iRobotronic Page 15

  ***

  I'm so cold. Seffy wanted to open her eyes but knew the light was so bright it would hurt. Cold and pain. She didn't like it. But now that she was awake, she decided she might as well open her eyes. Maybe it would explain why she felt like a Popsicle.

  She slowly looked around, then blinked. It was bright, blindingly so. Once her eyes adjusted to the light, she opened them further and took in her surroundings. She was in a snowy landscape. Deep snow covered the trees and the ground so much that all the shapes looked like flowing bumps. Well, that explains the cold.

  She remained in a fetal position for warmth, but it wasn't very effective. The chill seeped into the marrow of her bones. A peek at her hands revealed blue fingers and sunken veins. Seffy raised her head slightly and looked for a blanket. There was none. Suddenly, the aspect changed and she was looking down on herself in the snow. Her body was on its side, in a tight coil; her eyes scrunched closed. That's when she saw the blood. She was laying in a puddle of it. It stained the snow like cherry syrup on an Icee. Red to white and pink in between.

  That can't be good.

  She squeezed her eyes shut to block out the tableau, but could still see herself down there. How was that possible? Soon she was higher, and saw more of the landscape. A snowy meadow surrounded by gloomy forests. The tall pines had a little snow, but mostly just looked dark and menacing. She could hear strange sounds coming from among the trees, but nothing identifiable. A man stood looking at her body. Seffy realized it was Trent. He wore his familiar white shirt along with a pair of white pants, rolled up at the cuffs. He didn't seem to notice the cold. He just stared as the blood crept closer to his bare feet.

  A flock of birds shot out of the forest in a raucous cloud, wheeling up to a blue-black sky.

  “Are those owls?” she asked.

  Trent looked up at the sky. “No, it's a murder of crows.”

  Another man strode out of the forest. He carried a shotgun and pointed it at Trent. “She's a dirty bird.”

  Seffy watched helplessly as he pulled the trigger. As Trent's body was impacted, a red splatter covered the snow. He fell face down into the stain.

  Before she could scream, the man looked up at her. She saw that it was Gareth. His face was a mask of hate. “You're dead to me, Seffy.”

  Seffy gasped and opened her eyes, her heart hammering against her rib cage. Pastel walls with flowery prints revealed themselves to her bleary gaze. Once she got her bearings, she realized she was in a hospital room. Oh, thank God it was just a dream.

  She turned her head and focused on the image in front of her. It was Trent, asleep. At least she hoped the flush on his cheeks meant he was alive. The remnant of her dream left her shaken. He sat in a chair right next to the bed, resting his head on the mattress. She looked down and realized he was holding her hand.

  Seffy eased back and looked around. She was in a hospital bed, attached to tubes, but she noticed everything seemed more modern, cheerful, less commune-y. Hopefully that was a good thing.

  She closed her eyes, trying to remember what precipitated this latest visit to Needle Land. She remembered Universal Studios and a dead guy. Ugh. Probably not the marketing plan the park was going for. A memory of kissing Trent flooded her mind. Oh yeah. And that. She looked at him, unable to make sense of a single thing that had happened between them. They were the poster children for dysfunctional non-relationships. But a portion of her angst eased, knowing he was nearby. His hand was warm around hers.

  Seffy shifted to get more comfortable. Blinding pain shot up her back. A monitor suddenly went off, the beeping freaking her out more than the pain. Trent sat up sleepily, his eyes widening when he saw she was awake. Before he could speak, a nurse bustled into the room and turned off the monitor.

  “Well, Miss Carter. Glad to see you're coming around.”

  Seffy shot a questioning glance at Trent. He gave a quick shake of his head. She sent a tight smile at the nurse and decided not to start in with the questions until she could talk to Trent alone. Besides she hurt too damn much just now.

  After checking her vitals and the machines, the nurse left the room.

  “How long have I been here?” Seffy asked quietly.

  Trent didn't answer. He stood up, leaned over, and pulled her into his arms.

  “Ouch.”

  He didn't appear to hear. Instead he squeezed the air from her lungs. When he finally released her and sat down, she saw a shimmer of moisture in his eyes.

  “That long?”

  He paused before answering. “It's the next morning, but it's not the length of time, it's the fact that you were clinically dead.”

  Seffy didn't know what to do with the information. Her emotions had long been shot. “I told you I was doomed. Plus I think I've already been dead before.”

  Trent clenched his jaw. “It's not funny, Seffy. Why didn't you tell me you had a wound in your back?”

  “What wound? Is that why my back hurts?”

  He nodded. “You must've fallen on a broken glass bottle from the trash can in the bathroom.”

  “Bathroom?”

  “After you killed the shooter.”

  “Oh. I didn't know I was hurt, I guess.”

  “They pulled a six inch chunk of glass from your back. It just missed your kidney.”

  “Oh.”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “I didn't know you were hurt until you passed out from lack of blood. When the EMTs showed up, you had no pulse, no breath.”

  Seffy struggled to get her thoughts around the idea, but she felt nothing.

  Trent's face looked older. “They had to give you three units of blood and lower your body temperature to resuscitate you.”

  “I do remember being cold.”

  He sat back in the chair, his knuckles white as he gripped the armrests. “One of these days, it's going to be too late. I can't believe you escaped three gunmen and then got killed by a piece of glass.”

  She saw the worry and weariness on his face and in his eyes. “I think I must've known on some level that I would die,” she said slowly. “That's why I kissed you.”

  He stared at her, flummoxed. “What, like a goodbye kiss?”

  She nodded.

  “You're insane.”

  “I see it as being more sentimental than insane.”

  He regarded her for several moments, then let out an anguished groan. “God, Seffy, do you know the mess we're in? I don't know how we're going to get out of here in time to make it to the rendezvous point. I had to make stuff up in the paperwork for you. I ended up giving my mom's information because I don't know what else to do.”

  “You're still on your parents' insurance plan?”

  He shook his head. “No. But she might pay the bill. She's offered to help me out financially before. I've never taken her up on it until now.”

  “But you're dead.”

  “Then hopefully she won't look too closely at the details. Either way, I had to lie.”

  “She'll notice the date of the bill is after your death. Anyway I thought you weren't on speaking terms with your parents.”

  He shook his head. “My dad doesn't allow my mom to have contact with me, okay? What is this, life history time?”

  Seffy thought for a moment. “You should put some kind of personal note on the forms so she knows you're out there.”

  “That would come off like a sick joke.”

  “Or if she really loves you, maybe it'll be enough. Maybe she can't accept that you're dead. In her heart of hearts she's hoping that there was a mistake. Put something in the note that proves you're alive to her.”

  “Seffy,” he said as if humoring the mentally incapacitated, “my point is that it's only a matter of time until we're found out. Not to mention there may be shooters still on the lookout and we only have about five hours to get to the tanning salon. Then, the doctor was drilling me because, get this, you don't have an identifiable blood type. How am I supposed to explain that?”

/>   “Who called the EMTs?”

  “I did, of course!”

  She collapsed back onto the pillow, suddenly depressed. “Well, next time...don't.”

  “Okay, I'm not going to make a snide comment about temper tantrums because you're injured.”

  “I appreciate your restraint,” she said, glaring at him.

  He scrubbed his face with his hand, obviously too upset to respond.

  “I'm glad you're not dead,” she said softly after a moment. “I dreamed you were.”

  Trent looked too exhausted to know what to make of her statement. “Let's just figure a way to get out of here, okay?”

  “Why can't I just get up and leave?”

  “It'll be hard to get past the nurse's station, not to mention you're practically an invalid.”

  “Actually I'm always the spryest post-surgery.” She tried to sit up straighter, and winced. “Are my clothes nearby?”

  “They threw your stuff away, since it was, you know, drenched in blood.”

  “They couldn't have just washed it?”

  Trent leaned close. “Seffy, be serious for a moment. I don't see how we're going to make it back. And even if we could, I'm not going to risk your life to jump through some wormhole. We need a Plan B.”

  “But what about Fenn? Isn't he the be-all end-all of this plan?”

  “That's a tough thing, but you're a little more important right now.”

  She clasped her hands together. “Really?”

  “And apparently on some heavy-duty meds. I mean it, Sef, this is serious.”

  “Hey, if you get me some clothes, I can leave. Fenn's life at this point depends more on whether a hospital gown is the only thing I get to wear.”

  “Don't worry, young lady, we'll be providing clothing for you after your blood tests.”

  They looked up to see a doctor enter the room.

  “Great, it's Tony Soprano,” Trent said under his breath.

  “Who's that?” Seffy hissed. “A famous singer?”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Actually, I think they've already taken out more blood than they put back in.”

  Seffy eyed the imposing, pock-marked doctor with distaste, inwardly echoing Trent's words.

  The man smiled, which was more sinister than comforting. “This is the last time, I promise.” He walked over and disconnected the tubes from her shunts.

  Seffy gingerly sat up, knowing there was no point in arguing. The sooner she got it done, the better. “I guess I'm used to being a pin cushion at this point. One more poke won't matter.” She glanced down at her gown. “But I require something other than this to wear.”

  The doctor handed her a blue terrycloth bathrobe from the hook on the outside of the bathroom door. Seffy closed her eyes. “Yuck.”

  “It's just for the time being.”

  She eased from the bed, cringing at the pain.

  “Why can't you just take her blood here?” Trent said, jumping up to help her into the robe. “Why does she need to go anywhere? She's not really for a post-op walk.”

  “We have a brand new device, it's non-invasive, so no pokes.” He smiled grimly. “You've heard of the glucose monitors that don't require a puncture?”

  Trent shrugged. “I still don't get why you can't bring it here. She has fresh stitches.”

  He chuckled. “The unit takes up half a room. It's cutting edge technology, an optical device that monitors leucocytes, erythrocytes, platelets, and hemoglobin levels, but it's quite cumbersome. It wouldn't surprise me if it does become a hand held device within the next five years. You know technology these days. Besides, we get patients up quickly now from bed. There's risk of pulmonary embolism otherwise.”

  “It's okay, Trent. Maybe if I go, he'll stop talking about it.” She pushed him back onto the chair after he helped her with the robe. “Get some rest.”

  He sent her an unhappy look. “If you're not back soon, I'll come looking for you.”

  Seffy gazed at him, resisting the urge to kiss his cheek. He looked so adorable and sleepy. She turned away, deciding she must really be on some strong medications. “Don't worry. I'll be back.”

  “You can hold onto me, miss,” the doctor said.

  Seffy took hold of his beefy arm and leaned on him a little as she walked. Peering over her shoulder, she saw Trent already nodding off in his chair. She glanced up at the doctor as they left the room. “You look different than the last doctor.”

  “Different shifts.”

  Seffy noticed the hallway going past the nurses station was empty. She frowned. Wasn't there always supposed to be someone around? The next hall was empty, too. Empty usually equaled bad. A rabid little butterfly went crazy in her stomach. “I don't think I want to get my blood tested now. Can I do it later?”

  “We're almost there.” He led her down the hall to an exit and opened the door. “Don't worry, it's in a lab off campus.”

  Her shoulders drooped. There wasn't any lab. This guy probably wasn't a real doctor. She looked up at him, trembling weakly and fighting despair. “What are you going to do to Trent?”

  They entered a parking lot. The sun shone high in the sky and birds sang liquid songs in the leafy trees. Her throat ached with fresh tears.

  “I don't understand. Who is Trent? Was that your friend in your room? Don't worry, you'll see him soon.”

  “I'll go with you if you promise not to hurt him, okay?”

  “Miss, I don't understand.” Even as he said the words, a white utility van pulled from a parking space and eased up to the curb.

  She stopped. “Promise me.”

  The man dropped her arm and turned to her. “Get in the van.” He stepped forward and opened the sliding door.

  Seffy noticed something bulky under his white lab coat. “Are you going to shoot me, if I don't?”

  “Yes.”

  “What do you want with me? Are you with the men who tried to kill me?”

  “Get in the van and I'll tell you.”

  Seffy looked around the parking lot. There was no way she could run being barefoot and injured. Screaming would be pointless since the fake doc was packing heat. It looked like her tangential time line was up. For realz this time. “You can do anything you want to me, just leave Trent alone.”

  The man's blunt expression didn't change. He grabbed her arm and hustled her into the van. Pain exploded in her back. Seffy began to cry as she was shoved into a vinyl seat.

  “Buckle up.”

  She ignored him, trying to breathe through the pain of her screaming nerve endings at the site of the incision. Closing her eyes, Seffy wished she'd been nicer to Trent. Why did they always fight? If there was ever a chance to see him again, she'd be on her best behavior. She gulped back more tears. Going to her doom weighted down with regrets seriously blew.

  The 'doctor' yanked a seatbelt over her lap and fastened it. Then he sat next to her and motioned to the driver, whose hair and black leather clothing screamed Italian Mafia wannabe. The van lurched from the curb. Seffy grabbed onto the armrest with both hands to steady herself and watched the windshield view through a blur of tears. Trent was as good as dead. So was she. At least he'd get a quick death. She knew without a doubt hers would be drawn out and painful.

  Glancing at the man next to her, Seffy blinked away the moisture in her eyes. “Are you after my blood?”

  Nothing.

  “It's no good, you know. I mean, it's infected...with zombie juice.”

  “Shut up.”

  “Have you ever seen a real zombie?”

  The man next to her stared straight ahead.

  “I have. They're so lifeless, but they just keep going. The virus reproduces in the front lobes of your brain. Isn't that gross? Isn't that where they jam the ice picks when they do frontal lobotomies—?”

  “Shut up!”

  Seffy noticed the driver look at her with wide eyes via the rear view mirror.

  “You know, people treat you different when they find out
you're infected. They treat me like I'm toxic. Of course, I am toxic, but it still hurts. And there isn't any cure for my contamination. Even if I wanted to be pure again, there's no hope.”

  “Drive faster,” the doctor hissed.

  Her shoulders slumped. Apparently her gross-out plan wasn't working. “Is there any way I could get a pen and paper? I want to write a note to Trent.”

  “It's time for you to shut up, girl. Besides, your boyfriend is already dead.”

  ***

  Trent tried to force his eyes open. He was just so damn tired. Sitting in a chair all night was not a restful posture. He glanced at his watch. Seffy had been gone ten minutes. In fifteen he'd go looking. Bracing his elbows on the arms of the chair, he shifted to get comfortable.

  A step sounded outside in the hall. Trent looked up expectantly. It's about time. But it wasn't Seffy who walked through the door. He tensed as a man in a suit strode into the room.

  Crap.

  Looking to his right, he grabbed Seffy's meal tray and held it up like a shield as the first silenced bullet flew. The tray jerked from his hands. Trent dove to the floor and reached for the gunman's leg. Grabbing at the hem of his pant leg was enough to trip the man up. Trent scrambled forward and plowed into him, knocking him down hard. A white heat seared his shoulder, making him gasp.

  Adrenaline surged in his veins. Trent grabbed the man's wrist holding the gun and slammed it to the floor. The weapon skittered across the linoleum. They grappled for a tense moment, but Trent gained the upper hand. Grasping the man by the throat, he squeezed with every bit of the rage flowing through his muscles. “Where is she?”

  The man's face went from red to purple but he made no attempt to speak. Trent crushed his neck harder and repeated the question.

  Nothing.

  Sweat dripped from his forehead onto the man's face. “I'm gonna kill you if you don't talk.”

  The man's expressionless face shifted, his muscles growing slack under Trent hands. Finally he was still.

  Sucking air, Trent stared at the man he just killed. He shoved himself away from the body and stood up, blinking through the sweat pouring down his face. He saw the gun and retrieved it with shaking hands. Shoving the weapon into his waistband, he went through the dead man's pockets but found nothing.