Dead and Gone

by Tina Glasneck

  “What was she like to work with?”

  “All the patients in the clinic loved her. She was always cheerful and fun to be around. It can be very difficult for someone to leave their family to come to the clinic for treatment. She knew how to comfort them when they were troubled and in pain. Your mother was my dear friend for over eighteen years. I still miss her,” Hattie said, as her voice cracked. She touched my cheek. “I need to let you get some sleep.”

  “One more question?”

  She nodded.

  “What happens during the transformation?” I asked.

  She hesitated. “Why don’t you ask your father about that?”

  Lindsey didn’t want to tell me and now Hattie. It must be awful.

  Hattie continued, “It was hard when I had to cut ties with everyone I knew before I became a Tegen. That’s the hardest part for all new Tegens. Yet, I’ve never regretted being transformed.” She stood. “I better let you get some sleep before your father comes home.” She kissed my forehead. “I hope you decide to join us.”

  24

  The Nursery

  The room was dark when I raised my eyelids. I turned on the nightstand lamp and glanced at the clock: 7:20 p.m. My body felt stiff as I eased out of bed. I slipped on the robe that hung in the closet and opened the door. Making my way to the stairs, I heard voices and saw Lance approaching me.

  “How did you sleep?” he asked.

  “Good.”

  “We were just about to sit down for dinner. Would you like to join us?”

  “Yes,” I replied, as my stomach growled. “I’ll put on some regular clothes.”

  “No. Your nightgown will do. You should go back to bed as soon as you’re through eating.” He held onto my arm as we went down the stairs.

  Brett, Lindsey, and Hattie were sitting in the living room drinking wine. Or was it wine? We greeted each other. Feeling like I could hardly move, I sank down on the sofa. Brett’s eyes fixed on me. He slightly smiled. It didn’t hide the worried look I saw on his face.

  “Are you feeling well?” Lance asked me in a clinical, apathetic voice.

  “I’m not in pain. I just feel stiff all over.”

  “Maybe a glass of wine will help,” he said, walking to a buffet. He poured a glass of red liquid from a carafe and carried it to me.

  “Is this really wine?” I asked as he handed me the glass.

  “No.”

  I took a small sip. Every time I drank venotrolia, I felt better. I loved the taste.

  “We’re all anxious to know if you’ve made your decision yet,” Lindsey asked.

  Lance glared at her. I could tell from his expression he wasn’t pleased that she had asked. “Sara,” he said. “Tomorrow is your birthday. If you haven’t decided by then, you still have a few days. Your birthday is the first day you can go to the cave. It isn’t the last.”

  “What day would be the last day?” I asked.

  “Saturday,” Lance answered without hesitation.

  “How do you know that?”

  “I’ve studied every Tegen and compiled statistics on the phases of their natural progression before transformation. There are observable, repeating patterns. Yours is uncommon, but not without precedent.” He paused and looked at me with raised brows. “Tomorrow could be a long day. Let’s proceed to the dining room.”

  Holding onto the armrest with my gloved hand, I slowly rose to my feet. Lance took my arm. Brett held onto the other one as they escorted me into the dining room.

  Marie served salad and fresh baked rolls. Next, she brought out a standing rib roast along with all the trimmings. Lance had her slice and serve it. Occasionally, Brett stroked my arm and gave me a reassuring smile, like everything was going to be okay. He also gently rubbed my thigh whenever he had the opportunity. I wasn’t disturbed by his gestures because I sensed he just wanted to touch me, nothing more. Hattie and Lindsey glanced at me between bites. They smiled whenever our eyes met.

  During dinner, we talked about the weather and the new restaurant that was opening in town. Lindsey planned on applying for a job there. Most of the time, everyone ate in silence under a cloud of tension and anticipation. I could tell everyone was thinking about the same thing. After crème brulee was served, a pain shot through my feet. It was intense and unrelenting, but I didn’t want to spoil dessert for anyone.

  “Are you okay?” Brett asked.

  “Yes. I’m fine,” I said, trying to bear the pain.

  Brett turned and stared at me. “Sara, are you okay?” he asked again, suspiciously.

  “I already told you I’m fine.”

  Lance laid down his spoon. He looked at Brett. “Why do you think Sara isn’t feeling well?”

  “Her thigh muscle tightened up.”

  “Sara?” Lance questioned.

  “My feet hurt a little. That’s all.”

  “No, that’s not all,” Lance said, standing. “I’ve already told you that once the pain starts it escalates. You’re going upstairs.”

  “I’ll carry her,” Brett said.

  “No. I’ll walk.” I pushed my chair away from the table and headed out of the dining room. My feet ached more with every step I took. Reaching the stairs, I relented and wrapped my arms around Brett’s neck. He carried me up to my bedroom with everyone following. I didn’t like that much attention. I didn’t want them to see me in pain.

  When Brett laid me down on the bed, the throbbing pain was almost unbearable. I bit my lower lip, determined not to tell anyone. I couldn’t prevent water from welling in my eyes.

  Lance looked down at me with a frown. “I wish you would tell me when you’re in pain and not be so stubborn.”

  Tears clouded my vision as they ran down my cheeks.

  “Hattie, take off her gloves and socks,” Lance said. “I need to get some things.”

  “Can I help with something?” Lindsey asked, going out the door after him.

  Hattie and Brett removed my socks and gloves. Lance and Lindsey came back into the room. He was carrying something that looked like a set of deep purple flood lights. On the side of the stand was the name “Purdrollins.” Tubes were attached to them. Lance also had his medical bag. Lindsey held a box of medical supplies.

  Lance plugged in the lights and shined them on my feet. Whatever radiated from them didn’t feel warm; in fact, it felt cool. It immediately helped. He pulled a syringe out of his bag and promptly filled it. Without hesitation, he pushed up my sleeve of my gown and gave me a shot. It only stung for a second.

  “Are you feeling better?” Lance asked.

  “Yes, much better.”

  He ran his hands over my feet and up my calves. “Sara, it’s spreading. The bumps are now on the top of your feet.” He paused as his face lined with sadness. “I’ll only be able to help control the pain for a few days. I don’t think you’ll be capable of walking into the cave after Thursday; the pain will be so severe.”

  “So I only have until Thursday to make my decision?”

  “Yes,” he said. “You have to be able to walk into the cave to join us.”

  “I know,” I said, peering into his eyes. Scanning the room, I saw everyone staring at me. Hattie’s eyes were glossy. Her lips quivered as she blinked several times and swallowed hard. The sorrow on her face made my heart ache. I wanted to embrace her and tell her everything was going to be okay. I couldn’t since I wasn’t sure if it would be.

  My eyes moved to Brett. His face was pinched with worry. I sensed the pain he felt. Even though we had only known each other a couple of months, we had shared intimate moments. I was certain he cared deeply for me.

  I looked at Lindsey and saw the blank expression on her face. She wasn’t outwardly displaying any emotion. I believed she liked me. Maybe not enough.

  Lance set up another piece of equipment with a plastic bottle hanging from it. “I’m just getting this ready in case you need it later,” he said. “As long as the lamps and the shot I gave you are working, you won’t ne
ed this. Are you comfortable?”

  “Yes. My feet have stopped hurting. I’d like to be alone so I can make a phone call.” Brett glanced at me with bleak eyes as he walked out the door, followed by Lindsey. I suspected he knew who I planned to call.

  Hattie handed me a phone. “What’s the number of the clinic?” I asked.

  “Are you going to call the clinic?” she asked, perplexed.

  A smile flickered on my face. “No. I told Conner I’d give him the number. I don’t want to give him this number. If he should call the clinic, can you have someone tell him that I’m not able to take phone calls?”

  “Yes,” she answered. “I’ll make sure the receptionist knows.”

  “The clinic number is on the card,” Lance said, giving me a business card.

  “Can I have the letter Mother wrote me?” I asked.

  “Certainly,” he said, taking it out of his medical bag. “It’s yours.”

  Hattie stared at him as he handed me the letter. From her expression, I knew she didn’t know anything about it.

  Lance looked at her. “Let’s leave Sara alone.” When he reached the door with Hattie by his side, he turned toward me. “There’s a bell on your nightstand. Ring it if you need anything or if you feel even the slightest amount of pain.”

  “I will,” I promised.

  I didn’t want to call Conner. Yet, I couldn’t avoid it and the anticipation of Conner finding out about his brother was weighing heavy on me. I needed to find out what he knew. Did he suspect I was involved? I dialed his number and waited as his phone rang five times.

  “Hello,” he answered.

  “Hi, Conner.”

  “Is this the number where I can reach you?” he asked, his voice dragging.

  “No. I’m using one of the office phones,” I said, and then began giving him the clinic number.

  “Sara,” he interrupted. “I’m at Carina’s house. There’s a family problem. Can you call Darcy and give her the number?” He sounded tense and nervous. “I need to get back. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “I don’t know if they’ll let me have calls once the treatment starts.”

  “I remember you telling me that. I’ll still try to reach you. Call me if you can. Bye, Sara,” he said, anxious to end the call.

  “Bye.” I put the phone back in the cradle.

  The family must have been told about Cameron dying in a warehouse fire. I wondered who they thought could be responsible. Conner did say they had enemies. Originally, he suspected one of them was responsible for my disappearance. Conner would never know that Cameron tried to kidnap me and wanted me dead. All of Cameron’s men who had been involved were dead, and I’d never tell him. On top of all of Cameron’s faults, he still was Conner’s brother. Who would run the family business now: Carina or Conner? Or would his father become active again?

  I called Conner’s house. Darcy immediately answered, “Mr. Crussett’s residence. May I help you?”

  “Hello, Darcy. It’s Sara.”

  “Oh, Sara. I’m so glad you called, but Conner isn’t here right now.”

  “I know. I just called his cell phone. He wants me to give you the number of the clinic here.”

  “Yes. Yes. The clinic. Did Mr. Crussett say anything else to you?” she asked, hesitantly.

  “No.” As much as I didn’t want to know any details, I still asked, “Why?”

  “Oh…oh…oh nothing.”

  “Darcy, are you okay?”

  “Yes…yes…I’m not the one in the clinic. How are you feeling?”

  “Fine.”

  “Good. Can you give me your number for Mr. Crussett?”

  I read her the number on the card.

  “Sara, I hope you can come home soon. We miss you. I need to go and get things ready for Mr. Crussett’s company that will be arriving later this evening.”

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know. He wants all the guest rooms ready.”

  “I better let you go. It’s been nice talking to you, Darcy. Bye.”

  “Bye, Sara.” She disconnected.

  Darcy probably didn’t want to tell me about the family tragedy since I wasn’t well. She’d never know I was responsible. I wondered who would be staying at Conner’s house. Probably some of his top men. The compound must have been crawling with guys, patrolling the outer wall. At a time like this, cameras and the current security system wouldn’t be enough.

  I picked up Mother’s letter and read it again. It brought tears to my eyes. She would have done anything to be a Tegen. I didn’t know if I could. Could I kill to survive? I didn’t have any problem with Cameron, but he was a monster. The people in Billings who were consumed by Tegens were actually killed by the spiders. The spiders were planted and, according to Lindsey, the victims had been selected, not random. Would it be fair if I fed, yet never participated in the kill? I didn’t know. Would I lose my humanity if I became a Tegen? Lance helped people. He had invented dozens of vaccines to offset the impact of various spider and insect bites. He had saved lives. His clinic was devoted to research and curing people.

  Lindsey said I’d feel the same way about things as I did now, except I’d view killing differently. I knew I only had two options—either become a Tegen or die. Mother gave her life for me. I closed my eyes. My mind spun spirals trying to figure it out.

  I felt edgy as I opened my eyes. Feeling pain free, I got out of bed. The fluorescent hands on the nightstand clock said: 12:30 p.m. I wanted to see the pictures in the nursery again. I stepped out of the bedroom into a dark hallway. The beam of light coming from my room was enough for me to make my way to the nursery. It seemed strange walking on my bare feet, but not painful.

  Entering the nursery, I turned on the lamp standing on the dresser near the door. Then I picked up the family picture of Mother, Lance, and me. It was still hard for me to call Lance Father. I quietly closed the door. I sat down in the rocking chair and studied the photo. They looked so happy. Tears blurred my vision when I thought about the moment it was taken; they both knew their life together was ending.

  Lance opened the door, wearing a robe. “Sara, what are you doing in here?” he asked, walking toward me.

  “Looking for answers. I have so many questions.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  I held up the picture and pointed at his image. “You used to be so happy.”

  “Yes, I was. All that changed when your mother died. You remind me so much of her.”

  “You seem so cold. Did all your emotions die with her?” Trying to stay calm, I took a deep breath. “You don’t love me, your own daughter. I’m just another research subject.”

  Lance stroked my face. “I love you more than you can imagine. I’ve watched you your entire life from a distance. I’m not used to consistently and directly interfering with your life until recently. I hope I can overcome my emotional difficulties and gain your trust, and someday we can have a relationship that circumstances have denied us up till now.”

  “I hope so too.” My eyes dropped to the picture again. I felt his pain about Mother’s death. Emotions overcame me, and I sobbed.

  He stroked my hair. “Sara, what have I done?”

  I was crying so hard I couldn’t talk. I just held up the picture. He took it from my hand and looked at it. “She … she died because of me,” I stuttered.

  He knelt down and put his arms around me. “No, Sara,” he said, tenderly. “She died because of me. She didn’t want me to see her age. I never noticed she was getting older. She looked the same to me as the first time we met. She was so excited when she found out she was expecting you. We both knew what that meant. She never regretted it for a minute. She was beaming all the time, even when she went into labor. You are her legacy. I’m grateful that she was able to spend some time with you before...,” his voice cracked and he swallowed hard.

  He brushed the hair away from my face and continued, “She rejoiced when she found out you were a baby girl. She couldn
’t have been happier. I only wish I could have duplicated Sir Randolph’s formula. That, I will always regret.” He held up my chin. “Sara, never blame yourself for your mother’s passing. She wanted you. You are her lasting joy...and mine.” He got a tissue and wiped away my tears. “Are you ready to go back to bed now?”

  I still felt like an emotional wreck and unsure of myself, but I knew he loved me. “Will you stay with me?” I asked.

  His eyebrows rose. I thought my request took him by surprise. “Of course,” he said without hesitation.

  He held onto my arm as we walked out of the room. Instead of turning toward my room, he led me into his. The room he had shared with my mother. We got in bed and he put his arm around me. I laid my head on his shoulder and thought about the times I’d slept with my parents, the Joneses, after I had seen a scary movie. They made me feel safe. Now, Lance—Father—also made me feel safe.

  “Do you feel better now?” he asked, tenderly.

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” He lightly stroked my cheek.

  I closed my eyes, and all my worries disappeared into sleep.

  25

  The Birthday

  Sunlight streamed through the windows when I woke up alone in his bed. The medical equipment from my room had been moved in here. The bathroom door opened and out came Lance, dressed in a pair of slacks and a long-sleeved shirt.