Dr. Cooper didn’t answer me right away; his eyes stared at the screen of his computer as he scrolled through it, page by page.
“Dr. Cooper? This is a good thing, right?” I was starting to get a bad feeling that maybe Sebastian was right; maybe this was all a hoax. No, there were too many people in the waiting room. If it were a hoax, it’d be all over the internet and news.
“Mara, the drug does all that and more. Strengthens bones, prevents skin cancer, and increases fertility. Parkinson’s and arrhythmias are virtually wiped out. It truly is a miracle, of that I have no doubt, and I’m encouraging as many patients as possible to take it.”
I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding in a huge sigh of relief, my heart slowing back to a normal rhythm. I folded my hands on the desk and leaned forward. “You scared me. I thought you were going to tell me it was a hoax. That’s what Sebastian thought it was, some scam to get money out of people.”
Dr. Cooper shook his head but he still wasn’t smiling, and that made me nervous all over again. “It’s no hoax, Mara, but my dear, you can’t take the shot.”
A loud buzz filled my ears and though Dr. Cooper continued to talk, I couldn’t hear a word he was saying. I blinked once, twice as I grasped what he said. “Why not?” I whispered.
He let out deep sigh and pulled my hands into his, cupping them like a grandfather would. “Nevermore is derived from cystius scoparius.”
I stared at him, confusion rushing through me. “I don’t know what that is. Is it bad?”
“Scotch broom. The concentrate within the drug would kill you at worst, and at best you would be in a constant state of agony, hives, sinus infections, swollen glands, and hypersensitivity to the mildest of irritations. There have even been some reported cases where people who were allergic to broom took Nevermore and now they’ve lost their eyesight.” He squeezed my suddenly ice-cold hands. “You can’t take Nevermore, Mara.”
My mind whirled, hopes thrown about in a tornado of emotions before they crashed and burned. I pulled my hands slowly away from him and folded my arms across my breasts, at a loss for words.
Dr. Cooper leaned back in his chair and slid a sheet towards me. “Here’s the chemical breakdown, Mara. Every aspect of the broom has been used in this drug, not just part of it.”
“Why are you giving this to me?” I asked, trying to keep the venom that was welling up within me out of my voice, my hand gripping the paper.
“Because I know you, Mara. I know how much you want children, and how hard you’ve worked to lose the weight that was preventing that dream. I know that you’re going to try and find a way around this, and I don’t want you to die. There is no way around this.” His voice was so soft, gentle, that it broke down the last barrier of strength I’d propped up, and a sob slipped out.
“I’m so sorry, Mara,” he said, and I bit back the next sob that was bubbling up. I stood and ran to the door, pushing past the horde of people that filled the hallway, running till I reached my car. I leaned against it, head against the hot metal and let my heart slow down. It wasn’t the end of the world; it really didn’t make it any harder for Sebastian and me to have a baby. At least that’s what I told myself.
“Got the shot did you?” a rather familiar voice threw the question at me.
I spun on my heel to face down the chubby woman who’d been tossed out of the clinic. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no, I didn’t,” I snapped at her, forcing back the urge to punch her in her doughy face.
She nodded. “Smart girl. I’ll tell you now, it was the best decision you ever made. The government won’t get you now.” She reached out and patted me on the arm. I shrugged her hand off me and bit my tongue, the four letter words on the tip that would leave me screaming and ranting at the unsuspecting woman.
I unlocked the car, slid into my seat, and started the engine. The rear view mirror gave me a perfect picture of the purple muumuu waddling through the parking lot, the woman on her way to accost another person leaving the clinic.
“It wasn’t a choice I made, it was a choice taken from me,” I whispered to her retreating figure. I took a deep breath and headed home to Sebastian and the farm.
4
Days turned into weeks and before I knew it, I’d spent the next month alternately hiding in our tiny bedroom, watching daytime talk shows, and, in general, allowing myself to fall back into the depression that had found me after the miscarriage.
I told Sebastian I didn’t feel well, had a fever, my joints ached—anything that would allow me to wallow in the grief for a little longer. The sunlight hurt my eyes on the few days I dared to peek out into the yard, and that became yet another excuse. Sebastian did his best to console me when he wasn’t working on his new client’s project. He brought me flowers from the fields, told me funny stories, and even baked cookies for me, something he’d never done before.
On the twenty-eighth day of my—self-imposed—confinement, a booming rattle shook me awake, the bedroom door flinging open.
“That’s it, I’ve been patient and done what I could, but you’ve got to get up,” Sebastian barked as he whipped the blankets off me.
“Leave me alone,” I grumbled, grabbing at the blankets. He snatched them out of my hands.
“Nope, time to grow up and get with the program.”
Bright sunlight streamed into the room as he opened all the curtains. “There’s no use crying over something you can’t change.” He sat down on the bed and pulled me upright to sit beside him.
“It isn’t fair,” I said, hating how childish I sounded. “Every crack head and addict out there can get pregnant, and they can’t even take care of themselves. We would be able to give a child a life, a family, and a home.”
Sebastian nodded. “I know babe, but you’re not doing yourself any good by wallowing in this.”
I frowned at him. “I’m not wallowing.”
“Yes, you are. I have something for you; it’s down in the garden so you’ll have to haul your butt down there. I’ve got to go into town; I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
I stood and stomped my way to the bathroom, brushing past him. “What do you know anyway, you’re just a man; you don’t have an internal clock like I do,” I snapped as I turned on the shower and got in the steaming water.
Stupid male, what did he know about really wanting babies? Or losing weight for that matter? The man thought he was a Greek god with the way he strutted through the house naked, preening in front of mirrors. I snorted to myself. My anger faded as I worked the soap through my hair, the hot water rinsing away the last of the tears. Damn, now I was feeling grateful for his intervention. I’d have to be careful about how I thanked him, or I’d never hear the end of it.
Fifteen minutes later, I was heading out the back door to the garden when a soft woof met my ears. I blinked, stared, and couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Sitting next to the freshly dug earth, with a giant red ribbon tied around its neck, was a tiny yellow Labrador Retriever.
I clapped my hands over my mouth and the puppy woofed at me and started to wiggle, his entire body wagging as if his tail alone wasn’t enough. I ran and fell to my knees in front of the little guy, scooping him up and holding him close as he licked my face, his still-sweet puppy breath tickling me.
“Oh, you devil of a man,” I said as I cuddled the bundle of fur. “What are we going to call you, hmm?” I rubbed his velvety soft ears and he settled down, resting his nose on the crook of my neck. I pressed my cheek against him. “How about Nero?” I’d grown up with a big yellow Lab that my grandparents had rescued and he’d been my companion and best friend for years.
A voice called from the front of the house, “Hello? Mrs. Wilson?”
Standing up, Nero in my arms, I walked around the house to see Jessica carrying a basket filled to the brim. She smiled at me over the basket, her eyes lighting on Nero.
“You’ve got a puppy? Oh, he’s so cute. Can I hold him?” I handed him
to her as she handed me the basket of goodies.
“It’s a belated welcome-to-our-neighbourhood gift,” Jessica said as she snuggled with the wriggling puppy.
“Thank you, that’s really sweet,” I said, placing the basket on the porch railing. “Do you want to go for a walk with me and Nero?”
Jessica nodded and put him down. We headed out the front drive, past the heavy iron gates that had hung for as long as the property had existed. They were heavy and sturdily built when the farm first was started. Each panel was taller than me, and easily weighed a hundred pounds each. The supports were cemented into the ground on either side, and there was a huge rusting metal bar that slipped into place to lock it. Scrolling leaves and grape clusters were welded on in an attempt to soften the hard steel lines, to make it look more artistic than utilitarian. It didn’t work that well. At the best of times it was a major effort to close the thing, which is why we left it open, and why the bar was nearly covered in vegetation.
Jessica chatted at me the entire time, her bubbly personality yet another stamp of her mothers. I didn’t mind, she was a sweet girl. I wondered several times why she’d taken the Nevermore shot, she didn’t seem to need to lose weight, but I didn’t think it was a question I could ask her. Maybe when her mother came over for coffee I would broach the subject.
Jessica pointed out the neighbours who were nice, weird, and neutral quite effectively. Though the properties around here ranged in size, they averaged at five acres a piece with a few undeveloped properties scattered around. On our road alone there were only four homes; the roads on either side of us boasted two and three respectively.
The walk took us about an hour, and by the end of it I was packing Nero; I didn’t mind, he was tiny and the walk and visit left me feeling invigorated and more alive than I’d felt in weeks.
“Hey, that was fun. Would it be okay if I came and walked with you and Nero again?” Jessica asked as we stood in front of my place.
“Of course, anytime, you don’t need to call. I’m not going back to work for a while yet so just pop in.”
Jessica waved and jogged off towards home.
The car was back which meant that Sebastian was home. I smiled and headed towards the house. I didn’t care how grateful I sounded or how he might try to blackmail me with it later, he was a good man and I was lucky to have him.
“Sebastian?” I called out, Nero sound asleep in my arms. I wanted to apologize for being a jerk.
“Here.”
I clutched Nero close and kissed the top of his down-soft head, and made my way to the living room where Sebastian sat glued to the TV.
“Really? After the talk you just gave me about not wallowing and being out in the sunshine?” I said, tapping him on the shoulder. “I can’t believe you bought me a—”
“Shhh,” he cut me off and pointed to the TV.
On the screen was a reporter standing in front of VGH, Vancouver General Hospital. “It appears that the miracle drug, Nevermore, wasn’t such a miracle after all. Early reports are that the toxins thought to be strained out of the main component of the drug—cystius scoparius, better known as scotch broom—were not eliminated.” The reporter choked up, her eyes misting over and I wondered if she had taken the drug or knew someone close to her who had. “The toxins attack the part of the brain that makes us human, whole sections of the cerebral cortex are eaten away until there is nothing left but a base animal instinct.” Someone stumbled out of the hospital and the reporter turned and ran towards the man who clutched at his stomach. “Sir, can you tell us why you’re here today?”
“I’m so hungry, I can’t stop eating. Nothing fills me up,” He said. His eyes were glazed and his skin had a strong golden yellow hue to it, as if he were jaundiced.
“Sir, did you take the drug Nevermore?” she asked, sticking the microphone close to the man.
He stared at the microphone for a moment, opened his mouth to answer, and chomped his teeth around the fuzzy piece, growling and snarling. The sounds sent chills all over my body. The reporter backed away, the cameraman keeping tabs on the man attempting to devour the microphone. Then he looked up, right into the camera. His pupils twitched as the camera focused in on them, sliding from a perfect, human round, to a horizontal rectangle, reminiscent of a goat’s eye.
I gasped and grabbed for Sebastian’s hand. He gave it to me and I clung to him. That could have been me if I’d taken the shot—would have been me if not for the main ingredient. I pressed my nose into Nero’s fur and breathed in his scent as Sebastian’s hand went clammy in mine.
The man stood and opened his mouth. I couldn’t tell if he was trying to speak or if he was roaring at the camera. By the cameraman’s reaction, he was roaring. The scene jigged and jogged as the cameraman and the reporter fled, but in her heels and tight business skirt, the reporter wasn’t fast enough. The camera turned in time to see her get tackled from behind, her body slamming into the ground under the weight of the Nevermore man.
He reared up and slammed his mouth into her back, ripping a chunk of flesh as if she were a loaf of bread. Her screams were audible from whatever mic was left on the camera, then the camera was dropped and the screen scrambled, and then went black.
“That wasn’t for real,” I said, though I knew already in my gut that it was. It was like watching a hurricane rip apart a house. You didn’t think it was possible, didn’t think they would air it, but in your heart you knew it wasn’t staged.
Sebastian didn’t say anything, he just flipped the channel. They were all breaking news and bulletins. The Nevermore drug had been taken by what officials were estimating was close to ninety percent of the North American population over the last two months—street versions and FDA approved versions—both of which were having the same effect.
We watched in stunned silence for over an hour, the reports coming hard and fast at first, but then slowing as people were cautioned to stay within their homes and avoid all contact with the outside world while the outbreak was taken care of.
“I never thought I’d see the day a zombie apocalypse would happen,” I said as Sebastian turned the TV off.
“They aren’t zombies,” he snapped at me as he rubbed his left arm. “They can’t bite you and turn you into one of them. The doctors on TV said that already.”
“I didn’t say that they could bite you, I just said that they were zombies,” I said, confused by his sudden turn of mood.
“No, you didn’t. I’m sorry; this has just really freaked me out,” he said and pulled me into his arms, Nero squirming in between us.
“It’ll be okay,” I said, “We’ve got each other and the farm. We should be good for a while, right? It won’t take long. Someone will have this straightened out in no time.”
Sebastian untangled himself from me and strode to the kitchen. “We have to be ready.”
I followed him, “For what?”
“I think we’re going to be on our own for a while,” he said as a loud thumping footstep echoed through our little house.
My adrenaline soared as I thought about the scene on the TV. The reporter hadn’t had a chance, the speed of the Nevermore man and the ferocity of his attack were like nothing I’d ever seen before. I swallowed hard and put Nero in the bathroom on a makeshift towel-bed; shut the door and headed back into the kitchen. I didn’t want to believe that we were already going to face down one of the Nevermores, but it was all too likely. I stepped to my knife drawer; pulled out the biggest blade I had and gripped it tight. Sebastian nodded and pulled out a knife of his own. Together we crept through the house to the front door, reaching it as another thump rumbled through the floorboards. What the hell was out there? I didn’t want to know, really I didn’t.
Sebastian held up his hand and with his fingers counted to three. I nodded and he held up one finger, two, and as he held up the third he gripped the doorknob and snapped the door open.
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The cool, wet sand slid through my toes as I scrunched them up. A rolling wave splashed around my ankles. The wetsuit I was wearing only came to mid-calf and was hardly a protection against the cold water. Chesterman Beach was beautiful, everything the package had promoted it to be and then some. I hoped that Ashling appreciated what it took for me to be here—to face my fears for her. She didn’t seem any worse for the wear after our short—and my nightmare-filled—night. I, on the other hand, found myself stifling yawns and daydreaming of sleeping the afternoon away.
I fingered the sheath on my upper thigh, which held the knife Grandpa had given me right before he went into the institution. I’d wondered at the gift at the time; he’d really never bothered with me before. But when I’d told him that I was going diving he’d been frantic for me to have the knife.
“Here, here. Take it,” he’d said, nearly slicing me in his eagerness to give me it. The knife had a bone handle its blade about eight inches long with intricate engravings swirling down the back of the razor sharp edge.
“Always take it with you when you go in the water. Promise me. That’s when the monsters come,” Grandpa had said.
I’d taken the knife and given him my promise. It was always the same with him. The monsters he saw, he feared they would come for the rest of us. So even if I wasn’t his favourite, it was better—according to him—that I survive and the monsters die. Yup, he did say that to my face. I shook my head, scattering the thoughts.
Scattered Page 4
