“Did something happen to you? Jade?”
When he put a hand on my arm I screamed and jerked away. If the door hadn’t been closed I would have tumbled out.
“It’s okay!” he said. “You’re in the car with me. You’re safe. What happened to you?”
“Not so loud. I’m just not feeling good.”
“We can go to the motel. We still have rooms. I can look for a clinic in town.”
“No clinic. Drive us home.”
I felt the car slow. Carter was looking for some sort of sign that I was in trouble. If he thought that, he would take me to the nearest emergency room and that was the last place I wanted to be. It took all my strength to force a smile.
“I’m going to be fine,” I said through gritted teeth. “It’s just nerves. I was so close to him. And now we know where he sleeps. But please, just drive.”
It took five hours to get home. Carter, like a trooper, handled the driving and only checked in on me every thirty minutes or so. I kept telling him I was fine and to drive faster. But I was white-knuckling it. My head felt like it was going to pop and a constrictor snake was tightening in my guts.
I tried to remember every moment in the village and inside Chronos’s house. Had anything scratched me? Had I been bitten by a spider or bug? Was this just food poisoning? Anything was possible, yet I felt convinced it was something else. Something that had to do with the red rooms and Chronos. The otherness of it. Had I been infected or sickened by the house itself?
The smell of it permeated my nose, as if my sinuses had been singed by caustic fumes.
Carter took me to his place without asking, and that was fine. After pulling into his garage he came around to help me up. I had a hard time straightening out as I climbed out of the passenger seat. The cramp in my stomach continued to twist.
“We should get you to a hospital.”
I just shook my head. “It’s something I ate.”
The ding of the elevator split my ears, and the machinery that hauled us up to his floor squeaked and groaned like it was about to come apart at any minute. The world swam about and I nearly fell. No matter how much of a stiff upper lip I was trying to display, I ended up clinging to Carter as he guided me to his apartment.
He dropped his keys while trying to get through the front door and we both almost went down, as I had my full weight on him. Finally, mercifully, we made it inside.
I broke free from him and toppled towards the couch, leaning on it for a moment before making my way into the bathroom. The dizziness, the headache, my stomach—it was all awful. My skin was itching now and I peeled my clothes away and climbed carefully into the shower. I didn’t want to touch anything. The itchy feeling only grew in intensity. The water was icy but warmed quickly. I let the spray wash over me. But the water was soon too hot, and then too cold. I forced myself to endure it. The water would do its thing. Whatever had gotten on my skin had to be washed away.
It wasn’t working. My hands trembled as I grabbed the bar of soap. The floral smell made me gag. I put the bar back on the soap dish and shut the water off. Even the sensation of the drops running down my body was too much, too intense.
What was happening to me?
I pushed the shower curtain aside. The sound of the rings on the rod made me wince. I grabbed a towel. Even feeling its soft texture against my hands and fingers was overwhelming. The same went for the grout and the textured floor tiles against my feet as I stepped out of the shower. The drain glugged. The pipes behind the wall shuddered. Someone in a neighboring apartment had their television on too loud and a car alarm was going off a block away.
“Stop it!” I screamed. I crouched down and plugged my ears.
Carter was knocking at the door. “Jade, what’s going on?”
I was afraid my own voice would split my eardrums.
“I’m fine,” I whispered. “I’m just fine.”
Chapter Eighteen
I managed to dry off and wrap myself in a spare bathrobe, after speaking up loud enough to forestall Carter’s breaking down the bathroom door. But all my senses were going full-on bonkers. Every sound, every smell, every sensation was dialed all the way up.
Carter helped me to the kitchen table, where I sat. He hovered. And was breathing too loud. And smelled like a day’s worth of sweat and the remnant of his musky deodorant.
“You either have to tell me what’s going on or I’m taking you to a hospital,” he said.
I nodded but didn’t want to look at him. The light fixture above him was on and I knew it would be blinding.
“It’s like all my senses are on overdrive,” I said softly. “Every sound is too loud, every light too bright. But even my smell and touch are super sensitive. It’s like I’m going crazy.”
“That sounds awful. Did you accidentally eat anything tonight? Wild berries? Do you still feel sick to the stomach?”
I shook my head. “The stomach part has mostly passed. And it’s not my time of the month or anything like that. I think maybe it was the fumes in that house. Everything had a weird red haze to it and I was breathing it for a while.”
“That means you’re poisoned. Get your shoes. I’m taking you to the ER.”
The clinking of his keys as he took them from his pocket made me flinch. “No. I mean it. I’m not going to the hospital.”
“Then what? You don’t know what you breathed in. What if it’s some kind of fungus spore or radiation? The longer we wait, the greater risk we’re taking with your health. This could be really serious.”
I raised a hand. “God, Carter, will you please stop talking so loud?”
His keys made more noise. “But then radiation and spores don’t explain that.”
“What?” I asked irritably.
“Being sensitive to sound.”
“It’s my headache. And you’re not helping.”
He went and got me a glass of water and a bottle of Tylenol. I couldn’t keep myself from reacting to each sound: the kitchen cabinet door banging shut, the faucet turning on, the chug of water into the glass, and the boom as he set it down next to me.
“What if there was a gas that has some sort of hallucinatory effect like LSD?” he asked.
“I’m not hallucinating. I don’t hear voices and I’m not seeing things. I can just feel, hear, and smell everything around me.”
I wanted nothing more than for him to be quiet. Just turn off the lights and let me sit. But even at this late hour his building was making noise. A few neighbors were either still up or early risers.
“I know this is hard for you,” he said. “But we have to test it to see what we’re dealing with.”
“No. Just leave me alone.”
“But what if this passes? What if in an hour it’s all gone?”
“Then I’ll be feeling better,” I said through gritted teeth.
Mercifully, he walked softly away. If only he had turned off the lights so it would stop prying its way in through my eyelids.
A radio turned on. Loud. Some pop music, and it was blasting. I realized it was the Beatles.
“Carter, what the hell?”
I opened my eyes and regretted it instantly as needles began to probe my brain. But Carter wasn’t in the main room of his apartment. The music was coming from the bedroom and he had the door closed. He emerged.
“I have music on in my room,” he said.
“I know. You’re killing me here.”
“What song is playing?”
“I have no idea. I don’t listen to music.”
“But you can hear it.”
“Yeah. You have it turned up loud enough. Did I mention my ears hurt?”
“Then tell me what’s playing.”
“The Beatles, I think. I don’t know their songs by name.”
He tapped his phone and the music in his bedroom turned off.
“You’re right. It was the Beatles. But I had the volume on its lowest setting. I could barely hear it standing next to my speak
er.”
It suddenly clicked where he was going with this. But what did it mean?
“I was thinking maybe it was my frazzled nerves and a migraine,” I said.
“Jade, this is going to sound crazy. But I think maybe something happened to you. Your hearing, your sense of touch, they’re somehow…enhanced.”
“That’s just silly,” I said.
Superpowers or no, my head still ached, and I got a promise out of Carter that he wouldn’t make a sound as I tried to lie down on the couch. Like the towel and the bathroom floor, even the sensation of the furniture’s fabric made me wince. But I forced myself to calm down, breathe deep, and relax. Tried to ignore the world.
But all around me the world was waking up.
A garbage truck somewhere in the vicinity had a reverse beeper that kept turning on, and the metal container banged and crashed as it was emptied. Other vehicles drove past, some blaring music, others with loud mufflers, and a motorcycle went by making so much noise it made we wonder why they were even legal.
More neighbors were stirring. I heard the sounds of showers and footfalls on the floor above me and conversations about lunches and doctor appointments and kids. TVs and radios came on with traffic and weather and cartoons. Doors slammed. And then Carter started snoring in his bedroom.
He had driven us for over ten hours that day and must have been exhausted. But the soft rattle that came through his throat sounded like a car engine half-submerged in water. If that wasn’t bad enough, a teakettle in the apartment next door began to whistle.
After a couple of hours of futility, I got up.
On Carter’s desk was a pair of noise-canceling headphones. I put them on. The cold sensation of the vinyl earpads made me shiver and the pressure of the band over my head made me itch. But I felt instant relief as the world went mute.
That left only four senses to rein in. At least I felt I could breathe again. I took a look out the window. The whole night had been such a blur. Now the sun was about to rise. A light haze hung in the air. Cars drove past. A normal Monday for normal people.
Even through the carpet, I felt the faintest tremor of someone walking up behind me. I turned in time to see Carter there about to touch my shoulder. He said something. I had a good guess what it was, but I took off the headphones.
“How are you feeling?” he asked in a soft voice.
“It seems to be settling down. These things helped.”
“I forgot about those.”
“You were beat. It was a long day.”
He nodded and plodded towards the kitchen. I put the headphones back on as he made coffee but removed them again as the machine thundered so we could talk.
“So I know I have to get a grip on this,” I said.
“Let’s take you to a doctor. Just a checkup. Not knowing what’s going on still makes me nervous. There could be other side effects we don’t know about. There’s too much risk.”
“I don’t have insurance,” I said.
“Then we go to a clinic and I’ll pay cash.”
I didn’t want to argue anymore. Somehow I had to clear this hurdle if I was going to function. We had to talk about what I had discovered and figure out what to do next. But the thought of going outside with my senses going nuts scared me. Carter offered me coffee and food, but I didn’t know how I’d react if my taste buds were on overdrive.
I got dressed and took Carter’s arm as we left.
A neighbor’s faltering smile as we passed her in the lobby told me what I suspected. I looked ridiculous. But Carter looked pretty rough too, with his hair askew, his clothes rumpled, and his face stubbled. We were a pair of freaky hobos doing the walk of shame, but there was no helping it for now.
Going to the clinic made sense, and it would be on Carter’s dime.
Carter spoke as we drove. I had to lift one side of the headphones to make the words out, but that let in the noise from the rest of the world.
“The glove box,” he was saying. “Can you tell what’s inside?”
“Maps and the car owner manual?”
“You’re just guessing. Try and look.”
“X-ray vision is just in the comic books.” But I squinted at the glove box. “Nothing.”
He suddenly braked hard and almost rear ended the car in front of us. Carter offered a wave to the rearview mirror where another car had screeched to a sudden stop.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked.
“Just tired.” He sipped coffee from his travel cup.
I put the headphone back over my ear and tried to think. But the sharp smell of exhaust and the light of the sun were too much. I just kept my eyes shut and endured the ride.
Carter pulled in front of the clinic, which had a sign declaring No Emergency Services. I got out and he handed me his credit card. I nodded my thanks and went in as he drove off to find parking.
A few people were in the waiting room. One older woman with a lopsided wig and multiple coats was in front of me at the check-in desk. The pleasant girl with the nose piercing behind the counter was speaking to her, but I couldn’t hear a word of it. I would have to take the headphones off to register. Reluctantly I removed them and braced myself.
“Take a seat and we’ll call you by name,” the receptionist said.
The woman with the wig muttered something before shuffling off.
A television mounted high on a wall in the waiting area was loud, but not deafening. The volume on the world had gone down. A wave of relief filled me, but then I got worried. What if my heightened senses were all gone before I could figure out what they were and why I even had them?
“You’re next, ma’am,” the receptionist said, waving me over.
I checked in, gave one of my fake names, and reached into my pocket for the credit card. My hand touched the locket I had taken from Chronos’s house. It startled me. I had forgotten it was there. The girl behind the desk had a patient smile as I finally found the card and handed it over.
Once processed, I too was asked to take a seat. The woman with the wig sat nearby, her lips twitching. She had on heavy pink lipstick and lip liner. A Latina with a pair of fidgety children kept a wary eye on her. At least I wasn’t the craziest-looking person there that morning.
When the nurse practitioner finally saw me, I was almost asleep. The sounds of the TV and everything else had fallen into a soft buzz that I managed to ignore. Once inside the exam room, I told her about my headache, and vomiting, and itchy skin. She took all the usual metrics and checked me over from the waist up, then had me say “Ah.”
“Sounds like an allergic reaction to something, but your symptoms seem to be clearing on their own,” was her conclusion.
She scribbled down a prescription for some antihistamines in case the condition came back. But I could breathe and the rest of my vitals read fine. She asked me about drug use and how much sleep I was getting.
“About as much as anyone else,” I said.
She nodded. Dark lines marked her face. But she had nothing else to offer, and she left me alone so I could get dressed.
Carter wasn’t in the waiting room. No doubt he was in his car on the phone.
The Latino woman with the two kids was standing out in front of the clinic by the curb. She was reading on her phone. I walked past her and between two parked cars, looking for Carter’s Prius. The young boy slipped from his mother’s grip. None of us saw the white SUV barreling down the road until it was on us. I stopped. The boy was about to run past me when I reacted without thinking. My hand moved of its own volition. I snagged the boy by the back of his coat, sending his legs flying in the air. The SUV missed him by inches as it raced past, oblivious to the near disaster.
The mother was screaming, and the boy started wailing. I pulled him back towards his mom and she grabbed him into a fierce hug. Then she began to chew him out in Spanish while trying to thank me.
“It’s okay,” I said. “He’s okay. No problem, right?”
His sister was crying too. Now my ears hurt. My head felt fuzzy. I nodded and smiled a goodbye and went to the parking lot across the street, where I spotted Carter’s Prius. My nerves felt jangly as I processed what had just happened. I’d done what anyone would have, of course. But as the event replayed in my mind, I couldn’t shake the strange sensation that my hand had moved to catch him even before the boy ran past.
I was athletic, in shape, with normal reflexes. But catching that kid felt instantaneous, like a switch had been triggered in my brain and my body reacted. Or maybe it was all my imagination and I got lucky and the kid more so.
Carter was talking on the phone when I climbed into the car. He seemed almost annoyed.
“I said I’m fine and I’ll be in this afternoon,” he said. He pushed a button on the vehicle’s console screen and ended the call. I gave him back his credit card.
“Allergic reaction,” I said. “Told me to take some Benadryl and chill. But my hearing and light sensitivity are all under control. The whole thing seems to be fading.”
He nodded. With his eyes on the backup camera, he got the Prius out of the lot and back in the morning traffic.
“So not radiation or LSD,” I added when he didn’t say anything.
When he didn’t smile, I waited.
“Sorry,” he said. “It’s my sister. She gets a bit weird when I don’t touch base. And then she kept asking what I was doing in New England.”
“How does she know where you went yesterday?”
He blushed. “She keeps track of my phone.”
“And you allow it? You know that’s kind of weird.”
“I’m a major component in keeping her stable. She has some emotional needs and doesn’t have much else to hold on to.”
“I’m not judging. But what are you telling her about me and what you’re doing?”
“I’m telling her as little as possible. She knows I’ve been in a bad place since Eden’s death. Obsessive, reclusive. But if I told her about anything else she would freak out. I’ll have to go into the office today, not so much for work but for her to see me alive and well.”
Blood of the Masked God (Book 1): Red Wrath Page 12
