5
Ember’s Hope
“Em . . . ber.” The word was weak, barely audible.
Ember’s head whipped back around. “Mom! I’m here, Mom! You’re talking!” Ember cried.
“Don’t wear . . .” Talesa’s voice faded out to a whisper.
“Mom! What? What shouldn’t I wear?”
“No . . . time . . .” her mom’s eyes were still closed, but her mouth quivered.
“Mom! Please! What are you saying?” She implored her mother to help her understand. “I need you to fully wake up, Mom . . . Mom!” A whoosh from behind distracted Ember from her mom’s labored whisper.
The unanticipated rush came from the automated door, blowing in a stubby medic with red hair cut in a smooth bowl shape. Go away. Ember’s heart was tumbling once again— an intrusion. Right when Mom was trying to tell her something important!
The medic, wearing a bri
