Sanctuary's Aggression Box Set

by Maira Dawn

  Tonight, that someone was him.

  15

  All Done

  Two days after her trip to the city, Skye woke in the night to a stuffy nose. Her pulse instantly raced as she recalled a cold was how the AgFlu started. Her mind imagined the worst scenarios. But, once she cleared her nose, she found she inhaled with little problem. After that, she scolded herself both for losing control and her bleak thoughts.

  There are plenty of reason I could be stuffy. After looking around, she saw one of her bedroom windows open. The raised frame looked dark against the light of the full moon. There, see! Fall allergy season was always an issue. Skye stumbled out of bed and took an allergy pill and settled back down for the rest of the night. One last thought drifted through her mind. But something is wrong. I know it.

  When she woke in the morning and drew in a deep breath, she could hear crackle of phlegm. Her throat burned. This time it wasn't so easy to tamp down the jittery panic that filled her.

  Skye covered her face with her hands. Then gathering courage, she checked her lips, fingertips, and toes for blue discoloration. There were none. She blew out a long sigh and closed her eyes.

  Skye debated doing a thousand things, but in the end, realized there was nothing she could do.

  As the day wore on her body ached, and she did little else but lay on the couch dozing in and out of sleep. When she put her hand to her forehead, the vast contrast between her cold hand and her blazing face frightened her.

  When she tried to pull in a few slow, deep breaths only to cough uncontrollably, she sobbed.

  Is this it then? For a fleeting moment, she wondered if it would be better if it ended now. What kind of world will be left when this is all done, anyway? Nothing I will recognize, maybe nothing worth surviving.

  Skye trembled and broke down as the fear she'd been trying to ignore came back full force. There was no way to get better. She could only lay exhausted and empty with a single thought swirling through her mind on a continuous loop. I'm going to die.

  Even quarantine and the small comforts the medical community would have given her were out of the question now. The military had ordered Doctor Paul Kinder to close up his office and head for Fenton. And the city was too far away for her to drive in her worsening condition.

  Still, she did what she could. Skye checked her temperature throughout the day, watching as it went up and down. When it was high, she would climb into a bath of tepid water. But after doing that several times, it no longer kept her fever down.

  How do you distract yourself from your impending death?

  Numb, she stared at the ceiling. Skye took one difficult, rattling breath after another. She put her hand on her bracelets and gripped them as one would grasp the hand of a loved one.

  Once her fever rose to 103 degrees. She stopped taking it. She didn't want to know.

  Sometimes sobs racked her body. Sometimes she bowed her head in fervent prayer, lips racing with silent pleas to help her through this. Sometimes she did both.

  Once on legs that felt as though they would melt under her, she returned from the kitchen carrying a glass of water. After setting it on the coffee table, she saw three others sitting there. Skye fell onto the couch and stared at them. Three other glasses of water she was unable to remember putting there. Every new symptom sent a chill down her spine. A small wail escaped her. Now I’m disoriented, I'm losing it.

  Skye got up and locked all the doors and windows, then barricaded them to the best of her ability. She didn't want to infect anyone, nor did she wish to become one of those lost, wandering people.

  That night the hallucinations started.

  Her body thrashed as her dream-filled mind swirled with images of shadowy people. They rushed toward her as she tried without success to get away. Puzzled, she looked down at the source of the problem, her feet.

  She lifted one foot, then another. Gooey, wobbly bands clung to the soles of her feet and held her to the earth. In her nightmare, she became obsessed with removing the slime. With flailing hands, she scraped at the ooze on her feet. She forgot about the malevolent monsters behind her.

  The evil was soon upon her. Their vacant eyes staring at and through her at the same time. Rooted to the spot on weak, shaking legs, Skye watched as they came at her. Her own hands raising to claw at her face in distress. The monster's mouths opened wide, dripping blood-tinged foam, as they moved closer and closer and —

  Skye's screams woke her.

  She lay on the couch with her hand to her thumping heart. Unsure if hours or days passed, it was daylight now. About the middle of the day, she thought. The house was sweltering, and she was slick with perspiration.

  Her mind was fuzzy as if she were dream-walking and full comprehension seemed just beyond her. The strange mixture of reality and illusion bewildered her. She reached out a hand to touch an object, but her thoughts couldn't grasp it as something substantial.

  Through her haze, Skye pushed herself up from the couch. Her weak arms scarcely up to the task. Her small, faltering steps moved her into the bathroom, then to the tub. She could do nothing about the sludge that coated her lungs, but she would not lay there drenched in slimy sweat.

  Removing her clothes took immense effort. She groaned as she peeled each item clinging to her sticky skin. Once she pulled off her last piece of damp clothing, Skye dropped into the half-filled tub of water.

  Exhausted from her efforts, her last coherent thought was that she no longer burned with fever.

  The next time Skye woke, she was choking.

  Her body tightly convulsed. Skye gagged and retched, not from the water surrounding her, but from the flood of ooze that had been building in her lungs throughout the day. She rose to her knees and clung to the sides of the slippery tub for support.

  There was no thought, only instinct. This was a fight for breath. Any breath. The smallest one would suffice.

  The sound of her racing, thumping heart pounded in her ears. Her body jerked and thrashed, begging for air.

  So intense was the struggle that had she the breath to yell for help, it would not have entered her mind to do so.

  Sky's body curled around her starving lungs. Sweat again coursed down her neck, back, and chest. Her arms and legs shook without control as her terror-struck mind cleared. Sharp and aware, one bleak thought came to her.

  I am dying.

  And in that moment of clarity, Skye knew she didn't want to die. Ever. Let alone of this horrible, disgusting disease. No matter what this world was like now or later.

  Memories crowded her mind. There is always something to live for.

  All her doubts, worries and fears faded away. Determination grew until it filled up all the weak places within her.

  She. Would. Not. Die.

  One more small effort to clear her airway was what she had left in her depleted body. A cough was all she could do. A little one. Her slack form hardly moved with the strength of it.

  Although it took enormous battle, the effort was puny.

  Yet, it was all she needed.

  Mucus streamed from her nose and mouth. At first, thick and tough then thinning out to a slimy, runny phlegm. Dark green streaked with red. It kept coming. A broad, never-ending stream.

  Unable to pull in a breath against the outward tide, she swayed, her vision blacking. Hands clenched, legs trembling, she continued vomiting the disgusting mass.

  At last, it stopped. Slow and careful, she inhaled. At first, the air burned. It seemed almost foreign to her lungs. Skye wanted to gulp the pure sweetness but instead inhaled with as much care as she was able. She did not want to start another avalanche of mucus.

  Skye took one, then two shallow, beautiful breaths.

  I might make it a little longer.

  Skye sat on her knees in the cold, phlegmy water. Her head bent to the arm which draped over the edge of the old-fashioned tub. She wanted so much to get out of that bath, but she hadn't a single shred of power left to do so. So, she lay ther
e.

  After a time, Skye gathered enough energy to haul herself out of the tub and pull the drain. She refilled it with clean water and bathed the sickness off of herself.

  All her strength sapped, she wrapped a towel around her body and tottered to the couch. She downed one of the three glasses of water left sitting on the coffee table. She laid down, pulled a blanket over herself, and in an instant, fell into a deep sleep.

  This time Skye woke up, birds were singing. She smiled. The melodic whistles had never sounded as sweet as they did today.

  Her good spirits shattered when she sat up and gagged again. Skye grabbed a planter sitting within arm's reach. She dumped the plant onto the coffee table and coughed some remaining phlegm into the container.

  Still fatigued, the rest of the day she spent between bouts of choking thick saliva and sleeping. But she was alive. Alive! Even in her weakened state, Skye glowed, wanting to shout and scream for joy. Tears of appreciation came to her eyes.

  Maybe she was one of the fortunate few with a second chance. Those so rare, they were only rumors. She vowed that, from here on, she would help anyone she could.

  Other than the uncomfortable and revolting way the phlegm broke up and left her body, it surprised her how quickly she felt better. It was as if the disease, deciding it could not beat her, had slunk away like a frustrated cat.

  Skye dozed on the couch most of the day in silence until the television blared at her when the electric kicked on. Sure the hallucinations had started again, she stared at the TV in disbelief when the reporter told the story of the Atlantis Cure. Really? Where is this cure than? Skye snapped it off. After falling to sleep a second time, she woke around dinnertime and almost felt like herself.

  That night she slept more sound than she had in a long time. When Skye opened her eyes, she drew in the deepest breath she could and felt the elation of lungs filled with air. She had only a slight cough, and her fever was still down.

  Skye quickly checked her lips, fingers, and toes for any sign of blue and found none. The tight band of anxiety and fear that had been wrapped around her chest for a while loosened.

  When Skye woke the next morning, she was astonished to find she was healthy. It was only then Skye let herself feel it. That lightness, that indescribable joy that comes over a person when the absolute impossible has suddenly become possible.

  With a grin from ear to ear, Skye skipped through the kitchen. After pulling out all her best food, she ate a huge breakfast. The first real solids she'd swallowed in days, she shoved the meal in as fast as she could. Then she picked up her iPhone and turned on her music.

  And she danced.

  16

  Up to Me

  Skye hummed a jaunty tune while cooking spaghetti on her orange camp stove for lunch that evening. When the phone rang, she startled. It was such a rare sound nowadays. Service had become spotty enough that when one of them worked it almost seemed surprising. She raced to the phone and answered.

  "Hello!" Tricia said, the relief in her voice apparent.

  "Hi back!" Skye almost bounced in happiness as she turned off the gas to the cooker.

  "Oh my Lord, Skye, I'm so grateful to hear your voice! We all been callin and callin you and there ain’t been an answer! What've you been doing?" Tricia started out anxious but ended on an angry note.

  Skye had a vague recollection of the phone ringing when she had been in the throes of her feverish delirium. She hurried to reassure Tricia. "I'm fine, don't worry. Really, I am. I was..." Her voice trailed off as she raised a hand to her cheek. "Well, you won't believe this, but I was Sick. I got over it though, like, actually over it! I am totally fine now."

  "Skye," Tricia whispered, "No."

  "I'm fine, Tricia! I am."

  Tricia was quiet for a moment before saying, "How can that be?"

  "Well, I'm not sure, but I am. And there has to be more than me, and I wonder how many. Two days before I got ill, I drove to Fenton for my final appointments and groceries." When Tricia uttered an exasperated sigh, Skye ignored it and told Tricia everything she'd learned at the hospital, and her frightening experience on the street outside her office.

  "Oh, Skye! I can't believe what happened! You should've called us."

  "Well, I got home fine, and when I got sick, there was nothing to do. I didn't want you or Tom to come over here and become exposed," Skye said. "Please understand that I couldn't have that on me."

  "No more going into the city! Ya hear me?" Tricia scolded Skye. "And I'm sending Tom around to make sure you're okay."

  "I totally agree! No more Fenton for me. It's a whole different place right now." Skye shuddered as she remembered the empty buildings, and the streets deserted of almost everyone but the Infected. "And it isn't necessary, but it would be nice to see Tom." Skye asked Tricia how some of their friends in town were doing before inquiring if she had any news of Jesse.

  Tricia reluctantly spoke. "Well, that's one thing I called about. Mom saw him the other day roamin the woods at her place. She tried to get him to sit a spell and have some pie, but he wouldn't. Wouldn't even get up close to her, she said. It's not like him. Not with them, it's not. She saw marks though. Near as she could tell, Frankie's been beatin on him pretty hard."

  Skye felt the color drain from her face, and she drew her lip between her teeth. She sank onto the marble countertop, propping her elbows on it and scraping her hair back with one hand. No! No, no, no, no!

  This was the news she’d feared. She imagined the fear on Jesse's dirty little face as he peeked out from behind the trees not knowing where to go. She thought of her list of regular support systems before, one by one, discarding them as useless.

  Skye tapped her lips with her forefinger then covered her mouth with her hand. Who is available to help? All the offices are closed. And if by some miracle, I reach someone, and they get him, where will they put him? Somewhere he will be exposed to the AgFlu?

  "Skye?" Tricia said, reminding her she was still on the phone.

  "Oh, Tricia, what are we going to do?"

  "Well, mom’s gonna be lookin out for him. If he comes around again, she'll try and get him to come into the house. If he does, Dad will bring him here, and Tom will get help for him. Dad's aching to go on over there, but we're worried Frankie’d be, well... too much for Dad to handle. You know how he gets."

  Skye hated to turn down anyone willing to help Jesse, but she agreed that a drunk Frankie was often dangerous. In a bad mood, he could easily overtake Tricia's dad. Her brows creased. "Why can't Tom get him?"

  Sympathy and worry filled Tricia’s voice. "It's a fair ways out there. He's been working almost 20 hours a day and can't keep up as it is. He hardly lays his head down at night anymore. Things are crazy, just insane, and he needs to care for the worse cases first. I'm sorry, Skye."

  Skye nodded. Her cousin always did his best, and if even half the news was true, she wondered how Tom was getting any sleep at all. But where does that leave Jesse?

  Tricia continued, "Tom agrees what's happening to Jesse is bad, but he has to prioritize, and it's not life and death. Tom doesn't like it, but he has to. He says if he gets any kind of time, he's gonna head straight over there."

  "That may not be enough. And I disagree, I think it is life and death." Skye's voice hardened as she tapped one painted fingernail on the countertop.

  "Skye, don't be gettin any wild ideas. That ain’t like you. Let the system handle this. It's there for a reason, you always say."

  "True, Tricia," Skye said. She wished it was like her. "But even on a good day, I had to babysit the system, and these aren't good days. The system is gone."

  Tricia continued to throw out objections. "Frankie's dangerous. Remember that fight he got into a few months ago? The other guy was a mess."

  "That's exactly my point. Jesse can't hold his own against him. The boy needs to be removed now."

  "Jesse's gettin beat on, and there's no doubt it needs to stop. But Frankie is gonna hurt someone
else more than his own kid."

  "Tricia, you're assuming he's a normal father with normal fatherly instincts. He is not. Especially when he's drinking." Skye walked to the large window beside her dining room table and looked out on the empty street.

  "I understand what he is. I was raised up with him."

  "You know a part of him. And I know a different part. I treat what is left of his child." Skye set her hand on her hip. She would allow no argument on this point.

  "Please, Skye, don't make me sorry I told you this. I reckoned if you saw Jesse wandering around town, you could, ya know, keep him at your house."

  "No, don't be sorry." Skye’s gaze strayed from one house to another, most of which were showing signs of abandonment. "It's just there's no one. Jesse has no one. I'm the closest person he has that can help him. And believe me, he hasn't let me all that close. He's so guarded, it's like he's in a dark cave, and he swipes out at anyone coming toward him. Jesse won't reach out for help. He wouldn't even grasp how to do that." Skye let out a long sigh. "I'll watch for him. Please tell me if anyone sees him again."

  The women said goodbye, promising to call the next day again if their phones had a signal.

  Skye tried to put Jesse out of her mind, but as the day wore on, she became more and more agitated. She tried reading, using her bit of remaining battery on her iPad to watch a downloaded Friends, and even resorted to cleaning but nothing worked. Her thoughts kept wandering back to Jesse and Frankie.

  All her other kids had someone to turn to when the mistreatment became worse, somewhere they went to get a break from the intense pressure of living with an abuser. But not Jesse. He was a child, alone, with no way out. Skye was that person for him, the person he could talk to when he wanted, the person who helped him see things could be better. Now, when his life had improved for possibly the first time, Jesse was lost again, this time with no hope of rescue.