October
Beep-bleep, beep-bleep, beep-bleep. Her eyelids were so heavy. Lifting them felt impossible. Her mind felt cloudy as if she couldn’t quite piece together the fragments of time and space and put them in their proper order. Avery’s left eye just barely peeped open, and she was accosted by white light. The soft, slow Beep-bleep, beep-bleep, beep-bleep sounded like a heart rate monitor in a hospital. Right. She was in the hospital. She’d taken her mother’s place at the hospital so she could go home and get some rest.
Her brain was slow to wake, so she must’ve been up late last night. She couldn’t remember arriving at the hospital. She had to get some coffee so she could talk to the doctor handling her father’s case. Plus, she needed to call home and give an update on Cyrus, Faith, and Joy. Her mother would be worried. She was trying to remember relieving her mother, too. That was sketchy in her mind. Was it really late last night? She wasn’t sure. And what floor were the girls and Cyrus on? Where’d they move her father?
Avery tried to speak, but the sound was a quiet croak. She brought her hand to her throat and winced.
“You’re awake,” a woman whose voice was not her mother said. “Let me get your fiancée. Poor man’s been worried half to death.”
Avery felt like she was in a strange dream still. But she hadn’t awakened from some vivid dream or any dream at all. It was just dark behind her eyes, and now it was a dull light as she struggled to keep them open. Too groggy to stay awake, her eyes drifted shut again.
“Avery?” a man’s voice said. “Avery? Are you awake?”
She opened her eyes more easily this time and stared up into Tristan’s face. Familiarity bred comfort, and she exhaled with relief.
“Tris…” her voice cracked. She brought her hand to her throat again. Good grief. Why was she so parched? “Ow,” she whispered and looked at the source of pinching in her hand. It was an intravenous needle under her skin pricking at her. Her eyes widened this time. “What..wh…”
“Shh, just relax,” Tristan said and placed his hand on her forehead. He looked like he was going to cry. No. That couldn’t be right. He was a mean, hardened soldier. “You’re in a hospital.”
Of course, she was. She was taking care of her siblings and father. Everyone was counting on her.
“Try to relax,” he encouraged.
His hand felt nice. It was huge and warm against her skin, which felt cold as he stroked his thumb methodically. He looked strange, though. His hair was messed up, there were dark circles under his blue eyes, and he was sporting a thick, fuller beard instead of just that stubble he normally wore.
“What’s…” her voice cracked again.
“Can she have some water, Anne?” he asked the woman, who Avery realized as she came into view again was a nurse.
“Yes, Sergeant. Right away,” she said and hurried out of the room. Avery watched her go as if viewing a movie.
“Avery, do you remember what happened, Angel?” he asked softly.
What? ‘Angel’? Did he just call her that? He was usually so gruff, sometimes abrasive, sometimes even a little rude. Now he seemed tender and…emotional. She took a deep breath and tried to rub her nose. Something was there, and she jerked with surprise.
“Just leave that there, okay?” he said, pressing something invasive back into her nostrils. “That’s just oxygen. Don’t worry. It’s good for you.” He offered a gentle, small smile.
She could hear classical music playing along with the beeping machines. It felt familiar and made her feel a little safer.
“You were in a car accident,” Tristan told her. “Do you remember that?”
She blinked heavily and tried to focus on his words. He stroked her forehead again. Then fragments of images flooded into her mind. Her car. Rain. The windshield wipers beating out a cadence.
“Yes,” she whispered.
The car skidded on the road. The rain had caused it to hydroplane last night.
The nurse rushed back in with a man on her heels. Avery tried not to rear back at the sight of him.
“That’s your doctor, Ave,” Tristan said and moved his hand from her forehead to the doctor’s and shook it. “Dr. Marshall, good morning.”
“Sergeant,” the man in the white lab coat greeted Tristan as if he knew him so well. “How’s my favorite patient today? Awake, I see.”
He had a chart in his hands and was making notes. Every once in a while, he looked at her monitors, all which were beside Tristan, and wrote down more things. She took three sips from the ice water and let the cool liquid slide down her throat. It gave her a chill, though. Tristan must’ve realized it because he pulled her blanket higher on her chest.
“Have you talked to her?” he was asking Tristan.
“Yes, she remembers the accident.”
“That’s good,” the doctor said, touching her shoulder. For some reason, Avery didn’t want him touching her and shrank back. He had a friendly face, tan and wrinkly, gray hair and a matching mustache. His eyes seemed kind. “Take your time. You’ve been through a lot, young lady.”
“I’m in a hospital,” she said stupidly.
“Yes, that’s right. Good,” Dr. Marshall said. “What else can you tell me?”
“I-my car…it was raining,” she said. “We skid…”
Avery stopped talking. She looked around at the faces and couldn’t take it anymore, so she stared at Tristan instead as the heart monitor began beeping louder and faster like an alarm was going off. More memories were hitting her. She was in a hospital. She didn’t know how she got here, but she was starting to remember why she was here. Avery shook her head and closed her eyes hard trying to blot out more memories. Not remembering was so much better. She wanted to retreat back into that delirium.
“No…” she whispered.
“It’s okay, Avery,” Tristan said and stroked her cheek.
She couldn’t breathe, even with the oxygen nubs stuck up her nostrils. Rain. She was taking her father to the hospital. He was sick, really sick.
Avery shook her head harder and said, “No, no.”
“I’m here,” Tristan said as her eyes snapped open.
“We wrecked.”
He nodded. “Yes, you did. You were hurt. Trapped in the car. I found you unconscious. Abraham called me, and I came looking for you. I found you in a field at the bottom of that one steep hill. Do you remember hydroplaning?”
She nodded shakily as tears welled deep pools in her eyes.
“Avery, was your dad with you?” he asked slowly and took her hand instead.
“Let me up,” she said. “I want up. I want out of here. I don’t want to be here. Let me sit up!”
“You can’t leave just yet, young lady,” the doctor said. “Maybe tomorrow if your numbers all come back normal like they did yesterday.”
“I wanna’ go,” she cried as tears streamed down her cheeks.
“Just take a slow breath,” Tristan encouraged as he raised her bed until she was just leaning back slightly but felt at least like she wasn’t lying prone anymore. “Relax, okay? I’m here.”
“My…” her lower lip quivered as she tried to focus on Tristan since he was the only familiar face in the room. “My father…he…”
She pressed her hand to her forehead and then both fists to her eyes as she gasped for air and tears spilled around her hands.
“I know,” Tristan admitted and pulled her forward into his arms. She cried hard then. She knew exactly what happened now. It was too much. She couldn’t handle this. Everything was just too much. Memories were suffocating her.
“We’ll leave you two alone for a while,” the nurse said, lowered the lights to a dimmer setting and went toward the door by the sounds of her movement. “I’ll order her some food and a tray for you, too, Tristan.”
Her mind couldn’t even process what was happening. Tristan sure was chummy with the hospital staff. She just cried until she was all cried out over the loss of her father. He was one of them, the violent kind, the night crawlers. He’d tried to kill her, and that was what made her wreck her car. Remembering that made her cry a little longer.
“Easy now,” he said and stroked her back. Then Tristan handed her tissues and gently eased her back down. Her body was achy and sore all over.
“You said you knew? You knew my father…”
He nodded, a deep crease forming between his thick eyebrows. “Yeah, I think I saw him when I got you into my vehicle.”
“You did? Where is he? Is he…”
He cut her off. “Avery, I don’t know. I’m sorry. I couldn’t stop. I had to get you to the hospital. You were unconscious. I didn’t know what all was wrong with you. He’s…he’s out there somewhere. We’ll find him. The police know. We’ll get him help, okay?”
“If it was just last night, he can’t be far,” she surmised.
He shook his head and sat on the edge of her bed where he took her hand again. He was being uncharacteristically affectionate.
“You’ve been here eight days, Avery.”
“Eight days?” she gasped and held her other hand over her heart. “My mom! My family.”
“Don’t worry, okay?” he said soothingly and stroked her forehead with his free hand. “Abraham and Kaia are holding down the fort, okay? Everything’s under control. I go down every evening and make sure they have food and whatever else they need. Abraham’s got my gun, too.”
“Eight days?” she asked again, to which he nodded. “What…why so long?”
“You had internal bleeding and required surgery,” he said. “I brought you in, and they wheeled you right away from me. Then you were in a coma, too.”
“Surgery? A coma?”
“Yeah,” he said. “You…you were sick, Ave.”
She noticed he used her nickname. “Sick?”
“RF1. The flu.”
Her eyes widened at the horror. “Wh-what?”
Avery felt like she was about to have a nervous breakdown, like she was a set of Lincoln Logs that someone built into something stable and solid but then knocked over. She was pieces being separated from the whole. And now he was telling her that she was sick with the virus that made people mad? Was she going to become violent and want to hurt the kids? Like her father tried to hurt her?
“It’s okay,” he said. “You were only sick twenty-four hours. They said it was like RF1 and 2 combined in your system or something. They haven’t seen anything like that yet. The doctors actually took a bunch of blood samples off of you. Well, until I told them to stop. They said they haven’t seen anyone recover so quickly. Your body burned the sickness into nothing through really high fevers. There’s a good side to this.”
She stared at her lap, feeling overwhelmed and more than a little dizzy. Nothing was making sense. So much that she thought she might actually still be asleep and was having some delusional kind of nightmare where she couldn’t wake up. Maybe she actually died in the accident.
“Hey,” he said, gaining her attention again. Tristan reached up to stroke her hair. “Hey, don’t be scared, okay? I know this is a lot to take in.”
“Why-what are you doing here?” she asked what was confusing her the most. There was a laundry list of questions behind that one. “What…what…”
“I told them you were my fiancée,” he said quietly and rose to shut the door all the way. “Listen, it’s okay. See?” he held up her left hand for her. “Don’t worry. We’re not really engaged. They weren’t going to let me stay if we weren’t family. I told them we’re engaged.” The ring on her hand might suggest otherwise. Everything was becoming more and more muddled in her brain. The tears began flowing again. “It’s okay, Avery. Everything’s going to be okay.”
Her eyes drooped. Tristan stood and stroked her hair. Then he reached up and shut off the light behind her bed. Her body was so weak and exhausted, her mind foggy and unfocused.
“Just rest. Get some sleep, okay? We’ll talk some more in a few hours.”
She wasn’t even sure if it was daytime or nighttime or which end was up. All Avery knew was that she was exhausted and going into information overload. Maybe she had brain damage.
This time she did dream. It was a nightmare. There was a sharp pain in her side. Her father was stabbing her with a knife in their kitchen. His eyes glowed red. They weren’t just bloodshot. They glowed like a demon from Hell itself.
“Avery,” someone said in her dream. Then they were touching her shoulder. “Ave, wake up.”
She startled away with a jolt and grabbed her side. “Ow,” she whined softly.
“Easy, Avery,” Tristan said in the darkened room. “That’s where your surgery staples are.”
She tried to focus, bring in his face. She knew she’d fallen asleep sitting up, but now she was down on her side flat again.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” she announced in an unladylike manner. Her mother would be disappointed.
“Okay, let me get your nurse,” he said. “I think Betsy’s on now. Just stay right there, okay?”
She nodded weakly as he turned on the low overhead light behind her again. Tristan left, and she used the remote her fingers found on the bed to raise it, after first lowering it further by hitting the wrong button. Avery took a second to look around. Her head felt a little clearer now. She could concentrate better.
A nurse in a pink uniform with bunnies on it bustled into her room. She had poufy blonde hair and red lipstick staining her lips.
“Let me just get this IV outta’ your arm, sweetie,” she said. “My name’s Betsy, and I’ll be your nurse till Amelia comes on at four. Doc Marshall said when you woke up, you could have your IV out and some normal food. That’ll be good, huh? No more liquid in your arm. Actual food’ll taste great. Even hospital food.”
“What time is it?” she asked groggily, still unsure of the hour or if it was night or day.
“Ten p.m.,” she answered cheerily. “You’ve been sleepin’ all day. Poor old Tristan here,” she said thumbing behind her at him, “has been out there helpin’ us all day.”
“Helping?”
“Oh, yeah. He’s great. You got yourself a keeper with this one, honey,” Betsy said very spiritedly. “He pushes patients around for us, helpin’ us transfer them to other floors. Helps deliver meals.”
“Why..”
“’Cuz, sweetie, with all this flu goin’ around, we’re short-staffed and full up. Hold still. Little pinch.”
She looked down as a cotton ball was pressed against the insertion point of the thick IV needle. She looked up then to see Tristan flinch as the long needle was pulled out of her arm. Betsy was fast and efficient.
“Good girl. Catheter came out this morning. Probably why ya’ need to pee so bad.”
Ugh, that was embarrassing. She hoped Tristan wasn’t around to see that, too.
“Okay, darlin’,” she said. “You’re good to go. Haha, literally, I guess. Let me just put down this rail,” she narrated as she worked and lowered the bed rail and then the whole bed itself. “I’m gonna let your big soldier get you safely to the bathroom. I’ve got another post-op patient down the hall that just buzzed for me. Not enough hands to go around, right?”
She offered a small grin.
“Toodles,” she said, leaving for the door. “Tristan, just buzz me if you need me. Go slowly. She’s gonna be a little dizzy having not been on her feet for a while. Food’s on its way up.”
“Thank you, Betsy,” he said. “For everything. Really.”
“See, Miss Andersson? Keeper.”
Then she was gone, and Avery was left alone with Tristan. He helped her swing her legs over the side of the bed. She noticed her feet were covered in warm socks that he must’ve brought from home. They were definitely hers, the cream wool ones with the pale pink stripes that came up to her thighs. Those weren’t hospital issued.
“Let’s just go slow, okay?” he said, to which she nodded.
The second she stood up, a pain in her side twitched, and she pressed her hand there.
“You okay?”
She nodded. “Yes, I think so. Just sore.”
He looped his arm around her waist, careful not to hurt her and supported her weight. Avery’s legs did feel weak and unstable, and she was also a little dizzy as she took slow steps toward the bathroom.
Tristan took her straight into the small bathroom and stood there with her.
“Y-you have to leave,” she said.
He frowned. “You could fall.”
“I’m not going to the bathroom in front of you,” she stated firmly.
“But…”
“No,” she reiterated. “You have to leave. I really need to go. Like right now.”
“Okay,” he resigned. “Here,” Tristan said, placing her IV hand, which was now sore and really bruised, on a metal bar bracketed into the tile wall. “Hold onto this. When you’re done, just stand up using this and knock on the door. I’ll just be on the other side.”
She nodded. He finally left after one last look of concern, and Avery sat and did her business. Then she flushed and stood. The waves of dizziness were bad for a second but passed quickly. Then she shuffled to the sink where a mirror was bolted into the wall above it. She immediately wished she hadn’t looked in it. No mystical face was going to appear and declare her the fairest one in all the anything. Two dark circles below her eyes stared back at her. The hollows beneath her cheekbones appeared to have been dusted with gray powder to make her appear gaunter. Her lips were cracked and dry and peeling. And her hair? Oh, dear. It was a halo of tangles.
“Avery?” Tristan asked and cracked the door slightly ajar.
“Yes, I’m done.” She washed her hands and used a stiff paper towel to dry them. “I want to shower.” Avery stared longingly at the shower. It wasn’t that nice, probably saw all sorts of sick patients over the years, but she was desperate.
“Maybe in the morning,” he suggested. “Let’s not overdo it.”
She nodded weakly and allowed him to help her back to her bed. “I just want to sit for a few minutes.”
“Sure,” he said. “Let me move my chair around to this side in case you get dizzy. Stay right there.”
She nodded again, too tired to argue or protest all the fussing over her.
“You said earlier that there was a good side,” she stated and then felt unsure of that. “You did say that, right?” Tristan nodded. “Why?”
“You’re immune now, Avery. You’ll never get RF1 or 2 again. That’s it for you. You got the golden immunity ticket.”
“That’s a thing?”
“Well,” he said with charm. “I don’t know if they’ll give you an actual golden ticket, but, yeah, you won’t get it now. Once you’ve had it and get better, you won’t ever get it again.”
“How do you know that for sure? I had the flu twice in one winter one time.”
“A lot has happened since you were out,” he commented. “Why don’t we watch some t.v.? You’ll get caught up a lot faster.”
A second later, a soft knock on the door came right before a young girl pushed a food cart in.
“Hey, thanks, Marcy,” he said and gave the girl something in a bag.
“Great,” she said. “Thanks so much, Tristan. I’m glad you’re feeling better, Avery.”
“Huh? Oh, um, thank you.”
The girl smiled and left.
“You sure know a lot of the people working here.”
He shrugged as he wheeled the cart over between them. “I wanted you to have the best care possible. It seemed like a good idea. I helped Marcy deliver food trays to rooms a few times. The hospital really is overwhelmed.”
“What’d you give her? What was in that bag?” she asked as he clicked on the television and began removing covers from the dishes.
“Donuts. I bring them in for the different shifts.”
“That’s really thoughtful,” she remarked. Avery was starting to think she really was still dreaming.
“I’m not above bribing people to take good care of my ‘fiancée’,” he air quoted, “with a little sugar. I bring the day shift coffees and bagels.”
“Wow,” she said. “Oh, and where did this ring come from?”
“Oh, that,” he said flippantly.
“Yes,” she replied with a slight smile. “That. It fits my finger. How do you know my size?”
She looked down at the marquis cut stone surrounded by a halo of smaller diamonds. It was rather exquisite. She hoped he hadn’t stolen it off a corpse in the morgue.
“Asked Kaia,” he said. “She gave me one of your rings for comparison. Here,” Tristan pushed a plate of food toward her. Chicken, peas and carrots, and mashed potatoes. He’d even buttered her roll and smeared strawberry jam on it. “Eat.”
“Where’d this come from, though, Tristan?”
“What do you mean,” he asked with a confused expression. “A store, of course. I bought it.”
“You… you what? You bought this?” she looked harder at the expensive ring. Her mother didn’t even have a ring this fancy. “Are you crazy? This had to have cost a fortune.”
The chuckle he gave came from a low place in his belly. He looked better than he had earlier today or whenever she last saw him. This morning? He was nearly clean shaven, had showered, and wore clean clothing. A ballcap with the letters ARMY scrawled across the front topped his head. He also didn’t look so tired and stressed.
“Don’t worry,” he said as he handed her a fork and practically forced her first bite. “Go slowly. Don’t rush. Your stomach’s been empty for over a week. You don’t want to get a stomach ache.”
“I am worried,” she said after swallowing the mashed potatoes. She took a bite of her roll next. It was enough to awaken her appetite. Her stomach began growling as if on cue of the offering. “You’ll never get a full refund on this ring. They’ll charge you probably twenty-five percent for a refund.”
He chuckled again and turned up the news. “A lot’s changed since you were out. I didn’t pay for that ring with money.”
“What do you mean?”
“I gave the shop owner a rifle and a truckload of food items I looted from a store.”
“Loo-looted?” she gasped.
“Don’t worry, Ave,” he said so nonchalantly and carefree. “Like I said, everything changed. Eat your food and watch.”
He indicated the news. Avery was pretty sure she was either on some seriously loopy drugs or was still in the fever coma. Her world didn’t make sense anymore.