on my shoulder was steady and warm. "You did what you could," he said. "She locked you away so you'd be safe. Do you think she released it on purpose so you could help her?"
"No, that was the point she was trying to make when she locked me away. She said the ice wouldn't break unless she undid it… or died," I said, the sentence shivering out. "But the arm—it burned, then released a powerful burst. The coffin exploded. I don't know how it happened. I don't know why it happened without her."
Anger cut through me then, raw and hot. "I lied, Evan. I lied to her—to all of you. I thought if I kept it to myself, I'd keep you safe. Instead, I left her to do this alone."
"I am an idiot. I love her, Evan, and I won't lie to her anymore. And I don't know where that will put you with Kaysi, but I think it is time we come clean. This hurts everyone more, holding it back."
"I...I know. Just let me be the one to tell her when the time is right. We are down two members of our team. I don't think it would be wise to put any more pressure on anyone right now."
I swallowed. The doctor came out of the curtained room as if summoned by the weight of my panic. "You, Josh?" he asked.
"Yes." My voice wavered.
"Becky's stable for now." He used the word like a tentative thing. "The transfusion helped. We patched the worst of it. As you know, we have a makeshift hospital for now, but she really needs more care. But the only two hospitals we have are outside the dome. As soon as we are cleared, we need to get her help. For now, all we can do is monitor her and pray for her. Sorry, there is nothing more we can do."
The doctor walked away to help with other patients. I let myself fall into a chair, and the sound broke out of me: not fully a sob, not fully a scream, but something that emptied my chest. I whispered, Damn it, damn it, damn it.
Evan's arms wrapped around me. "She will pull through; they both will!"
"I will keep my head up and pray. But right now, all I want to do is find out who put this dome here and take them down permanently!"
Micah and James drifted in, faces hollowed by the night. Micah's mouth was tight when she spoke. "We'll find the one who put up the dome," she said. "But tonight we rest. We have a lead—a construction worker tied to a local development crew. We saw a folder with his name, notes, and a file containing blackmail material. It binds him to someone higher—maybe the governor. We'll follow it in the morning."
Micah's words should have comforted me. But they didn't. Not yet, at least, until I can get Becky the help she needs. My chest felt like a coal pit. Becky's steady, slow breath in the next room was all I could measure my own life by right now. I stayed with her through the night, sleeping in a chair with my head on her bed. I clenched her fingers. Her face was pale and peaceful. The monitors hummed, nurses whispered, and candles guttered as I drifted off until an unconscious sleep took over my exhausted body.
At dawn, the shelter woke with an abruptness. The morning came with a thin glow under the shutters. Sharp sunlight shone in my sore eyes, which had the feeling of bruising. We shuffled out of the shelter into the cold world that didn't seem to care. People stood as they waited for food, supplies, and medicine. Rumors spread along the wind like dry leaves in late fall: protests brewing, police patrols thicker than usual, whispers of something moving in the city halls.
Micah pulled us close and held up a phone. The file photo of a man in a hard hat scrolled across the screen: the blackmail sheet lay scant with names. "We go and find him early, before the villains have a chance to get to him. We may find the thread to whoever is pulling the shots here."
I pressed my hand over my arm where the prosthetic met flesh. It felt a little warmer than before, a low, steady vibration that reminded me Becky was still out there between breaths. I thought of the promise I'd made to her in a voice she couldn't hear: no more walls. No more secrets.
We gathered our things in the dim light and moved out together—tired, stitched-up, and hungry for answers. The city waited, indifferent and dangerous, and we stepped into the morning carrying the weight of what we'd lost and the stubborn, ridiculous hope of what we might still save.