Damn it. He was right. “Well, I still have to pee. After that I’ll sit back down if we can think of something useful I can do in the bed.”
John nodded. “I have some thoughts on that.”
Of course he did. I rolled my eyes and smiled, and he chuckled. Clearly, I wasn’t up for sexy time, but I appreciated the effort to improve my mood.
I managed to get myself to the bathroom and take care of myself without any help. That was a win as far as I was concerned.
I’d had a heart attack. It was an idea so incredible that I couldn’t fathom it. Part of me recognized the irony of a heart attack being what I couldn’t handle, when I easily accepted a world of Controlled and falling in love with six guys.
But I was in a situation here that I had no idea how to manage.
My purpose was to heal the guys. I had the psychic abilities to do this. But my body’s capacity to keep up with the workload was another thing all together.
If I’d known I was going to need this kind of energy, I would have worked out. Not that people did that sort of thing anymore. We were all too busy trying to stay alive, but I could have run every day or done a push-up.
Something.
Anything.
I shut off the light in the bathroom and walked out to John. He met me, holding a notebook in one hand, and wrapped his other arm around my waist. Once I was seated, he held the notebook out to me.
“Every name in this book is someone who now lives in Zero with us. We had another one, but it was lost in one of the Controlled raids. “
I wondered if there was another notebook somewhere I could use to make a list of everything I had to do. It took me a moment to focus on what he’d said, and I answered with the lame, “All right.”
“Everyone needs an assigned job.”
What he wanted to do suddenly dawned on me. “And you think I’m the person to do this?”
“I do.” His confidence was clear, but I wasn’t a leader. I was a behind-the-scenes kind of girl. It was safer there. “You’ve already been helping everyone. People line up to see you before me and Isaiah. Haven’t you noticed?”
“I just told them to run…” I whispered, fingering the edge of the blanket. Exhaustion overtook me, and I rested my back against the wall that served as a headboard. “I didn’t want to take over for you.”
John pushed my hair out of my face, fingers trailing over my forehead before he tucked a strand behind my ear. “I know that. Do you think anyone wants to lead?”
I lifted my eyebrows. Uh. Yeah? John was born for leadership. One corner of his lips lifted in a semi-smile.
“I just want things to go smoothly,” I said. It was hard to keep my eyes open when his fingers were doing such delicious things to my skin. Not that I had energy to do what I really wanted to do. John massaged my neck and moved behind me, legs splayed on either side of mine. I let my head drop back to his chest while he continued to knead the muscles of my neck, shoulders, and back.
“We’ve been doing too much. It was one thing when it was the six of us and a bunch of newly Uncontrolled former zombies—”
“Don’t use the word zombies,” I interrupted. “I don’t like it. Every single Controlled has the potential to be aware again. They’re just unlucky.” My voice got quiet toward the end. I hadn’t meant to lecture, but now that I’d seen what could be, I couldn’t unsee it. It was why I went for the knees and legs now when we met Controlled. Each one could be someone important to someone else. I wanted them to have the chance I had.
To love.
To have a family.
“You’re right,” John whispered. His cheek touched mine as he kissed the corner of my mouth. “It’s hard though, to humanize them. Especially when we have no choice but to kill them.”
I hadn’t thought about that. “You’re right. Sometimes we have to kill them to survive. But when I look at them, I see your faces now.”
He didn’t reply, though he continued to hold me. In order to fill the silence, I leaned forward and dragged the notebook into my lap. Scanning the pages, I saw that he’d started a page of jobs: sanitation, salvage, education, safety, medical care, water and drainage, construction and repair. Holy cow there was a lot to think about.
I thumbed through the pages, reading the names of the people. We had a little under a hundred, but it was still difficult to keep so many people happy.
I considered what I knew about each person.
Marion Little. I thought she’d been a lawyer, like Carson. She’d been mediating some disagreements in Zero lately. I’d intervened in an argument once and shouldn’t have. Marion had it under control. I made a note next to her: community building. Maybe she’d be someone who could get this mishmash of personalities all working together.
Amos Shandley. He was an older man with tight gray curls who’d single-handedly gotten a pump working to draw water from the well. Water and drainage.
“What about Atticus Sparrow?” John asked from behind me. “He worked construction. I think he and Amos would get along.”
I found Atticus’s name and wrote water and drainage next to it.
“We’re making a lot of changes here,” I said. “Are we staying?”
John sighed. “Wherever you are is where I want to be. I think it wouldn’t be a bad idea to give these people a semi-permanent home while they find their feet. But it really all depends on how long we can secure it until Dex shows up again with his horde.”
My brother was an endless problem. A pain passed through my head, and I winced. I thought it had passed when it struck again. I set down the notebook. “Sorry, John. I’m suddenly not feeling well again.”
His face fell, and I wished I hadn’t said anything at all. I hated making them worry. He took the notebook from me, laying it aside on a table. “That’s okay. We can do it another time. Rest. You’ve been through a terrible ordeal.”
I coughed. My whole body hurt. “It’s not that. I’m sorry. I sort of feel like I might be getting sick.”
“Then you should sleep for sure. Where is Carson with that doctor?” He sighed. “Sorry. I’m a little impatient when it comes to your health. Lean on me, Whit. It’ll make me feel better.”
I wasn’t going to argue. I liked the thought of being wrapped up in his arms, particularly because I was suddenly colder than I could ever remember being. He tugged the blanket over me, and I slipped away into the darkness.
9
Dante
I stared at the outline of the picture Brandon placed in front of me. “It’s a foot.”
Brandon nodded. “That’s right. It works.”
I took a long, deep breath. “That’s good. Something is working. That’s very good news.” Something had to go right or my head was going to explode.
No, I couldn’t let that happen. If my head exploded then Whitlee would have to heal it and god knew what would happen to her if she did.
I flexed my arm, using the fingers she’d regrown for me. This was all so odd.
Brandon cleared his throat. “Want to talk about it?”
“It?” I understood what he meant, but if I said I didn’t want to discuss what was bothering me, Brandon would ask me why I didn’t want to. Feigning ignorance might get him to leave me alone.
He shook his head. “Being deliberately obtuse won’t get you out of this. Telling me to talk later might, but not pretending that you don’t understand. At least have the decency to not treat me like an idiot.”
I sighed. Brandon deserved better. Often my broken body and ugly face were enough to intimidate others into doing what I wanted. But it had never worked with Brandon, or Whitlee, for that matter. They were very alike when it came down to it.
“Fixing me is going to kill her, and I don’t have the slightest idea how to stop it.” Well, that came out more blunt than I’d meant.
“Right now Carson is searching for a doctor”—Ouch—“and Nick is pretending he’s a cat burglar, so we’re in better shape than we ever have b
een before.”
Brandon was trying to make me feel better, to fix things, but this wasn’t fixable. I was a walking death trap as far as Whitlee was concerned. I opened my mouth to argue, but a sudden pain in my head made me wince. Through my narrowed eyes, I saw Brandon do the same thing.
“Feel that?” I asked in a tight voice, just to be sure.
“I do.” Brandon was already moving. He flung the X-ray on the table and strode toward the door. He held it open for me and then we were both running, ignoring the people calling out for us as we went as fast as we could to the offices.
And Whitlee.
“Ow, ow, ow,” Brandon muttered as he flung open the door. We rushed upstairs to Whitlee’s room, but stopped short when the door opened. John closed the door quietly behind him, rubbing his temples.
“She’s sick,” he said tonelessly. He wouldn’t look at us, and I couldn’t remember the last time that happened. John was always direct, confrontational even. But right now, he couldn’t look us in the eye. “Where the hell is Carson?”
“Here!” The door to the stairway clattered shut as Carson appeared with a gray-haired man and an older woman. “This is Dr. Robinson and his wife, Elaina. Sorry it took us so long, I got a blinding headache on the way here.”
“All of us did,” I said.
From the way Carson’s face paled, he understood the significance of my statement. He stared past us at the closed door and started forward. “What happened?”
“Whitlee’s sick. I haven’t been in yet to see her.” I moved toward the door, but John held out a hand.
“Dante. She’s sick. I came out here to stop you from going in.”
A wave of heat built from my chest and raced to my face. “Stop me?” I took a threatening step forward. No one would stop me from getting to her. Who did John think he was?
“The doctor needs to see her first,” John said. He crossed his arms, and even though he had to tilt his head to glare up at me, he didn’t give an inch. “If she’s contagious, then the rest of you need to stay away.”
“We’ve all been exposed,” Brandon argued. “All of us were just in there with her.”
Behind us, Dr. Robinson cleared his throat. “I understand your concern, but why don’t you let me be the doctor, hmm? I do have a little experience with these things.”
Glancing over my shoulder, I met the bland gaze of Whitlee’s doctor. He’d treated her since she was a baby. There probably wasn’t anyone better suited to helping her than him.
“Ben,” the woman spoke quietly. “If she’s sick, maybe you shouldn’t go in there.”
Lucky for her, Dr. Robinson answered before I did. Not go in there? Whitlee had saved that woman’s life. She’d saved all their lives, and now she— I let out a breath, digging deep for calm. “Elaina, this is my job.” Dr. Robinson hugged his wife. Her hands trembled as she embraced him.
“I just got you back,” she whispered. “I don’t want to be without you again.”
And just like that, my anger drifted away like smoke. Fear. I understood fear.
He touched her arm, gripping it for a long second before he crossed in front of John and into the room with Whitlee.
He had kept his wife with him the whole time she was Controlled, never letting her go to Dex. I didn’t know how the man managed. It must have been a constant hell. But I could understand the devotion. If somehow Whitlee became Controlled, I wouldn’t let her go either. I’d watch her forever. I’d keep her safe.
Isaiah observed the woman before he looked over at John. “How does she seem?”
The two step-brothers had a real love-hate relationship. They could be best friends and worst enemies all within the same conversation. I didn’t know which version was about to come out of John’s mouth.
“I’m afraid.”
I didn’t know what it had cost John to say that. I’d never heard him speak that way, ever. And from the sheer astonishment passing over Isaiah’s gaze right now he never had either.
“We’ll fix it.” Isaiah couldn’t make him that promise, but he was doing it anyway.
Nick tore up the stairs, catching all of our attention as he did. “I got antiseptic and gauze. I couldn’t find anything else. Guys, it is bad out there. Hey, why are we all standing in the hall? I just had the worst headache. Oh… shit. It’s Whit, isn’t it?”
I put my hand on his shoulder. “Good job with the antiseptic.”
“Thanks.” He handed it to me. “How bad? And who’s this?” He nodded toward the doctor’s wife.
We had nothing to do but wait and fill him in on the worst parts of Whitlee’s condition. Then we had nothing to do but think.
I hated waiting.
Nick grabbed his head, nearly doubling over. I looked at the others. What the hell? No one else was getting any pain.
He looked up at me, his eyes huge. “Dante, someone wants to talk to you.
I blinked. “What?”
Nick grabbed his head again, holding it as he rocked back and forth. Realization hit me hard. It was his psychic ability. Nick was a receiver. He could hear Dex.
“Her brother wants to talk to me?
“Not her brother. No. Some doctor you know. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” From the other room, Whitlee cried out, and then as quickly as it started, it stopped. Eyes suddenly clear, Nick lifted his head.
I knew what happened—why he wasn’t in pain anymore. Whitney had shoved the doctor trying to talk to me, out of his head. Shit. We really needed her to conserve her energy, and somehow control it.
In the meantime, I knew exactly who was looking for me. The only man sick enough to tap into a psychic link to reach me. I ran a hand through my hair. “I’m sorry, Nick. What did he say?”
It wouldn’t be good news.
10
Carson
All of us stood in the hall like Victorian gentleman waiting for their wife to deliver. It was bullshit.
The only thing keeping me out of the room was the threat of making things worse for Whitney. I’d do anything to keep her from hurting.
But I couldn’t protect her from here. And when Nick received a message, and I heard her cry out, I realized I couldn’t have protected her even if I was in there.
A doctor Dante knows…
“Dr. Karlton.” He wasn’t someone I would forget. I watched what he did to our girl, and now, from wherever the hell he was, he’d hurt her again.
This guy was first on my hit list. I let myself fantasize for a moment, imagined the feel of his bones cracking beneath my hands.
“I don’t suppose you work as a two-way messenger, Nick?” I asked. “Maybe you could try to, I don’t know, psychically crush his head?”
Nick didn’t even hesitate. “Let me try.” He shut his eyes, but Dante reached past me and knocked him on the shoulder.
“Don’t,” he said. “Don’t open a link if you don’t have to.”
Nick didn’t open his eyes right away. His face flushed red.
“You look like you’re constipated,” Isaiah offered, and next to us, Elaina laughed.
“Sorry,” she said when Nick’s eyes popped open. “He’s right.”
Before he could answer, the door to Whitney’s room opened and Dr. Robinson popped his head out. “Antiseptic?” he asked.
Nick bent at the waist to grab the bag and offered it to the doctor. “Is she okay?”
He didn’t answer, but I noticed he was careful not to touch Nick’s skin. And when he spoke, he’d angled his face away from us. Like he was trying not to breathe on us. He went back inside and shut the door, leaving us standing, staring at it like idiots.
“Guys,” Brandon said, and his voice shook. “If something is really wrong…”
He didn’t need to go on. We were all thinking of it. Not only had the girl in there brought us back to life, but she made us want to stay alive. I stepped toward the door, ready to barrel through but just as my hand touched the knob, it opened and Dr. Robinson came out.
�
�You were right to find me,” he said. He smelled like alcohol and disinfectant. “She’s sick. She doesn’t have a fever, so it doesn’t look like the flu. Nor does it have the same symptoms as the Infection. It could be a cold. She could be run down.”
Next to me, Brandon let out a breath, but maybe he didn’t hear what I had. Or maybe I sensed it. I didn’t know. I just had a feeling that the good news he imparted was surface. Something else, something scary, threatened her. “But—” I prompted.
“But…” Dr. Robinson let out a breath. “But I think it’s something more than that. Whitney has always been healthy, but her pulse is erratic. And just now, she had some phantom pain that made her entire body seize. I’m sorry. I don’t know what it is.”
“But you can figure it out, right?” Brandon asked, his blue eyes wide and beseeching. “You’re a doctor. You’ll figure out how to fix her?”
“I’ll do my best,” he said. “I’m going to ask you to avoid other people as much as you can. I’ll stay here. Elaina.” He met his wife’s worried gaze. “I want you to go back to our quarters.”
“I’m not leaving you, Ben. I’m a nurse. I can help.”
Their love was sweet, but not what I was concerned with right then. “Doctor, I have a question. Could her lack of fever be because we are somehow… taking it from her? If we are attached to Whit the way that we are, maybe we’re helping her fight the infection. You can’t tell what’s making her sick because we’re healing some of the symptoms.”
He held up his hands. “I can’t say I entirely understand what is happening with all of you. I wish I did because I need to understand what could happen with my wife and all the other newly Uncontrolled. But if you are somehow… taking her fever… then you’re not necessarily helping her. The fever is our body’s natural infection fighter. It could be forcing the rest of her immune system to work harder. That being said, people die from the symptoms of fighting things. I can’t promise the fever wouldn’t do that.”
Thunder Rolling Page 5
