The Sound of Many Waters (36 page)

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. That was hundreds of years ago.”

The thought of being alive for so long sent fear into Zane. “What’s it like to live forever?”

Isa looked into his eyes. “It’s lonely.” Then she gazed down. “I carry within me the last blood of the Timucuans, and my other half comes from those who decimated them. Every day I can feel them fighting inside of me. I’m their last battlefield.” She looked at Zane again, this time with tears in her eyes. “That’s what it’s like.”

Zane sighed. “It’ll be hard for me to get used to living away from the ocean.”

“It won’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t have to stay here.”

“But your dad said I was sent here, sent here to guard the spring.”

“That’s what he believed at first, as did I. He asked me to stay hidden until we knew for sure. But then we realized that you are too good, that you don’t have the fire in your eyes.” Isa smiled and touched Zane’s hand. “That’s not a bad thing.”

“Then who will guard it? You?”

Isa shook her head. “No, not me. Now that my father is gone, I will leave soon. I want to experience a normal life. I want to die like everyone else.”

“Then who?”

The Taxman stood. “Me.”

Zane’s face went stark with shock. “You?”

The Taxman nodded. “That’s what Mr. Cowhead whispered to me down by the water. And I can’t deny that this spring, whatever the hell is in it, saved my goddamn life. If this thing got out into the world… take it from someone who has seen the worst in people, it would be a very bad thing.”

“What am I supposed to do?” said Zane. “I’m a fugitive.”

“I can take care of that with one phone call,” said The Taxman. “Kid, I have to tell you something. I didn’t give a damn about catching you or bringing Miguel Orellano to justice. I wanted that gold for myself.”

Zane felt a flush of anger, but he could see from the sadness on the man’s face that regret had torn him up. The Ta
x
man sat down on the porch steps and gazed at the clouds. “People died because of me.” He buried his head in his hands.

…………………………

A meld of elation and sadness whirled around in Zane as he drove Dominic’s sputtering old pickup truck down the road. Isa had tossed him the keys and asked him to promise that he would come back for a visit. He would think about it, he told her.

He took his foot off the accelerator as he passed
Café Risque
. He smiled when he saw Destiny’s old
Buick
in the parking lot. He recalled lying on its roof and staring at the universe and missing every chance to kiss her. Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be. He thought about Lucia. No one could ever r
e
place her. He stepped on the gas pedal.

Traffic swelled as he pulled into Gainesville. He found the
Spinner
and saw his father’s SUV parked in front of it. He hurried inside and searched the crowd until he saw his father si
t
ting at a table with some woman, but his father did not see him. Skip took a sip from a glass of ice water and said something to the woman. When the woman smiled and shifted her hair, Zane’s mouth dropped open.
Mom?

Zane wasn’t sure what shocked him the most—the fact that Skip and Samantha were sitting within fists’ reach of each other, or that Skip was not guzzling something hard. Samantha pulled Skip’s glass of ice water toward her and took a sip—out of the
same glass. Zane slunk away and fled through the exit.

Shands Hospital
was one of the most imposing buildings in town, and as Zane parked and looked up at it, nausea swirled in his stomach. He put his hand on the truck’s door handle but hesitated. His eyes came to a plastic water bottle in the cup holder. Someone had scribbled on it with a marker.
For Zane
, it read, and then below that,
For Ever
. He stared at the bottle for a long time.

The air inside the hospital lobby felt uncomfortably cold. Zane walked up to the receptionist. “Can I get the room number of a patient?”

“Certainly,” said the receptionist. “Why do you look familiar?”

“I’ve been here before.”

“Thought so. What’s the patient’s name?”

“Leather Heath—” Zane blushed. “Sorry, I mean Heather Reynolds.”

The receptionist typed, paused, and nodded. “Heather Reynolds. Hospice. Room 413.”

Zane tapped the floor of the elevator with his foot as it carried him to the fourth floor. He found room 413 and peaked through the open door. Leather Heather, gaunt and gray without her wig, lay in a hospital bed watching
Jeopardy
on the television.

“Who is George Thorogood?” she said, her voice a frail hiss.

“Who is Bruce Springsteen?” said a
Jeopardy
contestant.

“Oh, sorry,” said Alex Trebek. “The correct answer—who is George Thorogood.”

“Dumbass,” said Leather Heather.

Zane smiled. She hadn’t changed a bit.

“Excuse me,” said a voice. Zane spun around to see a female orderly pushing a food cart.

“It’s time for Ms. Reynolds’ dinner,” said the orderly.

“Can I bring it to her?” asked Zane. “I’m visiting.”

“Fine by me. I think you’re the first visitor she’s ever had.”

The orderly handed him a covered tray and continued down the hallway. Zane watched her go, and then he set the tray on the ground, uncovered it, and pulled the water bottle out of his pocket. He poured a few ounces into the mashed potatoes and stirred them, and then he drank half the milk and filled the glass back up with spring water.

“Dinnertime!” he said as he strode into Leather Heather’s room.

Without taking her eyes off the TV, Heather pointed at her bedside table. “It’s about time,” she said.

Zane nodded. “You’re right. It is.”

He pushed away a cluster of pill bottles to make room for the food tray, and one of the bottles tipped over.
OxyContin
, it read. He looked at it for a long time, and then he put the tray down.

“Be sure to drink your milk,” he said.

“Who are you, my mommy?” she said, still not looking at him. “What is infinity?”

“Sorry?”

“What is infinity is correct,” said Alex Trebek. “That puts you in the lead.”

Zane smiled and crept out of the room. He looked back one last time and watched Heather sip the milk. “Good girl.”

Zane took the stairs to the fifth floor. His breathing quickened as he walked down the familiar hallway, and when he heard the awful mechanical sound of the breathing machine, his heart battered against his chest and his palms went cla
m
my. Suddenly it came into view—Room 519. He put his hand on the doorknob and turned it. Taking a deep breath, he walked inside.

No matter how many times he had gone inside that room, he always lost his breath when he saw his love reposed like a sleeping princess in her dungeon full of monitors and medical equipment. A clear tube protruded from Lucia’s mouth and her chest swelled with each
phumph
of the ventilator. Her hair looked like it had been recently brushed, and a bouquet of fresh lilies sat in a vase beside the bed. Their fragrance was intense and nauseating—Lucia’s mother always brought lilies when she visited the hospital.

Zane touched Lucia’s face. “It’s me, Lu. Zane.”

She gave no reaction, but he was not expecting one. In the years since she had gone into the coma, he had never even seen her flinch. He always hoped, however, that she could hear him—that his words somehow infiltrated whatever dark emptiness she had fallen into.

“I miss you so much,” said Zane. His eyes welled with tears. “Forgive me.” He grabbed hold of the breathing tube and ripped it out of her mouth. An alarm blared from one of the monitors. Lucia’s chest sank like a deflating balloon.

A burly male nurse burst into the room and glared at Zane. “What are you doing?”

Zane held the water bottle to Lucia’s mouth. “It’s okay.” He tipped the bottle and sent the water cascading down her throat. The nurse lunged forward and batted the bottle out of Zane’s hand.

“You’ll kill her!” said the nurse. He pulled Zane away and together they crashed into the monitors and apparatuses, sending all of them—including the breathing m
a
chine—crashing to the floor. Pieces scattered everywhere.

A white-haired doctor and the female orderly ran into the room. The orderly attended to the breathing machine, frantically trying to reassemble it, while the doctor checked Lucia’s pulse. He looked at Zane and yelled, “Who the hell are you?”

“Please talk nice,” said Lucia.

Everyone looked toward the voice. The doctor’s jaw quivered. “Lucia?”

The orderly dropped part of the breathing machine, but no one turned to investigate the crash. The nurse, focused on the miracle, released his grip on Zane.

“Why’s everyone staring at me?” said Lucia, her eyes dreary, as if just waking from a nap. “What’s going on?”

Zane approached her. “You were in a coma.”

“How?”

“Because of me.”

She paused for a moment, and then something clicked. She took his hand in hers. “How long was I out?”

“Five years.”

“
Five years?
” Her eyebrows furrowed into that cute, serious look she always got when something puzzled her. “That’s a long time.”

“I know,” said Zane.

“I think I dreamt about you.”

“Good dreams or bad?”

“Good.”

Zane squeezed her hand. “Lu, I know you just woke up, but I have to ask you a question.”

“Okay.”

“There’s something I want us to do together in a few months.”

“What is it?”

“Have you ever seen baby sea turtles hatch?”

Lucia smiled. “No, never in my life.”

Sean Bloomfield is a third-generation Floridian and former fishing guide. He grew up on Florida’s Space Coast and studied creative writing and filmmaking at
The University of Tampa
. Working as a documentary filmmaker has helped him travel the world, and Sean has spent a substantial part of his life in such distant places as Bosnia-Herzegovina, New Zealand, Fiji, Brazil, Costa Rica, Croatia and Rwanda. Sean loves the ocean and spends most of his free time either on or in the water. He lives in Florida with his wife and kids.
The Sound of Many Waters
is Sean’s first novel, so please consider reviewing the book online and telling your family and friends about it.

Visit
www.seanbloomfield.com
to connect with the author, discuss the book, order more copies, and learn about the secrets and symbolism in
The Sound of Many Waters
. Was the novel based on fact? Will there be a sequel? Come and find out. Plus, answer three questions about the book for a chance to win a real Spanish treasure coin that was found in a shipwreck off the coast of Florida.