by Urban, Ami
I turned to look at my husband. All he offered me in that moment was a sly grin and a shrug of his naked shoulders.
It was true. He was alive and standing right here in front of me. Still harboring some skepticism, I took a step forward.
“You’re alive?”
“Told ya.”
“What the fuck is going on?!”
Somehow, we’d forgotten about Scott’s corpse until Clark screamed his question. He rushed over to the boy’s side, checking for a pulse. Which was utterly useless. The man was a terrible doctor.
Jack’s eyes went suddenly dark, his voice lowering to an almost baritone note. “He was going to rape her.”
Clark’s head snapped up toward us. “What?!”
I nodded, searching around me for anything to give Jack so he could cover up. I noticed his skin beginning to break out in gooseflesh.
“This kid was getting worse every day. Angrier and angrier. He was trouble from the beginning,” Jack said.
I handed him a pair of scrub bottoms I’d found nearby. They were too small, reaching about mid-calf when he’d put them on. It would’ve been comical had we been in any other situation.
“Dr. Clark, we understand about as much as you do. It seems as though Scott had some underlying anger issues I wasn’t able to help. He’s been holding a personal vendetta against Jack and me for the last year.”
“Wait, what?” Jack looked to me, a questioning expression on his face.
I nodded. “He was upset about us leaving him upstairs to succumb to the virus.”
“But…he survived.” Jack was incredulous. As was I.
“Dr. Clark.” I wanted his attention. He’d done nothing but stare at the body. When he finally looked up at me, I continued. “Scott attempted to murder Jack. It was Scott who gave the penicillin to Harper. And then he was going to murder me.”
Jack’s knuckles turned white as he gripped his crutches. “I’ll fucking kill him again.”
Clark grunted as he stood. He instructed Jack to help him place Scott’s corpse on a gurney, so he could wheel him back to the morgue. He complied, wincing at the pain in his ribs, and placed a sheet over him once finished.
Before leaving, Clark turned back and said, “I’m not explaining this to anyone. This kid’s going in the freezer, then I’m going home to get drunk. If I ever have to deal with either of you ever again, it’ll be too soon.”
The old OR doors squealed shut behind him. “What a pleasant man,” Jack said, staring at the pool of blood where Scott’s body had been. Then, he glanced at me. “Should we…” He gestured at nothing in particular. “Fix your arm? Or tell someone about me.”
“Yes. I suppose we should.” I was too emotionally drained to talk to anyone, but I knew we had work to do. Grieving for a spouse only to find out they were alive the entire time was enough to create psychological issues for anyone.
“Let’s go,” was all I could say.
My husband’s bottom lip jutted out for a split second before he nodded. “Sure thing.” He reached out to me, but I flinched. It was if I didn’t know who he was anymore. Even though I did. He pulled his hand back, a hurt look in his eyes, but he said nothing.
We walked in silence down the empty hallway in the West wing. It was difficult, but my brain was swirling with thoughts. Out of my periphery, I noticed Jack try to speak a few times. He’d hold up his index finger and open his mouth only to shut it seconds later. But I needed to think.
If I didn’t set my wrist then, it wouldn’t heal properly. So, I stopped for a moment and turned to him. I held it out, being careful not to move too much. “Can you hold my hand, please?”
Surprise lit up his face, followed by a smile. “Of course.”
I think perhaps he didn’t know what I was going to do. Because once he had my hand in his, I took a deep breath and twisted my arm, setting the wrist bones in their proper places. A fresh, searing wave of pain spread up to my shoulder. Dots danced in front of my eyes. I had to bite my tongue hard to keep from shouting a curse. And Jack let out a yelp.
“Holy shit!”
Taking several, shaky deep breaths, I took off my doctor’s coat and my overshirt, then wound the cloth around my wrist, through my thumb and had Jack tie it behind my neck.
“That was bad ass.”
“Thank you.”
I held open my office door for my husband. For a moment, he looked at me almost as if he’d been lost for weeks. It was such a haggard gleam of sadness that it punctured right through my chest. I almost lost my breath.
But then, he walked in. I noticed a wince that left almost as soon as it came. I let the doors close behind us, taking a final moment to collect myself. It seemed to work somewhat, because I was able to move again.
Something in my head cleared a little when I showed him into my office. Never had I seen a case of spontaneous restoration. He had to have been alive the entire time. Our machines were so broken, they couldn’t feel his pulse. And I must have been so frantic that I couldn’t feel it, either.
“What are you thinking about, Foxtrot?”
His words caused me to jump a little. I shook my head. “I don’t understand how you’re still here.” I tucked a strand of my short hair behind one ear while trying to find a knee brace in the supply drawer.
He came over and thrust his hand into the mess, bringing out what I was looking for in a second. He smiled when I took it. “All I remember is not being able to breathe. Getting tunnel vision and then passing out.” He paused while helping me put the brace onto his leg. “It honestly didn’t feel any different than the other time I had an allergic reaction. But my mom gave me, like, two or three shots of epi.”
I stood up straight. “The accident you told me about… You have a higher tolerance?”
His eyebrows shot up. “Yes?”
Suddenly, looking into his eyes wasn’t enough for me. Reaching out my left hand, I leaned toward him. I wanted to touch him, to feel his soft skin again. I wanted to hold him. To kiss him all over. I wanted my fingers to feel every inch of him and never let go again.
Half-expecting cold flesh, I allowed my hand to brush against his stomach. I flinched a little, my brain connecting the dots before I had a chance to. But when I placed my palm against him, his warmth seeped into me, flooding me with relief so extreme I couldn’t process it.
He reached up and placed his hand atop mine. And we stood there for a while. His chest rose and fell with each breath, our hands following the movement. He was breathing again.
I looked into his eyes. “I can’t believe it.”
“Neither could I at first.” A playful smile lit up his face. “I had to pinch myself. Really hard.”
A puff of air escaped me as I laughed.
“Thought about twisting my nuts but didn’t want to go through that much.”
June 21 – Jack Reynolds
Brendon’s voice called out Lisa’s name as a pounding sounded in the hallway outside. Her face changed. The light in her eyes dimmed a little. Her smile faded, and the robot was back.
“I’d better get him.” Even the monotone had returned.
“Ooh, I have an idea.” Giddiness rose in my chest. “You talk to him and I’ll pretend I’m not here. Then I’ll jump out and scare him.” I stepped back.
She tossed me a look. “Are you sure you don’t want to grow up?”
Damn. That was cold. But I nodded just the same. After a sigh, she opened the door and called to him. I was hardly able to contain my glee.
“Jack’s body is gone!” Brendon’s voice was panicked, his sentences fast. “Mina’s okay. But they don’t know what happened and I just had to find you.” Footsteps paced around.
“Brendon,” Lisa’s voice was calm. “Just relax.”
He stopped pacing. “Oh, my God! What happened to your arm?”
“It’s quite a long story. Finish yours, please.”
He started pacing again. “This… This is totally karma, Lisa.”
/> “Now, Brendon…”
This was gonna be so good. He was so scared.
“This is just my luck. We deserve this,” he said.
His words were odd, but I brushed it off as him being freaked the fuck out. Then I held in laughter.
“Brendon, please listen to me.” Ah, ever the consummate professional. Lisa keeps her shit together.
“No, you listen to me!”
Oh, shit. No one talks to Lisa that way. But she didn’t have time for a rebuttal because he kept going.
“I knew this would happen if we hooked up. I knew it. First, my best friend dies, then I kiss his wife, then his body—”
“Wait, what the fuck?” I heard my own words as I crutched out of the room. The two of them looked up at me. Brendon’s cheeks were laced with blush, his eyes were wild. But screw that shit. The fuck had he just said?
“You fucker. You kissed my wife?!” My blood ran hot. How could I not see it? Why couldn’t I stop it? Why did I let them spend so much time together?
“Jack.” Lisa held her hand up to me. “Just listen—”
“Yeah, I don’t want to hear it from you. I want to hear it from him.” I pointed straight at his face. He shrunk back, studying me as if we’d just met.
“You…” He backed up again. “You’re alive?”
“Surprise, Motherfucker,” I growled.
“Jack.” Lisa attempted to calm me again, but I still wasn’t ready for her side of the story. I took one look at her and shook my head. She seemed to understand and backed down.
“Tell me you didn’t kiss my wife.” My sentence came out between clenched teeth.
“Um…” Brendon began to shake while glancing between me and Lisa. “Okay, I won’t.”
I felt my eyes narrow as a heavy sigh escaped me. “Spill your fucking guts before I do it for you.”
“Okay!” Brendon’s hands were up in a defensive pose. “Alright. Yes, Dood. We…kissed.” He flinched when I threw up my hands.
“Are you fucking serious right now? Did you fuck her?” I was too angry to realize my words might hurt them.
“Jack!” It was Lisa. And her tone was harsh. “Nothing else happened.”
“Right,” I said, turning toward him again, “and I suppose you’ll tell me it meant nothing.”
They exchanged glances. For a second, there was something unspoken between them. I could hear the blood rushing in my ears.
“Well, no, that’s not true.” It was Lisa that spoke, possibly driving the knife deeper into my heart. “We both realized it wasn’t right. Neither of us want to put our friendship in danger. To be honest…” She moved forward, placing a hand on my arm. I allowed it. “I had to stop because he’s not you, Jack.”
“You couldn’t have waited until I was at least cold?” The bitter tone couldn’t be helped. I shifted on the crutches.
“She’s right.” Brendon chimed in. “I could only think about Amy. It just…wasn’t right.”
I was quiet for a moment, contemplating what I’d just found out. Why hadn’t Lisa told me sooner?
“You.” I pointed a finger at Brendon. “Get out of my sight.”
He bounced on his toes. “Aye, aye.”
“And please update the hospital personnel,” Lisa added as he left.
“When were you going to tell me?” At least my blood pressure had returned to normal. Lisa was just as calm and unreadable as usual.
“Actually, just before Brendon came looking for me.” We went back into her office where she grabbed the journal she’d been writing in from her desk. “I was going to let you read it.” Her eyes studied the cover as if the answers to all life’s questions were on it. “Tonight’s entry, I mean.”
I felt the anger ebb away as she handed me the red book. I flipped through to the ear-mark and read the passage. Then I read it again. And again. Admittedly, I found the detail about things I didn’t do that she liked a bit like eight bee stings, but I logged it away for later use instead.
My eyes began to burn as tears threatened to make an appearance. But why was I upset? For all the two of them knew, I was dead. Everyone thought I was. I woke up on an autopsy table, for fuck’s sake.
And yet, anger bubbled into my chest. Words began to scramble on the page until I couldn’t read them anymore. But I still stared at them. My head was somewhere completely different. Hadn’t this happened before? Yes. With Claire. She’d cheated on me too.
Well, had Lisa cheated on me?
I jerked my head up at her, a fresh tickle of anxiety in my gut. A thousand questions ran through my mind. But only one articulated itself.
“Impressive erection?”
She stared at me, emotionless. “Remarkable is better than impressive.”
Whatever. I guess.
“Why?”
Oddly enough, her entire face fell about six inches. Something behind her eyes dulled. A frown stretched across her lips.
“The diary didn’t—?”
I shook my head. “No. I want to hear you say it.”
She chewed her bottom lip for a moment. The silence stretched out. Just as I was about to repeat myself, something in her changed. The rigid doctor was back. She’d figured out what to say.
“I’ll start off by saying I’m in no way proud of my actions.”
Duh.
“There was no doubt in my mind you were gone, Jack. My emotions were running extremely high. I felt this…” She met my gaze. “Void.”
“Well, you didn’t have to stuff it full after two hours.”
Her face told me I should’ve immediately regretted my words. But I didn’t. It was selfish, but in that moment, I wanted to hurt her. I wanted her to feel what I was feeling. She took a deep breath. It came out in a shuddering sigh. I recognized it as a precursor to tears. Some feeling tugged at my insides.
“No,” I said. “Don’t cry. Don’t make me the bad guy. That’s just manipulative.”
She sniffed, her body straightening. “I understand why you’d think that, but—”
“Lisa.” I stopped her by putting my hand up. “I just died.” I paused. “Or…you know. Can I have the high ground just this once?”
All at once, she seemed to change again. She was a regular chameleon that night. Except she wasn’t changing to camouflage herself. These were true revelation changes. I could see it in her eyes.
“You’re right.”
I almost laughed.
“Be angry at me. I deserve it.”
“Thank you.”
Her eyes still glistened with tears. I could see the struggle inside her. I studied her face, noting some of the tiny imperfections I’d overlooked before.
“Next time wait a month.”
At my words, she jerked her head up to look at me. “What?”
It wasn’t so much a question. The word stuttered coming from her. As if she would actually begin to cry this time. Except she didn’t. Instead, a smile lit up her face. It didn’t quite reach her eyes, but it was enough for me right then. My feelings for her hadn’t changed. I wanted her to know that.
I opened my mouth to, likely, say something idiotic, but her phone began to ring. Lisa’s eyes rolled to the back of her head. “I’ll let it go.”
It continued to ring while we remained defiantly silent, trying not to meet each other’s gazes. The ringing ceased, and Lisa opened her mouth to say something, but her phone went off again. She groaned out loud. My eyebrows shot up. Those wrinkles creased into her forehead. She tossed me a questioning look. I nodded, indicating she should answer the phone.
After a lengthy sigh, she pulled it out and answered it. “Dr. Reynolds.”
Pause. She remained emotionless.
“Yes.”
Pause.
“It’s Langford.”
Who the fuck was calling about Scott?
“Why?” Her tone darkened. She now had no problem meeting my gaze nor I hers.
“I know I don’t have to remind you he was my patient. Why i
s it that you always contact me at the least convenient times, Dr. Wood?”
A quirky smile pulled at my lips. It quickly disappeared. While the guy’s name was always good for a laugh, he did turn up at the worst times.
“Why are you calling me and not Dr. Cl—”
Lisa frowned. She’d been interrupted while speaking. Not much else pissed her off.
“Dr. Wood, I cannot authorize your entrance to the morgue right now. The medical examiner is not here. This will have to wait… Yes. Not likely, sir. You can try.”
She shrugged, her right hand opening and closing like a duck’s beak. I smiled. Sometimes she did quirky little things like normal human beings. They seemed out of character and I always enjoyed them.
“That’s right. Six o’clock. Alright. I’ll see you in then.” She hung up. Then, before I could ask what he’d said, she held up her index finger and started dialing another number. She put the phone up to her ear, someone answering almost immediately. “Brendon? We need to do an autopsy. Now.”
June 21 – Jack Reynolds
“What, ah… What’s going on?” Brendon stood outside the morgue doors, keys in one shaking hand and a brace in the other. He exchanged glances between Lisa and me. “You…you sounded upset.” He motioned for her to come to him. When she did, I felt something change inside me. I glared at him the whole time he untied the makeshift sling from behind Lisa’s delicate neck to the moment he put the brace on her wrist. His long fingers worked around the dark blue of the fabric, gently brushing her skin every once and a while. Like a lover.
A mixture of emotions burned through me. I could feel the blood pulsing in my temples, rushing in my ears. I hadn’t had time to process what was going on in my head.
Shit. I’m starting to sound like her.
“Dr. Wood intends to perform an autopsy on Scott’s remains. He aims to quarantine the morgue while he does so.”
Brendon’s expression melted into a new one. His attention was on my wife, studying her face. His own features were serious. The absence of his smile unnerved me.
“Why does the CDC want to perform a post-mortem on a previously infected patient?” His tone was flat. The hand holding the keys had fallen to his side.
