They laid him out on the couch and I dropped to my knees at his side. “Donaghy,” I whispered, grasping his hand.
“Meg.”
His voice sounded strained, as if he was in so much pain that he found it difficult to talk. His hand was clammy in mine, his skin as hot as a skillet that had been sitting on the stove. The heat radiating off his body made me sweat twice as much as the leather clinging to my body had.
“It’s going to be okay,” I told him even though I had no clue if it was. “You’re here now.”
“I wanted to tell you goodbye. Jackson came to the bar and dragged me out, but I wanted to be able to say goodbye.” Donaghy’s blue eyes filled with tears, and when he blinked they spilled down his cheeks. “I didn’t get to say goodbye to Patty.”
“Shhh.” I leaned forward so I could press my lips against his. They were dry and hot, and I could only imagine that this was what it would have felt like to kiss the parched ground of a desert. “It’s going to be okay.”
“We’re going to try to give him a blood transfusion.” Helen’s scratchy voice broke through my thoughts and I turned to find her standing in front of my uncle. “It’s all we can do right now.”
“Don’t you have a vaccine?” I looked around, taking in the faces standing in this room. “You had some at the bar. I know you did. I saw it. Why didn’t you give it to him? Why didn’t you bring it?”
Helen didn’t look my way. She was too focused on Angus, on sliding a needle into his vein.
I tore my gaze from her and focused on Dragon. “Tell me what’s happening.”
“It’s an old strain. It won’t respond to the vaccines I had.”
“You need to tie me up,” Donaghy said. My gaze snapped back to him, only he wasn’t looking at me. He was looking up at Dragon. “Please.”
“What’s he saying?” I asked.
Dragon’s eyes were focused on Donaghy when he said, “It’s the first mutated virus, which means he’ll turn before he’s dead. We have forty-eight hours to get the vaccine into him. That’s it.”
“Except we don’t have a vaccine for that strain.” Realization dawned on me. “And even if we manage to get it in time, he could still attack us before he gets better.”
Dragon nodded solemnly.
“You need to give me space,” Helen said, nudging me aside.
The command was forceful, yet soft at the same time, and I found myself scooting away. Donaghy’s hand slipped from mine, and the loss felt permanent. His features were twisted in pain, and every move he made seemed to make it worse. My own body ached, but it was a pain that started deep inside me. It was so intense I was afraid I would implode.
Mom, who I hadn’t even known was in the room, knelt at my side and placed her hands on my shoulders. “It’s going to be okay.”
I nodded even though I didn’t believe her. But that was what we did, wasn’t it? Cling to hope that didn’t really exist. It was the only way to get through the twisted world we lived in. I was sure things had been different at one time, but not anymore. Now we had nothing but empty promises and the certainty that things could always get worse.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
Helen inserted a needle into Donaghy’s arm. “We’re hoping the antibodies in Angus’s blood will slow the virus down. He’s a universal donor, so they tried it in the CDC in the early days, transfusing his blood straight into the infected.” She loosened the tourniquet on my uncle’s arm and turned to face me. “It’s a long shot, but worth a try. If it doesn’t work, we haven’t lost anything.”
I watched the dark red liquid fill the tube and slide into Donaghy’s vein. It was magic blood, blood that had kept Angus alive through the initial outbreak, and then after being bitten over and over again. It was strong blood, able to fight off a virus that was designed to destroy a person. If anything could save Donaghy, this was it.
“Did it work in the CDC?” Mom asked.
Helen gave a shake of her head that was noncommittal. “Sometimes it slowed down the progression, sometimes it didn’t.”
I swallowed. “When will we know?”
“If it’s going to slow things down, we’ll know within the hour.” Helen got to her feet, still looking at me. “It’s not a cure. That’s buried deep in the CDC.”
“We can get it when we get Dad and Margot out,” I said.
Helen’s gaze held mine. “If he lasts that long.”
Mom’s fingers tightened on my shoulders and I winced even though her grip wasn’t hard enough to hurt me.
After she finished with the transfusion, Helen stood to leave, and I wiggled my way out of Mom’s grasp so I could once again be at Donaghy’s side. When I slipped my hand back into his, his skin felt fiery against mine.
“Don’t you need to be in New Atlanta?” Mom asked Helen as the nurse cleaned up.
“I was already questioned about Meg’s whereabouts. Then put on leave. I don’t think Star believes I have anything to do with it, but Jackson was suspicious. He was probably hoping that I’d run for it when they put me on leave and lead him straight to Meg.”
“Will your code still work when we get in there?” someone else asked, Parv I thought.
“I have a code that will,” Helen assured her.
People drifted out of the room while Donaghy did the same, drifting in and out of sleep, delirious most of the time and burning with fever. My family wandered in from time to time, probably trying to keep an eye on him just in case, but everyone pretty much left me alone.
Mom sat on the other side of the room watching me, and I could see the questions in her eyes but I wasn’t ready to talk about everything she’d missed out on while she’d been out of her mind. Not yet. Maybe not ever if things went south.
Eventually Aunt Lila drifted in, bringing Mom a cup of coffee and taking a seat next to her. I listened as they talked about how different this strain had been from the first one. How the original didn’t cause a fever, but had instead cooled the person to where they’d barely felt alive. How the infected had lapsed into a lethargic state before improving, giving their loved ones hope that they might beat it. Then their hearts would suddenly stop beating and they’d change.
I was focused on Donaghy, watching the way his face twitched from whatever nightmares he was living through during his fever-coated sleep, but I couldn’t tune them out completely no matter how hard I tried. I knew who they were talking about. Mom’s first child, Emily, who she’d had at the age of sixteen but given up for adoption. Emily had been the reason my parents met.
After the virus spread, Mom left Kentucky where she’d been living and had headed west, back toward California to check on the daughter she hadn’t seen in four years. Dad and Angus had picked her up when her car broke down, and by that point the virus was already so bad that there was little hope left in the world. I’d heard all about it so many times that a part of me felt like I’d actually lived through those early days of confusion and horror, but there was another part of me that couldn’t imagine a world where no zombies existed. How would it feel to walk down the streets of a city that wasn’t surrounded by a wall? To have no fear that the virus would mutate yet again and turn your neighbor into a monster? It seemed impossible, but if what Angus had told us was true, it wasn’t. It was a very real and very tangible possibility, one we could make happen very soon if we were successful.
“If he doesn’t get better soon,” Al was saying, “we’ll have to tie him down. This strain was unpredictable. There was very little warning.”
I looked over my shoulder, back to where he stood with Lila, Mom, and Parv. I hadn’t even realized he or Parv had come in, but everyone was nodding at his words. I wanted to argue, but I knew I couldn’t. They were right. We should have forty-eight hours, but there were no guarantees. Not with this strain. Some people had turned as early as ten hours after being bitten, becoming a living monster who craved flesh and living that way for twelve hours or more before their hearts had finally stop
ped beating. Until the heart stopped it was still possible to bring them back with the vaccine, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t attack. It didn’t mean they couldn’t kill the people they loved and never even know what they were doing.
I leaned closer to Donaghy and pressed my lips against his ear. “Get better. Please. Just hang in there for a little longer and we’ll be able to get the vaccine.”
He groaned in his sleep and shifted, but didn’t open his eyes.
The change that happened was so gradual that I didn’t notice it right away, and then I thought for sure I was imagining things. First Donaghy’s skin felt cooler against mine, and then his breathing eased and became less labored, as did his expression. He wasn’t shifting around as much as he had. Then, as if by some miracle, he opened his eyes and looked right at me.
“Meg.”
“You’re awake.” I moved so I was sitting on the edge of the couch next to him, perched so close that our bodies were right up against each other. His skin was cooler, no longer burning with fever. I pressed my hand to his forehead and a half-laugh half-sob broke out of me. “Your fever’s gone. How are you feeling?”
He swallowed. “Better. Did we get the vaccine?”
He didn’t remember. His fever must have been on the verge of frying his brain if he wasn’t able to remember the transfusion he’d gotten.
“My uncle Angus gave you blood. It helped slow the virus.”
“Angus?” Donaghy shook his head like he wasn’t sure what was happening or he thought he might still be hallucinating. “He’s dead.”
“He’s alive. The gray man from Dragon’s Lair. It was Angus. He’s been in the CDC this whole time. A prisoner.”
Donaghy still looked confused, but the comment seemed to jog some memory because he tried to sit up. He winced like his body hurt and I could tell the virus was still working its way through him. He wasn’t out of danger yet.
I pressed my hands against his shoulders and eased him back down. “Take it easy.”
“Your Dad. I saw him.” Donaghy did as I said, but his hand tightened on mine. “In the CDC. Jackson—”
He broke off like he wasn’t sure what to say, but I knew by the look on his face that something had happened, and it made my heart stutter and almost stop.
“What? What did Jackson do?” How many times had I asked that question over the last week?
“He sent the guards to find you, and when they came back empty-handed Jackson lost his shit. He went into your dad’s cell and beat him. The guards had to drag him out, and then they rushed Axl away.” Donaghy paused to swallow again. “Before he injected me with the virus, Jackson told me your dad had a head injury. I don’t know how bad it is.”
Ice flooded my veins. No. This couldn’t be happening. We were so close. Less than two days and we would be able to get him out. What if he didn’t make it? What if Jackson killed him just to get back at me? What if he killed Margot?
“Did you see my sister?” I asked, trying to swallow my panic down. “Margot? Did you see her?”
Realization dawned on Donaghy’s face, mixed with disgust. “The girl. I saw a girl, a teenager. She was strapped down and hooked up to IVs. That was Margot?”
I nodded because the ache inside me made it impossible to talk. Nine years she’d been gone. Was that what she’d had to endure the entire time? Was that what Glitter had gone through? I looked over my shoulder, searching for the pink haired girl who I’d recently learned was my cousin, but she was nowhere in sight. Maybe it was better that way. Maybe I didn’t want to know what had gone on in there.
“I’m sorry,” Donaghy whispered.
He pulled me down and wrapped his arms around me, and I felt myself clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping me afloat. Having him back after being so worried should have been a happy thing, but it was tinged with fears that I couldn’t even name. The knowledge that he might turn into a zombie, and the revelation that both my dad and sister were still in serious danger. I wasn’t sure how I would survive the next forty-eight hours, but I knew they would be the longest of my life.
Chapter Thirteen
Donaghy
My body still ached, but it got better with each passing second. My mind was still fuzzy though, and I found it hard to grab onto what had been real and what had been a hallucination.
I was out of New Atlanta. That much I knew. I was in a town somewhere not too far from the walls of the city we had just fled. I was with Meg. Her family was here. Her Uncle Angus… Was he really alive? Could he be? It had been twenty years, but from what I knew of Jackson and the CDC, it was totally possible that Angus had been alive this whole time. Only, I still wasn’t sure if I had dreamt that part. It didn’t seem real, but a part of my brain told me it had to be, because how else would I be getting better? Helen had injected me with Angus’s blood, which was the only reason I wasn’t burning with fever and hallucinating that zombies were feasting on my body at this very moment. It was the only thing keeping me from turning.
When the infection had taken hold, my body had ached from head to toe, but now only a dull burn remained. The fever had disappeared, but I still felt worn out. It was impossible to keep my eyes open at times, and even though I didn’t want to waste what could be some of the last hours of my life on sleep, it wasn’t long before I had to give in.
Meg sat at my side, holding my hand like she was holding on for dear life. “Don’t fight it,” she said. “If you’re exhausted, just go to sleep.”
I tightened my grip on her hand, fighting to keep my eyes open. “I don’t want to leave you.”
“You’re not going to.” The tremor in her voice forced one of my eyes open, and I saw her swallow. “We are going to get the vaccine in time.”
I wanted to believe her, but the never-ending ache in my body made it difficult.
She leaned down and pressed her lips against my forehead and whispered, “Sleep.”
Even though I wanted to with every inch of my being, I found it impossible to fight the overwhelming exhaustion and finally gave in.
Hushed voices woke me an indiscernible amount of time later. I cracked one eye to find that I was in the same room I’d been in before, and still resting on the couch with a lumpy pillow under my head. It was so dark that at first I thought it was night, but then I shifted and saw a blanket covering the window. It was tacked against the walls with what looked like nails, and rays of sunlight peeked around the edges.
Whoever was talking, they were trying to keep their voices low. Something about the tone drew my attention, though. It was serious. Maybe even a little tortured.
“I can’t bear thinking that he suffered, but I still need to know,” said a woman whose voice I didn’t recognize.
It felt wrong to eavesdrop, but I was still trying to figure out what was real and what wasn’t, so I shifted my body, doing my best to be subtle about it so I didn’t piss anybody off.
On the other side the room sat Helen and a woman I’d never met. She looked Indian, and had dark hair that was barely streaked in gray despite the worry lines creasing her forehead. Her eyes were dark and at the moment brimming with tears, but despite the emotion in them and the fact that she was small, something about her seemed tough.
“You can’t unlearn some things,” Helen whispered, her scratchy voice coming out louder than she probably intended.
“I know. But not knowing is a million times worse,” the other woman said. “There’s no peace, no closure. I can’t shut my eyes at night without wondering what happened to him.”
Helen let out a deep sigh, and then nodded. “Okay. If you think you can handle it.”
“I have to.”
“He was snooping around,” Helen began, “his earlier suspicions had evaporated years ago. Maybe after Jane’s death, or a short time later. It’s impossible to know for sure. Star had him under surveillance, though. He had all of you under surveillance. After Axl disappeared, after he was brought to the CDC, Joshua started act
ing suspicious. I don’t know exactly how Star found out because I’m only a nurse and my duties don’t go much further than drawing blood and taking vitals, but I saw Joshua in the observation wing when I showed up to work that morning, locked in one of the rooms, and I knew. I knew it was over for him. I knew that he had pushed Star too far.” I watched through cracked eyes as Helen reached over and covered the other woman’s hand with one of her own. “I wanted to talk to him, I tried, but Star didn’t give me a chance.”
The Indian woman closed her eyes and let out a deep breath like she was bracing herself for what came next. “What happened?”
“Star injected Joshua with the most recent strain of the virus. It wasn’t the first time he’d tested it, so he knew it would work fast. He chose that strain because he knew your husband would lose the ability to talk very quickly, giving the CDC an opportunity to spin their lies.”
“It wasn’t even four o’clock in the afternoon when they called and told me. He’d only been at work for seven hours, and yet he couldn’t say a word when I went to tell him goodbye.”
“I know,” Helen said gently. “They did that on purpose. So you would buy the story they told you, or at least not have the opportunity to question it. If they allowed you to come to the CDC and say goodbye to your husband, it would draw suspicions away from them.”
The other woman opened her eyes and focused on Helen. “When I went to see him, they told me that even though he couldn’t talk, he could still understand me. Was that true?”
“It was,” she said.
The other woman let out a deep sigh and closed her eyes. She looked like she was saying a prayer or gathering her strength, but it was impossible to know which one since I had no idea who she was, but something about this story was starting to sound familiar. Something about it had tickled a memory; only I couldn’t quite grab hold of it yet.
Twisted World Series Box Set | Books 1-3 & Novella Page 82
