by Andrea Ring
“Immune system kicking in,” I say, and Dacey immediately stiffens.
“I don’t feel it,” he says.
“T cells are heading my way,” I say. “Damn it, I didn’t think it would happen this fast.”
“I’m on it,” Dacey says, “but I still don’t see them.”
“Blood flow is increasing—do you feel that?” I ask.
“Yes. White blood cell count is up, but it might be the fact that you’re here, Thomas.”
“Except that Tyrion’s body has never reacted to mine before,” I say.
“How bad is it?” Dad asks.
“His immune system is ramping up,” I say. “I don’t know how bad it will get, but the reactions are there.”
“Let’s stop now,” Dr. Trent says. “We’re prepared for an autoimmune response—it’s a miracle it hasn’t happened earlier—but there’s no need to push our luck. Let’s deal with it before we proceed.”
“I agree,” Dad says. “Thomas?”
“Yeah,” I nod. “Let me get rid of the rest of the DNA, and I’ll unhook.”
I start to dissolve the DNA I haven’t moved into a cell. Tyrion’s heart rate increases as I work, and T cells begin to enter the brain.
“T cells have arrived,” I say. “You want me to destroy them?”
“Yes,” Dr. Trent says. “Any in the immediate area. Dacey, shut down Tyrion’s immune system. You’ll be on a virus duty tonight.”
“Shutting down now,” Dacey says.
I finish up and back out of Tyrion’s body. I heal our wounds and sit back in my chair.
“Damn it,” I say again.
Dad puts his hand on my shoulder. “We knew this was a distinct possibility.”
“Still,” I say. “It stinks.” Dad’s hand squeezes tight.
“Let’s let Tyrion rest,” Dr. Trent says. “No more work today. We’ll monitor the situation and I’ll keep you updated, Thomas. Why don’t you guys catch some Zs.”
I want to stay with Dacey and Tyrion, but I don’t feel well. It’s probably just nerves and stress over Tyrion’s condition, but a nap sounds great.
“We’ll check back this afternoon,” Dad says, pulling me to my feet. “Call us if anything changes.”
***
I’m blissfully sleeping in isolation room three when Dad shakes me awake.
“Thomas!”
“What?” I roll over and squint my eyes at him.
“Dacey needs you.”
I push off the bed and grab my jeans. I shove my legs in and bend down to put on my shoes. “How bad?” I ask.
“Bad.”
***
Dacey’s heart stopped while he was keeping Tyrion’s immune system from attacking the brain.
They managed to restart his heart, but he hasn’t woken up. Which means Tyrion’s body is free to destroy itself.
I hook up and assess. “Tyrion’s immune system is still shut down,” I say. “But it looks like Dacey’s has kicked in to replace it.”
“The focus is on the new DNA in the brain?” Dr. Trent asks.
I shake my head. “Looks like it’s going after the rest of Tyrion’s body. It must recognize those brain cells as part of itself. Tyrion’s other organs are taking a beating. What should I do?”
“Attack back,” Dr. Trent says.
“There’s no end point with that approach,” Dad says. “Unless we take out Dacey’s immune system, we’re not going to be able to stop it.”
I look at Dad. He looks at me.
I gulp. “It’s time for the split?”
Dad nods. “Time for the split.”
Chapter Forty-Seven
I try to sleep while Tyrion and Dacey are in surgery, but I can’t. Well, I suppose I could force myself to sleep, but I’m too afraid of missing something. I comfort myself by sitting in their room and playing chess by myself.
Dad comes in around the three-hour mark.
“How’s it going?” I ask.
“Well,” he says, taking a seat. “They’re fine.”
I nod. I move my black queen to take the white bishop.
“Still worried about Tyrion’s soul?”
I jump and accidently knock over half the pieces on the board. I sigh. “Aren’t you?”
“No,” he says. “Why worry about something we can’t change?”
“Lots of doctors have said that over the years,” I say. “Maybe someday it will be something we can change.”
Dad glances at me sideways, but doesn’t speak.
“Do you believe in the soul?” I ask him.
“Yes.”
I raise my eyebrows. “But do you think Tyrion has one?”
He shrugs.
Then the door slides open and Vivian pokes her head in. “Hey. There you two are.”
Dad jumps to his feet. “Is something wrong with Dacey?”
“No, no,” Vivian says as she walks into the room. The door slides closed. She puts a hand on Dad’s arm. “Mike, don’t be mad.”
I can’t see Dad’s expression—his back is to me—but I can see him stiffen. “You didn’t.”
Vivian smiles sadly. “I think it’s fitting. And important, Mike. This is important.”
Dad wrenches his arm away and turns his back on her. “No! I won’t see her.”
Vivian wraps her arms around Dad’s waist from behind. “She’s right outside, and I’m bringing her in.”
“No,” he whispers.
Vivian pushes on his shoulder and spins him around. “Don’t belittle this. Don’t turn this into something bad. I’m doing it for the man I love, and for us. For all of us. It was Dacey’s last wish.”
Dad grabs her arms hard. “The man you love is sending you to your death?”
“He doesn’t know,” she says. “He just wants Tyrion to live.”
“This isn’t about Tyrion’s life!” he screams. “This will not save him! This is about your life!”
“Yes,” Vivian says. “My life. My most important contribution.”
Dad hangs his head. His shoulders begin to shake. Sobs escape his throat. Vivian wraps herself around him and holds him.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
Vivian peeks around Dad’s shoulder. “Are you ready to meet Jack?”
I shoot to my feet. “Jack’s the one outside the door?”
Vivian nods her head.
“What, is she going to kill you?”
Vivian presses her lips together. “Jack can see a bit of the future—when a person’s going to die. She says it’s written on our very souls.”
I gulp. Wow. The soul IS real, and Jack can see it? And she knows when other people are going to die? What a horrible thing to live with.
“So you want her to see if Dacey and Tyrion are going to live?” I guess. “And she’s seen your death?”
Dad’s body still trembles, but at least his sobs have quieted.
“She saw two things about my death. One, I would die the day after she met her father. And two, my death would give another life.”
“That’s why Dad’s refused to meet her.”
Vivian nods.
“How do you give someone life?”
“I don’t know, exactly,” she says. “But I feel, in my heart, that it has to do with Dacey.”
Dad untangles Vivian’s arms and marches straight into the bathroom, slamming the door.
“You’re really doing this?” I ask her.
“Yes.”
“You’re ready?”
Vivian sighs and pulls out a chair to sit. “I don’t know that anyone’s ever completely ready.”
“What will Dacey say?”
She smiles. “The good part about this is that I won’t be around to hear whatever it is.”
My eyes tear at that.
Vivian laughs. “No tears! God, I’ve cried enough. My death has a purpose. How many people can say that?”
I walk around the table, bend down, and give Vivian a crushing hug. “You can,” I whisper.
“You think I’m making the right choice,” she whispers back.
I pull away and look into her eyes. “For love. For all of us to know if someone like Tyrion really has a soul. Yeah. You’re doing the greatest thing ever.”
“Thank you.”
The bathroom door opens and Dad comes out. His face is blotchy and his eyes swollen.
“You’re sure?” he says. He looks like he’s stifling a scream.
“I’m sure, Mikey.”
Tears leak from Dad’s eyes again, and he nods. “Okay, then. Bring her in.”
***
I’ve had a thousand different versions of this moment in my head.
I meet Jack, and she ruffles my hair and says, “Hey, squirt.”
We run into each other on the bus (I’ve never ridden a city bus in my life), our eyes meet, and we just know we’re related. She squeaks and throws her arms around me.
Dad introduces us and she shakes my hand and won’t meet my eyes because she doesn’t like anyone to see her cry (wait, that’s me).
Vivian goes outside to get Jack. I turn to Dad. “You ready?”
Dad takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Thomas.”
“For what?”
“Keeping you from your sister.”
“Don’t apologize,” I say. “I didn’t understand. I should be the one apologizing to you.”
“I wanted you to find your own way with God. It wasn’t all about Vivian. I wanted you to find your faith on your own.”
“I actually appreciate that,” I say.
Dad looks at his feet. “Thanks.”
“And you sacrificed your relationship with Jack for me and Viv. You’re sort of amazing.”
“Don’t,” Dad whispers. “Don’t go there. I’ve hurt as much as I’ve helped.”
It’s a difficult time for Dad to take comfort. I get that.
Words are inadequate. So I walk over to Dad and lock him in a hug.
He buries his head in my shoulder and hugs me back.
***
The door slides open.
I don’t even know if Vivian is still here, if she’s in the room or standing on my shoulders. All I see is Jack.
Is it unoriginal, even arrogant, to say, “She looks like me?”
She does. And she doesn’t.
We have the same black hair, but hers is shorter and spiked. She has Dad’s dark, fathomless eyes, and we share his Roman nose, his chin cleft, a dimple at the left corner of our lips.
I notice the dimple because she’s smiling, nervously, I think.
She stops two feet in front of us, and I blink hard.
My family. I have more family. And she’s standing right in front of me. I clear my throat, and her eyes move from Dad to me.
“Jack,” I say, and I want to say my name, welcome her here, to our lives, but no more words come. The nerves in her eyes drain away, and she is the one now blinking hard.
“Thomas?”
I nod, I think, and suddenly we’re hugging, and my eyes feel like they’ve been stung by bees.
“My turn,” Dad eventually whispers, after how long, I don’t know, and Jack pulls back from me.
They embrace.
“You’ve read my letters?” he whispers.
She nods into his chest. “About a million times.”
Dad straightens and raises her chin with his finger. “You’re beautiful,” he says. “I’m so proud of you.”
Tears stream down Jack’s face, and she brushes them away. “I didn’t want to come,” she says. “I thought you’d hate me for that.”
Dad smiles. “I didn’t want you to come, and I was sure you hated me for that.”
“I don’t hate you,” she says.
Dad closes his eyes. He opens them when Vivian takes his hand.
“So here she is,” Vivian says. “Our daughter.”
Anger flashes in Dad’s eyes, but he squashes it down. “Jack, can you read her?”
Jack looks at Vivian and frowns. “It’s the same. Tomorrow, but early. Probably not long after midnight.”
“Can you tell how?”
Jack looks away and sniffles. “Brain aneurysm.”
Dad’s lips harden to a grim line, and Vivian slaps his chest. “No more. That’s it. I want to get out of here.”
“Where do you want to go?” Dad asks her.
“The beach.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
The four of us return to the Attic after dinner. Vivian goes to spend time at Dacey’s bedside in recovery, and Dad says he needs some time to himself.
Jack and I head to the lounge.
“So how come you’re not married?” I ask her.
“How do you know I’m not married?”
“No ring,” I say.
Jack grimaces. “Tough to commit to someone when you know how they’re going to die.”
“But everyone’s going to die,” I say. “That shouldn’t stop you from living.”
Jack unlaces her combat boots and pulls them off. She props her neon pink-socked feet on the coffee table. “Have you ever been in love, Thomas?”
“I have a girlfriend.”
Jack smiles. “Do you love her?”
“More than anything in the world.”
“Then you can imagine it. What if you knew she were going to get cancer in ten years and die?”
This conversation is eerily coincidental. I shudder. Then I explain Tessa’s situation to Jack.
“I think maybe we were meant to be together,” I say. “Maybe it’s God’s plan that I’m able to heal her.”
“Maybe Tessa just lucked out,” she says.
“Do you really believe that? I mean, you can see souls. You know God’s up there, doing his thing. Coincidence can’t just be coincidence.”
Jack doesn’t say anything.
“Well?” I say. “I want to hear what you think.”
Jack puts her feet on the floor and leans forward. “I think I don’t know, but I do know I don’t have a purpose in this life. I can see things, and so many times I’ve tried to help people, to avert disaster, and I’ve never done any good. Not once. Those people always die.”
“Maybe your purpose isn’t to keep them alive,” I say. “Maybe it’s to improve the life they have left.”
Jack cocks her head like I’ve said something interesting.
“Look what you did with Vivian,” I say. “She got to say goodbye. She spent her last day exactly the way she wanted to spend it. She’s going to save a life, somehow. Because of you. All that, because of you.”
Jack puts her head down on her knees, and her shoulders shake with her sobs.
***
It’s around one in the morning. I’m sitting with Tyrion, watching him rest. I said my goodbyes to Vivian, and then I was banished from her room. Dad thought I might get heroic and try to save her.
He’s right. I’ve thought about it all day. Why the hell not save her?
Except her death is supposed to save someone else.
There’s sudden commotion in the hallway, and I open the door and peer out. Dr. Trent zooms by, then a nurse.
“What’s up?” I ask her, racing two steps behind.
“Dacey’s coded again.”
My God…Dacey. That’s who Vivian is supposed to save.
I rush back the other way to isolation room one, where Vivian is holed up. I do my scans and open the door.
Vivian, Dad, and Jack are playing cards, laughing.
“Hey, Thomas,” Vivian says. “Want to buy in?”
“It’s Dacey,” I say, breathless.
Vivian throws her cards on the table and stands. “What’s Dacey?”
“He coded, just now. I think he’s the one you’re supposed to save.”
Vivian freezes. Dad picks up a phone on the wall and dials. After barking some questions, he hangs up.
“Well?” Vivian asks.
“His heart’s done,” Dad says. “They can keep him alive for a bit.”
/>
“How long?”
Dad shrugs, palms up.
Vivian throws herself at Jack and kisses her forehead. “Don’t forget,” Vivian says to her. “Don’t ever forget.”
Jack kisses her back and nods.
Vivian moves to Dad. “First love,” she says, and Dad smiles. “Best friend. Catch me?”
“Always.”
Dad opens his arms and Vivian falls into them.
Her eyes flutter. Her body twitches obscenely. Her legs give out, and Dad catches her. He puts one arm underneath her knees and picks her up.
“Door,” Dad says, and I open it.
Dad strides down the hall to surgery.
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Is Tessa going to die? Mike? Erica? What about Sam’s baby? Will Jack ever find love? Does Tyrion have a soul? Lots of loose ends, I know. The System Series has five books total, and all those questions are answered. Buy Book 3, Operating System, now!
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Book Excerpt
Read a chapter from Andrea Ring’s
Under Water
Under Water
I sit sipping my vanilla latte and doodling in my notebook. A heart, a star, a sun. I’m not all that imaginative when I’m nervous.
I’m worried about the impression I’m about to make. I’ve never spoken with a grad student before, let alone a male one studying philosophy. I’m not worldly or sophisticated. I don’t particularly care what Clark thinks of me personally, I mean, for myself, but I know our meeting will be reported back to Dr. Jones. And I want to come off well for her.
I wish I knew what this Clark guy looks like. When I asked Dr. Jones, she sorta frowned and waved an imperious hand, saying, “Like a philosophy student.”
I have no idea what that means. I imagine it’s quite collegiate. Clark probably wears wire-rimmed glasses and corduroy blazers with leather patches at the elbows. I’m looking for a geeky professor type. But I see no one like that.
