Mercy (23 page)

“Don’t move,” Krishani said, running his fingers down her thick winter coat. She let out a shaky breath as he ran his fingers along her palm.

“What are you doing?” she whispered, heat flushing into her cheeks.

“Close your eyes,” he said gently, moving his fingers to cup her face. He stared at her until she closed her eyes. He ran his thumb along her cheek and she let out a high-pitched pip. He moved closer, aching to close the distance between them. All he wanted was to feel her lips on his and for her to know that everything she thought she knew about him was wrong. He coughed, covering his mouth with his hand. He pulled it away, three drops of blood on his pasty skin. Everything happened too fast. His whole body convulsed, forcing him to his knees. He pivoted; his hands hitting snow as blood came rushing out of his mouth, a bright red puddle staining the white paradise.

“Michael?”

He heard her voice behind him but another convulsion rocked his body and he couldn’t speak for the mouthfuls of blood. He tried to catch his breath, spots dotting his vision.

Kaliel screamed. The sound made his head feel like it could split in half. He tried to stay conscious, tried to hold onto the body, begging the Vulture to calm down.

Don’t die, don’t die, don’t die,
he thought as an arm hooked his and forced him away from the blood, away from the waterfall, away from the forest. He stumbled, not entirely able to see where he was going, relying only on the loud sound of her heart beat and her soft, caressing voice. She shoved him into the back seat of her Sundance and darkness covered him.

O O O

Maeva couldn’t think straight. One moment she was standing on the frozen rocks, his hands on her face, and the next there was blood everywhere.

And it wasn’t hers.

She cursed as she slammed the door and yanked the orange cord off the Sundance, leaving it dangling from the square wooden pole. She glanced at him, her chest squeezing as another wave of panic covered her. She went for her backpack, scrounging for the ignition cylinder. He crunched into a ball, tremors rocking his thin frame. She’d never seen anyone so helpless before. She couldn’t find the ignition cylinder. She pulled her phone out and contemplated dialing 9-1-1, but they wouldn’t get there fast enough. Commissioner Gold always said, unless someone was trapped or unable to move, take them yourself. They didn’t have the kind of manpower in a fifteen thousand-person town stretched across rocks and lakes to be effective. They had to take more serious cases first.

She shoved the phone into her pocket and felt the metal cylinder resting there. She scowled at herself for forgetting where it was and shoved it into the steering column, bringing the Sundance to life. She glanced at him, shallow breathing, eyes crunched closed, hands trembling, lips alight with blood. It dripped onto the carpet and he stilled, unconscious.

She threw the Sundance into reverse and sped, passing the business district, Red Boot, and his flat before crossing the slick wet bridge over part of the lake. He seemed comatose by the time she pulled up the Emergency Ramp and got out, keys in hand but Sundance rumbling. In the January cold there was nobody outside. A couple of ambulances parked on the incline, blocking her view of the doors. She glanced at Michael huddled in the back seat, adrenaline and fear singing in her veins. She left the driver’s door open as she climbed the sidewalk and triggered the sliding doors.

She wrung her hands out along her sides, her boots squeaking on the tiled floor. The emergency waiting room was dead quiet. A few middle-aged people sat in chairs, waiting their turn. Maeva’s stomach turned to sludge as she approached the powdery blue counter, the nurse behind it on the phone. She tried to keep her cool but every minute more was another minute she could lose him. She let out a whimper and pressed her fist to her mouth trying to keep in the wave of emotions threatening to turn her into a hysterical wreck. She rubbed tears out of her eyes and waited for the nurse to look at her.

Another thirty seconds went by and Maeva slammed her flat hand onto the counter to get the nurse’s attention. The woman looked up, blue eyes registering annoyance.

“I need help,” Maeva croaked, her voice small. Tears welled and she angrily wiped them away, trying to gain control over herself.

“You can put your name down and wait,” the nurse said, nodding to the clipboard and pen on the counter.

“He can’t wait. He—” she couldn’t talk anymore. She cupped her hands over her nose and mouth, closing her eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks in thick rivers.

The nurse pushed up from the chair and placed the phone on its cradle. Maeva heard her talking to someone else, telling them to help. Another woman with dirty blonde hair emerged from a door marked “Employees Only.” The nurse wore white shoes and pink scrubs, a brown jacket over her shoulders. She turned Maeva towards the doors and gripped her elbow as she moved across the floor. “It’s going to be okay. Where is he?”

Maeva took a deep breath. “In my car. He passed out,” she stuttered.

“What’s your name?” the nurse asked as the sliding doors opened.

“Maeva.”

“I’m Sheila,” she said as they emerged in the frigid cold. Maeva pointed to the Sundance, driver’s door open, headlights on. She pulled the keys out of her pocket as Sheila rounded the car and two paramedics in crisp blue shirts and dark pants appeared with a stretcher. Maeva stood on the sidewalk looking at her boots. The stretcher clacked and squeaked as it passed her. Michael was a pale ghost; eyelids glued shut, dark eyelashes contrasting against his skin. Blood caked in the corner of his mouth, his lips a pale shade of pink.

The keys jangled as he disappeared through the double doors. She took a step towards the car.

“You’re not leaving are you?” Sheila asked, stopping at the doors.

Maeva looked at her, unable to feel anything but dread, guilt, and worry. “I didn’t shut the car off.”

Sheila nodded. “Do that and come talk to me inside.”

Maeva went through the motions, leaning into the steering wheel, forcing the engine off. She left the ignition cylinder in the cup holder and locked the doors. Her feet felt like cement as she trudged up the incline. Her body felt heavy, and she wanted to collapse, but she forced herself into the quiet waiting room and fell into one of the blue leather upholstered chairs. Nobody bothered her until Sheila took a seat next to her, pen and clipboard in hand.

“I need to ask you what happened.”

Maeva didn’t want to think about it. She glanced at the doors and twisted her hands in her lap. “He threw up blood … it was everywhere.”

Sheila wrote it down. “What were you doing?”

Maeva’s cheeks burned. She didn’t want to talk about what he’d said at Big John’s, or the way he’d thrown her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing or how he’d brushed his thumb across her cheek. She shifted uncomfortably in the leather chair. “We were going to my house.”

“Did you notice any weakness or other symptoms?”

Maeva scowled. He was stronger than anyone she knew, from his aloof, cold, and terrifying presence to his physical strength and his words. She shook, thinking about what he’d said at the restaurant.
It’s going to hurt a lot.
“No, he didn’t seem sick.” Her voice cracked on the words, and she wanted to breakdown, but she couldn’t do it in front of other people.

Sheila nodded. “Do you know if he has another next of kin?”

“Uh … Tom Norton,” Maeva answered deftly. She frowned. “You didn’t call him?”

Sheila stood. “We couldn’t reach him. Do you want some water?”

Maeva shook her head. “Is he okay?”

“We don’t know yet.” Her white shoes squeaked as she returned to the nurse’s station. Maeva got up, wandered down the hall to the vending machines. She found her wallet tucked into the front zippered pouch on her bag and found a twoonie and two loonies. She got PowerAde and a big soft chocolate chip cookie out of it. She glanced down the hall and not wanting to sit in the emergency room, took up one of the chairs lining the hallway and pulled off her scarf and gloves. School ended a while ago, and it was already darkening outside by the time they took Michael in. Her phone buzzed and she grabbed it between bites, resting the cookie on her thigh.

Rob texted: “Still coming this weekend?”

She sighed. He found her on Skype almost every night, and they talked about random things. His community college courses, her upcoming exams. She promised she would drive out there this weekend so they could go ice skating and tobogganing. She missed him. She dialed his number and waited.

“Hey, Maeva.”

She took in a shaky breath trying not to sniffle. “Hey,” she managed.

“Did you get my text?”

She nodded and realized he couldn’t see her. “Yeah, but I don’t think I can go.”

“Oh,” Rob sounded disappointed. She heard him close a door and sit in a chair, the leather groaning under his weight. “Why not?”

“Something happened with that guy at school and I don’t know what to do anymore.” She didn’t really keep Rob updated on the whole Michael thing. She brushed cookie crumbs off her leg, keeping the rest of the cookie balanced on her thigh.

“Something … good?” Rob asked hesitantly.

She sighed. “I’m at the hospital. I don’t know when he’s going to wake up.”

“Shit, seriously?” Rob squeaked. She made out the sound of him shifting off the leather chair and pounding down the hallway. “Hang on.” The phone clattered onto a counter and Maeva listened to the muffled voices of Rob and his cousin in the background, unable to make out anything they were saying. She stretched her legs out in front of her and took another bite, swallowing hard on the cakey dough. Rob came back a couple minutes later.

“Sorry, are you there?”

“I’m here,” Maeva said, looking at the ceiling and taking another deep breath. The adrenaline was wearing off and all the numbness was making her tired. She finished off the cookie, swallowing another dry bite.

“Are you staying with him?”

“Yeah.” She knew she could leave at any time but the idea of leaving without seeing him awake, made her insides twist. He was so harsh, but contrary to everything he’d told her she couldn’t help but see regret in his eyes. She touched her cheek where he had, moth-sized butterflies attacking her stomach. She cared, she shouldn’t, but she did.

“Do you want me to drive there?” Rob interrupted her thoughts.

“No …” She didn’t want Rob distracting her from Michael. It was obvious Michael was holding a lot back, she knew from the beginning there were things he couldn’t tell her, only it was so confusing she couldn’t wrap her brain around it. She gulped, fear washing through her. “Rob?”

“Yeah?”

“Why do I feel like this?”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m dying too?”

Rob was silent for a long time and Maeva pressed her other hand to her chest, her heart burning and tearing like it might split in half. She didn’t want to be in a hospital hallway, waiting for the boy who was going to kill her to wake up from whatever was killing him.

“Uh … I really don’t know …” Rob said, sounding awkward.

Maeva let out a breath, he was completely useless. For once Rob didn’t make the heaviness in her fade. “Okay. I think I’ll sit here and freak out by myself for a while.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk?”

Maeva felt the last of her strength draining from her. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“Do you like him?”

“No …” But her chest constricted and a lump formed in her throat and tears welled in her eyes for the umpteenth time. It was more than like for her, but she couldn’t tell Rob, she could barely admit it to herself.

“I have to go,” she said quietly, pressing the red button and slipping the phone into her pocket. She blinked, her eyes adjusting to the fluorescent lighting and bent over, picking up her PowerAde. She sat there and waited, taking small sips, playing games on her phone, pacing up and down the hallway, sitting in different chairs. She didn’t have more change so she couldn’t get another cookie. Hunger gnawed at her as hours passed. Everyone ignored her, the nurses too busy to worry about her. On the inside she was falling apart and on the outside she was bored out of her mind.

Tom didn’t show up like he did last time. Instead the emergency room emptied, only a trucker with a broken finger, and an old lady attached to a portable breathing apparatus remained. Maeva sat in a chair by the doors, being blasted by the cold every time they opened. She crossed her arms across her chest and tried to get comfortable. She dozed off, getting warped images of a wide stream, and a waterfall crashing into it. She woke to her phone vibrating and thought it was Rob calling again. Groggy, she slid her finger across the face and put it to her ear.

“Hello?”

“Where the hell are you?”

Maeva groaned, Grace’s voice cutting into her half asleep, half-awake state. She sat up straighter and adjusted the phone. “I’m at the hospital,” she said, unable to think fast enough to come up with some lucrative cover story.

“What? What did you do?” Grace was hysterical.

“I didn’t do anything,” Maeva mumbled, hoping Grace would give her a break for once.

“Why are you there?” she asked, interrogation mode.

Everything Maeva thought of saying didn’t sound right. She pressed her lips together, trying to think, knowing the truth wouldn’t be good enough for Grace. “It’s a long story.”

“It’s midnight. Were you even watching the time?”

“I fell asleep.”

“You need to come home. Right now.”

Maeva knew that tone. It was her I-want-to-yell-at-you-in-person voice. Maeva gritted her teeth, anger flashing through her. “I’m not going anywhere until he wakes up.”

“You’re with a boy?” Her voice went up an octave on the word boy and Maeva felt nauseous. She was almost eighteen, almost old enough to leave Kenora forever. She couldn’t put up with Michael being unconscious and her mom acting like a drill sergeant. “You’re not at the hospital. You’re not allowed cell phones at the hospital. You’re spending the night with some guy aren’t you?”

Maeva felt like she’d been thrown in ice-cold water. She hung up. She hadn’t really paid attention to the no cell phones signs posted on all the corkboards, but they were there. The phone buzzed in her hands, the caller ID stating “Home,” and she pushed the off button. She never cut Grace off before. The woman reveled in telling Maeva what a horrible person she was. She tilted her head back, looking at the crenellated light covers.