Lost Time (3 page)

“Mainly fluids and some nourishment. Most people find it difficult to eat and d-drink while they’re unconscious.” She doesn’t look at me.

I stare at the colorless liquid dripping into my vein. “What else?”

“Nothing dangerous, Diego. Painkiller
s—
and a mild antidepressant.”

I open my mouth to protest, but she doesn’t let me.

“You have over nineteen fractures, including five in one leg. If I wasn’t giving you medication, you’d be comatose with pain.”

I take a minute to think about it. There do seem to be monsters sloshing around in the back of my head, but I can’t seem to hold on to them long enough to feel any trepidation.

“Now that you’re awake,” she says, “I’ll give you control of the painkiller, and if you would prefer, I’ll have Lucy stop the antidepressant.”

“Thank you. Yes.” I force myself to look away from the IV. “Please go on. You were telling me about the bubble.”

She glances at her watch, but obliges. “There are eighty-three biodomes left in the Americas, 317 worldwide. Somewhere around 100,000 people survived the initial outbreak, but a number of biodomes weren’t finished and some that
were
finished didn’t seal properly.” She slides the chair back against the wall and then stands by my bed, her arms folded across her chest. “By the end of the year, less then 40,000 people were still alive.”

“In the whole world?”

“Yes. The vast majority are in biodomes in the US, Europe, Japan, and Australia, but the Russians have some giant underground city in the Urals too. We don’t have much contact with them, given all the finger pointing that went on after the nuke was launched, so we don’t have an exact count. The good news is most of the bubbles in the US were built to house 300 people, but the average is down below a hundred now, so we’ve plenty of room to grow.”

“Christ. That red-headed kid’s predictions were correct.”

“What predictions?”

I can feel sweat breaking out underneath my myriad casts. “Uh, you know, all those doomsayers from the last century warning about mankind doing himself in with nukes or bioweapons.”

“Right,” she says. “Okay, lights out. I’ll be back in the morning to check on you.”

“How many people survived here?”

“You mean the United States?” She glances at me, and I nod. “Somewhere around seven thousand, the majority in bubbles built in moderate climates along the coasts. As far as I know, this is the only one built at such a high altitude and so close to the mountains.”

For the second time I sense something familiar about her, but I can’t seem to grab it. “We’re in Colorado?”

“Yep. Next closest biodome is west of the Rockies near Salt Lake.” She gives me a skeptical look. “Are you starting to remember things?”

I shake my head, and then it comes to me. “You’re the street kid! The one who helped me save Isabel from the fire. I watched you break into that jewelry store, and then I convinced you and your friends to help me smash the kitten’s window in the hotel.”

She gives me a blank look.

“You saved all the animals. Don’t you remember?
War and peace
—
and Tolstoy? And goddamn Lucky?”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you’re talking about.” A worried look crosses her face. “Are you feeling disoriented?”

I stare at her, certain that I’m right.

Only in this universe it must have played out differently.

“Maybe a little,” I say. “It was a long time ago, and I guess I was hoping you might know something about...” I shrug. “Thanks again for saving my life, Dr. Kai.”

“Please call me Lani. And, once again, you’re welcome.” She looks at me for a minute, making some sort of decision. “But to be completely honest, there’s a more selfish reason.”

I give her the Spock eyebrow.

She turns away and fills up my water glass again. Then she picks up her clipboard, walks over to the door, and places her hand over the light switch. “In the nearly twenty years since Doomsday hit, you’re the only human being who has been Outside unprotected and lived to tell about it.”

I glance down at my body. “How do you know I’m not infected?”

“Everyone else died in a matter of minutes.”

“Shit. That sounds horrible.”

“It was.” She dims the lights. “Good night, Robinson Crusoe. Sleep well.” She shuts the door, and I hear the clipboard swinging on the hook outside.

One, two, three…

A split second later, I’m asleep.

Chapter 4

Lani: Lost and Found

A
fter I make sure that Shannon is settled in for the night at Mindy’s, I hurry back over to the clinic, a dark shadow hanging over me. The biodome is out of pain meds, and Miracle Man is going to have a long night ahead of him. A scavenging party went out over a week ago, and they should have been back by now, but every year they have to go farther, and every year they return with less.

What are we going to do when all the medicine is gone?

“Worry about the things you can control,” I say to myself, “and let the rest go.”

There’s a blizzard raging Outside tonight, and the aging biodome is moaning and creaking under the added force of the storm. Madders is out with the foraging party, but he assured me before he left that the damaged west wall would hold until replacement parts could be found and installed.

But he’s not here tonight if something goes wrong...

I stop and listen to the wind yanking on the loose piece of wall in sector four, slamming it against the weakened framework over and over. At least with the wind, we don’t have to worry about the weight of the snow on the
roof—
assuming the storm doesn’t tear the whole thing down tonight.

I hold my breath and count to ten, checking for the slight breeze that signals a breach in the dome.

The air is cold and still.

I offer up a plea to the mountain gods to keep those who are Outside safe and those who are inside alive for another night.

And then I force myself to keep walking, unable to shake the ominous feeling that our time is running out.

∞

“How’s he doing?” I ask as I enter the clinic.

Lucy is sitting at the nurses’ station, finishing the drug inventory, a traditional nurse’s hat pinned in her hair. Her face is drawn and tired, and I know the answer before she says a word.

“Well, doc, I’ve been giving him the over-the-counter drugs just like you said, but his fever is up, and he’s in a lot of pain. He won’t eat or drink, and he’s thrashing around so bad the IV won’t stay in.”

“Damn.”

She gives me a worried look. “And his demons are back.”

It’s been a long time since I had to watch someone suffer, and the thought brings up acid in the back of my throat. “I’ll stay with him tonight,” I say, forcing down images of anguished children crying out for their dead parents. “Go home and get some rest.”

“But you were up last night!” she says, crossing her arms. “And the last thing we need is for our only doctor to get s
i—”

“I’ll be fine, Lucy. See you in the morning.”

She looks like she’s going to protest, but exhaustion wins out. “Yes, ma’am. The tallies for everything we have left are right here.” She tucks a sheet of paper back into the box with the few remaining prescription meds. “Plenty of anti-malarial tablets should there be a sudden upswing in the mosquito population.”

I force a smile. “At least that’s one thing we don’t have to worry about.”

“Praise the Lord.”

“I’ll lock everything back up for you.”

She nods and starts collecting her things. “I may stop by the radio room and see if they have an update on the foraging party. We could sure use those drug
s—
and Becky’s help. Wake me up if you need relievin’? I ain’t slept well since Emmett passed, so it’s no bother.”

“Thank you, Lucy, I will. And could you pass on an evacuation order for sector four, please? Tell them I said it’s just a precaution. No need to panic people, but if the storm gets worse, and that weakened strut gives out, we won’t have enough masks for everyone.”

She gives me a tired smile. “They issued the order thirty minutes ago, and I suspect the bulkheads are being sealed even as we speak. They’re calling it a drill, but I don’t think anyone was fooled.”

“Good. Shannon is staying with Mindy, so let the council know our place is available if someone needs it?”

“Will do.” She ambles toward the door. “See you first thing in the morning, doc, and good luck.”

“Thanks, Lucy. Try to get some sleep.”

I tiptoe down the hall to Miracle Man’s room and push the door open a crack.

Lucy has left a small light on, and I can see Diego tossing about on the bed, the white plaster casts on his arms and legs leaving afterimages in the dim light.

It was twenty years ago that I lay in a similar bed, begging them to let me die. I was in the ICU when the bomb went off, the blast taking out a huge section of the biodome wall in sector four. The hospital had to be evacuated, and I was suddenly one among hundreds who had been maimed or burned by the explosion or the resulting fire. Due to my compromised immune syste
m—
or maybe my connection to Davi
d—
I had been given one of only a handful of private rooms in this makeshift clinic, but I could still hear the cries of the others out in the hallway, begging for water or morphine or death.

No matter how hard I try to erase that memory, I can still see Bella staring at me, her face bathed in the flickering shadows of the emergency lamps.

She didn’t even bother to come into the room. “She’ll live,” she said to no one in particular and added, “the ungrateful tramp.” I remember watching the celebrated doctor step back through the doorway, her bony white hand grabbing Lucy’s arm. “Change the bandages, but don’t give her any more pain meds. We’re going to need them for later.”

She was right, of course.

“No,” Diego calls out, banging his cast against the bedrail. “Iz, please. Don’t leave me!”

I take a clean washcloth out of the drawer, get it damp, and then sit down in the chair by Diego’s bed, wishing there was more I could do.

Who are you, and why are you here?

“Why did I wait so long?” His voice is weak, sobs slipping out around his labored words. “I need you, hun. Please don’t die on me!”

“Shh,” I say, dabbing at his feverish face. “I’m here now.”

He moans, pain twisting up his handsome face. “Oh god, not the babie
s—
they’re so beautiful, so perfec
t—
little Soleil’s lovely eyes and Lucas’ tiny hands. How could they be dead, Isabel?”

I stroke his cheek with the back of my hand. “Everything is going to be okay.”

“No!” He struggles against the twisted sheets, his clothes drenched with sweat and his hair matted against his face.

“Shh,” I say, placing the cool washcloth across his forehead. “Rest now.”

He grabs my wrist, his palm hot and sticky. “Don’t leave me, Iz!”

“I won’t. Go to sleep.” I use my other hand to sweep the tangled hair back from his handsome face. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

He sighs and then shuts his eyes, his hand still gripping my wrist. “I tried to get back to you, Iz. But they wouldn’t let me go.”

“I understand. Go to sleep, love.”

He entwines his fingers with mine, holding my hand against his feverish cheek. “You have to get to Dave. He can save you, Iz. Please. You need to leave now.”

I kiss him on the forehead and then put my head down next to his shoulder. “I did, Diego. I made it inside the biodome. We’re both safe now.”

He turns his head and looks at me, his eyes damp. “I love you, Iz.”

“Shh. Go to sleep. Everything will be better in the morning.”

He nods and his eyes flicker shut.

I lie in the darkness, the moans of the aging biodome like my own sobs of despair.

The hours pass, his feverish body wracked with tremors one minute and shuddering with chills the next. I try to give him more medication, but he refuses to let go of my hand, and I eventually give up and lie there next to him, both of us waiting for the storm to pass, both of us trying to believe that everything is going to be all right.

Chapter 5

Diego: Angels and Demons

T
here’s a soft knock on the door, and I rush to dry my face.

Lani walks in, clipboard in hand. “Good morning.” Her voice is chipper, but her eyes get big when she notices that I’ve been crying. She strides over to the window and busies herself opening the blinds while I attempt to regain control.

“I’m afraid the strongest painkiller we have left is aspirin,” she says. “But we do have plenty.” She holds up a small bottle of white pills, but I shake my head.

Maybe it would help with the pain in my body, but there’s nothing to be done about the pain in my heart. Isabel is dead, and everything I care about is gone. I walked away from the only woman I ever loved because I was stupid enough to think I could save her. She begged me not to go, not to abandon her, but I had to be the hero. In the end, all I did was seal her death warrant.

God, I’m tired of pretending to have something to live for.

I’ve been in this bed for thirteen days and nights, enough time to have a good long think about my life, and it’s pretty hard to come up with any future that doesn’t hold more suffering.

Lani comes over to my bed, her expression unreadable. “I apologize for barging in so early, but Lucy is concerned about you, and when Lucy worries, I take it seriously.” She glances at my face and then the pillow. “I’ll ask her to bring in some tissues. I think we can spare a box.”

I attempt to tell her I don’t want any more of her charity, but nothing comes out except a pathetic choking sound.

She pushes the hair back from my face and pulls an errant strand from between my lips. “I think you should take some of the aspirin. It will help with the pain.”

I look away, still unable to speak.

She lifts her hand and runs a finger down her clipboard. “We do have a few more antidepressants. Would you like me to get you one?”

I find my voice. “No. I told you, I don’t want any more happy drugs.”

She pulls a chair over from the corner and then sits down. “Okay. I can’t say I blame you. If you want to get better, at some point you’ll have to face reality, however painful that might be.”

I shut my eyes. “I don’t want to get better. I want to die.”

A scene from
The Andromeda Strain
runs through my head: Tumbleweeds blow across a desolate one-lane highway leading into an isolated town. It’s late summer, and the scene is dusty and hot. Dogs lie sprawled on the parched lawns and cats on threadbare porch swings, their mouths hanging open in grotesque attempts to breathe the poisoned air. The camera pans out. Dead bodies are everywhere: men slumped against steering wheels, children crumpled next to empty park swings, women collapsed on the worn parquet tile of a lifeless shop. The camera zooms in on a single face, and Isabel’s dead eyes stare back at me.

“I think it might help to talk about it, Diego.” She places her hand on my good arm.

I stare at her, forcing down angry and hurtful words.

“Maybe I can help?” Her voice is barely audible, but my anguish and despair are too much, and the floodgates spill open.

“Everyone I love is gone, and you think I fucking want to talk about it? In my world, there are no biodomes, which means no survivors.” I whack the breakfast tray next to my bed and dishes full of uneaten food clatter to the floor. “Isabel is dead. They’re all dead. Everyone except me is feeding the worms, doc. I was the one who was supposed to change things, but I failed.”

She takes a deep breath, then stands and walks around the bed.

“My world is dead and buried,” I say to her empty chair. “I should be too.”

I watch her pick up the fallen items and place them back on the tray. Without a glance at me, she strides across the room, takes a towel out of the dirty laundry bin, and then wipes up the mess on the floor. She rinses the towel out in the sink, scoops the food out of the drain, and tosses it in the trash.

I swallow hard, feeling like a complete asshole.

“Survivor’s guilt is a very common reaction to what you’ve been through. If you weren’t feeling it, I’d be
more
w-worried.” She slides one fingertip across the scars running down her face. “I know it doesn’t make you feel any better, but I know what you’re going through, and with time, you’ll heal.”

I let out a disbelieving huff, and her eyes narrow into a frown.

“You may not be the same person as before,” she says. “But you still have a life worth living. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you throw it away because of self-pity.”

I look more carefully at her. The damaged skin covers most of the right side of her face, continuing down her neck and under her blouse. It doesn’t touch her eye, but clips the edge of her lips, rising all the way up into her straight black hair.

She waits for me to stop staring, her face blank. “Are you done?”

I feel the righteous anger inside me fizzle and die. “Yeah.” I look down at my own injuries, all of which are healing, thanks to her. “I’m sorry about whatever happened to you.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry about what happened to you too.”

“Great. So now we know everyone is sorry. How about we throw a party?”

She sits on the edge of my bed and places her hand on mine. “I don’t know how you managed to survive, or if there are more people like you, but the fact that we found you Outside has given everyone hope.” She glances down at our hands and then back up at me. “Are there others like you? Others with a natural immunity?”

“Natural immunity?” I stare at her. “I don’t know.”

“There have always been rumors, people who claimed to have seen lights Outside at night, or members of foraging parties who caught glimpses of what they thought were ragged children.”

I shake my head, unable to meet her eyes.

“Is that who you are, one of the survivors?”

I look up “No.”

She opens her mouth to ask another question, but stops and looks away. I toy with the idea of asking about her scars, but I don’t know if I can stand to hear about any more horrors.

I shift my cast-covered legs, and she reaches down to help. “Can I get you something?”

“Information on this fishbowl, and the low-down on how you became vampires?”

“A bit of a mixed metaphor,” she says. “But I’ll see about getting you a laptop so you can connect to our local net and purchase a silver cross and garlic.”

“Thank you.”

She makes a note on her clipboard and then looks back at me. “Anything else?”

“You said there are only a few thousand survivors. Is there a registry somewhere of the people who made it?” I tell myself it’s a false hope, but still the words spill out. “Is there a way to find out what happened to a specific individual?”

She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “Yes. But as I told you, very few people got to the biodomes in time. The chances that any one person survived are less than on
e—”

“—in eight billion.”

She stands up and walks down to the foot of my bed, straightening out the sheets over my useless legs. “The Salt Lake Biodome has records from before, and they have information on everyone who survived. They also collect and collate the yearly census data, so if they find a living relative, they can tell you what biodome he or she is in.”

She lifts the sheet off one foot and gently checks my toes. “Unfortunately, they don’t keep that information on a computer. Back in the day, some crackpot started preaching that Doomsday was a computer virus that mutated into a real one, and believe it or not, a few nuts bought it.” She examines my other foot. “They don’t use any technology, so the search will require examining thousands of p-paper documents.” She looks up. “It could take months to get an answer.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Right.” She replaces the sheet and straightens it again. “Your legs are healing nicely. Good circulation in your toes.” She pulls a blank sheet of paper off her clipboard and hands it to me. “I’ll need names and birth dates. If you have their last known locations, that may help too.” She shifts her weight. “And as I said, it takes weeks to research a
single
name.”

“Will two names be too many?”

“No,” she says, her shoulders relaxing. “Two will be fine.” She walks back to the chair and perches on the edge, her eyes down. “Still…”

“Thank you, Lani.”

She looks up when I say her name, and then she hands me a pen. “Who are you? Really.”

“A man who should be dead.” I take the offered items. “Who are you?”

Her voice is a whisper. “A woman who should be dead.”

She stands and walks to the door, sliding the empty chair back against the wall as she goes. “We need you, Diego. We need you to help us figure out how to go back Outside.” She leans against the doorframe. “I know you’re angry about things, but there’s not a lot of time to wallow in regrets. The biodomes were all built over two decades ago, and they were meant to be a short-term solution. We’re rapidly running out of ideas, resources, and time.”

She waves her hand in the air. “The air scrubbers are slowly failing. That’s the amine you can smell. And the seals have begun to harden and crack. When they fail, the bubble will have to be abandoned, and we won’t be able to take all the hospital equipment with us. Medical care will fall backwards a hundred years, perhaps more.” She glances out the door. “And Shannon may never have a chance to grow up and have children.”

“Thanks for being so cheerful. I feel better already.”

One corner of her mouth curves up. “I’ll be back after rounds this afternoon to check on yo
u—
and pick up that list.”

“Thank you, doctor.”

She nods and starts to shut the door, then opens it again. “Oh, and I told Shannon she could bring you lunch. Like I said, you’re a celebrity, and I think it’s time you step up to the plate.”

She shuts the door without meeting my gaze.

“Nothing like being signed up to save the whole goddamn world...”

Again. Christ.

∞

I buzz the day nurse, and she responds a microsecond later. “Yes, Mr. Crusoe?”

“Lucy, you’re a paragon of virtue. Thank you for being concerned about me and my mental health.”

“Y’all both are welcome. You were pretty tore up when we brought you in, everything catty-wompus and all. Lordy, I wish there was more I could do.”

“There is one thing,” I say.

“Shoot.”

“Would it be possible to get some clothes and maybe a rubber-band to tie back my hair, please? I think my extended stint wallowing in self-pity and smelly pajamas is over.”

“I’ll see what I can find, Mr. Crusoe.” There’s a smile in her voice. “Will shorts and a T-shirt do or were you fixin’ to get a lick more gussied up?”

“Shorts would be wonderful, thank you.”

“I could probably arrange for a haircut, if that’d suit you?”

“That’s very kind of you, Lucy, but I think I’ll wait for now. I know it sounds silly, but it’s my only connection to where I came fro
m—
the past I’ve los
t—
and until I get things sorted here, I need that bond.”

“I understand perfectly.”

∞

Two hours and one embarrassing sponge bath later, Lucy helps me get dressed, combs out my hair and ties it back with a strip of cloth. “Mm-mm, if you aren’t just healing up nicely.” She holds the mirror while I shave, then props me up with pillows on the newly changed bed.

I can’t bend either of my legs, so a wheelchair is impractical for now, but it does feel great to be sitting up.

Lucy finishes cleaning up and then fluffs up an extra pillow and stuffs it behind my lower back. She steps back and looks at me. “I didn’t realize there was such a handsome man under all that hair.”

I laugh. “Thanks for rediscovering me.”

She smiles and pats the maroon pillbox hat she’s wearing today. “Dern tootin’. Anything else?”

“No, but I do have a question. About Lani.”

Her smile disappears. “Now don’t you go bothering our Lani. That woman has seen more evil than any one person should have to endure. And if you want to know about her accident, you’ll have to ask her yourself. But I do know it dern near killed he
r—
in more ways than one.”

I swallow and glance down at Lani’s handiwork, feeling like a self-centered ass.

“In any case,” she adds. “It happened a long time ago, and maybe she wants to leave it be, if you get my drift?”

“Yeah,” I say. “Thanks.”

She squeezes my good shoulder. “Be sure to ask the doc about your legs. I think they’ve healed up enough to switch over to removable splints, and I imagine it would be nice to take a proper shower and get yourself out of this hospital room on occasion.”

I take her hand and kiss it. “Thanks, Lucy. You’re an angel.”

She laughs. “Lordy, don’t let Shannon see you do that. She’s planning to card you the instant doc gives her the green light.”

“Card me?”

“I’ll let Shannon answer that one,” Lucy says. “
She’s
your real guardian ange
l—
and she should be bounding in any minute.”