TWENTY-SIX
We are at the mine entrance when I hear them. My ears might be the one part of my body that’s stronger than Matt’s. I have to stop him. He’s preparing to arm Telar grenades and bring the walls down behind us, sealing us inside with the others.
“There are three Telar above us, on the other side of this hill,” I say.
“I don’t hear them.”
“They’re there.”
“I don’t care. Whatever’s out there has to stay out there. We have to block the entrance.”
I grab Matt’s grenade to stop him. “What if it’s not gas but a virus of some kind? We could already be infected. We could carry it straight to the others.”
“It feels like an external agent.”
“That’s because it’s driving us crazy. Listen to me. I never noticed these Telar before until we got this close. They must have been either hiding underground or they’re wearing something that blocks their heartbeats and breathing.”
“Your point?”
“I think they’ve been here awhile. They might have been given orders to observe the battle, and if it started to go against them, they might have had instructions to release this toxin or virus or whatever it is.”
“More the reason to seal this door now.”
“No. Think this through, Matt. We have to know if we’re infected or not. I don’t see anyone alive on the battlefield. I’m pretty sure these three just released this thing. That means they’ll know what it is. They might even have a way to treat it.” I turn. “I have to go after them.”
He stops me. “If you’re wrong, you’re leaving Teri and the others open to a greater chance of contamination.”
“Seal the entrance if I’m gone more than three minutes.”
“I can’t leave you out here.” He wipes at my bleeding face, and I feel the pain of a dozen popping blisters. “You’re sicker than me. I’ll go after them.”
“You know the Telar better than anyone, and you’re stronger than me. I’m more expendable. It’s a fact. We’re talking about the safety of the world here. Let’s stop arguing and let me go.”
“Three minutes, no more.”
Carrying a single laser rifle, I rush away from the mine entrance and scurry around the side of the peak. Now that I know the Telar are there, it’s not hard for me to get a fix on them. I surprise them in a ravine not half a mile from the mine. The two females react instantly, firing lasers at me—continuous beams. I have to twist and turn to dodge them, but I finally manage to get off two shots that hit them square in the chests. Their hearts explode, and they go down. I’m on the third one, a guy who looks twenty, before he can shoot. He freezes when I appear—he appears to be the weak link in the group. He wears thick glasses and has a facial twitch. He is not exactly a poster boy for immortals. I don’t care, I don’t have a lot of time to talk. I point my laser at his head.
“Do you know who I am?” I ask.
He’s scared. He seems younger than the rest. “Yes.”
“You released an agent in the air a few minutes ago. What is it? A virus or a toxin?”
He stutters. “I . . . I can’t talk about it.”
I drop the rifle and grab him by the throat.
“You say you know me. You must know I’m a vampire. You must know I can make other vampires by putting my blood in people. I’m going to do that to you right now. Then you’ll live in a constant tormenting thirst. You’ll spend eternity craving blood. You’ll walk the earth feeding from thousands, and it will never be enough.”
I go to bite his neck. He screams.
“Stop! Please stop! I don’t want to be a vampire!”
I relax my grip. “Then tell me what I want to know.”
“If I do, will you let me go?”
“I might.”
“That’s no answer.”
I squeeze him tighter. “Damn you! You will be a vampire!”
He bursts out crying. “I shouldn’t be here! I’m a scientist!”
“Did you help develop this thing that’s causing these blisters?”
“Yes. No! I just helped test it. I never thought it would be used.”
“Tell me what it is. I’m running out of patience.”
“You asked if it’s a virus or toxin. It’s both.”
“How can it be both?”
“I can explain, but I need time. Look, it’s extremely contagious. One part in a billion can cause your skin to blister. But when you inhale it, and it enters your blood, it begins to multiply.”
I feel I’ll go mad from the itching. I interrupt.
“Are you the one who released it?”
“No.” He points to one of the women I killed. “She did.”
“When?”
“A few minutes ago. Our commander ordered her to—”
“Shut up. You’re not infected. Why? Do you have a vaccine? A cure?”
“This pathogen is unlike anything the world has ever seen before.”
I feel my desperation rising. The illness affects my mental state, and I have to fight not to scream. “Damn it. Do you have a vaccine on you or not?”
“Yes.” He points to the same dead women. “She has a vial of it in her pack.”
I release him and search her backpack. She has a vial with a clear fluid with the label X6X6 on it. “Is this the vaccine?” I ask.
“That’s the pathogen. Look in the other pocket.”
The other pocket has a vial of blue liquid with the label T-11 on it. There’s also a packet of syringes. I rip one free. “How much vaccine do I need to stop it?” I ask.
“Ten milligrams works on most humans.”
“I’m not human. I’ll try ten anyway.” Stabbing the vial with the needle, I withdraw the milky fluid and prepare to inject it in my arm. “Is it better taken intravenously?”
“It will work faster, yes.”
“You better not be lying.” I shoot it into my vein and wait. I know I have no time, but I let a minute go by. Then I notice the itching is less and the blisters are shrinking. “How many can I treat with this vial?” I ask, waving the T-11.
“Fifty people.”
I hold up the X6X6 bottle. “How many can I infect with this?”
“Good God. How could you develop such a thing?” He goes to answer, and I stop him. No time. I pick up the laser. “You deserve to die.”
He holds out his hands. “I’ve answered all your questions. Please don’t kill me. I . . . I . . . I cured you!”
“So you have. Come with me.”
“What? I can’t do that.”
“Come with me or die.”
He decides to accompany me. We rush back to the cave. Matt is relieved to see me, although he’s not happy I have brought company. His face oozes red fluid, and his grenade is covered in a film of blood from his blistered palm.
“I was just about to blow it,” he says.
“I know. Matt, this is . . . Who are you?”
“Charles Legart. My friends call me Charlie.”
“Charlie has a vaccine for us. It works. Let me give you a shot.” I take out a fresh syringe and stab the vial of T-11.
“Wait! How do you know you can trust this guy?”
“He’s a scientist. He doesn’t belong here. Stick out your arm.”
Matt does as he’s told. He has large, healthy veins. I inject him.
Charlie pales as he stares at Matt. “You’re the Abomination.”
Matt smiles through his pain. “Everything you’ve heard about me is true.”
“Are there any other secretly placed Telar in this area?” I ask Charlie.
“Not that I know of.”
I turn to Matt. “Give me the grenade—I’m feeling better already. I’ll set it.”
Matt doesn’t argue. He staggers as he herds Charlie deeper into the mine. I give them a head start, then set the timer for fifteen seconds and arm the grenade. Knowing the shock wave will be focused by the walls of the cave, I run after them as fast as I can. The blast is strong, deafening, I’m almost knocked off my feet. Charlie and Matt are flattened. I help them up.
“My blisters are beginning to go away,” Matt says.
“T-11 is the perfect antidote for X6X6,” Charlie boasts.
“Can you produce more T-11?” I ask.
Charlie looks nervous. “No. I mean, I never worked on the vaccine. That’s a whole other line of research.”
“You must have some idea of how it works,” Matt says.
Charlie shakes his head. “I’m afraid not.”
Matt turns to me. “Get rid of him.”
Charlie perks up. “But I’m a chemist, a biochemist, and a geneticist. I can break it down to its component parts.”
I look at Charlie and sigh. “We’ll keep him alive for now. But if you fail us, I’ll have you for supper.”
“Dessert,” Matt suggests. “Eat him alive.”
“That sounds wonderful,” I agree.
Poor Charlie is left speechless.
We reach our friends minutes later, and I give them each an injection of T-11. It’s fortunate I went back for Charlie, for their sakes. Each of them is showing signs of the infection. Shanti, in particular, is suffering with the skin on the reconstructed portions of her face. Seymour questions Charlie but is not happy with his answers.
“No virus can incubate this fast,” he says. “It’s impossible.”
“You’re right,” Charlie says. “But X6X6 has two components. It’s a toxin and a virus. The blisters are caused by the toxic aspects.”
“We’re over a mile underground,” Seymour argues. “How could it have infected us?”
Charlie frowns. “It’s highly contagious. But I must admit I’m surprised you three show symptoms.”
His answer is not reassuring.
Yet on the whole the gang is relieved. It shows in the way we casually chat as we hike toward the other end of the mine, where a carefully buried helicopter should be waiting for us just outside. We have withstood a brutal attack and emerged without casualties. It’s true it will take me time to recover from the death cry of the Telar army, but I blame Haru and not Matt’s thousands of land mines for those soldier’s deaths. It’s my hope we’ve given the Telar a black eye that will make them hesitate to go ahead with their genocide plan. If I was in Haru’s shoes, I’d be uneasy knowing we had obtained samples of X6X6 and T-11. And he will know, once his people examine the area.
The mine proves to be more of a maze than I anticipated, with many twists and turns and changes in altitude. For the first hour we climb, then we reach steep sections where the human members of our party have to use ropes to get down. Matt isn’t troubled by the dusty floor or the creaking walls and ceiling. He says the mine has lasted over a hundred years and it won’t collapse on us now.
Finally, in the middle of the night, we turn a corner and find a small circular opening through which we see the stars. Minutes later we’re outside and enjoying the fresh air of a thick grove of trees. I estimate we’re at least six miles from Matt’s old house. We hike a hundred yards down a slope to what appears to be a tranquil meadow. But Matt surprises everyone, except me, when he tugs on the grass and it pulls away like a carpet. Beneath it are a series of long boards, and under them is the helicopter.
Matt has thought of everything. There’s a tall ladder the others can use to climb down. But now that we’re out in the open, even in the pitch dark, Matt urges us to hurry. I take him aside as the others climb in the helicopter.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Nothing.”
“Your mood has changed.”
He taps his closed laptop. “I’ve lost contact with my other copter. I have to assume it was shot down.”
I nod to the helicopter. “What sort of weapons does this baby have?”
“We’ll ditch it as soon as we’re clear of the area.”
Matt is doubtful. “I’d like to get to Denver. I have contacts there. It will be easier for us to disappear.”
“We don’t know what kind of arrangements the Telar made to launch those planes. For all we know the governor of Colorado works with them.”
“Haru took a beating. I’m hoping he’s busy with damage control.”
“He’s busy looking for us. Ditch the copter quickly. That’s my advice.”
The helicopter has the clean oil scent of having been recently serviced. We take off straight up, and once clear of the trees Matt heads north toward Denver. Mountains rise up in front of us and he’s forced to climb, but like in Switzerland, he stays near the ground. For the most part we fly above the tree line.
There’s a harsh beauty to the rocky terrain. The barren soil has a rusty tinge to it, and I’m reminded of photos I’ve studied of the Martian landscape. But the illusion is destroyed by the small lakes we frequently fly over. Wide sheets of ice float on the surface of these isolated ponds, and I know the water must be cold.
We’re in the air an hour when an alarm sounds.
“What is it?” I ask, sitting beside Matt in the copilot’s seat.
“Someone’s trying to acquire us on their radar,” he says.
“Just a moment.” Matt swerves behind a steep peak. The alarm stops. Matt slows into a hovering position. “For this peak to block their radar, they must be flying at a similar altitude. We’re being chased by a helicopter.”
“This type of radar . . . what is it?” I ask.
“Whoever they are, they’re trying to lock on weapons.”
“It’s the Telar.”
Matt nods, grim. “You were right. I should have set us down earlier.” The alarm comes back on. “Damn.”
I check outside the windows. “I don’t see them. And it’s hard to hear over our own rotors. How far back do you think they are?”
“Impossible to tell. They’re not showing on our radar. I suspect they’re in an Apache.”
“Any way you can beat them in a dogfight?”
“None.”
“Then the rest of us should get out.”
“If I land, it will be like sending up a flare to our position.”
“I’m not talking about landing.” I raise my voice so the others can hear. “We’re being followed. In a minute or two, we’re going to circle a peak and drop off their radar for a few seconds. Then we’re going to leap into one of those lakes below.”
“The water down there is close to freezing,” Seymour says.
“We don’t have the choice of a nice warm desert lake.”
Seymour understands. “You did this when you escaped with Joel.”
I nod. “It worked then, it will work now.”
“You’re going to have to time your jumps perfectly,” Matt says. “I can’t slow down, or they’ll guess what you’re up to.”
I speak in a soft voice to Matt. “You know what to do?”
“Leap out at the last second if they fire a missile.”
“Yeah. Try to be over a lake. You can stay underwater, hug the floor until they leave the area.”
“I’ll be okay, Sita. Just take care of . . . the others.”
“I will. Where should we meet?”
“Evanston. It’s a small town due east of here. 1244 Pine Street.”
“Got it. Good luck.”
“Same to you.”
Moving into the rear of the helicopter, I throw open the side door and huddle with the others. Charlie goes to complain, but I hush him. I need an unobstructed view of the night terrain. We’re doing close to a hundred miles an hour. The wind howls, and the gang presses closer together to stay warm.
“This isn’t as hard as it looks,” I say. “I’ll choose a lake deep enough to absorb our fall. The water will be cold, sure, it will be a shock when you hit the surface. But none of us will have to swim far to reach the shore. The cold can actually work in our favor. They can be straight above us and we’ll be invisible on their infrared scopes. The main thing is we jump when I say jump. If just one of us hesitates, we can end up missing the lake and landing on rocks. Questions?”
“I can’t swim,” Charlie says.
“How old are you, Charles?”
“Two hundred years.”
“Then it’s time you learned. You’re Telar. Paddle with your arms and kick with your legs and you’ll be fine.” We round a narrow peak and I see a lake two miles up ahead. Luck seems to favor us. The radar alarm falls silent. I point out the door. “That’s our lake. Shanti, take my hand. We’re going first. Teri, hold on to Seymour, and follow us. Charlie . . . try not to drown.”
Seconds go by, the lake draws near, sprinkled with thin sheets of ice. Most of the surface is exposed, and I can see the lake floor. It looks plenty deep—I’m not worried. Shanti’s fingers are cold in my warm palm. I hold on to her because I feel she’s the most delicate.
“Scared?” I say to Shanti.
“A little. I’m glad I’m going with you.”
I speak to Teri. “This is like the Olympic finals all over again.”
Teri shivers. “This is worse.”
We pass the edge of the lake. Matt slows slightly.
I raise my voice so everyone can hear. “Shanti and I will jump on the count of three. Teri and Seymour will follow immediately. Then Charlie. One . . . two . . . three!”
I yank Shanti out the helicopter and switch her into my arms as we fall, cradling her like a child. Matt has brought us in low, fifty feet above the water. The short drop is not a problem—it’s our forward momentum. In the last instant, I pull Shanti close to my chest and turn to absorb the impact.
We crash through a layer of ice and plunge down twenty feet. The ice is only an inch thick, but it’s fortunate I hit it first. At this speed, it feels like a brick wall. The water’s practically the same temperature as the ice. There’s pressure, too; I have to pop my ears. But Shanti flashes me a thumbs-up in the icy darkness. She knows I will take care of her.
I steer away from the sheet of ice, and we reach the surface in seconds. Shanti can swim, but I insist on towing her on her back. In less than a minute, we’re safe on the shore. But I have no time to warm her limbs. I hear moans coming from farther out on the lake and know Teri’s in trouble.
“Stay here,” I order Shanti as I run and dive back in the water. I reach Teri and Seymour quickly, but the situation is not good. Seymour is struggling to keep her head above the water, and Teri appears to be in shock.
“We separated in the air,” Seymour gasps. “She hit the ice. I think her leg’s broken.”
Teri’s right leg is not merely broken, it’s shattered. Even in the night, in the black water, I see her thigh bone has pierced the skin. She’s bleeding heavily. I fear the femoral artery that runs the length of the leg has ruptured. If that’s the case, she doesn’t have long to live.
“I need to take care of her,” I tell Seymour. “Can you make it to shore on your own?”
He shivers badly. “I can make it. Don’t worry about me.”
Turning Teri on her back and slipping my arm around her chest, the same way I did with Shanti, I pump with all the strength in my legs. I’m so frantic to reach the shore, I send out wide waves across the lake. Shanti and Charlie are waiting for me where the rocky soil and the cold water meet. I stand upright and sweep Teri into my arms. Charlie points to the side of a nearby peak.
“There’s a cave up there where we can take shelter,” he says, pulling out a pocket lighter and handing it to me. “It’s deep—you can light a fire and no one will see you. I’ll collect driftwood and meet you there in a few minutes.”
“Thank you, Charles. Please hurry,” I say.
Holding Teri tight, I run to the cave, leaving Shanti behind. It has been used before by backpackers, but that was years ago. There are a few thin logs and dried branches buried in the back. Setting Teri down, I gather what wood I have and light it. The yellow light and feeble warmth are enough to wake Teri from her daze. I kneel on her right side, and she opens her eyes.
“Alisa,” she says, groaning in pain. “It hurts . . . I’m so cold.”
“I know, honey. You’ve broken your leg. But I can help you.” I tear her pants leg in one swift stroke and examine her wound more closely. The break is ugly; the ends of the bone are jagged. She’s bleeding heavily, but I suspect the femoral artery has not ripped in half, or she’d be dead already. Still, for her to be losing this much blood, it must have some kind of tear in it.
“I’m sorry,” she moans. “I tried to hit the water. But there was ice. Ouch!”
“It’s okay, Teri. You’re going to be okay.” I pull off my shirt and tear it into long strips. I tie three around her leg, at the top, near her hip, using the material as tourniquets. Immediately the blood flow slows, but it is nowhere close to stopping. Part of my problem is I don’t know how much blood she lost in the water. I fear it was a lot. She’s deathly pale, and for a human who usually has a powerful pulse, her heartbeat is weak. My daughter is an Olympic champion, after all.
I cannot help thinking she is mine.
I cannot bear the thought of losing her.
“Listen to my voice, Teri.” I put my left hand over her forehead and gently touch her wound with my right hand. “Just listen to what I say. You might feel a magnetism in your forehead. That’s okay, it’s a healing energy, it will help take away the pain. Now close your eyes and imagine the pain is dissolving as your body does everything it can to fix your sore leg. This is a very old practice. We call on the body to heal itself, and the body responds. Can you hear me?”
“Yes,” she mumbles, as if from far away. Her eyes are shut, and her breathing has taken on a better rhythm. Even her bleeding has slowed, but it has not stopped.
“Feel yourself fill with a warm yellow light. It’s like the light of this fire. It’s your fire, the fire of your life. It’s the same fire that gives you the strength to run fast and far. Let this fire heal your leg.”
“My leg,” she whispers.
“Good, you’re doing good,” I whisper. But my psychic abilities can only help her so much. She needs surgery, and she needs my blood. Careful not to open her wound further, I slip my right fingers in the cut and feel for her pulsing artery. What I find devastates me. The trauma of the break has caused her artery to balloon. Besides having a slight tear in the artery, it’s on the verge of popping. If that happens, she’ll bleed out in seconds.
Quickly, I remove my fingers, bite the tip of each one so my blood drips out, and slip them back in the wound, around the injured artery. The small tear responds to my blood. I feel it struggle to knit together, to close. But the balloon portion of the artery pounds harder. The bubble of tissue grows. I don’t understand it. It’s like a portion of her body accepts my blood, while another portion rejects it. I’m not sure what to do. Pulling my fingers out, I sit back on my legs, my left hand still covering her forehead.
“How do you feel, Teri?” I ask gently.
Her eyes stay shut. She speaks in a faint whisper.
“Pain . . . Cold . . . Love.”
I wipe away a tear. “You feel love?”
“I love you, Sita. I know that’s your real name.”
“I love you too, Teri. You’re going to be okay.”
“I feel . . . dying.” Her voice fades. “Death.”
She passes out. Carefully, I press the ends of her bone together and push them back in her leg, trying above all else not to add to the pressure on the artery. Then I take my remaining two strips of cloth and tie them around her leg, directly over the wound, hoping to hold the bone in place. Later, if I decide to give her more blood, I can remove the bandages.
Shanti and Charlie enter the cave carrying armfuls of what looks like driftwood. I have them put half on the fire and save the other half for later.
“Where’s Seymour?” I ask.
“He’s coming,” Shanti replies. “He barely made it to shore. He’s cold.”
I turn to Charlie. “Go help him. Carry him if you have to.”
Charlie runs out the cave. Shanti sits on the other side of Teri.
“How is she?” she asks.
“Not good.”
“Will she live?”
“I don’t know.”
“Can you use your . . . powers to help her?”
Shanti knows I’m not human. But she doesn’t know what I can and cannot do. “I’m trying. But I don’t know if it will be enough.”
“We have cells. They’re still working. I can pick up a signal outside. We can call for help.”
“The Telar will pick up any call we make to a hospital.”
“But if it’s a choice between Teri dying—”
“I know, Shanti, I know. Let me think for a minute.”
Charlie soon returns with Seymour. My old friend is shaking badly. We stretch him out beside the fire. He has a bad case of hypothermia, but he’s not injured. He points a trembling hand at Teri.
“Tell me,” he mumbles.
“Her leg is smashed. She’s lost a lot of blood. The artery in her leg is about to pop.”
“Fix her,” Seymour says.
“I don’t know if I can.”
“You can,” he insists, before he blacks out.
Time is not on Teri’s side. I have decisions to make. Standing, I ask Shanti to give me her cell, and I hurry to the cave entrance. From there I try to call Matt. He has two cells on him at all times. Two cells that can withstand incredible punishment without failing. The connection between our phones and his is secure. It can’t be intercepted. But I can’t reach him on either of his cells. That is bad. It means his helicopter was probably shot down, with him in it.
But I’m not willing to accept he’s dead. He’s Yaksha’s son, and the child of the most ancient Telar. The clothes on his body could be burned to ash and he would survive. Even if his helicopter exploded all around him, he could take it. I must assume he’s alive and that he’s heading for 1244 Pine Street, Evanston.
I walk back in the cave. Teri and Seymour are both unconscious. I’m not worried about my old friend, but Teri continues to lose blood. She’s going into shock.
I explain to Charlie and Shanti about Evanston, how it is twenty miles due east of our current position. I tell them to hike in that direction as fast as they can. I tell Charlie he can carry Shanti part of the way, if it speeds things up. Or if they run into campers, they can ask for help to reach the town. But I assure them that Matt will be waiting for them in a house there.
“What do we tell Matt?” Shanti asks.
“Describe Teri’s condition. Tell him to get help and come here. Or, if he thinks it’s safe, to get hold of another helicopter and fly it here.” I turn to Charlie. “You haven’t known us long, but I think you realize all the stories you’ve heard about us are lies.”
He nods. “You seem like good people.”
“You can call Haru when you locate Matt and be the big hero to the Telar. But as a group the Telar are sick, and I think you know that too. I need to hear it straight out, and I will know if you’re telling the truth or not. Are you with us, or are you with them?”
He doesn’t hesitate. “I’m with you.”
I pat his back. “I’m proud of you, Charlie. Take good care of Shanti.”
Again, Shanti corners me before she leaves.
“Charlie can go without me. I’ll just slow him down.”
I shake my head. “Charlie likes you, I can tell. He’s convinced he should help us, but if we leave him to wander alone in the night, he might change his mind. Your company gives him moral strength.”
Shanti leans closer. “What if you’re attacked?”
“I have to risk it.”
“You keep risking it. Is that smart?”
“I have to be alone with Teri. I can do more if we’re alone.”
“But Seymour—”
“Go, Shanti. It’s for the best.”
She’s doubtful. She has her own intuition. I sense it in her, and she has confidence in her own ability. What worries me is that it might be more accurate than my own, particularly in this case. Yet she obeys me, as usual, and leaves with Charlie.
I turn my attention back to Teri. I cannot leave the tourniquets in place forever, at least not this tight. They are cutting off the blood flow to her leg and the pressure on her artery, but her leg will eventually begin to die without enough blood. I’m caught in a catch-22. Whatever I do to help her can also hurt her.
I loosen the tourniquets, I do not remove them. But I take off the two bandages and again slip my fingertips inside to feel how the femoral artery is doing. The original tear has healed, but another has formed at the base of the balloon. That’s terrible, it’s absolutely the worst thing that could happen. It means the artery is going to burst and she is going to die.
“Teri,” I cry. “What should I do?”
To my amazement, she opens her eyes. She is groggy, but she heard me, and she seems to understand my dilemma. “It doesn’t matter,” she says so softly even I have to lean closer to hear. She’s so near death, the words could be thoughts.
“What doesn’t matter, Teri?” I ask.
“What I saw . . . London.”
“You mean at the motel. It doesn’t matter what you saw there?”
“You’re good . . . You strive for goodness.”
“Thank you. That means a lot to me.”
“But I cannot be you . . . like you.”
I frown. “Do you know what you’re saying?”
“Dying . . . Let me die.”
“No. I won’t let you die.”
“Let me go. . . . I can’t be like you. . . . The blood . . . No. . . . Never.”
Those are her last words. She passes out, and I watch as tremors shake the length of her body. The fire is strong, but she has lost too much blood to get warm. Her pulse is ragged. Her heart doesn’t have enough liquid to pump. Even if the artery doesn’t burst, she’ll die. Her breathing has switched back to a painful pant. Her organs are shutting down.
I tear the top of my fingers and slip them back around her artery. It’s strange—before the trials, before the Olympics, her body gladly drank up my blood. But now it’s as if her system is wary of me. As if her blood knows what she saw in London, and it recoils from the idea of being contaminated by a vampire. That’s how the balloon in her artery reacts to my help. It pounds madly, likes it’s threatening to pop.
To stop me from changing her.
She knows she’s dying. She told me to let her die.
All who are born die. All who die will be reborn.
The wise do not grieve over the inevitable.
Krishna taught me that. Why can’t I listen?
“Because I love her,” I tell myself.
No. That’s only part of it. The minor part.
“Because it doesn’t have to be this way.”
If I wait, if the artery pops, I won’t have time to change her. She’ll bleed out. She’ll die in my arms. Teri, my daughter, will be dead, gone, finished. I can’t imagine it, and maybe because my mind refuses to accept the possibility, I refuse to let it happen.
“But she asked you to let her be,” I tell myself.
Those are my last words for the night. I can no longer speak, I can no longer think. My grief is too great. All I know is that if she dies, I’ll never love again, and I’ll have no reason to live.
The fire burns low. The night grows cold.