by LL Helland
The next thing Jon and Mrs. Toddles heard was Mr. Windbag say, “I hated losing Jon. He was a great employee. Terrible he died so young. Linda tells me it was a heart attack—he should’ve made time to see a doctor about his chest pains. Now, on with today’s report. Mr. Little, you can fill us in until Jon’s replacement comes later today.”
Mr. Little swallowed hard. He could barely speak.
Linda said in a soft voice, “Is anyone going to Jon’s funeral?”
As Jon hovered in the corner of the room with Mrs. Toddles, he grabbed at his chest. Sure, his chest had been hurting him lately, but he was too young for a heart attack.
Mr. Windbag filled the whole room with his response. “Anyone wanting to go to Jon’s funeral can go during their lunch hour—that is, if you are lucky enough to have a lunch hour.”
Jon still clutched his chest.
The woman took Jon by the arm and led him out the door and, somehow, into the cemetery. Linda, the only person present, cried and kept looking at her watch. She had to get back to the office, or she would be fired.
Linda had worked for two other executives at the company before Jon, and they had both turned into backstabbers. Jon stayed true to form. His word meant something, and he always treated Linda with respect. Now Jon regretted not keeping in contact with his family. His job had been more important, more urgent. He figured he would have plenty of time to mend feelings later.
Jon did not realize how he got back to the conference room, but he saw Linda wiping the tears away and handing the new executive who had taken Jon’s place a handful of airline tickets. Mr. Windbag told Linda to give the new man a key to Jon’s penthouse.
“It’s a good thing I had Jon sign power of attorney over to me, in case anything should happen to him.” He pointed to the new executive and said, “You can use Jon’s place until you find one of your own. Welcome to the company. In just a year, you will be ready to take my place as president.” He looked at Mr. Little and winked. “That is, if he can outlive me.”
Jon now knew that Mr. Windbag had never intended to retire and make him president of the company, but rather to use him for everything he could. Jon never asked what happened to the previous executive when he had so eagerly taken the man’s place. Now he knew anyone who had held his job was more than likely dead of exhaustion and the stress of having changed their moral compass. Mr. Windbag had told Jon that, in accordance with company policy, he had purchased a cemetery plot and funeral arrangements for all their employees. Now Jon understood why.
Jon thought of himself as rich and powerful, yet only one person attended his funeral—Linda.
He remembered his mother saying, years ago, “If anyone can figure out a way to take their wealth with them to the other side, it will be you, Jon.” How these words ripped through his heart as he stood alone, the only other person attending his own funeral.
At the same time Jon searched his soul for the answers to such an empty life, Chris was stunned by the parade of people making their way to the conference room. He had never seen anything like this. The Bundlebobs were one thing, small, odd-looking things, with such a simplistic lifestyle, never wanting more than they had, but these people had an air about them. They passed by Chris as if he did not exist. For a moment Chris thought that perhaps they could not see him, but a two-faced woman almost knocked him down. She looked at Chris with one set of eyes, her other set of eyes still facing forward.
She snarled at Chris. “You need to get out of the way, you ankle-biter.”
Chris mouthed the word. Ankle-biter? He was not sure why this woman had just called him an ankle-biter. Maybe she was not talking to him.
The woman, who had barely passed Chris at this point, turned around. One set of her eyes still focused on the conference room, while the other pair drilled holes right through him. She stopped just inches away from Chris and poked him in the chest with her long nails. “I was talking to you.”
Trying not to shake, Chris said in his most respectful voice, “I’m as close to the wall as humanly possible without disappearing into the woodwork, ma’am.” Chris pressed himself even flatter against the wall. He felt like a paper doll.
She brought her finger up under Chris’s nose, irate. “Don’t you ever call me ‘ma’am’ again. I’m not old enough to be a senior citizen, nor am I your mother. Although I could be your older sister.” The other face said, “Come on, we will be late for the meeting. Don’t waste your time on that youngster.”
The face that had been scolding Chris turned and walked toward the conference room, talking with some other two-faced employees who came down the hall. A shark walked by, tearing into and eating something.
One small man introduced himself to Chris. “Hello, my name is Mr. Little. Can I get you anything or help you find someone?”
Chris replied, “I’m Jon’s brother, and I’m going to sit in on the conference today.”
Mr. Little patted Chris’s shoulder a couple of times. “Whatever happens in there, I’ll do my best to save you.”
He left Chris to wonder what he had been talking about. Several others pushed past Chris and slammed the door shut behind them. As quietly as he could, Chris opened the door slightly and slipped in.
He stood pressed against the wall, wishing his older brother would hurry and get to the meeting. He heard the doorknob turn and hoped it was Jon, but it was Linda. With one hand, she pushed the chair for Chris and, with the other hand, dragged a cart with all types of rolls, fruit, tacos, bagels, and coffee.
Linda smiled at Chris and pushed the chair to the only free space left, wedged between Jon’s chair and a stool occupied by a backstabber. Linda knew that this particular backstabber was one of the worst. Linda checked the bucket on the floor by his stool, and, sure enough, he had filled it. Without hesitation, Linda reached down, picked it up, got a new bucket from the cabinet, and put it in place—all before one drop of blood hit the floor.
Chris had been seriously hungry, but now he had lost his appetite. He mumbled under his breath, “Where is Jon?”
Mr. Windbag hollered, “What’s that you’re saying, young man? Speak up. If you have an idea, don’t keep it to yourself.”
Chris said, “I just said the food looks good.”
Mr. Windbag snorted. “Well, eat up and don’t interrupt unless you have an idea for us.” Chris reached back to the cart and grabbed a plate, putting a bacon-and-egg taco on it. He could not possibly eat with the sound of blood dripping into a bucket right next to him. He just sat there, waiting to be devoured like a mouse by a snake. He had never wanted to see his brother more than he did right now. How could Jon stand to be around these people? Had he changed?
Jon had reentered the present world and thanked Mrs. Toddles for showing him what would be his inevitable future if he did not change things. As he watched Mrs. Toddles turn the corner and disappear, Linda was standing in the doorway to his office.
“Jon, Mr. Windbag is getting vocal, and he wants you in the meeting now.”
Jon said, “Linda take the rest of the day off; then meet me at noon tomorrow at my penthouse. I want to discuss you working for me.”
“Jon, I can’t do that. I’ll get fired. Besides, I wouldn’t know what to do with all that free time.”
“Don’t you have an ailing mother?”
Linda nodded. When was the last time she had seen her mother?
“Linda, I’ll cover for you.” Jon picked up the Sporbit plans and headed for the conference room. Mr. Windbag stopped the meeting just to tell Jon he was late.
Jon replied, “I’m not late. I don’t work here anymore.” Jon looked around the table and saw his brother Chris, who looked pale and pasty.
The backstabber sitting next to Chris said, “Where’s Linda? I need a fresh bucket.” His bucket started to spill onto the floor.
Jon said, “She doesn’t work here anymore.” He hoped Linda would accept his job offer, because he just quit for her. “Be careful when you stand
up. You might slip on the wet floor.”
Mr. Windbag said, “Jon, I have no idea what you are talking about. What do you have in your hand? It looks like a set of plans. They’d better be for something good, since you’re wasting our time this morning.”
Jon looked at Mr. Windbag. “You’re all talk, but when it comes right down to life, you couldn’t care less about any of us in this room. Chris, are you ready to start a company with your older brother?”
Chris did not know what to say; he just nodded.
Jon continued. “Mr. Windbag, I hope you have a very enlightening funeral. You may be the only one in attendance.”
Jon pulled out Chris’s chair, then walked out of the room with Chris following close behind. When he reached the elevator, Jon looked back to check on him. He was nowhere in sight, just a few icicles on the carpet. The elevator opened, and someone pushed Jon from behind.
As he fell into the shaft, he heard Linda yell, “Sorry, Jon, but everything will work out. Just don’t be fooled by money!”
So, Chris had caught a glimpse of his brother’s world. Chris was no longer jealous of his brother’s life—always wanting something more and never being satisfied once he reached his goals. He had been out of his body for too long. He needed to return to the freezer in Professor Mend’s lab. He hoped one of the Bundlebobs would come soon to let him out of the freezer.
CHAPTER 36
Back in the dreaded hospital, Brittany focused first on Chad, who was somewhere in the room. She felt around in the dark and found him, then picked him up and gave him a hug. The black tunnel that Thomas had chosen for them to travel in was very narrow, Probable made by rats.
“That ride was fun. Can we go again?”
Brittany said, “I don’t know if we will ever go on that ride again, but I’m glad you weren’t scared.” Had the backpacks made the trip with them? She patted the floor around them until she found one, but she could not find the other one. She quickly opened the pack. As far as she could tell, all the syringes were in good shape. Now she needed to find Trisha and Abigail.
As Chad and Brittany stepped out into the hall, they saw the large man coming toward them. “Like I told the pretty little thing down the hall in room 292, we need help in carrying the dead bodies out.”
Trisha had to be in that room, and Brittany hoped that room would bring her luck.
Brittany said, “You talked to a petite girl? Was she sick?”
The large man seemed irritated. “Why does everyone want to talk? There is so much work to do, and there are not enough people to do it. Yes, she was either a petite woman or a girl. I couldn’t tell; I didn’t get very close. I think I might have a fever and hallucinations—it seemed like she had some large rodent guarding her, swinging his hands in the air.”
Brittany hurried past the man, speaking over her shoulder. “I’ll come back to help you, but I have to take care of something first.” Chad and Brittany ran down the hall to room 292. When she reached the door, Brittany paused. She did not want to look in. If it was Trisha, could she save her? Was Abigail dead?
She slowly walked into the room. Two still bodies lay in hospital beds. Advarika sat at the bottom of Trisha’s bed. He started swinging his arms and almost knocked himself out.
Brittany said very quietly, “Advarika, it’s me—Brittany. Everything will be all right now.” She opened up the backpack and took out one of the syringes, since she knew Trisha and Abigail were too sick to drink the giant Bundlebob’s drool. Brittany did not want Trisha to be scared if she could still hear, so she whispered, “Trisha, you need a shot.”
Just then, it occurred to Brittany that she needed to look for a nurse. She stuck her head out into the hallway, but she saw no one. The halls were empty, and she was wasting precious time. She had really hoped Trisha could still drink the liquid, but that was not an option now. Brittany had watched Professor Mend give shots, after all. She could do this.
Chad pushed Brittany toward Trisha’s bed. As she sat on the edge of the bed, she said, “Trisha, I hope I don’t hurt you. If there was any other way, I would do it, but there isn’t.” Her sister was thin all over, and her hips seemed very bony. Brittany decided to give the shot in Trisha’s thigh. As she pulled up Trisha’s dress, she saw several black spots on her legs. She took the cover off the needle, her hands shaking, and looked at Trisha. She plunged the needle into Trisha’s thigh, and Trisha’s body jumped a little. Advarika and Chad moved to hold Trisha down as Brittany pushed the plunger down on the syringe. The gel was very thick, and it took quite a while to push it all in. Brittany was sweating profusely. She did not know if she had given Trisha too much or not enough. She hoped the giant Bundlebob’s drool would heal her sister.
Trisha started to wake up almost immediately, and the black spots on Trisha’s legs struggled to stay. They appeared to have several hands that tried to dig into Trisha’s skin, but they were losing the battle. The spots shriveled up, then fell onto the sheets. Brittany said a quick prayer, then went to Abigail’s bedside.
At first she thought Abigail was dead, but when Brittany put her head on Abigail’s chest, she heard a faint heartbeat. She put her hand in front of Abigail’s nostrils and felt a slight bit of air when she exhaled. Chad stood by the bed, offering Brittany a syringe. She took the syringe and plunged the needle into Abigail’s thigh. She decided to give the shot the same way she had with Trisha, since it seemed to have worked. She pushed the thick liquid into Abigail’s thigh and then removed the syringe. Nothing happened.
Then Abigail started having a seizure. Brittany’s mind raced. Had she given Abigail too much? Brittany had given the same amount to Trisha, who was now sitting up in bed. Abigail stopped moving all together. At that very moment, the large man entered the room.
“What is this? A social function? There is work to be done.” He walked over to Abigail. “She is dead.”
Brittany’s eyes filled with tears. She had neglected her friend. She just could not let her go now, but what could she do? Brittany remembered her CPR class this past summer, and she started doing compressions on Abigail’s chest. She counted, then did two breaths. She had the basics down, but she was shaking so badly she could barely do the compressions.
The man, who obviously had never seen anyone do CPR, thought Brittany had gone mad. “You stupid girl! You are going to get the plague. You can’t breathe life back into her, nor beat her to live. You must let her go.” He left the room muttering, “Crazy girl. She’s going to die along with her friend.”
Brittany felt tired. She knew Abigail was probably dead, but she asked Trisha to get another syringe out and give Abigail another dose.
Trisha could hardly stand up, but she knew Brittany could not stop the CPR to give Abigail a shot.
Brittany did not see the harm in giving another dose to Abigail, since she was, in all likelihood, already dead.
Trisha hesitated for just a moment, then plunged the second dose of drool into Abigail. Advarika helped her depress the plunger. Within seconds Abigail was breathing. Her breaths were very shallow, but at least Brittany could stop breathing for her. Brittany put her ear on Abigail’s chest. The faint heartbeat had returned.
It made sense to Brittany that the longer you had the virus in your body, the more liquid you would need to win the war against it. Abigail blinked her eyes, but she was still too weak to move.
Chad and Advarika had gone to get some stew. They returned with a tray. Chad carried one side and Advarika the other side, but the tray was almost too heavy for them. Steam rose from the bowls, and there was bread as well.
Brittany said, “Thank you. This looks good.” She ate so fast she burned the roof of her mouth. She grabbed some bread and the backpack and ran out of the room.
Trisha slowly got up to follow Brittany, but she realized she had to lie back down.
Chad investigated a funny shape he had seen out of the corner of his eye and found the other backpack with the syringes behind the bed. He said, “A
dvarika, help me!”
They raced down the hallway after Brittany. She had already entered a room and begun the injections. She wanted everyone to have a dose of the liquid drool, but she did not know if she would have enough. She thought that she would have to limit it to only those not in a coma yet.
When Chad and Advarika barged into the room with the other backpack, Brittany felt so relieved. “Thank you. I believe I’ll have enough now for all the patients.” The three of them went from room to room, administering the medication and hoping for the best. “We have no time to watch the results. We need to keep moving.”
Chad understood and shook his head.
Brittany pushed the plunger down on yet another syringe, her arms tired and sore. Someone tapped her shoulder. It was the same large man who had decided earlier that Brittany and her friends were lazy. He thought they needed a constant reminder that there was work to be done. “If you teach me, I will help you. I’m a fast learner.”
Brittany showed the man how she gave the injection. It wasn’t perfect, but it got the medication into the patients. The man helped her finish injecting every patient. He even gave himself a shot.
As they came out of the last room, a woman stood in a doorway down the hall, screaming something. It was very dark in the hallway, and the only reason Brittany knew it was a woman was because of her high-pitched screams. She thought one of the patients had gone mad. Brittany could not understand what she said, but she ran and picked Chad up.
Chad yelled, “Mama!”
The woman caught her breath. “Thank goodness you are all right!” She turned her happy face toward Brittany. “Chad was taken several days ago, and I didn’t think I would ever see him again.”
Brittany got a good look at the lady as she fussed over Chad. She looked like some type of gypsy, with dark, weathered skin, as though she had been in the sun for years. She wore large hoop earrings and many strands of jewelry around her neck. Her blouse must have been white at one time, but it now looked grayish. The colors on her skirt, though faded, still caught the eye. Her skirt looked as if it were made of scraps, all different colors and patterns. The lady had perfectly straight teeth, and her long black hair was pulled back in a ponytail.
