The Last Superhero (44 page)

“
I want to know how he
is,” I push.

“
He's in a coma,”
Ross blurts.

“
What?!” I'm not
the only one that asks.

“
Not a coma!”
Dr. Morgan jibes. “He's in a dormant state.”

“
Dormant?” Dad's
holding onto his glass of wine like it's going somewhere.

“
I went into the house
and found him on the sofa,” Dr. Fletcher recalls. “He
seemed to be asleep, but I was clearly not in a nightmare. However,
he wouldn't wake up. No matter what I did, he wouldn't react and
that's when I called everyone else in and we decided to transfer him
to another secured location where he's been in that dormant state for
the past three days.”

“
Three days?! And only
now you tell me?”

“
Had this been in the
hands of the government we wouldn't be obligated to tell you. On the
contrary, you'd never know.” Ohai Bitchy Dr. Morgan. Nobody
missed you. “We're only here because our benefactor wishes to
know if you're still interested in helping Steven.”

“
Why wouldn't I?”
I leap to my feet. “Where is he? When do we start?”

My eyes meet Ross's and is
he puffing his chest?

“
First we must assess
his situation. Try and see what is keeping him like this.”

“
You say he's not
asleep, just not responding?” Wyatt cuts in.

“
Yes,” Dr.
Fletcher responds. “No nightmares. Normal brain activity. He
just doesn't react to any kind of stimulus.”

“
It sounds like a
self-defense mechanism. His body has shut down partially due to the
attacks.” Wyatt's pondering. “We could probably induce
him into a coma, force him to sleep.”

“
We haven't wanted to
do that unless we have a team ready to go into his nightmares and
help him.” Dr. Morgan softens as her eyes land on me.

I'm still standing, as if
towering above everyone else can somehow give me an advantage over
the whole situation. “When can we do this?”

“
Tomorrow?” Dr.
Fletcher sets his hands on his thighs. “I say the sooner, the
better.”

“
Tomorrow,” I
repeat. “Tomorrow we start what we should've done a month ago.”

“
I'd like to run some
tests on all who will be involved in this. We can't take any risks.”
Dr. Morgan reaches for her glass of wine, takes a sip. “And, if
we're going to do this, you better sit down. There's a lot to discuss
before we even arrive there.”

I survey the room, the eyes,
the faces, and a feeling sinks inside me, one that talks about safety
and the caring people who are here for me, with me, because of me.
And I welcome it, let it in, bask in it.

For we don't know what
tomorrow will bring.

48

The night's spent between
wines and books and coffees and medical information and food and so
much stuff that's hard to process.

I bring out all the books
I'd been researching since I met Steven and I can tell Dr. Morgan's
impressed by the amount.

To me, they're not enough.
Nothing will be enough until Steven's clear of all that's tormenting
him.

Dad pulls an old whiteboard
from a back room and Wyatt takes over, tracing a plan of action.

Ross puts Suárez and
Powell on speaker so they can join us.

“
We need a strategy,”
Jake's eying the board filled with Wyatt's scribbles. “It's a
war in there and we need to have a clear idea of everyone's powers
and weaknesses. We have to go in knowing what each of us is capable
of.”

“
You two are the only
ones who haven't been in a nightmare yet,” Ross comments,
having stepped into a corner, overlooking us all crouched around the
coffee table. “I don't know-”

“
I think that could
actually help us,” I interpose. “He doesn't know them yet
and it'll take him some time to figure out how to attack them.”

Ross bites his inner lip.

“
What we should be
concentrating on,” Dr. Morgan cuts in, “is a way to deal
with the nightmare characters in a way that does the least damage to
you and Steven. I don't think he'll be able to make it through a
series of lengthy nightmares. It can kill him, and it will.”

“
We can keep all of
you on life support while inside the nightmare,” Dr. Fletcher
says. “IVs, oxygen, everything in case something happens, but
still, his condition is pretty precarious.”

I try not to hunch over any
further or my forehead will meet the floor at some point.

“
We can make it one
nightmare,” I speak and everyone just stares at me. “I
mean: We set everything up so we go in, finish this, and get out in
one nightmare. Not one after the other because then it would be
detrimental not only for him but for all of us.”

“
I'm with her.”
Dr. Fletcher turns towards Dr. Morgan.

She thinks on it for a
moment. “First we'll need to assess his situation, see if we
can put his brain to sleep because right now we don't even know if
we'll be able to.”

“
But we won't know
until we've tried it, right?” I can tell Dad's getting
impatient.

“
No, we don't.”

Fast-forward to the next
morning and I've been so anxious I haven't been able to sleep.

After everyone was gone, I
shut myself in my room and remembered Frances's samurai painting. I
had it hidden in a drawer and only now saw the need for it to
resurface. So I taped it to the wall at the foot of my bed and stared
at it for hours on end, trying with all my might to embed it into my
brain.

I studied it, taking in
every detail, until Dad knocked on my door, telling me he's up and
we're only hours away from the possible turning point on which we'll
draw our futures.

I get to see him again.
Although they've been telling me to prepare for the worst.

Get up. Get ready.

Keep the nerves at bay.

“
There are no
guarantees,” Dad says and it sounds cruel, but it's the truth
so I drink my coffee and think about the worst possible scenario.

Maybe they can't make him
sleep. Maybe he's dead already.

Maybe he's doing that Mom
move. Waiting.

Breathe. Sip.

Until the moment when the
phone rings and we head out to the d
éjà
vu of black rides and faces and that sense of impending doom hovering
above us.

“
Miss
Armstrong.” Suárez helps me into the SUV while I'm
seeing Daphne peeking out another ride's window.

No
time for lengthy greetings.

I
sure hope I'm on my way to better things, that we can all find
ourselves some wings.

“
Let's
rise to the occasion.” A voice breaks through my thoughts and
it's Ross, sitting in the driver's seat with an ear-to-ear smile that
makes me feel half reassured, half scared shitless.

And
the drive's long and tiring, even more since my brain's all over the
place.

To
the point where Dad grabs my knee in an effort to make the tapping
stop.

“
I'm
sorry.”

His
reply is to kiss my temple as gently as he can.

Ross's
spying on us through the rearview mirror but says nothing.

It's
this calm before the storm that makes me so damn anxious.

After
a ride that felt like it took forever, we arrive at yet another
secured facility, but there's something different about the security
around it.

“
They
aren't government, are they?” I push myself between the front
seats. “Where are we?”

“
The
government of the United States terminated our task force.”

“
What?!
What are you doing here then?”

Both
Ross and Suárez side-glance at me.

“
Because
we're eager to finish what we started?”

“
That's
hardly an answer.”

“
You'll
know when you need to know.” Ross makes a dramatic stop next to
a warehouse and is quick to get out of the SUV.

I'm
about to say something when he opens my door, but he shuts me up with
“He needs you more than you need answers right now.”

Such
a soap opera character thing to say.

I'm
joined by Daphne and Frances and Wyatt and Jake and see Dr. Fletcher
and Dr. Hudson waiting for us next to a set of giant metal doors.

The
woman with the bright red lips doesn't hesitate to hug me. “Thank
you for coming.”

And
she takes my hand, opening a smaller door and letting us all in.

Stepping
into that place, my knees tremble with anticipation. My whole being
quivers to the sight of the desks with the computers and the screens
and the beeps and the plastic curtains that, once pulled aside,
reveal what makes me gasp as tears choke me.

It's
him. I don't want to say 'what's left of him,' but that's what it
appears to be.

I
slow down, taking it in, noticing how everyone else has stayed behind
to let me have a moment that, right now, I don't even know if I want
to have.

Thinner.
Paler. I didn't think it was possible to look sicker than he did a
month ago.

Feel
the tears running freely down my face as I approach him, as I brave
to touch him, my fingertips barely connecting with his. Slip my hand
through his, careful not to stir him, not to hurt him.

He
looks so damn weak even though his breathing is normal.

Hold
his hand that isn't cold.

Not
dead.

Feel
the sudden tug and the scream that escapes my lips as his fist closes
on mine and it wants to break my hand.

“
Steven!”

The
storm of beeps and people rushing in is interrupted by flashes of
blinding light.

And
I'm in a forest, at night, running from something I can't see.

The
pain in my hand brings me back. He's holding it with such force it
brings me to my knees. “AAAAAAAGHH!”

The
room changes back to the dark forest and I'm still running, searching
for the source of the immeasurable fear that's taking me over.

There's
a voice inside me that I know is not mine telling me to run, to save
myself.

Feel
the pain. The desperation.

“
Giana!”
I'm at the warehouse again and Dr. Fletcher's checking on Steven
while Ross's trying to break me free.

“
Steven,
it's me! Stop it!”

The
flashes transport me back to the forest and I see someone running
ahead of me, glancing back but not seeing me until we reach what must
be a cave that the anonymous figure doesn't hesitate to enter.

A
cold, creepy place that spooks me the moment I'm standing at the
entrance.

“
He
won't let go!” someone screams, but I'm doubled over both from
the pain and the nightmare that pulls me into that horrible place
and, for a second, I get to see him. I see Steven and see chains on
his wrists and see blood. Everywhere. There's blood everywhere.