by A. J. Locke
My stomach growled like there was thunder inside it. I looked at Micah. “Something to eat would be nice. Preferably not something the hospital has to offer.” My voice sounded flat, and I wasn’t sure of the expression on my face. All I knew was that I was hungry and I wanted some time alone so I could digest everything.
“All right,” Micah said. “Mallory’s is nearby, I’ll go grab you some ribs.” I nodded, and Micah tentatively leaned forward and laid a gentle kiss on my forehead before he got up and left the room. I lay there staring at the door with tears sliding down my face.
CHAPTER FOUR
Ribs, corn bread, baked beans, sticky wings, and a side salad for good measure. I devoured all of it like it was the first thing I had eaten in my entire twenty-five years of life. I couldn’t get food in me fast enough. It was so damn delicious I wanted to get out of bed and jump for joy. Filling my belly with greasy goodness was a small nugget of light amid my dismal mood over the news about Ethan.
Micah sat on the chair he’d been sleeping in and ate a smaller meal alongside me, though he ate at a normal human rate. He was quiet throughout the entire meal, and his expression was sad.
Once I finished eating and put multiple wet naps to use cleaning myself up, I looked at Micah, who was picking at his barbecue chicken. I could see he was upset about how much his news had devastated me. I sighed, and Micah looked at me, then at the hand I was extending out to him. He put his food aside and took my hand, then came to sit on the bed once more.
“I’ve had to take in a lot of information in the couple hours I’ve been conscious again,” I said. “And it hasn’t been the greatest set of information to receive. I know you and I are in a gray place right now. But I want to tell you that, through it all, I love you. Forgiveness is hard, moving past certain things will be hard, but loving you has never been hard. I never wanted to leave you, and I am beyond grateful that I am still here. I hope that we will figure ourselves out, and I hope we will find Ethan. I want more than anything for us to be happy that we’re together again, despite the twisted, convoluted, fucked-up road that got us to this place.”
Micah smiled, and it broke through his sadness. He leaned in and kissed me. Electric heat rippled through my body at the sensation of his full, soft lips against mine, and his tongue brushing against them, seeking entrance. I willingly granted it and the kiss deepened.
Micah pulled me against him, and I was once again caught up in his crushing embrace. His breath was ragged when he pulled back for a moment, and his expression was almost savage, the way he looked at me with his hands on either side of my face. He moved his eyes all over my face like he was trying to memorize me, and then he slid his hands through my hair and started kissing me again. Our kisses grew more fervent and demanding, and at some point I had fallen back onto the bed and Micah was on top of me.
“Don’t ever do that to me again,” Micah said when we pulled apart. His forehead was pressed against mine and his voice trembled with the tears he was trying to hold back. “God, please don’t. Two minutes without you almost destroyed me. Don’t do it again.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
“Swear it.”
“I swear.”
“I love you, Selene, probably more than I should. I love you in a way that means I can’t live without you.”
Then we were kissing again, and I wanted nothing more than for Micah and I to stay like this, wrapped up in each other, not thinking, only feeling, touching, kissing, loving each other.
The sound of someone clearing their throat made Micah and I untangle ourselves and turn to the door where Dr. Stevens was standing with a this-is-awkward smile on his face. Micah stood and helped me sit up as the doctor walked into the room.
“Well, I see you’ve gained some of your energy back,” he said.
“A huge meal from Mallory’s will do the trick,” I said, smoothing my hair. “Although that’s typically the kind of food that would knock you out. But I’ve had enough of that for now.”
“I’ve gotten the results back from your blood tests.” Dr. Stevens opened the file he held and looked through it. “Everything came back normal. Despite being in a coma, you are in good health. You have suffered some muscle atrophy, so, like I mentioned before, we will need to get you started on physical therapy. If you feel up to it, we can try standing right now.”
“Yes. Hell, yes. I’d do almost anything to get out this bed.”
“Great. I’ve already asked the physical therapist to come down, and she should be here soon. Let’s see if we can get your strength up quickly so you can go home.”
“Best news I’ve heard in a while.”
CHAPTER FIVE
My house felt like a strange place. I stood a few feet inside the doorway, staring around at everything and feeling very disconnected from it. Tears welled in my eyes and I fought not to cry. I’d done enough of that these past couple weeks.
After two weeks of observation and physical therapy, I had regained eight pounds, my muscles were recovering their strength, and I showed no sign of relapsing. I still felt slightly left of center, but that was because I no longer had my reanimation power. That feeling would never go away. It bothered me, but I was trying to cope with it.
I just hoped I didn’t go crazy like stripped reanimators tended to do.
I took a deep breath and walked further into the room. I had Luna in my arms. We had stopped at Micah’s place to pick her up and I am not ashamed to admit I cried tears of joy at our reunion. When she saw me she leaped into my arms and showered me with happy nibbles and licks and barked incessantly. I had a feeling she was telling me if I left her again, she’d kill me.
I put Luna down and she immediately started running around, sniffing things here and there, and inspecting her food and water bowls. She gave me a look when she saw that they were empty and Micah went to hook her up with some food.
I felt tears rising again as I looked at Micah in the kitchen. A normal scene would have been coming home to Ethan swearing over some pans he’d dropped or something he’d burnt on the stove. Or maybe he’d be sitting on the couch with his headset on, yelling at one of his video games. He’d get up almost as soon as I came home and start dinner. The house felt empty without him. As much as I had longed to get out of the hospital and come home, actually being here was harder than I’d thought.
“Hey.” Micah came over and gently put his hand on my back. I sighed and wiped at my cheeks before he could brush the tears away. I couldn’t look at him right now. My anger wanted to spill out over the fact that he hadn’t protected Ethan. I tried to let logic prevail. Micah had a lot to shoulder while I was in a coma, and I know he hadn’t made any of this happen on purpose. But it was still hard. I missed Ethan.
I took a deep breath and moved away from Micah to sit on the couch. I dropped my head into my hands and took a few deep breaths. No wallowing. I was home now, and I would find Ethan.
When I raised my head, Micah was looking at me uncertainly. I offered him a smile, then got up and headed into the kitchen to get some water. When I opened my fridge, it was a woeful reminder that I had been unconscious for a month. It was almost completely empty.
“I ate what I could, and got rid of whatever expired or spoiled,” Micah said, coming up next to me.
“I’m certain my pantry is in a similar state,” I said. “Ethan did the groceries, and promptly used all of it up with his three-meals-a-day cooking.”
“How bizarre that he would cook three times a day, huh?”
“I know. Who does that?” I took his hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’m not mad at you,” I said. “Well, I’m trying not to be. Instead I want to focus on finding him.”
He squeezed my hand back. “We will.”
“But first, let’s go get some food in this house. I think I remember how to shop for food that isn’t take-out.”
“You already want to go back out? Don’t you want to rest a bit?”
“I slept for a month, Mi
cah. And when I wasn’t doing physical therapy, I was holed up in my hospital room lying on a bed watching bad television. A trip to the grocery store is almost like going to Disney World.”
Micah smiled. “All right, let’s go.”
* * *
Five days later, I had somewhat adjusted to being at home again, but still felt a bit out of place. I kind of felt as though I had slept for a decade instead of a month, and it was hard coping without my reanimation power. The constant feeling of being off balance often left me feeling nauseated and sometimes dizzy, so I’d end up lying on the sofa or my bed waiting for the bad feeling to pass.
Other than the grocery run, I only left the house to take jogs with Micah. Part of my regime to continue regaining my strength was to exercise.
The grocery trip had been a bit overwhelming, because about a bunch of people had come up to me to enthusiastically thank me for stopping Renton, tell me how much they admired my bravery, and how much they prayed that I would wake up from my coma. I tried to take it in stride and be responsive to their kind words, but it was too much, too soon. Micah had to help me make a quick exit to the car while he finished getting the groceries.
But my reclusiveness ended today. It was time for the ceremony honoring the victims of Renton’s ghost monster massacre. As Micah had said, once it was known that I was awake from my coma, the call had been strong for me to attend. I wasn’t comfortable with being in front of a crowd, but the people who had senselessly lost their lives because of Renton deserved to be honored.
Micah picked me up around eleven-thirty and I was a mix of emotions as we drove to Brooklyn Bridge Park. I spotted people wearing costumes and was confused for a moment before I realized that it was Halloween. I felt so out of touch with normal parts of life, like celebrating holidays.
I was nervous about facing the family members of the victims, because even though I knew I was being lauded as a hero, I couldn’t shake the guilt I harbored over the fact that all of this stemmed from my evolved reanimation power. The feeling that I had blood on my hands—and not only Renton’s—was not easy to shake. Plus, I was reluctant to be in the spotlight and be interviewed, but I had to suck it up.
I hoped I’d dressed well enough. I figured jeans and a sweater would be too casual, so I chose a cream-colored sweater dress over tights, wedge-heeled booties, and had taken the time to straighten my hair, which reminded me why I rarely straightened my hair. It was an hour of my life spent in a tangled despair of stubborn curls and an overworked flat iron. But the end result was nice, and since the weather was cooler, I didn’t have to worry about sweat or humidity undoing all my hard work.
Micah also looked nice; he wore black slacks and a navy blue knit sweater. He’d layered a dark gray button-down shirt underneath it. It was so much easier for guys to get dressed for special occasions than it was for girls, if you asked me. Sometimes it felt like the only options were to be overdressed or slutty. Or maybe it was just time for me to overhaul my wardrobe.
I let asinine thoughts like that distract me, along with occasional small talk from Micah, who seemed a bit nervous himself, until we arrived at our destination and Micah found parking. There was a flow of people heading toward the park, and my stomach did that nervous flutter thing where it felt as though it had done a complete somersault inside my body.
“It will be fine,” Micah whispered. He took my hand and gave it a squeeze.
“Yeah, what could possibly go wrong, right?” Famous last words, I know. I hoped I hadn’t just jinxed myself.
“The reporter who is going to interview you should be here already,” Micah said. “I told him to meet us at that diner.” He pointed to a diner a couple blocks away.
“Let’s get going, then.” I tried to exude a calm demeanor even though I was still a tangle of nerves. I didn’t relish being interviewed, but I figured it would be a good precursor to the ceremony and maybe I’d relax a little.
As we neared the diner, I saw a young man standing near the door. I figured he was the reporter, though I noted he wore dark sunglasses and held a stick in his hand that indicated he was vision-impaired. What surprised me was that there was a ghost hovering next to him. From the looks of the ghost, who was wearing an energy rune, it seemed as though the woman had died in her late sixties or early seventies. The ghost wore a simple sheath dress that older women seemed to favor. Guess it was easy for their old bones to get in and out of. Her gray hair was pulled back neatly, and she had a pleasant expression on her face.
“Taj?” Micah said when we came up to them. Taj moved his head in the direction of Micah’s voice and smiled while he extended his hand. He was on the shorter side by male standards, maybe an inch or two taller than me. His wavy, dark brown hair was shorter on the sides, longer on the top, and brushed back neatly. His clean-shaven look made him appear very young, although I figured we were around the same age.
“Yes, hi, nice to meet you,” he said as he and Micah shook hands. “Is Ms. Vanream with you?”
“Yes,” I said. He moved his hand in my direction and I shook it.
“Nice to meet you, I’m Taj Bhandari.”
“Nice to meet you too,” I replied, glancing from him to the ghost.
As though he could sense my thoughts, Taj smiled and inclined his head toward the ghost. “This is the ghost of my aunt, Leora. I hope you don’t mind that she’s here. She helped raise me and has always been over-protective due to my impairment. Her unfinished business is to see me settled with my new guide dog, which should happen in a few days.”
“That’s sweet,” I said, smiling at Leora. “Uh, although it’s not sweet that you’re dead, of course. That…sucks.”
Boy, did I have a way with words. This interview was going to be great.
Luckily, Taj and Leora didn’t seem ruffled.
“I will always look out for my boy. Not even death could stop me,” she said with a smile.
I don’t know why, but my throat suddenly grew tight. It wasn’t that she reminded me of my grandmother, because Grams had a much tougher disposition than sweet ol’ Leora here, but the fondness and caring she had for Taj was what I missed about Grams.
But now wasn’t the time to get sentimental. Taj indicated moving into the diner for the interview, and as we were about to, Micah’s phone rang. After a brief conversation, he looked at me apologetically.
“It’s Tielle,” he said. “She’s over at the memorial site and wants to speak to me before it starts.”
“It’s OK,” I said. I wasn’t pissed that he was running off because it felt like I’d just be getting mad at an old issue and there was no point to it now. I might be hesitant about being interviewed, but I didn’t need handholding.
“We’ll meet up when you’re done,” Micah said. I agreed, and he said good-bye to Taj and Leora and jogged off.
“Shall we?” Taj held the door for us ladies, and we headed in and got a booth in the back. While Taj and I sat, Leora stood off to the side with her arms clasped in front of her. The place was mostly empty, which I was glad for. I would not have wanted to do this in the middle of a crowded, hustling diner. The waitress came over and Taj ordered a ginger ale while I opted for hot chocolate and a jam tart. After she left, Taj took out a tape recorder, along with a pen and notepad.
“Is it OK if we begin?”
“Bring it on,” I said.
“Great.” He started to record. “First of all, how are you feeling?”
“I’m doing well. I’ve made a full recovery and my physical therapy helped get some strength back into my body.”
“So there are no side effects from your ordeal?”
“None that have shown themselves.”
“That’s good. As you can imagine, just about everyone out there has a theory on how you survived the death of Renton Morse, but I’d love to hear your thoughts. It’s true that he had transferred your reanimation power to himself, correct?”
“Yes. Renton took my reanimation power and used it fo
r his own deadly purposes.”
“And why did you decide that killing Renton was the only way to stop him?”
“Because my reanimation power was at the core of everything bad that was going on. If it no longer existed, it would bring everything to an end. There was a way for me to take my power back, yes; but I would still be living with the Rot, which would have eventually killed me. So I concluded that I had to kill Renton, even knowing the risk to myself.”
“That was incredibly brave of you,” Taj said. “It takes a very strong person to make that kind of sacrifice. Yet Renton is dead, your reanimation power is gone, but you survived after dying for two minutes and being in a coma for a month. Do you have any idea as to why?”
“Your guess and the million other guesses out there are as good as mine,” I said. “I’m just grateful to be here, and thankful that Renton’s terrorism was brought to an end. I am honestly not sure what it would take to explain why I didn’t die permanently.”
“It’s a question that may have to stay unanswered,” Taj said. “But one that will continue to fascinate us all.” He made a lot of notes as he spoke and I hoped I was coming across OK. The notes were in braille so I couldn’t even read what he was jotting down. Guess I’d find out when his article was published.
Taj flipped to a new page in his notebook. “Now, Alchemy was at the core of Renton Morse’s experiments. He was able to use Alchemy to go so far as recreating human bodies. It’s a topic that has been hotly debated in the media over the past month. What is your take on Alchemy?”
I had to be careful with my answer here, because I didn’t want to let it slip that part of the reason I found Alchemy terrifying was because of how Renton had saved my life. Micah said Tielle had covered up that part, and as painful as it was to live with, it had to stay covered up. I wouldn’t be able to weather the storm if it came out that people had died so I could continue living. I hadn’t even come to terms with that myself.
