The Iron Quill

by Shelena Shorts

  “What are they doing?” I asked.

  “They’re just circling the property to see if they missed anything.” Dr. Carter’s voice was hard and angry. “It’s standard procedure on a mission like this.”

  The louder the hum got, the more the ground vibrated. I ducked my head into Wes’ shoulder unable to look.

  “Just stay calm. They can’t see us,” Wes assured.

  I hoped to goodness he was right, because our situation was getting too intense for me. The two guards sitting in the front cocked their weapons and I thought it seemed pointless until I heard Dr. Carter cock a gun of his own. Then I froze completely. I was surrounded by loaded weapons and a hovering aircraft with a dirty mission and I was unable to do anything except breathe.

  Somewhere inside I have always wondered, what if people knew about Wes? Would they actually go nuts if they knew it was possible to live forever?

  A few times I’d questioned why Dr. Thomas and Wes had covered up the discovery. Questioned how they lacked trust in the human race. But not anymore. If these people were willing to kidnap Wes, possibly even kill him, commit arson, and attempt to kill one of their own, all because they wanted to create a performance-boosting drug for soldiers, then there is no telling what people would do for a chance at immortality.

  I shuddered.

  After what seemed like the longest fifteen minutes of my life, the helicopter circled one more time, closer to the cabin, then disappeared. All of us seemed to exhale at the same time. Once we were sure they were gone, we made our way down the mountain, leaving behind Dr. Carter’s refuge burning on the mountaintop.

  It wasn’t until we reached the highway that we saw an emergency vehicle headed to a lost cause. By then, the blaze could be seen by anyone glancing up the mountainside.

  Chapter 23

  IN THE WIND

  We didn’t land until one o’clock in the morning, and I was ridiculously sleepy. We’d hardly spoken during the flight. Even Dr. Carter had holed himself up in a window seat and remained quiet.

  Wes dropped me off and took Dr. Carter back to his house. I wondered what they would talk about, but was too tired to come up with any theories, so I just went straight to bed.

  I slept until eleven on Sunday and Wes still hadn’t called, so I assumed he was busy with Dr. Carter. Not wanting to fret, I got myself dressed and went downstairs to start my day with something to eat. My mother was in the kitchen hovering over papers on the table.

  “Hey Sophie, come here. I thought you might like these.”

  “Aren’t you going to ask how the trip was?”

  “Oh, I already know. Tom talked to Wes this morning. That’s great news, now look.”

  Wes must’ve given Tom the abbreviated, no-fire version. I walked over, still a little groggy-eyed. Spread all over the table were bridal magazines.

  Wow. Ask me if I’d thought that in a million years my mother would be like this after I told her I wanted to get married so young, and I would have said not . . . a . . . chance.

  “Sit,” she ordered.

  I plopped down, feeling oddly heavy. It did feel good to see her so excited and supportive, but there was no way I could think about that now. It wasn’t worth it to hide my test results anymore. I’d rather see her freak than to pretend everything was bliss at this point, so I just came right out with it.

  “Mom, my results came back positive.”

  Her mouth opened to say something and then she shut it quickly, instead deciding to jump up and come over to my seat.

  She grabbed my face, “I’m so sorry, honey.” Then she hugged me. “You shouldn’t have to go through this. It’s so not fair. You’ve never done anything to hurt anyone, and it’s just not fair.”

  I couldn’t imagine any kind of sickness being fair to anyone, but I understood where she was coming from.

  “I’ll be okay.”

  My mom hugged me for a long time and then pulled back. “It makes me feel good you guys got Dr. Carter. Tom’s confident there will be a cure.” I smiled and she refocused. “Well, it looks like you need to get your mind off of things, so how about we look at the magazines together?”

  I shook my head. “Mom, I can’t even think about a wedding now.”

  “Why not?”

  “What do you mean why not? Didn’t you hear me? I don’t want it to be tainted by thoughts of dying.”

  “You’re not dying,” she said.

  “Doesn’t matter, Mom. When I marry Wes, I don’t want any fearful thoughts going through my mind at all.”

  “Sophie, Dr. Carter is back now, and you can rest assured that they are all going to work around the clock for a cure. And what are you going to do while they work on it? Nothing. So why not try to focus on something positive?”

  I thought about it for a moment. She had a point. What was I going to do? The last thing I wanted to do was hang out at the lab and watch horseshoe crab thingys be drained of their blood. Still.

  “Mom, I don’t even want a wedding. I just want to be married. No production. You know I don’t like you spending money on me. It’s completely unnecessary.”

  “I’ve already thought of that. I know you’re anti-production, so we can plan a very small one. I don’t care. Anything, as long as you can experience a wonderful day.”

  Her eyes started tearing up, which automatically caused me to sniff.

  “You don’t have to do this, Mom.”

  “Yes I do. I’d be the worst mother in the whole world if I didn’t support you in this.” A few silent tears began to fall and she quickly wiped them away. “I mean hell, it’s the most ridiculously romantic story I’ve ever heard and I’ll be damned if you don’t end up happy in the end.”

  I grunted, wiping away my own tears. I was mad at her for making me yearn for the happy ending so badly, but at the same time I loved her for believing in it.

  I let out a submissive laugh. “Alright, you win. What do you want me to look at?”

  She smiled happily, considering the fate we were up against, and then pushed a magazine in front of me.

  “I was thinking you would want to do it at an intimate place, but you’ll still want a dress. Look through here and see if you like any. Then maybe we can go to some boutiques this week and look around.”

  Watching her flip through the magazine made me realize that she needed something to focus on, too. And not only that, she needed to plan this because, as a mother, she deserved the opportunity. If something were to happen to me, it wouldn’t be fair that she was robbed of this moment.

  A soft smile touched my face and I shifted my gaze from her to the pages. I had never once thought about a dress. Wanting to marry Wes and actually marrying him were two different things. I just wanted to be attached to him forever. To blink my eyes and officially call him mine. And if that didn’t work, then sign a paper or something. The process wasn’t ever what mattered to me.

  Now, I was looking at dresses, considering the production. I knew right away that I wouldn’t be able to completely avoid a ceremony, thanks to my mom, but I could at least make it as simple as possible while still giving her the moment she deserved.

  It took thirty seconds or less for me to decide on a location. I wanted to do it at the Overlook. It was the place I’d met Wes to demand how he’d fixed my car after I hit him, and it was there that I knew I wanted him more than sanely possible. It was a beautiful place in the daytime and it would be simple, but meaningful.

  My mom also thought it was a great idea, and with the place decided, we agreed to find a simple, but flowy dress. I imagined one that would look plain until it blew in the wind. I’ll admit, my excitement began to build, but I didn’t want to set the date until I was either rid of my new disease or resolved to accept that I’d have it forever. Under no circumstances could I stand there wondering about the what-ifs.

  Even though my whole future was a what-if, I wanted to get back to the point where I ignored them all and let myself enjoy the moment one hundred p
ercent, and right now, that wasn’t possible.

  She thought that was a wise choice, but still convinced me to go shopping for dresses. And just so I’d be ready when the time came, we opted for a day out together on Wednesday.

  In the meantime, Wes answered all of Dr. Carter’s questions and explained everything else, including my situation. Wes told me that he gave Dr. Carter all of the old journals and pictures from Dr. Thomas and let him sort through them in his study with privacy.

  It didn’t take long for Dr. Carter to know what I knew, which was the truth. They agreed that he would stay with Wes until he transitioned into his own place, possibly even Dr. Thomas’ old residence nearby. When Wes decided to keep the house after Dr. Thomas died, he never imagined the purpose it might end up serving.

  Everyone else was adjusting well, too. Dr. Lyon seemed to have a relatively ordinary response to Dr. Carter joining their team. One would think he’d have flipped or been shocked if he recognized the reunion that was happening in front of him, but he didn’t.

  It was enough for Wes to explain how Dr. Carter had risked his career and life to help Wes escape and that Wes believed he could help the lab once they blended their knowledge. Dr. Carter worked day and night, obsessively learning his way around the lab and reading through their notes.

  By Tuesday evening, I’d had my fair share of information overload. I was so happy to see Wes’ relief and excitement at having Dr. Thomas back. I could only imagine what that meant to him, but I also saw stress and fatigue.

  I’d never seen Wes tired, and in just the three days since we’d been back from West Virginia, he’d become mentally exhausted. I figured out that he was spending time at the lab at night after he left me.

  The first night of his doing that seemed normal since he needed and wanted to get Dr. Carter back on track, but after the second night, I took it upon myself to nip it in the bud. Wednesday morning, I made him come over.

  My mom was off, because it was the day we planned to dress shop in the afternoon, so Wes and I went upstairs and lounged around on my bed. After a few minutes of absorbing his aura into my body, I broke the comfort of the moment.

  “I don’t want you spending so much time at the lab now.”

  He laughed, in a yeah-right way. “Sophie, the cure you need is my priority right now. We’re so close. I can’t let up on it.”

  “What’s close? You keep saying close. What does that mean in medical terms? Are we talking months, years?”

  He propped himself up on one elbow and kept his head cocked to the side. I could feel compassion and worry coming off of him in waves.

  “It depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On if they can figure out the missing piece.”

  “Which is? In layman’s terms, please?”

  “Okay, well we’ve got the antibody mixture that will isolate the virus. It’s mostly from alligator plasma. We’ve replicated an agent that works like our white blood cells and when introduced into infected blood, it attacks the virus. The problem we are encountering is that the human body’s natural defenses may start to attack the antivirus serum, mistaking it for something harmful. It could lead to overactive white blood cells, which could lead to death. No oxygen in the blood, it wouldn’t be good. So we’re trying to create a barrier around the vaccine that won’t trigger the body’s natural defense to fight against it. That way the vaccine can do what it’s meant to do.”

  It was times like this when I wished more of Amelia was showing through, because although I understood what he was saying, I wasn’t interested in diving into it. Maybe it was because I saw the whole thing as a wedge between Wes and me.

  “You don’t have to be so consumed by this virus, you know. I’m not going to get sick from it for a while. I think we should worry about me getting hit by a bus first.”

  He dropped his head back onto the pillow. “Not funny.”

  “I’m not trying to be. I’m serious, Wes, I just want to spend quality time with you. We’re so stressed now.”

  “Sophie, the medicine we’re working on is only a start. It’s meant to attack the early stages of a virus. The more infected cells there are, the harder it will be for the medicine to isolate them. If it doesn’t isolate all of them, then the virus will keep replicating until the body shuts down.”

  Yikes.

  I rolled onto my back and stared at my ceiling. So if I were going to beat this at all, I’d have to get the medicine soon.

  “Well, okay,” I sighed. “I believe you’ll find the cure. Let’s say you find it in six months. But what if I die in three months from something else? We will have wasted so many hours stressing over this that we’ll miss out on the little moments.

  He put his palm on my stomach and shook me gently. “I don’t like hearing you talk like that.”

  I rolled toward him. “But it’s reality Wes. It could happen. And I want no regrets.”

  The corner of his mouth turned up. “I get it. You’re right. We’ll find the cure, but I won’t lose sight of us in the process.”

  With that, he leaned over, rolling himself on top of me and started kissing me. At first it felt like a calculated comforting gesture, but it quickly ignited the hormones that had been dormant for a few weeks. My body easily remembered how good he felt pressed against me and how his mouth moved with mine.

  This is what I’d missed and this is what I wanted more of.

  “Wes?” I murmured between a break in the rhythm.

  “Uh huh?” he responded, burying the bridge of his nose in my neck.

  “I’m tired of stopping with you.”

  With his nose still rubbing against my throat, I felt him inhale. “Me, too.”

  “So what do we do about it?”

  “We do it,” he murmured.

  “Shut up. I’m serious.”

  “Me, too,” he replied, regaining eye contact with me.

  I took it he was fine with the clarity issue. “When?” I asked suddenly feeling nervous.

  His words flowed out with ease. “Whenever you want.”

  I couldn’t stand to receive his burning stare, so I closed my eyes and kissed him again. Unable to come up with a logical response to his invitation, I thought of the only thing to say that would put him on the defense.

  “My mom and I are shopping for wedding dresses today,” I blurted out.

  He pulled his head back and assessed my surprised-at-my-own-comment expression.

  “Really?”

  I nodded. “Unless you’re taking back your offer.”

  “No,” he answered back, appalled. “So tell me what I’ve missed.”

  The light in his eyes returned. It had been a while since I hadn’t seen the hints of worry. Now, it was pure, undistracted gleam.

  I told him how my mom thought it would be something good for me to focus on and how she wanted to see a love story come true. Then I told him how I wanted it simple and at the Overlook.

  “I think it’s perfect,” he said. “I’ll be there whenever you tell me to.”

  “Well, it’s not all about whenever I say. When you want to do it is important, too.”

  “I’ll do it tomorrow if you want to. I don’t care when or where, or whether you wear your flip-flops and shorts. It doesn’t matter to me. I just want to see you happy.”

  I looked into his eyes and found myself the way I wanted to be. Happy.

  We lay around for a good while longer, just glad to spend time together, and then my mom took me to the bridal shop, and he snuck off to the lab.

  We were greeted as soon as we arrived by an older woman with silver hair and skin so tan it looked like leather. She turned out to be the owner and had more energy than someone in her twenties.

  “Who’s the bride?” she said tilting her head back so she could get a good look at me through her glasses.

  “She is,” my mother proudly boasted with her arm around my shoulder. I was taller than my mom, so the gesture was unnatural, and clearly done
to make me feel like the center of attention as she gave me a small shove forward.

  At first the woman assessed me, pausing on my midsection, and it occurred to me that she was taking in my body, possibly wondering if I was pregnant or not.

  Nope. Just living for the third lifetime and wanting to capitalize on this one early.

  I smiled and then she clapped her hands.

  “You have a lovely figure,” she said. “What do you have in mind, my dear?”

  Even though I knew what I wanted, my first instinct was to shrug my shoulders, because this experience was completely foreign to me. Thankfully, my mom spoke up on my behalf.

  “We brought a few pictures. Maybe you can try to find her something similar.”

  “Ah,” she took the magazine ads. “Let me see what I can do. And you can call me Clarra.”

  “Thank you, Clarra,” my mom answered sincerely.

  Clarra left us free to browse while she disappeared down a row of dresses.

  Despite my previous style selections from the magazines, my mom pulled out dresses for me to assess while we waited. My responses were easy.

  “No . . . .no . . . .um, no . . . uh-unh . . . nope . . . no . . . and no.”

  Seven dresses later, she asked me to stop being so close-minded.

  “We’ve already agreed to find what I want. It’s not that those dresses aren’t nice. They’re just not for me.”

  Her shoulders sank. “Fair enough.”

  Just as I was about to say something light to cheer her up, Clarra returned with an assistant holding two dresses.

  “What do you think of these?” she asked while the assistant held them up.

  I pointed to the cream one on the right. “I like that one.”

  I knew without having to think about it that it was perfect for the look I was going for.

  “It is pretty,” my mom said. “You should try it on.”