by Tasha Black
Behind Vince, the fire had engulfed most of the lab. He must have disabled the sprinkler system. West watched as the picture Sean drew for him turned to ash.
West didn’t have the super powers, but he still had one chance to do something heroic.
If West was going to die, at least he could save Sean’s chance, and Jessica’s chance, and all the other kids’ chances for a better future. His life would have some meaning beyond the empty pursuit of his ugly desires.
He squinted his eyes as the frigid wind ripped at him. He could beg if he wanted, but there was no point begging with a crazy man.
On the street below he could see the flashing lights of police cars and an ambulance speeding toward Worthington Enterprises. They would arrive just too late.
Strangely, the thought made him want to laugh.
Then Vince let him go.
West shot out a hand and grabbed Palma’s shirt pocket. The fabric tore, sending the flash drive tumbling gracefully through the air.
Vince reached for it, but he wasn’t dexterous enough in the suit.
West snatched it out of the air and clutched it to his chest.
He had that feeling, like leaving his stomach behind on the first hill of a roller coaster.
Then he was falling, falling.
The last thing he thought of was Cordelia Cross, and the way her blue eyes shone when she smiled a true smile.
24
Cordelia had just undressed and pulled a cozy sweatshirt over her head when her cell phone began to buzz.
Edward Dalton
Great. West probably wanted her to come in and stare at spreadsheets for him, and he was too embarrassed to call her himself to say he’d changed his mind about taking her out.
Well screw it. And screw him too. She was taking a night off. She’d be at work at 9AM. If he fired her, so be it.
Who did he think he was? Kissing her, asking her out, standing her up, and then expecting her to work all night?
She padded into the kitchen to heat up a can of soup. It was pretty sad that she’d had a great table at Les Cadeaux and was home eating canned soup. No reason she couldn’t have stayed for a nice meal.
But of course her heart had been broken and she hadn’t wanted a nice meal.
In a way, it was good to see that she still had the ability to get her hopes up. She hadn’t even thought seriously of dating in so long.
After all, it was crazy to think that a guy like West Worthington would be interested.
But she had seen something there. She was sure of it.
Well, if he wasn’t man enough to admit that he liked her, even though she was poor and chubby, then it was his loss.
But a quiet voice in the back of her head whispered that she was delusional if she’d thought he actually liked her in the first place.
It was going to be a long night.
The phone rang again as she poured the soup into a mug.
Edward Dalton
Dammit. Why couldn’t they leave her alone for a night to lick her wounds? She was a human being, not a piece of office equipment.
When the phone rang for the third and fourth times, she ran it back to her room, turned off the ringer and plugged it in.
She was just headed back to the kitchen when there was a knock on the door so loud she could see it shiver on its hinges.
“Cordelia!” Dalton’s voice thundered from the other side.
“Leave me alone!” she yelled right back. “If you don’t leave me alone I’m calling the police!”
“It’s West, there’s been an accident.” Dalton cried hoarsely.
Cordelia’s heart dropped into her stomach.
Her hands trembled as she struggled to unlock the door.
“We have to go,” Dalton said darkly.
She slipped on her clogs and grabbed her clutch. All the stuff that normally went into her purse was in this silly little thing, riddled with shimmering blue beads, in preparation for the date.
Dalton looked like he was prepared to lift her up bodily and carry her down to the car if she stayed any longer, so she nodded to him that she was ready to go.
The view out the windows of the car got brighter as they reached the city. Not because morning was coming, but because of the lights, the signs, the reflections on the cold glass of the buildings.
It was easier for Cordelia to let those bright colors wash over her, than to hear Dalton explain what had happened to West.
As far as she could understand it there was little point in going to the hospital. A person couldn’t survive a fall like the one West had sustained.
And why she had been granted medical power of attorney for him was something even Dalton couldn’t explain.
As a matter of fact, Dalton was having a hard time speaking at all. He clutched the door handle so hard his knuckles were pale. His breathing was shallow and fast.
Before she could ask if he was okay, the car was suddenly plunged into near darkness as they descended into the basement parking garage of Glacier City Hospital.
Within a minute, she and Dalton were sprinting through the lobby and into an elevator.
The moment in the elevator stretched forever. The cold scent of antiseptic snapped Cordelia back to the days after Jessica’s accident.
One last mournful ping of the elevator brought them into a bright waiting room. A doctor stood with Mallory Pruitt, his mask down, frowning at her as she gesticulated wildly.
To her credit, her hair was not in pigtails. It was cut short. And bright pink. But not a pigtail to be found.
“She’s here,” Dalton croaked.
They turned to Cordelia.
“Mr. Worthington has been in a terrible accident,” the doctor began immediately. “We have a team of surgeons standing by. But we can’t begin without your consent.”
He held out a clipboard to her. It looked like a normal clipboard, with a page of medical jargon and a small space with a circle for her to sign.
“Why would this require consent? And how does surgery help?” she asked. “From what I understand he won’t survive.”
“It is precisely because of the low chance of survival that we need your consent,” the doctor said carefully.
“Liability?” Cordelia asked.
“Something like that,” he replied.
“Cordelia, there’s more that can be done and they won’t do it,” Mallory said quietly.
“We can’t do it!” the doctor interjected.
“What do you mean, Mallory?” Cordelia asked, with a twinge of hope.
“When they’re putting him back together, they could implant the nerve simulators that would make his life worth living if he did survive,” Mallory replied.
Of course. That was a no-brainer.
“What possible reason could you have not to do this?” she asked the doctor.
“It’s not tested,” he answered.
“Here’s your chance to test it,” Cordelia said firmly.
“You mentioned liability before,” the doctor began.
“Write it up! But if he dies while I’m waiting for a lawyer you’ll really have liability concerns,” she replied.
“Miss Cross, I’m afraid you don’t know the implications of these untested devices—” the doctor began again.
“None of us know,” she told him. “But my sister is paraplegic. I do know the implications of that. She would have risked anything for this chance. I am not changing my mind.”
There was a moment of silence.
Then the doctor nodded his defeat.
“Come on, then,” he gestured to Mallory. “We’ll prep for surgery while you wait for the form. Shouldn’t be more than ten minutes,” he turned on his heel.
Mallory grabbed a huge duffel bag and scampered after him.
“How did she know to come?” Cordelia asked Dalton.
“We both got the same message that West did.” he replied. “It said that there was a security breach at the lab.”
“What’s in the bag?” she asked, already knowing the answer.
“It’s the equipment she needs for West.”
“Did she go to the lab, too?” Cordelia asked. “Was she there when…?”
“No, the lab is on fire. Everything’s gone,” Dalton explained. “While I tried to reach you, she went and got this stuff from home. She has a stash of it in her garage to play with on the weekends. She says she’s been working on something new.”
Cordelia could only imagine how mad West would be that Mallory kept a stash of his equipment in her garage. On the other hand, if it saved the use of his limbs, he might be very happy.
Most likely, he wouldn’t know or care. Because you didn’t fall out a 12th story window and survive.
At least it meant he had a good excuse for standing her up. And although Cordelia knew it probably made her a bad person, a small part of her delighted in that revelation.
25
Cordelia’s eyes were blue as ice, were blue as cornflowers, were blue as denim, were blue as the sea, were blue as beep.
No.
Wait, no, her eyes were as blue as the sky, as blue as the rain, as blue as beep.
No, no.
Beep.
No, please.
Beep.
West fought the glitch in his head. He was dead, and there was nothing else. An ocean of nothing encompassed him. It was empty, devoid, unhinged. The only thing he could catch onto was the color of her eyes and he clung to it like a life raft. Her eyes, her eyes, were blue as… beep.
West let go of his mantra for a dangerous moment. He hadn’t said beep, hadn’t thought it.
Beep.
The darkness faded slightly. Two blue lights pierced it.
Beep.
Sensation flooded through his body.
The smell of lilacs.
The taste of metal in his mouth.
And then the pain.
He tried to scream, but there was something in his mouth, down his throat.
Beep!
The blue lights, they were his last hope. Using strength he didn’t know he had, he focused on them.
They were not Cordelia’s eyes. They were part of a machine.
Everything went gray, but he heard feet pounding down the hallway toward him before the blackness swallowed him again.
* * *
Time passed smoothly, peacefully in the cradle of darkness where no pain pressed in. But then there was another dusk.
Lilacs.
No metal in his mouth.
Pain.
Whispers.
* * *
West opened his eyes, or, his left eye, at least. The right one was covered in gauze.
He was in a hospital bed. Dalton stood in the doorway. A pink haired woman leaned on a radiator cover, looking like she was holding her breath. Mallory?
Cordelia sat on the edge of a red plastic chair. Her eyes were so blue, just as blue as he remembered them, and filled with a terrifying hope.
Before he could drink his fill, a doctor leaned over him, blocking his view.
“Welcome back, Mr. Worthington,” she said proudly.
West tried to sit up so he could see Cordelia again.
His head moved, but it was so heavy. His left shoulder stirred but his right wouldn’t budge.
He fell back against the pillow.
“Easy, Mr. Worthington,” the doctor chided with a smile. “You’ve been asleep a long time. You can’t just hop up.”
Why had he been asleep?
Cordelia’s eyes. Flashing lights. Cold wind. Sirens.
Falling. Falling. Falling.
Oh god.
How had he not died?
And where was the flash drive?
He tried to sit up again. He needed to find the drive. Again, he met with no success.
The doctor seated herself on the chair next to him. It was as though she sensed that his vision wasn’t quite right. She pushed her glasses up her nose, and smiled patiently at him.
“I’m Dr. Chowdhary. I hope you don’t remember the accident, Mr. Worthington.”
Accident? He thought of Vince Palma’s face as he slipped into cool night air. There hadn’t been any accident.
“You had a very bad fall. And we had to put you in a coma to give you a chance to heal.”
She paused and he inclined his chin, to show he had heard her.
“You were very unlucky to have such an accident. But in another sense you’re a lucky man, Mr. Worthington. Your fitness before the accident was very beneficial to your prognosis. You also have access to technology like nothing else in the world. I have to admit, like nothing I have ever seen before.”
Her voice was calm, and her accent soothing, despite the gravity of her words.
“My team of surgeons and one of your own scientists spent over thirty hours in the operating room to attempt to give you the tools you need to enjoy a quality of life that would normally be unheard of for a patient who has suffered this kind of trauma.”
Again she paused.
West tried to take inventory of himself. But the pain wove though his very being. He couldn’t untangle it.
“However,” she said gravely. “You should know that you are not waking up the same man as you were before the accident. The tools you’ve been given may work, and they may not. And even if they do, there is no use telling you that it’s going to be anything but hard work for slow progress. No amount of money or surgery can change that. Nothing in your life will be the same again.”
“All the kings horses, and all the kings men…” he tried to reply. But it came out sounding like cardboard scraping against pavement.
The doctor winked at him.
“Glad you have something to say. We’ll get you sorted out so you can drink a little and then you’ll be able to talk, love. That, at least, won’t be an issue.”
Cordelia sat on the edge of the red plastic chair the whole time, at his feet.
He wondered why she didn’t touch him. She could at least reach out and pat his feet.
Had the accident left him disfigured?
How the hell had he survived?
A nurse put a straw to his mouth and he downed the plastic cup of water he was offered.
Dr. Chowdhary leaned down and adjusted his bed so that he was sitting up a tiny bit.
“Don’t try to talk too much. I’ll be right here,” she sat by his side.
West locked eyes with Cordelia.
“Med Pros?” he asked. His voice was still raspy but it was perfectly intelligible.
Cordelia blinked.
Mallory shook her head silently.
“Completely wiped out in the fire, West,” Dalton said from the door.
“Not completely,” Mallory chimed in. “The physical assets were all destroyed in the fire. And most of the research was corrupted, even on our cloud based storage failsafes. That was some pretty high level hacker stuff. But there was enough on the flash drive you saved to keep us in business.”
The drive. Thank god.
“Vince?” West asked.
“Unless he went out the same way you did,” Dalton replied, “there is no way anyone could have survived the fire.”
“How did I survive?” West heard himself ask.
“The docs say you shouldn’t have,” Dalton smiled. “You have one hell of a will to live.”
Her eyes are as blue as the sky.
Dr. Chowdhary thumped the bed beside him and smiled with buttoned lips.
Why hadn’t she patted his arm?
Ignoring the chorus of pain, West struggled to move. He had to know.
He felt his left arm move on the bed beside him, and nothing else.
“Why can’t I move anything else?” he asked Dr. Chowdhary.
There was a moment of silence.
“I’ll explain in layman’s terms, Mr. Worthington,” Dr. Chowdhary said kindly. “You fell a great distance. Most of your spine was pulverized. We couldn’t save your right arm, or ei
ther of your legs.”
“My eye?” he asked in a low voice, bringing his left hand up to touch the layer of gauze covering his right eye.
The doctor shook her head.
“So they’re just…gone?” His mind reeled.
“Not exactly,” Dr. Chowdhary ventured. “Your eye was beyond our abilities, I’m afraid. But your limbs have been… reconstructed, using the technology from your company.”
“Show me,” he said, his voice barely a whisper.
“You’ve had a lot of excitement and you’ve only just woken up. Don’t you want to save this for another day?”
“Show me!” he roared.
Dr. Chowdhary smiled her enigmatic smile, and pressed the button to lift his bed until he was nearly sitting.
The room was so bright. He could see the vase of lilacs he’d smelled on the windowsill. Outside, the sun reflected madly off the buildings of Glacier City.
Dr. Chowdhary grabbed the top of the sheet at his chest. Time slowed. He could see the tiny hairs on her hands, and the scratched gold band around the ring finger of her un-manicured hand.
West glanced up. Every pair of eyes in the room was fixed on the sheet, save one.
Cordelia’s ice blue eyes gazed into his one good eye. The inquisitive kindness he saw there was almost too much.
Cool air touched his skin. At least parts of it.
He looked down.
His chest was bare, the hair had been shaved and was starting to grow back, leading a prickly line down into the green hospital gown that dipped over his abs.
Underneath the bottom of the gown, the muscled thigh of his left leg ended above the knee. The knee itself and the leg and foot below were… like a GI Joe toy’s leg, smooth, tan… pretend.
The other leg was plastic all the way under the gown.
So was his right arm.
Panic set in and he tamped it down.
Is this better than the sea of nothing? he asked himself.
His gaze found Cordelia’s face.
Yes, it was.
Mallory approached the bed. She seemed unsure where to begin, tied in nervous knots.
“Nice hair.” West gave her a reassuring smile.
She ran her fingers through her short pink locks and spoke.
