by Paula Cox
Another followed moments later in response: Hit from the rear at the Fireside Bar. Two guys wearing ski masks with knives. Managed to take one down, but sliced up pretty bad. Headed to Doc’s now with Aaron and Tay. What’s the status?
My message box became a floodgate of more of the same stories, but I couldn’t concentrate on any of them. I only had one thought on my mind: Riley!
This isn’t just an isolated attack on Anna and me. I’ve fallen into a battle that I didn’t even know was going on around me. While I was so distracted by the clouds of smoke and the police cars, Riley was busy calling his troops out to hunt down my men and take them out one by one when they were off their guard or getting ready to fly to headquarters to support me. He found their vulnerability and played it perfectly. I have to give him credit for that.
Calls to my captains confirmed it. My on-call doctor, a retired MD looking for some cash here and there, had his home full of my guys suffering from gunshots, road scars, and stab wounds. There were twenty hurt in total, a good quarter of my guys. The rest of them were accounted for, but they were laying low or dealing with clean up situations if they managed to take down their attacker.
I had no choice but to head out to Doc’s house and hold my meeting there with the guys conscious enough to talk to me. I sent the address to the few newbies still out on the road untargeted and bitch out the ones too chickenshit to step a foot outside their door. No one is allowed to be afraid tonight. We have work to be done.
CHAPTER 20
I haven’t seen the outside world in at least a week. Besides peeks outside the dark blinds on the safe house’s windows, I can’t begin to tell you if it’s night or day without looking at a clock. The hours just seem to pass in a swirl of maddening moments, each one longer and more tedious than the one before. But I’ve gotten through each as best I could, all one hundred and sixty-eight of them.
I’ve never been big on solitude, believe it or not. I think that’s the first big mistake people make when they get to know me. Sure, I’m more quiet, and I do like to just focus in on what I am doing, but I really get my energy from others. I feel better when someone is physically there beside me. Even with my mom always working or in class, she always made time for me or put me in some class or sport so I could have that time to restock my mental batteries. She knew how important it was, but Mack obviously doesn’t.
After he shipped me off in the back of the police car with the detective, I thought he wouldn’t be far behind. Who would leave their girlfriend—or whatever we’re calling one another—to just sit by herself in an unfamiliar home fully knowing that her mother is in the hospital suffering from a heart attack? It’s a cruel, unthinkable punishment to put on someone whose only crime is being stupid enough to get mixed up in this shit.
The first day passed, and I tried to see Mack’s side of things. It was a crazy night, and whatever his sister said to him had turned him into this strange creature. And finding out whatever information he got from his missing guys seemed to have thrown him into a panic. I justified it as him protecting me in the only way he knew how: by making sure I was as far away from the scene of the crime as possible.
But by three o’clock, without any word from him or the other Red Dragon Riders, I was starting to lose hope. That night, as I finally got up the courage outside my door for some fresh air, I spotted a vaguely familiar guy sitting in a car parked in the driveway. I had seen him before around the shop, one of Rico’s mentees. He was reading something off of his lit up phone and sipping out of a beer can. He only noticed me when I sat down on a rickety old wicker rocking chair that squeaked as I pushed it back.
“What are you doing?” he screamed from the car as he threw his phone down and put the can of beer into the cup holder. “Get the fuck back inside!” His outburst scared the shit out of me. I froze where I was, my back still not fully pressed into the seat. I just stared at him as he charged up the porch, looking over and around his shoulders along the way. “I’ve got my orders from Mack. You’re not supposed to take a step outside the door until he comes and gets you.”
“What?” I stared up at the filthy, fat man with the cobweb beard. He looked more exhausted than I was; dark, purple circles hung heavy under his eyes and the oily skin around his forehead and nose. I wondered briefly if Mack was running them on some insane night shift. But I couldn’t have any pity on him just then. I was too upset with the fact that he had just ordered me back inside. I yelled back him, “I’m not going back in there until I get some answers! You can just go ahead and call Mack and see what he says!”
“Listen, lady,” he fumed, his arms holding the chair in place so that I was pinned into his chest. I could feel his mustard breath on my skin as he heaved out his flaring nostrils. “I can’t call Mack. No one can call Mack. I was told that if you messed around with me or any of the other guys assigned to you, that I was allowed to knock you out or drag your ass back into the house kicking and screaming. Which one would you prefer me to do because I’m really into the whole kicking and screaming thing.”
“Call. Mack.” My voice was a thump, and I cursed through gritted teeth at the bastard who was talking down to me. But hardly a word had come out of my mouth before the man put an arm around my legs. He hoisted me over his shoulder so that I dangled behind him, my head pointed towards the ground. I pounded on his back with my fists, kicking at his chest, but he only let me slide so that I fell back towards the ground with my hands wrapped around his legs.
The man straddled and lifted me to the ground again. “Get the fuck back in there, girl!” he roared. “You don’t want to fucking mess with me tonight!”
I stumbled to my feet, backed up against the brick siding of the home. He pushed himself into me while opening the door. I had no option but to fall back inside. I tumbled towards the hard tile and backed myself into the carpet. Hugging my bare knees into my chest as I rocked upwards, I watched as he slammed the door on me.
That was the last time I saw the outside or had contact with another person. Occasionally, I would see a new car drive up. The men would talk for a few seconds while the first one would drive away. They did this three times a day—some strange changing of the guard routine. I had it pretty timed so that it just became another way of passing the day, but I still held out hope that in one of those cars would be Mack.
Now it’s been seven days—a full week since the fire. At this point, I am done hoping that my white knight is coming for me in this tower. My white knight turned out to be the person keeping me from my life, from my mom. Luckily, I always carry a spare battery pack for emergencies like this, and the doctors had been more than willing to keep me updated from afar as I lied and said I was traveling. Still, knowing I didn’t have much battery left if Mack planned to keep me another week or more, I asked the doctors only brief questions about her condition.
She had had a heart attack. They explained to me that women’s heart attacks are much different than a man’s. Instead of feeling that burning in her arm or the strange taste in her mouth, my mom may have only felt panicked or feverish, and then, with a BAM!, it hit her. She had flagged down a motorcyclist outside who I am guessing was one of Mack’s handlers. They brought her into the hospital on the back of the bike unconscious but still alive. A few minutes later, and she would have been dead. For that, I have Mack to be thankful for.
My mom spent the rest of her time in the ICU, hooked to a ventilator and countless other machines; the doctors tried to quickly explain their necessity. She couldn’t speak or move, but she did open her eyes a few times when Roxy came to visit her in my place. I only knew this because of the hundreds of texts Roxy was sending me each day asking me where I was and why I was refusing to come to my mom’s side.
But today’s text is different. I can’t ignore this one. It says, “Anna, your mom needs you here today. I don’t know what else to say to you, but please come.” There’s nothing else. Unlike the other texts where she put all this guilt on me, she do
esn’t follow it up with updates on what the doctors are planning on doing or if my mom moved her fingers or not. Some part of me breaks off knowing that Roxy’s few words have deeper meaning than she can even convey.
The doctor calls next. His voice sounds distant, far different from the upbeat and hopeful self he usually is when I call in. “Ms. Fox, I know that you’re traveling, but if there is any way that you could come today, it’s best that you do it soon. She is holding on, but it won’t be long before…” His voice trails off. Behind him, I can hear the sound of faint, slow beats and women chatting in low tones.
I gulp down the tears that have already begun to flow. I force myself to ask, “Before what?” Logically, I know the answer. The last few phone calls I’ve had with him and the few texts I’ve gotten the courage to read from Roxy didn’t really give me a picture of someone improving. Instead, she seemed to becoming more tired and the interventions they were giving her were more severe. There was talk of shocking her heart back into the rhythm or perhaps putting her on a transplant list, but she was already so frail and her body had taken such a beating from the original attack. They wanted to wait and see, but the wait was over. I could feel that.
The doctor huffs into the receiver and whispers, “Ms. Fox, I am so sorry. There’s nothing else we can—” The phone slips out of my hand and falls to the floor. I grab the pair of shoes still sitting by the doorway along with a sweatshirt from my book bag. I put my hair into a quick ponytail as I walk outside into the cool, late fall night.
I’m not even two feet out the door when the same man from before comes running at me. He stammers, “What the fuck are you doing? Did you not get the memo the first time, lady? Or do you really love the punishment?”
I walk straight towards him in a near run, my hands find his collar, yanking him down to me. He can’t even react, he’s so shocked. “Listen to me!” I scream, needing him to hear my words. “I need you to drive me to Rosefield Hospital in the city NOW.”
“I’m not doing shit!” he says as he spins away, nearly taking me to the ground. I grab his arm again as firmly as I can. My eyes force him to look back into mine. Tears have already begun to trickle down my face, and just one look at this changes him. His body relaxes, his face softens. That hard exterior seems to melt under the leather club jacket.
“I don’t want to get you in trouble with Mack or the club, but my mom is in that hospital and she’s dying. She doesn’t have long, and I need to say goodbye. Haven’t you ever lost anyone you loved? Don’t you wish you had more time with them?” The words fall out of my mouth like a stream trickling into a river, but the garbled, pleading mess does something to him.
He pulls away slightly, checking his phone nervously. Shaking his head down at me, he points towards the back door and says, “Get in and get down. It’s not safe out there.”
“Really?” I don’t know what comes over me, but I run into his arms, enveloping him in a bear hug. I whisper, “Thank you,” in his ear before slipping into the backseat and down to the floor. He grunts as he sits back into the driver’s seat and backs the car out of the long driveway. I feel us rolling back down the hill towards town. Streaks of light from the lamps along the road fill in the car while his classic rock music keeps me distracted. I hear him on the phone, but I try not to listen in. Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter. He’s bringing me to see my mom, and I’ll forever be thankful for him risking his club status to get me here.
When we make it to the parking lot, my feet can barely touch the ground. I sprint through the hospital, completely uncaring of how I look or the stares of the people in the waiting rooms. The number 222 is seared in my brain as I storm up the stairs and through the security desk at the ICU. A guard trails behind me, but gives up panting when I make it through the closing security doors.
As soon as I make it through, I am hit by the chaos that this place can be. Nurses run from room to room, following beeps and buzzes. Red alarms flash in a closed off room just to the right of me. A teenager clutches an older woman as they sob breathlessly just outside. This is no place to die, but it’s the place these people have come to do it.
“Anna?” I break my freeze and turn slowly towards the open door just beside me. Roxy stands in the doorway clutching paper tissues in her hand. Her eyes are red and blotchy and her black jacket dangles off of her shoulders. She’s still wearing the scrubs she is required to wear at her job at the chemical research facility. “How did you… I thought you would never…” She steps towards me with her hundreds of questions, but they all drop to the side when she pulls me in for a long, deep hug. My head rests on her shoulder with my eyes closed tight.
When I open them, my mom is there. Under a dim, sterile white lamp, she rests with her head turned towards the window. There’s a blanket around her chest, but her hospital scrubs have been pulled down enough so that the white wires attached to the machine could be taken off. As I break the hug and come nearer to her, I can still see the outline of the bandages on her pale, greying skin. The ventilator is gone too. The machines are turned off as well. Unlike the room with the screaming red alarm and the crying family, my mom’s room is a cold silent.
Roxy steps forward, slipping around the other side of the bed so that she sits beside my mom. She takes my hand, urging me to join her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do. They wouldn’t let me make any decisions. I had to bribe the doctor with a date to get them to tell me anything when I was here. We didn’t know when you would come, but I’m so glad you are here for this.”
I want to tell her everything—the burning building, Mack and I making love out on the motorcycle, Riley coming back to life, but nothing seems like a good excuse for leaving my mom here alone in this hospital room when it should be me in Roxy’s place. I take one of my mom’s hands, placing them in mine. I half expect her to squeeze back like she would when I was a child lying under the covers of her bed at night, but she doesn’t. Her hand just slides by her side and out from under me.
“How much longer?” I muster up. Nothing would be the right answer to this question, but I have to know.
“Not long now. The hospice worker they had brought in told me that she will struggle and then become peaceful when there’s only a little time left. She’s resting now. The nurses said they would leave us alone and monitor from afar. They’ll come in when it’s done.”
“Thanks, Roxy,” I choke back. “Can I have… I think I need…” She reads my mind by folding my mom’s other hand across her lap towards me and then leaving the room. She mutters something about being in the waiting room when I need her and then takes off. I feel her pause at the door. She too wants this goodbye.
Alone, I press my head to my mom’s chest and curl up beside her. Her skin is colder, but there’s that faint smell of peppermint that I used to love as a kid. She always carried mints with her wherever she went. Time passes by quickly, much faster than it did back in the safe house when I knew nothing. Now, it floats by outside my window, sped up. Time has a destination and I am not eager to arrive.
There’s so much to say to her. I want to tell her about the time that I accidentally set the couch on fire when I tried smoking a cigarette in the house. She always blamed an outlet on that. I want to tell her about what I did to Riley and ask for forgiveness, but that seems too selfish right now. Part of me wants to fill her in on Mack, at least the good stuff. She always loved a good romance story, but I couldn’t bear to tell her that he was the reason I never came to her side.
So, instead, I say nothing. I lay there with my hands around her waist and my head near her heart. I listen to the beat while watching the monitor out of the corner of my eye. The spaces between the jolts of green line grow farther apart, and I struggle to make out the sound of anything. Even her breath feels lighter on my hair.
Minutes later, and there’s nothing. My entire world lays in this bed, wrapped up in a white hospital blanket. I take her hand into mine again, and I whisper out into the silence, “I
love you, mom. I love you. I love you. I love you.” And then I close my eyes and drift away to a place where she is very much alive and well.
“Ms. Fox?” Someone hovers over me, a hand holds on to my arm slightly shaking me awake. “Ms. Fox? I’m Mackenzie, the nurse.” My eyes flutter open up and towards a woman peering over me. Her face is forgiving. She’s been doing this for years. “I’m here to help you. Would you like to get coffee while they bring her down?”
Bring her down? It takes me a few seconds to realize there are two men in the room holding white sheets in their arms. They are here to take my mom’s body away. I look over towards the clock. I’ve been asleep for about an hour now. Outside looks even darker than before.
Gently, I remove myself from my mom’s side and walk out of the room, not wanting to look any of the hospital workers in the face. I can’t bear to see them bring her out with the sheet over her face, so I go back out the way I came in, past the security desk and towards the exit.
As I get closer to the doors, I realize that I am choking. My throat is closing in on itself, my chest caves in, and my head grows heavy. I grab hold of the cold metal stairwell desperate for some support. My feet shake as I practically fall down the steps. I push my body up against the metal doors, but it doesn’t open. I hit it again and again until I force it free. I go flying, hitting something rock hard.
