by Bella Street
The girl turned and walked into the closet. The door was open now, though it hadn't been before.
The same old compulsion washed over her, saturating Seffy's will with something difficult to resist. She took a step forward.
“Sef?”
Slowly blinking at the unexpected voice, she took another step toward the closet door.
“Who's down there?”
Approaching footsteps echoed up the hall.
What was in that closet?
“Omigod, you scared me, Sef. Why didn't you answer me?”
Seffy turned toward the door and saw Addison in the hallway staring at her with a quizzical expression.
“Hey, are you okay?”
A shudder went through Seffy's body, weakening her. She reached out to steady herself. Her fingers touched the icy cold exam table. Snatching her hand away as if she'd been burned, she focused on Addison. “I'm just...”
Just what? Insane? Prophetic? Brain-damaged? Did it matter? “I'm just a little dizzy.”
“What are you doing down here?”
Seffy moistened her dry lips. “I'm not a hundred percent sure.” Inch by inch, the compulsion to follow the girl left her—but not the curiosity. “Exploring, I guess.”
Addison grimaced. “In the dark? Alone? Isn't this hall usually locked?”
Nodding, Seffy exited the room and joined her friend in the hall. “There's nothing here.”
They walked back to her room in silence. Seffy stood aside as Addison preceded her through the door, only half wondering why the redhead had come looking for her.
Addison paused in the middle of the room, her expression shifting. Seffy followed her line of sight and saw the photographs of Trent on her nightstand.
When Addison looked back at her, her eyes were shiny with tears. “How can you bear it?”
Seffy steeled herself against an oncoming surge of sadness. “I can't,” she said, her voice ending on a croak.
Addison lowered herself onto the edge of the bed, gazing at the images. “Can I stay here with you tonight?”
Seffy glanced at the clock. It was ten in the evening? How long had she been down that hallway? “Sure.”
Still dazed, she went into the bathroom and brushed her teeth with mechanical movements.
Her beleaguered reflection looked back from the mirror, her eyes vacant and disconnected. That's how she felt—disconnected from her sanity, yet bound by what she didn't understand. When she returned to the room, her friend was still on the bed.
Addison looked up, her face the picture of misery. “I never understood what you saw in Trent.” She shook her head. “I never understood what he saw in you, either. But now...” She bit her lip. “But now I finally understand what I'll never have.”
She covered her face with her hands and began to weep, her narrow shoulders quaking with the effort.
Alarmed out of her own worries, Seffy went to her side and sat down. The broken sobs tore at her own weary heart and she put her arm around the redhead in an attempt to soothe. “Don't say that, Addy.”
After several moments, Addison calmed down some. “I'm sorry,” she said, sniffing hard.
“It's okay.” Seffy got up and grabbed some tissues from the bathroom.
Addison took the tissues and blew her nose. When she raised her bloodshot eyes, her gaze shimmered with despair. “It's silly to feel the way I do about Gareth. But I always have. I can't seem to get past it.”
Seffy didn't know what to say, so she remained silent. Besides, her own relationship history was sketchy at best.
“Maybe I'm at the part where I'm grieving for what can never be. Then I think of you and what you've lost. Where's the hope in that?”
“I don't know,” Seffy said on a whisper. Where was the hope? She thought of the dream with Fiona. All she knew was she didn't want to be marked as one who'd given up.
Even if there was nothing left to hope for.
And as much as she wanted to help her friend, her own emotions were still too raw and bloody. At least Addison had a chance of a different outcome if she could see beyond Gareth. But other than lending a sympathetic shoulder to cry on, Seffy couldn't think how she could be any help to her—to any of her friends. Maybe she never had been.
Maybe that was part of the problem.
Exhausted out of her mind, Seffy scooted onto the bed and lay down. She was surprised when Addison crawled next to her, leaning her head against her shoulder. Seffy wrapped her arms around Addison and rested her cheek on her hair, listening as her breathing eventually grew even. Until it matched her own.
In the morning, her friend was gone.
Chapter Fifteen
The water in the sink suddenly turned red. Lowering the toothbrush, Fenn looked up at his reflection and saw blood pouring from his swollen gums, down his chin.
He looked like a vampire fresh off a feeding.
He rinsed his mouth of the toothpaste foam and blotted his lips dry with a towel. But of course that wasn't enough.
Nosebleeds and bleeding from his gums had become more frequent. As had the swelling in his abdomen. How long would his heart continue to pump? How long would his bones refuse to create healthy blood cells? His doctors had been grim-faced and silent of late.
Olga said she was close, but her research had been so rushed as it was. From the moment Seffy was discovered to have survived the zombie pathogen, Olga had been working on a cure for him, despite his little act in front of Seffy the other day.
At one time he'd hoped he wouldn't need it. Sending her back in time to get the medical supplies had been his primary plan. He'd needed futuristic treatment, but technology had accelerated to the point that it was useless to him.
Now he was dependent on someone else's blood—on someone else's life. That wasn't the way it was supposed to work. He was supposed to be the one doing the saving. Fenn regarded his reflection, feeling only revulsion for the way events were playing out.
Even if there was no cure, he at least hoped for a stopgap to give him the time he still needed. There was so much to be done. He had only one shot left. And it was imperative he not fail this time.
Once the worst of the bleeding had stopped, Fenn walked with painful steps back to his bed. Fiona lay sprawled on the mattress, taking up most of the space, her arm flung over her eyes as if to keep out the light. When he saw her like this it was easy to forget she wasn't a frail, delicate woman. He snorted. The only one frail and delicate in this relationship was himself. He leaned over and gently placed his ear against her stomach, imagining he could hear the microscopic heart already beating within.
Fiona mumbled in her sleep and shifted away from him. He stretched out next to her and watched her sleep, wishing he could do more with what he had.
How ironic that the circumstance he could manipulate was the very thing putting him in this impossible position. But he had to see things through. He had to use every bit of his strength in the attempt. Anything less was unacceptable.
Assuming Olga came up with a fix.
***
Gareth watched Seffy go into her room.
Where did she go all the time? It seemed every time he'd stopped by to check on her, she wasn't in her room or Trent's.
Did that mean her treatment was working? Did that mean she was doing better if she was out and about? He pressed his temple to the door jamb, wondering why she didn't seek him out. Maybe he'd ask Olga to lessen her Thorazine dosage a bit and see if that helped. Seffy needed to know he was here for her.
The way he'd always been—whether she realized it or not.
He pulled away from the door and headed down to her room. When he lifted his hand to knock, he realized her door was ajar. Gareth edged open the door slightly and peeked inside, but Seffy was nowhere to be seen. Then he noticed the open closet door.
He stared at it for several moments before forcing his feet to move into her room and down that secret corridor. His heart pounded unnaturally loud in his chest.
In fact, when it came to Seffy, most of his problems started when he looked through doors.
He remembered that day with crystalline alacrity. The mayor's car had been in the driveway, yet no one responded when he knocked on the front door.
A muscle jumped in his jaw as he fought to wrestle his stubbornly persistent memories under control.
Gareth stopped at the threshold and took a deep breath before looking in. She lay curled up on the bed, wearing what he recognized as Trent's hoodie. The notion stuck him as creepy and detrimental to her well-being. Was clinging to a dead man's things just holding her back, slowing down her progress?
Then he saw the photos taped to the nightstand.
He averted his attention from them and lightly cleared her throat. “Sef?”
He saw by the stiffening of her back she was awake.
Gareth walked over and paused at the side of the bed, reluctant to sit on the mattress she and Trent had shared. “I just wanted to see how you're doing.”
At first, he wondered if she was going to ignore him, but she finally sat up and faced his direction, crossing her legs Indian style on the bed.
Her downcast face frustrated him. The sweep of her eyelashes hid her feelings. Had she found any measure of peace? Would she ever look to him for comfort again?
Gareth pulled up the chair and sat next to the bed. Unable to resist, he took one of her hands in his. Her fingers were cold and he pressed them between his own to warm them. “I'm worried about you,” he said softly.
“I'm okay,” she said in a low voice, continuing to avoid his eyes.
“You still seem so sad.”
Her hand twitched in his. She released a breath. “I'm doing my best.”
Had he imagined the slight edge to her words? “Sef, look at me.”
She seemed to hesitate, then squaring her shoulders, she lifted her gaze to his. Dark eyes, the irises almost as black as her pupils, regarded him. But aside from the faint flushing on her cheeks, her eyes were blank. Was that a side-effect of the medication? He wanted her sadness blunted, not their friendship.
Gareth reached out and ran his hands down her cheek. Her skin was so soft it made his heart ache. He had to grit his teeth against a flood of conflicting emotions. When he trusted himself to speak, he said, “I think...I think you'll feel better when we get back home.” When she didn't respond, he tugged on her hand. “Sef?”
“Will you?”
“Of course.” He attempted a smile. “Everything will be like it was. You want to go back, right?”
Those dark eyes, blank and yet disturbing at the same time, seemed to search out his motives.
“I want to go back,” she said tonelessly.
He nodded, encouragement flaring within him. “As soon as we're home, I'll make everything all right.”
She stared at their clasped hands then slid hers from his grip.
The action stung. Gareth released a silent sigh and stood. He looked down at her bent head, at the strange hair color that wasn't quite strawberry blonde and not quite brown. He stifled an impulse to touch it, to see if it slid over his fingers the way he remembered.
Somehow he knew she wouldn't like it.
But that didn't make sense. They were friends. They trusted each other. She knew he was here for her. She knew he still cared about her.
Right?
As Gareth turned to go, he made a mental note to suggest Olga up her dosage.
***
Seffy didn't relax until Gareth had left. Exhaustion from a long trek through the halls was coupled with wondering at his agenda.
She curled back up on Trent's bed, snuggling down into his hoodie, and closed her eyes. It had taken a fair amount of self control to maintain the bovine expression of the over-medicated.
On one hand, she felt bad deceiving Gareth, but on the other, it was all she could do to handle her own emotions, much less someone else's, whether it was Addison's or his.
And Gareth was hurting. The wretchedness she'd seen in his eyes reflected the state of her own existence. She remembered the way he broke down in front of Olga as he relived discovering her with the mayor.
She'd never thought what it must've been like for him before. He'd been a tender twelve year old, too.
Seffy squeezed her eyes shut. It was too much right now. For the sake of survival, she'd keep up the drugged pretense. Maybe in the meantime Gareth would get a handle on what seemed elusive to her own grasp.
***
“How is she?” Lani asked as Gareth entered his room.
Both girls occupied the worn couch, their expressions a mixture of anxiety and trepidation.
“The same. Maybe a little better, grief-wise.”
Addison looked at him in disbelief. “It's been three weeks.”
Gareth regarded the redhead. “Where were you last night? I went to your room to talk and you weren't there. Or with Lani.”
Lani leaned next to her. “Did you go to the Light Room?”
“No,” she said stiffly. “I hung out with Seffy for a while. And I can guarantee she isn't bouncing back that fast.”
Gareth shrugged, the weight of the world making the action difficult. He hadn't told the girls of his latest talk with Olga. They still didn't know about the Thorazine treatment. “I just meant to say she's not...wallowing and flipping out like before. So that's something.”
“Or she's just good at hiding it,” Lani said, her eyes despondent.
“So what's the next step for us?” Addison asked. “Do we just keep waiting around here to be picked off by the next Jared-like wacko?”
Gareth dropped onto the room's only chair. “When I picked up the papers, Eugene seemed to indicate there was a good chance we'd be leaving soon.”
Lani's eyes widened. But it wasn't exactly hope that shone there.
Addison didn't seem convinced. “We've heard this 'going home' song and dance before. So, say we do get home. What then? We just go back to our jobs? What about Seffy? How do we make sure she gets the psychiatric or whatever care she needs?”
“Obviously,” Lani said, turning to her. “There's no question of that.”
Addison's shoulders bunched up. “I'm just trying to get a bead on likely scenarios.” Her eyes met Gareth's. “It's better than just going with the freak flow like we've been doing.”
“We went with the flow because we had no choice,” Gareth said, his voice betraying his fatigue. “There were always extenuating circumstances on the outside.”
“Are there now?”
He forced his gaze toward Addison. “What?”
“Is there anything stopping us from leaving now? I'm assuming the zombies are gone. The wolf has been—”
“Wolves,” Lani said, wrapping her arms around her knees. “They trapped three more. Malone said they were massive timber wolves. All rabid. They had to be put down.”
“There isn't any timber in the desert,” Addison said, her brows inching up her forehead. “Why were the wolves here?”
Gareth rubbed his forehead. Why indeed? Why had anything happened the way it had? Would Seffy ever be the same?
“Maybe you could ask Malone about that.”
Lani seemed to shrink from Addison's words. “I'm...not sure. He hasn't been around lately.”
The redhead crossed her arms over her chest. “So he's still blaming you for what happened with Jared?”
“He blames himself,” Lani said, pulling at her fingers. “And that makes him feel like he's not worthy of a relationship.”
“Sounds dumb.”
Addison's harsh tone grated on Gareth's nerves. “I'm sorry things aren't working out for you with Malone, Lani.”
She sent him a tight smile in acknowledgement.
“And if it does work out,” Addison said, “never fear, we'll be there trying to tear it apart while others shoot us dead.
It's like we're allergic to happiness.”
“Not allergic,” Lani said softly. “More like doomed.”
***
“I think you'd be interested in seeing this.”
Seffy rolled over on the bed and saw Malone sticking his head in the door of Trent's room. What was he doing here? “Are you serious?”
“Am I ever not?”
Good point. She got off the bed, wondering what he thought she'd like to see. A wormhole back to Los Angeles? A time machine she could use to go back to Trent? The notion made her pause.
Maybe it was possible. Instead of trying to return to her old life, maybe she could just go back a few months. Find Trent in West Hollywood and they could run away together.
But then he'd still been in treatment for his addiction.
Okay, find him before all that started.
But at that time, he'd been living on the street. She nibbled her lip. Would he even be interested in her back then? Would she be interested in him? Seffy frowned. What they needed was a clean slate. Some way to start fresh without the baggage.
A second chance.
Yeah. That'd be nice.
“You coming?”
Malone's rough voice startled her out of her reverie. Seffy put on her Asics and reluctantly followed him out the door. “We're not going to the psychonautics ward, are we?”
One cold green eye rolled her way. “What the hell is that?”
“You know, the place they strapped me down and did all those experiments?”
He shrugged. “You mean the dead end section down the hall?”
“Yeah.”
“I don't know about any psycho babble name. It's just where they treated the hard-core crazies.”
She stopped. “You were here then? Back when they did all that experimental stuff?”
His fierce scowl made him look like he regretted speaking. “I've been here in one way or another for some time.”
“So exactly what kind of treatments did they do in that hall?”
He shrugged again as if the terrors of the disturbed bored him and resumed walking. “The usual I suppose; shock treatments, lobotomies, experimental drug therapies...”
