Wildwood

12. Enemies

EnemiesDana sits across from me, her left leg propped on her right knee. Her foot is twitching twice as fast as the tic toc from the second hand on a clock. Her eyes roam the room. I can tell her mind is a million miles away. I can’t imagine what all she’s seen back at Wildwood. I’m grateful I don’t have a memory of it burning down, nor a picture of what it looks like now.

“So they’re keeping you in a soft cast for a while longer?” she asks after a long pause.

“They just want to keep an eye on the incision overnight and make sure it’s not looking infected,” I say, keeping both legs straight and still. “They’ll put on a hard cast in the morning.”

“Okay. That’s good.”

Silence swallows up the room again.

“Dana… what’s wrong?” I finally ask. Dana looks at me. Her fingers drum a rhythm on the arm rest.

“I… I went for a job interview today. Just in case. Wildwood probably isn’t going to reopen for at least a year, if ever. I have to find work. I have bills. I have—”

“Dana,” I cut her off. “You don’t need to justify anything to me. I couldn’t make myself go back to Wildwood after Dad’s accident, even when all I wanted to do was walk those aisles and be with my horse. I can’t imagine being back there with no barn and no horses. I’m honestly not sure I will go back,” I whisper, suddenly overwhelmed with emotion.

“I’m not sure I can go back again. The smell, Tanzy. It’s… They still haven’t found any remains, but I swear it smells like death.”

“It’s time for us to move forward,” I say softly. “All of us. We can’t keep treading water. We can’t let our lives stall on the tracks. We both still have so much more to do, don’t we? Wildwood was my father’s dream, and I will keep memories close to my heart. But he isn’t there anymore. Even… even if he is physically. He isn’t there.” These thoughts that have plagued my brain for the last few months at last become sound; they become the truth. It is a boulder lifted from my shoulders, and placed briefly upon my chest, yet somehow the pressure is easier to carry this way.

“I know.” Dana’s eyes brim with tears.

I look at her, and I repeat the words my father told me the day he died:

“Whatever it is that makes you happy to get out of bed in the morning, you go after it, and don’t you let anyone or anything stop you. Distance, time, stepping stones, setbacks–they’re all a part of it. You can make mistakes. You can take wrong turns and the long way. But if you get your sights set on something, something that really, truly moves you, don’t you dare quit. You promise me?”

“I promise,” she answers, smiling. “It’s still not a done deal, but it felt like a good interview, and it’s a great opportunity.”

“Tell me about it,” I say, and rest against my pillows as she begins to talk.

Once Dana leaves, I dial the number for my house again, just like I do every time I’m alone for long enough, and then let the phone ring for two solid minutes before hanging up. I check the clock, noting the time, and plan to call again in an hour.

“I found a new flavor for you,” Asher says, appearing in my room.

“I didn’t hear you come in.” The similarity to my mother is bittersweet. He breaks the seal on the bottle before handing it to me. “Thanks,” I say. He turns his back to me, scrolling through a series of notes on the computer while I swallow down the medicine, which isn’t as bad as last night.

“Your red blood cell count is up. That’s good,” he says. “Shouldn’t be long, now.”

“I’m hoping to be out of here soon.” It takes all of my self-control to keep my legs still under my sheet. I watch him, expecting him to leave, but he paces around my room like a ghost, silent and fluid. His face is angled slightly to the ground, as if he's studying the floor immediately in front of his feet. “Is… everything okay?”

“I’m tired of waiting.” He pulls off his glasses and stares straight at me. His eyes are colorless, white marbles dropped into his sockets. It's impossible to tell what he's looking at. My heart pounds, and I suck in a breath. “Is anything coming back to you yet, Spera?” he asks in a growl. His body blurs at its edges, and in the center of his chest, inky black bleeds outward.

“This isn’t real. This isn’t real.” I whisper, gasping, pinning myself to the back of my bed.

“You in this mortal body. That’s what isn’t real. It’s time for you to come home,” he growls, his voice echoing as his form fades into a shadow, and dissolves into the darkness of my room. I swing my legs over the side of the bed. My heartbeat pounds in my ears. Run. Run. Get out of here now. The thoughts flood my nervous system. Adrenaline pours into my blood stream. My body hums. I touch my toes to the ground. My calves tremble. To get to the door, I’m going to have to run straight through the shadows. Will I even be able to walk without falling? The wrap on my leg is flexible and light. It shouldn’t stop me. I push off the bed, and stand up. My leg threatens to buckle, but it holds, me up. I steady just as two more shadows solidify on either side of the door. Instinct bursts inside of me, propelling me forward. I punch off the ground and leap through the sliver of a gap between them. Nurses startle as I land in the hallway.

“Tanzy! Stop!” I hear someone shout from behind me. I can’t stop. Any of the staff here could be another shadow, hiding behind a human face. Are these the creatures who live in the Unseen world? How can I outrun a shadow? How can I trust anyone I see? I catch sight of an exit sign on the other side of the nurses’ station. I take off down the hallway. A nurse steps in front of me, arms spread wide. I dive to the left, and throw myself over the desk, cracking my ribs against the side before landing on my feet. Disoriented and grunting for air, I find the sign again. I sprint through the counters, squeezing between the last desk and the wall, and then stumble through the door and into a wide corridor.

Elevators appear to my right, and a sign for a stairwell is posted on the wall just beyond them. I push the “UP” button for the elevator, and then run past it to the stairwell. I gently push open the door to the stairs and slip through, then ease it shut so it doesn’t make a sound. I flatten my back against the wall, and silently tip toe down the stairs.

On the next floor down, the door slams open and two people in white coats enter the stairwell. I freeze in my tracks and hold my breath. Pain laces up my sides and pulls tight. The doctors start up the stairs. Suddenly their pagers chirp on their hips. They stop talking, glance at their pagers and turn around, backtracking the way they came.

Where am I going to go? I start down, when a hand grabs my arm. I whirl around, jerking my arm free. Lucas stands there, his fingers on his lips.

“Not that way,” he whispers as he points up. He grabs my hand and sprints up the stairs. We exit the stairs on the top floor. The long hallway is dark and empty, and checkered with closed doors. We duck inside a closet. He grabs a blanket, two pairs of scrubs, and a surgical cap.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, gasping for air.

“Helping you.”

“I don’t even know what I’m doing.”

“You look a lot like you’re trying to leave. I’m good at leaving. Practically an expert.”

“Don’t you need to know why?”

“Hospitals are freaky as hell, and you look like you just saw a ghost. Plus you’re up and running around. Looks to me like it’s time to go. Now shut up and put these on.” He hands me a set of scrubs and a surgical cap. He steps into the hallway, pulling the door semi-closed. I pull off the hospital gown, toss it into the corner, and step into the scrubs. My limbs throb with effort and fatigue.

“How did you know where to find all this?”

“I told you. I wander,” he hisses. “I like to know my way around.”

I step out. He’s changed into scrubs, too. He gives me a once over.

“You need shoes, or at least to look like you have them on,” he says. He grabs a pair of shoe protectors, and kneels down to secure them on my bare feet. “At least now it’s less obvious. Come on,” he says, and walks down the dark corridor to the opposite side. Windows line the far wall. He stops and peers out, studying the ground. We’re directly over the ambulance bay. An ambulance pulls in now, lights flashing. He takes my hand and hurries for another stairwell door.

“I’m going to stay a half-flight ahead of you. I stop, you stop. Got it?” he says, tugging me along.

“Got it,” I repeat.

“When we get to the E.R., we’ll separate. You walk out of the automatic doors to the far right. That’ll put you out at the ambulance bay. Hang right, stay against the wall, and walk straight back. The back parking lots are dead at night. You shouldn’t run into anyone back there.”

“You aren’t coming?” I ask.

“Not yet. I’m going to see what I can find out about how hard they’re going to look for you,” he says. He puts his hand in his pocket and pulls out his cell phone. “Keep this. I will call you if I find out anything.”

“Where should I go?” I ask.

“There’s a little garden behind the hospital. It’s not well kept, but there are bushes and ivy, and a little gazebo. You should have plenty of places to hide.”

“And then what?” I ask, desperation clawing up my throat.

“And then… then you come home with me. Just for tonight,” he says. I pull back and stare at his face, heart thudding in my chest.

“I can’t do that,” I say. “I barely know you.” Still, the want to tell him everything throbs in my mind. He saw those creatures at Wildwood; he saved my life. Will he believe everything else?

“But you do know me. You know exactly who I am.”

“I’ve known you for less than a week,” I sputter. “I never should’ve run out of that hospital room. There was a nurse who turned into… into pure darkness, Lucas. I swear it’s true. I’m not going crazy. I’m not. It was real. He gave me something. Last night, too. There was this surge inside of me, and I just had to run. It wasn’t even a choice. I just took off. I don’t know how to fix this. I’ve screwed up everything.” The expression on Lucas’s face shifts to something dark, and I can’t tell if it’s the flicker of the red lights from outside, or his mood.

“Everything was screwed up long before you came around. And for the record, you’re not crazy,” he says, and strokes the side of my face with his thumb. I stare at him, marveling at the novelty and familiarity his touch evokes from me. He drops his hand and steps back. “If you want to stay, then we can just walk back to your room. I’m sure people have freak-outs all the time in here.”

“I want to talk to Vanessa,” I say before I can stop myself. She’s the only person I am absolutely certain will believe me. She’ll know what to do.

“I can take you to her. I saw her downstairs.”

“What is she doing here in the middle of the night?” I wonder aloud, simultaneously grateful and suspicious. “What are you doing here in the middle of the night?”

“I… I can’t leave you here alone.” He shoves his hands in his back pockets. “You died in my arms, Tanzy. I didn’t tell you that before. I watched the paramedics bring you back. Then you died again when you first got here. I just feel like if I leave for too long, you’re going to die and not come back. I know you don’t remember any of that, and probably not much from the accident, but I remember it. And this is not going to end with you not coming back.” His eyes shine. “Not this time.” He lets out a hard exhale and drops his gaze, working his jaw side to side as if he’s trying not to cry.

“What happened to you, Lucas?” I ask, seeing the pain on his face, and wondering what memories must haunt him. Those same memories must be why he feels a responsibility to what happened to me. He and I might just be two of a kind in that regard. “You might not have scars now, but I think you used to. How did you get them?”

“I… You…”

“Tanzy!” Vanessa voice fills the room. “I heard you ran out of your room. What happened? Are you okay? What are you doing up here?” I whirl around, fresh adrenaline sprouting needles on my skin.

“I have to get out of here, Vanessa. Something is here. Something—” I pause, glancing at Lucas. “Something from the other side.”

“Come on, let’s go,” she says, and pushes the door behind her open.

“I don’t want to go back to the room.”

“Where do you want to go?” she asks gently.

“Home. Take me home.”

“Okay. I just need to sign a couple forms and you can walk out of here.” She steps back into the door, opening it wider. “Well, roll. You’re going to have to be in a wheel chair until we get to the car. It’s standard hospital procedure, and it’ll help reduce the number of questions we’re about to face.” She winks. I stare at her, unblinking, wondering how she can be calm enough to joke.

“And I can just go?”

“My husband isn’t going to be happy about it, but you’re an adult. You can refuse or stop treatment at any point. Come on, let’s go talk to him. He just had a big surgery go quite well, so he’s in a pretty good mood tonight. I’m going to have you go ahead and sit in a wheel chair though, just so we don’t have to try to explain why you’re standing.”

I look at Lucas. I have a startling urge to reach out for him, to touch his skin. Our eyes meet, and his expression turns solemn and resolved. He takes a small step backward.

“Be seeing you, Tanzy,” he says, and I follow Vanessa down the stairs.