Side Effects: Book Two: Visions of Despair Read online

  “You don’t need to ask her, Mitch. You just need to let it happen. For your son, and the rest of us too," Jimmy said, getting up from his seat.

  “You’re leaving?” Mitch asked, wanting explanations for so many more questions.

  “I’m really tired," the boy said, stifling a yawn. “It’s hard to sleep when you know there are people-eaters right outside, but I feel safe here," he added as he slipped out the door.

  Mitch loosened his grip on the chair’s arms, which he hadn’t realized he was holding until that moment. Sitting back, he took a deep breath. That kid was intense. He had always thought himself an intelligent man. It was an odd sensation being in the room with a small child and feeling mentally inferior. He was left feeling like he should write out a series of questions to ask the next time he had a chance to talk to the boy. They had been given a modern-day Oracle. Mitch wasn’t used to being directed by anyone--he was the decision maker--but he was smart enough to know when he needed to defer to someone else.

  Mitch let out a pent-up breath, trying to release some of the tension from his body. He glanced down at his son’s still form, and felt the tension immediately return. He looked so young lying there. Mitch noticed for the first time how ragged and dirty his clothes looked. He should have removed them as soon as they got in here, but he was too focused on fixing the wound to worry about the small stuff. Yet, he had been around long enough to know that sometimes it’s the small stuff that gets you in the end.

  He gave his son’s hand a squeeze before walking over to the counter and opening the drawer beside the sink. He shuffled things here and there before finding what he was looking for. He pulled out a large pair of scissors and made hasty work of removing his son’s clothes.

  Mitch’s breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight of Micah’s ankles and lower legs that were covered in deep purple handprint bruises. He must have had to fight with everything he had to make it up that tree. Mitch could only imagine the terror that his boy must have felt trying to pull his body away from those monsters.

  His eyes roamed the rest of Micah’s body and he let out a sigh of relief when he found no more significant injuries. He gathered a bowl of warm water, soap, sponges and towels, then began to lovingly wash and dry his sleeping son. Finally, he walked back over to the cupboard and grabbed a thin blanket to drape over him. It would have to do until someone came in to sit with him. Mitch wasn’t about to risk leaving him alone.

  After he settled back into the chair, he took Micah’s hand in his own and carefully turned it over; revealing the wound at the inside of his arm. He was amazed by how quickly the color of his skin had returned to a healthier-looking pink. He didn’t know what was in Jimmy’s blood, but looking at Micah’s arm was the only evidence he needed to convince him that it was something of important significance.

  His son had been sentenced to death tonight, but Jimmy showed up, unexpectedly, with crucial evidence to grant him clemency during the final hour. He vowed to repay the boy in any way that he could, or die trying. He owed him that much.

  Mitch slid his hand down until his fingers were resting on Micah’s pulse point at his wrist. Glancing at his watch, he began to count the steady beats. When his second hand confirmed that a full minute had gone by, he stopped. 88 was a nice, strong number. It had been so erratic when they first got back to the cabin, he was thankful that Micah’s body seemed to be responding well to the transfusion.

  The only thing left to do was just wait for him to wake up, Mitch thought, as he watched the drip of the blood transfusing. He had slowed the rate down now that Micah’s vitals had stabilized, so this last bag would take a few hours to finish.

  Mitch stood and brushed the hair back from his boy’s face. He needed it cut, but had been refusing for the last several weeks. Something about it “giving him an edge,” whatever that was supposed to mean.

  Mitch still couldn’t figure out why everyone he knew said that parenting a boy was so easy. For him, Emily had been the easy one--always willing to do whatever he asked. Micah, on the other hand, was always out to challenge him and argue every point just for the sake of arguing. Sometimes he felt a rush of pride because of it--he knew that Micah would always stand firm for what he believed in--but most of the time he wanted to smack the boy upside the head and yell at him to just listen.

  Of all the jobs that he’d had, parenting was the toughest by far. Luckily, it was also the most rewarding. He found himself second-guessing every decision he made, wondering and worrying about every possible outcome and consequence it might have on his children in the future. Those were the times when he missed Isabelle the most. Just the thought of her sent a needle-like pain straight through his heart. The pain of the loss had not lessened in the last twelve years. If anything, it had only gotten deeper and more unbearable. He kept it bottled deep inside, only allowing it to escape during those rare moments when he had time to himself.

  He left Micah’s side for the comfort of the old couch that sat against one wall in the infirmary. He had just closed his eyes and started to drift off, when he heard the door open once again.

  Chapter Four

  Mitch

  As the door swung open, Mitch opened one tired eye before quickly pulling himself up. Juliette. He hadn’t expected her to be the person coming through the door. Since their arrival at the cabin a week ago, she had mainly kept to herself, and he had let her. Kate had been talking with her daily, but he had given her space to grieve.

  The woman made him uncomfortable. Maybe it was her intricate beauty that did it, but the halo of sadness that she carried around with her didn’t help either. She had eyes the color of a stormy ocean that were so big, he felt a tidal pull every time her gaze landed on him. It would be easy to get lost in the swirl of emotion that lay there.

  “Juliette,” he said with a nod.

  “Mitch, do you need some help? I mean, I could help you. If you needed me to. I was a nurse. Before all of...this...happened," she stumbled over her words, glancing at the floor. Maybe he made her uncomfortable too.

  “Well, I think that means you’re still a nurse," he smiled, trying to lighten the mood.

  Her eyes snapped to his. “Of course. It’s just that, everything is so fractured now, it’s hard not to think in the before and after," she said, once more letting her eyes travel to the floor.

  “I’ll take you up on the offer if you don’t mind sitting with him for a few minutes. I need to get him some clean clothes and things," he said, remembering what Jimmy had told him about her being the person who needed to help his son.

  “I would be happy to," she replied as she walked over to Micah, brushing the hair out of his face just as Mitch had a few minutes before. He watched as she stepped back and counted his son’s respirations.

  He gave her a quick nod as he stood to go. “I’ll be back in a few minutes."

  “You should stop by the kitchen and have some dinner before you rush back. If he wakes, I’ll come find you," she called as he walked out the door.

  He paused for a moment in the hall outside the door. He hadn’t really thought about all of the things that he didn’t know about her until that moment. He was surprised to find out she was a nurse. She seemed so fragile and most of the nurses that he knew had a hard edge. The ones that allowed themselves to feel in the moment usually burned out pretty quickly. There were a rare few though that held every little piece of humanity and let it mingle with their own. Instead of being broken by it, they gathered bits of strength and compassion, dusting them off, weaving them into their own magic shield that they used to protect themselves and their patients from the ugly side of life--in the shadows where the sickness and tragedy lies.

  Shaking his head, Mitch decided to check the kitchen for something to eat before he went up to Micah’s room to grab his things. He was surprised to see Kate standing at the sink alone when he walked in. “Did everyone leave you to clean up the mess by yourself?” he asked, grabbing a dishtowel off the
counter, and then a plate out of the rack to dry.

  “Mitchel, you put that down and get yourself some supper. Washing the dishes relaxes me. Don’t you interrupt my therapy," she said, swatting at him like she would a wayward fly.

  This lady was one of the rare few. A nurturer by nature, her business was kindness. "Yes, ma’am," he said, heading for the fridge.

  “There’s a warm plate in the oven and a fork on the bar. All you need to do is get to it," she said, giving him a wink.

  Mitch couldn’t help but smile. That was Kate’s way. She always made you feel instantly at ease. He walked over and opened the oven door, his senses greeted by the comforting smell of roast chicken with all of the fixings. He needed this. This had been a hell of a day.

  He took his seat at the bar and made quick work of the meal before him. As he pushed his plate back, Kate turned from the sink with a worried expression taking over the smile that had been there only moments before.

  “How is our boy?" she asked, her voice peppered with emotion and the slight hint of her German roots that always slipped in when she was upset.

  He noted the towel she was wringing so tightly between her hands and chose his words carefully. He needed to put her at ease, not add to her worry. “Better. I think he is doing better. The color came back into his arm and his heart rate has steadied. I think that Jimmy’s serum is actually clearing the infection." He was thankful for the instinct that had told him to go along with his daughter’s crazy plan, thought up by a four-year-old. Four years old. Even as he thought it, it didn’t ring true.

  “That boy has a soul that has outlived you and I many times over. I know that you are an old soul, Mitchel, I have told you this before. But that boy--that boy is not here to learn. He is here to teach, if we are prepared to listen. The age of the body does not matter for the life of the soul--the soul is ageless," she finished with a look of awe on her face as she released the towel and silently crossed herself.

  “To be honest, Kate, I feel a little uncomfortable around him," Mitch said, rubbing the back of his neck.

  “Of course, you do, son. It’s hard not being the most powerful man in the room. Maybe our young Jimmy can teach you some humility," she said, walking over and squeezing his hand that was resting on the bar. “Now go--take care of my Micah."

  When he reached the top of the stairs, he could hear voices coming from the crow's nest. Wanting to make sure they didn’t have any immediate threats coming their way, he began climbing the drop-down stairs that were starting to feel like a permanent fixture in the center of the hallway.

  As he popped his head through the hatch in the floor, he could see Travis on one side of the room at the big picture window with a pair of binoculars trained at the valley below. Mike was standing at the opposite window in much the same way.

  The room was big enough, although a fourth person would likely make the space feel a little cramped. Mitch had built in a floating desk under the window on the end that looked over the barn. Two chairs sat at the desk. They were a mismatched set like most of the furnishings in the house. His late wife had had a knack for “shabby chic”, breathing new life into yard sale pieces with a little sandpaper and paint. Another chair sat in the back corner with a small bookcase beside it. Mike turned to look at him. “How’s he doing, Addie?” he asked.

  “He’s stable. He hasn’t woken up yet, though," Mitch said, releasing a pent-up breath.

  “He’s a tough kid, Mitch, he’ll pull through," Travis said, turning back to the window.

  “Is there anything going on out there?” Mitch asked.

  “There are still a few of the flesh-eaters wandering around, but I haven’t seen anything else," Mike said. “Don’t worry, Addie, we’ll keep watch. You just take care of Micah," he finished, turning back to his spot at the window.

  Mitch dropped back through the hatch and turned toward Micah’s room. He quickly gathered some clean clothes, as well as his son’s favorite blanket, and Scruffles from the bed. He wanted to get back to his son as soon as possible.

  Chapter Five

  Juliette

  Juliette stared down at the boy in front of her. She couldn’t believe they had managed to save Micah. After what she’d witnessed on the first day, she never would have expected that it was possible. She had seen his arm when he came in and knew it wasn’t a tree branch that had ripped it open.

  The nurse in her wondered how Mitch had done it. He had single-handedly stopped a virus that was mutating at such an alarming rate, that the doctors she knew had deemed it impossible to treat. In fact, when all of the chaos had begun and they’d been unable to contain it at the hospital, Dr. Ross, her favorite ER doc, had advised her that it was probably better to just embrace it. This was it. Game over.

  She had lost all respect for him in that moment. She couldn’t understand how someone could just give up, to choose to become a roamer till the end of days. The thought sent chills up her spine. She gave in to the urge for a full body shake, and was midway through when Micah opened his eyes.

  She saw the fear in his eyes, then confusion. “Juliette?” he croaked, his voice dry.

  “You’re okay, Micah--you’re safe. Just relax and I’ll get you some water," she reassured him as she walked to the sink. Hanging on the wall beside it was one of those little paper cup dispensers. Of course. She had yet to need something and not find it here. Everything was systematically thought out. The supplies here were ridiculous and brilliant.

  When she thought about the walking blood bank that she had just seen them pull off, the chills crept back up her spine. They could survive here. In a world damned for extinction, she had stumbled into a place that could offer her salvation.

  “How do you feel?” she asked Micah after he had taken a drink of the water.

  “I don’t know, really. Where’s my dad? Or Emily? Why are you here?” he asked, a bit of contempt in his voice at the end.

  “Your dad went to get you some clean clothes. He didn’t want to leave you alone, so I offered to sit with you while he was gone. I’m not sure where your sister is," she answered while she checked his pulse.

  “Oh," he mumbled, drifting back to sleep.

  Just like that, he was back out. Damn, she thought, shaking her head. She was sorry that Mitch had missed it. She had seen the worry etched across his rugged face every time she’d glanced at him. Really that was about all she had ever done. She was afraid that if she looked at him straight on, the image would be burned into her retina--like looking straight into the sun--and then every time she closed her eyes, he would be all that she would see.

  Shaking her head, she grabbed the blood pressure cuff and began the task at hand. Reassured by the reading, she settled back into the chair just as Mitch came through the door, his arms full of supplies.

  “Did anything happen?” he asked, a mix of both hope and fear lacing the question.

  “He woke up for just a moment, had a drink of water, and then fell back to sleep," she told him, hoping to alleviate his fear.

  She witnessed the relief wash over his face. Damn it, she had let her gaze linger too long. The result might be permanent. A short laugh escaped her at the thought.

  Confusion replaced relief just as quickly as relief had replaced fear. “Is something funny?” he asked, one eyebrow arched in question.

  She felt her cheeks color. Ah, the familiar burn of humiliation, her old friend. She couldn’t believe she had laughed; it was such an inappropriate time to do so. He must think her absurd. “I’m sorry, you must think I’m crazy. A random thought just snuck up on me. Unfortunately, it was an amusing one," she apologized with a shy smile.

  “Don’t apologize. I’ve always been a sucker for the sound of laughter," he reassured her, returning the smile.

  Shit, she was doomed for retina damage for sure, she thought with a gulp.

  “How did he seem? Did he say anything?” Mitch asked, bringing her back to the reason she was here in the first place.

&
nbsp; “He was okay, a little scared and confused, but once I told him where you were he seemed to calm down. And then he was back out. He was only conscious for about three minutes," she told him, glancing at her watch.

  “Okay, so he was speaking and asking questions, that’s good. I’m just sorry I missed it," he said with a sigh, running his hand through his dark hair.

  “Let’s get him dressed. Maybe the movement will wake him again," she encouraged, taking the clothes from him.

  When she pulled the blanket down and saw Micah’s legs, she had a flash image of her sister grabbing at her, pulling on her arms. No--not her sister--the monster she had become as soon as the virus had taken hold of her. As a tremor over took her hands, she fumbled and dropped the clothes she had taken from Mitch. Squatting to pick them up, she took a deep breath, trying to control her emotions. She felt the familiar wave of sadness begin to wash over her.

  She took a second-deep breath and tried to push the wave back down. She couldn’t lose it right now. She had things to do. Taking another breath, smaller this time, she stood back up and glanced at Mitch.

  The compassion and tenderness she found in his expression offered a sense of calm she hadn’t felt in a long time.

  “It happens like that, and it doesn’t go away. I think with time you just sort of get used to it. The images just take over, transport you through time and space, and suddenly you're back there--in that moment when your life changed forever. Sometimes talking about it helps, or writing it down. I don’t think it will ever really leave you, but you’ll find ways to push through it," he reassured her quietly as he reached out and gave her shoulder a soft squeeze.

  She closed her eyes for a moment to compose herself. She needed to pull it together, summon the calm nurse inside of her, for Micah’s sake. She wanted to help care for him and she knew she couldn’t do it if she was a hot mess.