Chapter Fifteen

They say that people who experience folks close to them dying can often suffer from what’s known as survivor’s guilt—like they should’ve been taken instead those who were. It’s a peculiar sensation, and I never would have expected to feel that way in a million years, but I did. My thoughts returned to Mikey and Jimmy and my uncle. Why them and not me? What made me so special? Jimmy even had a young family. What was I going to tell his wife now? I had some money I could send along. It’d help them get by, but not get through. Losing your father and husband had to be devastating.

There I was, meanwhile, hooking up with some new girl, escaping and running away from the realities that death was on the offense and had claimed so many good people. Even worse? I was starting to think—to really believe—everything had been all my fault.

What was left for me? My entire family was gone. My best friend had been taken from me. My relationships were a joke, other than Minarette, and she was…afflicted.

Maybe I could be afflicted, too.

Yes.

I used my tongue to touch the part inside of my cheek where she’d cut me. It hurt, and a spark of pain shot from the slice into my jaw and down to the corner of my neck. I dragged my ass out of bed and went to the bathroom. Of course, I couldn’t really see anything in the mirror, even with the lights on. Pouring some hydrogen peroxide in a cup with some water, I shot it into my mouth. It hurt so bad, I thought I was going to go nuts. Despite that, I swished it around for several seconds and then spit it out. There was blood, but also a good amount of dark little crystals that looked like coffee grounds. I smooshed one with my finger. It cracked, and let loose a deep, reddish-brown substance. What the hell? My first thought was that they were some kind of remnants from scabbing, but I’d never seen scabs like them before. There was something very wrong with what was happening to me. Had Minarette gotten me sick, even though she said she couldn’t have given me the Ghost Heart? She’d definitely given me something.

I rinsed with water, which was still excruciating. My head spun as if I’d caught a flu. My nose ran. I went back to bed, taking my phone from the bedside table.

I texted Minarette. My mouth was way too sore to talk, and I wanted to be able to think between talking.

Hey. Checking in. How’re you doing? Have a Q for ya.

Took her a minute, but she wrote back.

TY! Last night was nice. You’re very sweet. Shoot.

I replied:

My mouth is still sore, and there were weird little dark things when I rinsed it out.

Oh, shoot. Sorry. Like dirt?

Kind of.

Oh, no.

What does that mean?

You’re probably sick. I’m sorry. She added a sad-face emoji to her reply.

With the Ghost Heart?

No. But kind of like that.

Holy crap.

You’ll be okay. I’m sorry. It won’t last long.

If it’s good enough for you, it’s good enough for me.

That’s sweet. But I’m sorry. Can I bring you anything?

I don’t know. Feels like the flu.

Coffee and donuts?

For the flu?

It’s not the flu.

I’d love to see you.

I’ll text before I come. Are you home?

Great, and yes. Home.

TTYL!

And that was that. I put my head down and fell almost instantly back to sleep. Minarette never showed up, and she didn’t answer any more of my texts that night.

I felt desperate when I woke a short time later. I didn’t want to be alone. I’d checked, and there was a dance night down at the Universe. If nothing else, I knew I’d run into people I thought I’d know, and get the hell out of the house. Staying home and sleeping wasn’t healthy. Honestly? There was a pretty good chance I’d run into Minarette. I was crazy she’d blown me off. It really hadn’t made me feel good at all. I really wanted to see her and spend more time with her again.

I got in my car, noticed on the way that I needed gas and made a stop.

Big mistake.

There were guys who’d followed me there. I hadn’t recognized them. They rode in an older black Cadillac that had certainly seen better days. While I filled up, they pulled behind me. They were loud and obnoxious, but I just ignored them. Whatever, you know? Guys out on the town are like that.

Someone threw something at my car. Looked like a road sign of some sort. It landed on my trunk. I calmly went over, looked at it and then looked at them. I put it on the ground and went back to pumping my gas. They were laughing. I shrugged it off.

“Hey, asshole,” one said. “I liked that where it was.”

“I didn’t,” I said. “Buzz off.”

I looked over. He looked like he really wanted to be an anime character: dyed, jet-black, spiked hair, eyeliner, chiseled cheeks, sunglasses. He wasn’t smiling.

A voice boomed over the intercom. “Fellas? Cut the shit or I’m calling the cops. Fill up and get out of here.” It was the attendant. He looked at me, I looked back, we both looked at the guys.

Anime took a step back, put his palms out and moved toward the black Cadillac. The ones with him were all cut from the same cloth. There was something wrong about them. At first, all I could think of was that they were clichés who’d watched too many eighties gothic teen flicks, but there was more to them than how they looked on the outside. There was something about them coming from the inside, too.

My tank topped off, I capped it, put the hose back and made for my front seat. Once I got in, I made sure to hit the door lock button and drove off. I made it onto Main Street and for a bit felt safe. The Caddy wasn’t behind me. They’d gone looking for trouble elsewhere. I went for the radio. Turned it on.

The Caddy came from out of nowhere, right in front of me, in the same lane, charging right at me without a care in the world. Its headlights were so damn bright, I had to turn my head to the side. I squinted, trying to maintain some kind of vision. Didn’t work. All I saw was blinding light.

They weren’t diverting course. It was on purpose. They were going to ram me.

I screamed out.

How the hell did they get that far ahead of me? How the…?

I jerked the wheel to the right, trying to avoid them.

They nailed the side of my car, scraping alongside it at top speed. I spun around, tail before head, several times. They’d hit me hard. I tried to steer into the spin, but I was just making it worse. At least I was still conscious, I knew. Just remembered a lot of times people felt bad from being hit hours later. Adrenaline could hide it.

Shit.

I’d lost sight of them.

My head was spinning a bit.

Damn it all.

What was I supposed to do?

I wondered if my car was still roadworthy.

Don’t get out of the car. Call the cops. These fuckers will run you down. In a blink.

Something’s wrong.

Ghost Heart.

They’ve got the Ghost Heart, too. That’s it. Advanced. That’s why they don’t care. They’re in with Damian. Cahoots. I’m dead if I get out of the car. Try to drive away.

The car stopped spinning, and I finally came to rest against a curb on Main Street, only a few blocks from the Universe.

Damn it.

I pictured Minarette. Damn it all. I wanted to see her. What the hell was with all this? Why were they bothering me?

There was something wet on my face. Was I drooling? I put my hand up to my face and realized my nose and lip were bleeding. Hadn’t even noticed I’d taken a hit. I searched for a napkin, found one and blotted my face. Then I grabbed my phone. Dialed 911. Got dispatch. “I’ve been in an accident. On Main Street. Someone’s threatened me.”

“Sir?”

Two taps on my window.

It smashed.

Something grabbed me.

I was through the window, the cold air engulfing me. Fire throughout my body, especially the top of my head. I was on the ground then. Bouts of pressure all over. Was I throwing up? Stars above. Clear sky. No. Not throwing up. Getting hit. Pressure. Kicked. Laughing. Pain for only a moment, then numbness spreading.

You know you’re alive when you can still feel pain.

My uncle’s voice in my head, echoing that thing he learned in the corps. If you could still feel something, that meant you were alive. It was when you couldn’t feel anything that you had to be nervous. That meant something really bad was going on. Something. Really. Bad.

“How about we break his jaw?” someone said.

“Go for it.”

There was a clicking sound, then everything white, then everything black, and that was that.