One Kiss: An Apocalyptic Urban Fantasy (Transmissions from The International Council for the Exploration of the Universe., #1) (8 page)

"Megan," I said.

Her face fell into a deep frown that conveyed sympathy and disappointment, all in one sad expression. "Megan's gone, sweetheart. I'm sorry, but she's not coming back."

The edges of my vision darkened again, slowly closing on the nurse's lips, bare and honest. "No," I whispered before the darkness enveloped my vision.

****

W
hen I woke again the sun was slanting through a window to my left, covering my body in a warm glow. I was in a real bed this time, a blanket and sheet tucked around me. The IV was gone. The TV in the upper left corner of the room was on.

"You're awake," a voice said. I turned right to find I had a roommate: an older white guy, his mustache yellow, an oxygen feeder resting on it. He wore the same sort of gown as I did. It was loose around his shoulders, so that I could see gray hairs sprouting from his chest and back, reaching toward his face.

"Yes," I said, my voice cracked. I swallowed, feeling the saliva travel down my dry esophagus. Turning to my side table, I saw the ubiquitous yellow cup with its straw. I reached out and took the cup in my fingers. The movement made me realize how much my body ached. Then the memory of falling in the hallway came flashing back to me. Embarrassment chased on the memory's heels. I sipped at the water, realizing what a fool I'd made of myself. That had never happened to me. I'd always woken up feeling totally fine. What was different this time? I felt a shiver as I remember with vivid detail Megan leaning over me. A hallucination? I wondered. Or a reason to hope?

"Can you believe this?" the man said, pointing at the TV. I looked up to see the news playing. "That guy who survived the crazy druggie attack. He got killed right here in this hospital."

"He did?" I said.

"Yeah, aren't you listening to me? Someone stabbed him through the eye," he said.

"Oh," I said.

"Don't you realize what this means?" he said, leaning toward me, the oxygen tube straining against his upper lip. "It's starting."

"What?" I asked.

"Alright, that's enough of that, Mr. Combers," a nurse said as she walked through the door.

He looked over at her. "You're on the front lines," he told her. "I'll probably be gone by the time it really begins."

"What begins?" I asked.

But the nurse pulled the curtain between our beds. "Don't be listening to him, Darling."

"The end," he yelled through the curtain. "The end is coming!"

"Alright, Mr. Combers," she said, placing her fists on her ample hips. "That's enough out of you."

A half-hearted grumble was the only response. She turned her attention to me and smiled. "How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Sore," I said with a smile. "And embarrassed."

She waved a hand at me. "Oh, sweetheart, don't worry about it. Everyone is affected differently."

"I've never been affected that way before," I said. While I knew in the logical part of my brain it was impossible for Megan to be bending over me, her hair rich and lush like before she got sick, in my heart I wanted to believe, wanted to have proof she was not really gone. Maybe it wasn't a hallucination. Maybe none of them were.

"Things change," the nurse said. "Dr. Tor wants to keep you overnight." She picked up the blood pressure cuff next to my bed and reached for me. I let her take my arm and wrap the sleeve around it.

I shook my head. "No, I'm going home," I said.

"You'll have to sign out against doctor's orders," she said, pumping the cuff with one hand while she put her stethoscope into her ears with the other.

"I'm fine with that," I said. She listened to my heart and looked at her watch. I waited until she released the pressure on the cuff. "Where are my clothes?" I asked. She sighed but gave them to me. I dressed quickly and checked myself out. Rushing onto the elevator, I felt a swell of relief that I'd gotten out of there.

"
Why were you so happy to have left?"

"Well," Darling smiled. "I'd made a real ass of myself, hadn't I?"

"What do you mean?"

"Calling out my dead best friend's name. Imagining her."

"You thought it was a hallucination?”

"I didn't know. But I couldn't stay there. I had to get out of there."

<<<<>>>>

I
had serious trouble sleeping that night. It seemed I was at war with my sheets. One minute I was burning hot, throwing my blankets to the side, and the next a chill ran through my body and I pulled all my coverings back over my body, up to my neck, sometimes even dipping my head under the folds.

Dreams came to me as whispers; not sure if I was awake or asleep, I heard Megan's voice saying my name in her singsong voice. It was the way she'd wake me after staying up all night writing, creeping into my room, planning on roping me into her arrangement. I felt her hand on my shoulder. "Come on," she said and laughed, a tinkling sound that made me smile.

"Just five more minutes," I mumbled, my lips hardly parting, my eyes keeping closed, nothing but darkness across my vision.

"Be careful," she said, and I felt her breath right on my ear. My eyes popped open and I flipped over expecting to see her sitting there, but I was alone. The window was open, the curtains shuffling in the breeze.

I crossed the room and looked out onto the back courtyard. It was early, the sun just peeking over the buildings, casting a gray pink on the empty space below. I heard a rattle and then a cat bolted into the middle of the courtyard. The feline's back was arched, its teeth barred at an unseen opponent. I waited but nothing else happened. The cat eventually stalked off, its fur slowly unfurling as it disappeared into a shadow.

I climbed back into bed, pulling the covers up to my chin. I fell back into a fitful sleep. Finally I got out of bed around noon, realizing that sleep was over; there was no making up for the restlessness of my night.

I went out to my balcony and stood looking down at the street. Two musicians played on the corner. The notes from their string instruments blended with their voices. People walked in pairs and small groups. Laughter and bright conversation interplayed with the song. 

Over the course of Megan's illness I'd become hyper aware of my cellphone, knowing that a call could come from the hospital at any moment. So when I heard the phone vibrating where I'd left it with my keys, I hurried inside to answer it.

"Darling Price?"

"Yes."

"This is Dr. Issa Tor."

"Hi, Doctor," I said, my mind racing back to the last moment I'd seen him, when I was half-naked on the floor. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," he said. "I was calling to check on you."

"I'm good," I said, brightening my voice so that he would believe me.

"That's good. No swelling, flu-like symptoms? You're sleeping okay? Eating?"

"I'm fine," I said. "How is the patient?"

"She's doing great," he said, his voice soft. "I think you saved her life."

I felt tears well in my eyes and a lump form in my throat. "No, Doctor, you saved her, I just provided the raw materials."

"Without 'raw materials' like yours I'd be lost." I couldn't help but laugh, a small hiccup. "Do you have anyone looking after you?"

I looked around my empty living room. "Yes," I lied.

"The guy who dropped you off?" he asked.

"What?" I asked, feeling suspicious.

"I saw you get dropped off," Issa said, "by your... boyfriend?"

"No, he is my bandmate." I said it for myself as much as for Issa, so I'd remember that the next time I thought about Emmanuel's heartbeat vibrating through my entire body.

"Oh." Issa sounded disappointed. "So who is looking after you?"

"Someone else," I said.

"Okay," he said, his tone unsure. "How did you sleep?"

"I'm fine," I said again.

"Please, Darling."

The word please surprised me. All the doctors we'd dealt with, and I couldn't remember any of them saying please. Especially not like that. "Please what?" I asked.

I could hear him breathing. "I'd like to come check on you. Would that be okay?"

"You want to come to my house?"

"I don't think you slept well last night. I think your body is hurting. I think that you're in need of..." His voice faded for a moment but then he continued. "I want to come to your house. There is something that can help. Please."

It was the "please" that got me. "Okay," I said, and gave him the address.

He arrived thirty minutes later. His knock was quiet but firm. I'd gradually felt weaker and weaker since getting off the phone with him. When I checked the peephole and saw him standing there holding a brown paper bag, I was worried I might collapse. The smell of Chinese food wafted in when I opened the door. Issa held up the bag. "Wonton soup," he said.

I felt lightheaded. The door was the only thing holding me up. "Come in," I said, my voice sounding weak and soft.

Issa stepped into the hall and passed me. I went to close the door and fell with it, stumbling forward. Issa's hand shot out and held my elbow, keeping me from falling down. "Thank you,." I tried to get my feet under me. "I'm fine," I said even as the edges of my vision darkened. I began to slide down the closed door. I heard the paper bag thunk onto the floor. Issa's hands pulled me up, wrapping me in an embrace. His face was right above mine. His eyes were piercing and sharp, looking at me hard. I felt so hungry I could die.

He picked me up, slipping one of his arms under my knees and cradling my shoulders with the other. I didn't have the strength to hold on. My head lolled back, bouncing with his movements. When he lowered me onto the couch I blinked, my lids too heavy to hold open.

"Darling, can you hear me?" he asked. My eyes slid shut. I felt his palm cradle my cheek, his long fingers dip into the hair at the nape of my neck.

I blacked out.

Energy rushed in with one long breath and radiated in my chest like a heartbeat. Thump, thump, thump, it pushed out into my limbs, tingling at the very tips of every digit.

My eyes sprung open. Dr. Tor was right there. Startled, I sat up quickly and my lips crashed into his. Then I was grabbing onto the hair at the back of his head and forcing my tongue into his mouth. Wet and hot and needy, the link between us radiated. I recognized this feeling. This great burst of life exploding inside of me, draining out of him. This was how I killed my stepfather. This was a hallucination.

I felt's Issa's hands on my shoulders, trying to push me back onto the couch. His tongue entwined with mine, he fought me. I collapsed back, my chest heaving, body tingling. Issa fell back, dropping onto the coffee table. He stood up quickly, wobbled slightly, then took two steps away from me. "Holy shit," he said. "I'm sorry."

"No, please, I'm sorry," I said, sitting up. He backed away from me as I moved to the edge of the couch. Issa raised a hand to his lips, lightly touching them. They looked swollen. His fingers trembled. Every cell in my body was telling me to stand up and take that mouth again. To take every part of him, to beg him to take every part of me. "You should go," I said.

"I..." he paused. "I just never—it's not your fault," he said.

"I need you to go," I said, my voice wavering.

"Please," he said, taking a step forward.

"Go!" He stumbled back from me and I felt my breath almost as a force when I told him to run.

He did.

"
You must have realized then what you were."

"I'd always known I was different. This just seemed more proof."

"But the power you felt."

She bit her lip, and it was one of the sexist things I'd ever seen in my life. I actually stopped breathing. I saw her lips moving but couldn't hear her over the sound of blood rushing in my ears.

"Hey, are you listening?" she asked, breaking the spell.

"Sorry," I said.

She smiled. "It happens. Try not to look at me."

I pulled my eyes down to the table, the full ashtray, the two empty beers. "So what about the power you felt?" I asked.

"I didn't know what it was or how to control it. For all I knew it was a hallucination."

"So what did you do?”

<<<<>>>>

A
fter Dr. Tor left I threw up. Then I took a shower, dressed, and got my ass to band practice.

"Darling!" I realized Michael had been saying my name.

I still felt weak and light headed, my mind clouded. Michael was standing at the mic, a hand on his hip. "You ready?"

I nodded, picking up my bow and placing it against the strings. Emmanuel smiled over at me and I tried to smile back, but I could feel the fear slipping up my spine and settling into my fingers. I couldn't do it; I felt that truth in the deepest part of me. Without Megan I was nothing and my fingers would prove it with every foible, every slip, every mistake. I bore down on the violin, holding it tightly, knowing that was the wrong way to go. As the band began to play I waited for my beat and then came in just a moment too early, eager, pathetic.

We did three songs, my performance off during each one. Michael began to throw looks at me, ones from under his lids, trying to hide the anger in his eyes; but I could feel it vibrating off him. And why wouldn't he be mad? I was terrible. I gripped harder, my fingers pressing against the strings, tightening onto the bow so that there was not even the hint of fluidity in what I was doing.

Michael stopped singing and Dre's sticks stopped beating against the drums. Emmanuel's steady bass was the last to stop. "Let's take a break," Michael said, smiling at me. Then he looked over at Emmanuel, jerking his chin at me, as if to say, You deal with it.

Dre stood up and stretched toward the ceiling. Pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his pants pocket, he headed out for a smoke. "I'm going to get some air," Michael said, following him.

I put my bow and fiddle back in their case and looked down at them. "Hey," Emmanuel said behind me. "You need to relax."

"I know," I said, staring down at the glossy wood.

He took my shoulders and turned me around. "I'm going to kiss you now," he said.