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I walked into the house and headed for the stairs but a stern voice from the living room stopped my escape.
“Dylan Nicholas Ramsay, where do you think you’re going?”
I turned in the direction of my mother’s voice. She stood in her nurse’s uniform, with her hands on her hips and that piercing stare that makes me want to either run or spill my darkest secrets.
“What are you doing home?”
“I was able to get someone to finish my shift when I got the call from the school. Mr. Murdock said your teacher had a heart attack in class and you tried to revive him,” Mom said, her tone filled with worry accompanied by those small concern lines between her eyes. “He said you were yelling at something the entire time you did CPR.”
“I was yelling because I didn’t want Mr. Sanchez to die and I thought if I yelled, maybe he’d hang on.”
“Are you sure that’s the reason?”
I rolled my eyes and sighed. “Yeah, Mom, I’m sure. Do you mind if I go play Zombie Disaster Three, now?”
“Isn’t that rated for Mature audiences?”
“Yeah, but all my other friends play online too.”
“Do their parents know it’s rated M?”
“C’mon Mom, it’s not that bad.” Okay maybe it is, but I’m not telling her that, besides, I’m in the mood for a little blood and brains to block out the image of Mr. Sanchez’s blue face and the hovering reaper that ripped the life from him.
“Nick, I don’t want you playing that game and if I find out you are; I’ll suspend your online privileges for a week.”
So not the answer I was hoping for, but I knew she’d find out if I snuck onto the gaming board. I don’t know how she does it, but anytime I defy her, she finds out and bam, I’m grounded. I guess I’ll just have to settle for a little Medal of Honor instead. “Fine,” I said, and started to march up the stairs.
“Nick?”
I turned, meeting my mother’s gaze.
“I’m proud of you for trying to save your teacher,” she said, and sent a smile my way.
I couldn’t help but smile back and I mumbled, “Thanks,” before continuing to my room and swinging the door closed. I tossed my backpack in the corner before settling into my gaming chair.
Right when I was about to take down the general of the European force, my mother barged into the room and in the second I looked away, I was annihilated, shot dead by multiple enemy guns. “Mom!”
“Nick, we have to go.”
The tremor in her voice tore my attention away from the game for more than a quick glimpse in her direction. What I saw in her face made me switch off the game and jump to my feet. “What’s wrong?”
“Your grandmother is in the hospital.”
The initial shock of those words ran through me like a stun gun and I managed to stutter a simple, “W-why?”
“I don’t know, but they said to hurry.”
The fifteen minute car ride seemed like an hour and I slumped in the seat, frightened by all the ‘what if’ scenarios that kept circling in my mind. At the hospital, I followed my mother through the emergency room maze to where they put my grandmother. The beeps and whooshes filled the room, echoing off the hard tile floors and gray drab walls. Beyond the tubes and gauze and institutional blankets covering the frail form of my grandmother stood another black-cloaked figure.
Without thinking, I pointed my finger and growled a command. “You cannot have my grandmother. Leave. Now.”
The hooded figure raised his silver eyes in my direction and they transitioned to a glowing red. Although all I could see was a skeleton, I could have sworn the thing scowled at me and then it was gone.
I blinked, wondering if my shot nerves imagined the monster and I glanced at my mother. Her gaze was glued on me, her jaw askew and her eyebrows arched with a million unasked questions.
“What?” I asked, shrugging.
“How long?” she shot back at me.
“How long what?”
“How long have you seen them?”
Stunned, I glanced back at the empty spot. “You saw that?”
Her silence pulled my attention back to her. She shook her head and swallowed, refocusing on her mother in the bed. “Is it still here?”
“No.”
My answer seemed to drain what little color remained in her cheeks and she fell into the chair, her mouth working at words that never made it past her lips. Before either of us could speak, my grandmother opened her eyes.