There's Always Tomorrow (Immortal Series) (23 page)

Thomas’ eyes
widened, his mouth moved in silence.

Anthony
could barely see through his tears.
 
Who was screaming, he wondered?
 
He thought he heard his own cries of agony, while Thomas looked to be
still.

“God,”
Anthony begged.
 
“Help me!”

Thomas had
closed his eyes, but there was motion behind the eyelids.
 
There was cognitive reasoning,
there.
 
Thomas was either dreaming
or trying to convey his consciousness to Anthony.

Anthony
walked in circles, stumbling over unseen obstacles.
 
He pulled at his hair and scratched his face with his ragged
nails.
 
There was nothing else to
do.
 
Nothing but the most drastic…
He would have to sever the head.
 
Could he do it?

Anthony
picked up his knife, feeling the coldness of the handle.
 
He ran his thumb over the blade,
slicing a long, deep cut down its length.

It took two
attempts to separate the head from what was left of the torso.
 
Anthony was covered in his dearest
friend’s blood.
 
Immediately
afterward, he covered Thomas’ body.

Once again,
Anthony walked in circles around the body.
 
He was so tortured; he sought relief by banging his head
against the rocky overhang.
 
As the
blood flowed past his eyes, he prayed he would somehow die beside his
friend.
 
For hours, he paced,
unable to look at the blanket on the ground.

Anthony had
been unaware of the passage of time.
 
It had been late afternoon when the attack first came.
 
By the time he found the rocky
outcropping, it was dusk.
 
As he
opened his eyes, he realized he had slept until dawn.
 
He had slept beside Thomas.

It seemed
that he could hear Thomas speaking to him.
 
Speaking of good times they’d had and of the horrific
circumstances they had most recently shared.
 
It seemed more than just a dream.

Anthony sat
straight up.
 
“Oh, my God,” he
uttered.

He had been
aware for some time, of his ability to hear the unspoken thoughts of his
immortal brothers.
 
It was a gift,
peculiar to him.
 
All the voices
and thoughts he’d heard, in the beginning, had almost driven him insane.
 
Now, he recognized what he was hearing,
was the silent thoughts of his friend.
 
Thomas was not dead!

Anthony
rushed to the blanket and tossed it back.

Looking up
at him, with a twisted smile of pain, Thomas moved his lips.
 
“Kill me,” he demanded.

* * *

“Stop it,
Tony!
 
Oh, please stop it.
 
I can’t stand to hear anymore.”
 
Sophie was weeping, as she embedded her
nails deeply into Tony’s flesh.
 
“No more.”

Her pleading
brought Tony out of his memories.
 
“Oh, Sophie.
 
What have I
done?
 
Of course you can’t stand to
hear this.
 
It’s too gruesome.
 
I told you I was a monster.”
 
He buried his face in his hands and
allowed himself to break down.
 
His
entire body shook with his powerful sobs.

Sniffling,
Sophie put her arms around his shoulders.
 
“Darling, this isn’t good for you.
 
You’re still recuperating, and this is tearing you apart.
 
I don’t think you’re a monster.
 
I’m heartbroken that you had to endure
this kind of pain.
 
It’s beyond
belief.
 
Please, stop, Tony.
 
This can’t be good for you.”

Tony tried to
compose himself, and after a few minutes, he succeeded.
 
There was always the possibility that,
at any moment, a nurse or doctor could walk in and discover him crying
uncontrollably.
 
The last thing he
needed was for them to think he was in pain or having a mental breakdown.

“You’re right,
Sophie.
 
I’ve said enough.
 
Thomas died and I lived.
 
I’ll never forget my best friend.”

“Of course you
won’t.
 
You’re a good man, Tony,
and I love you very, very much.”

They kissed and
Tony closed his eyes.
 
“I’m tired,
sweetie.
 
I need to rest.”

Sophie patted
his shoulder.
 
“You get some
sleep.
 
I’ll stand watch.”

Tony tried to
relax, but his mind wouldn’t cooperate.
 
Dark, horrific images flashed through his brain.
 
Tortured thoughts of pain and
depravity, assaulted his consciousness.
 
He finally drifted back …

* * *

Looking
around for something he could use, Anthony dislodged a large and heavy
stone.
 
He was determined to end
his friend’s torture, once and for all.
 
There was no saving Thomas, and he had to think what he would want
Thomas to do for him, if the circumstances were reversed.

He gently
touched Thomas’ face.
 
“I’m so
sorry, Thom.
 
I wish it were you
standing here, and I was in your place.
 
This is the hardest thing any man has ever had to do.
 
I love you, dear brother, and will miss
you more than you can imagine.
 
I
hope to see you again, Thom.”

In his mind,
he thought he heard a soft, “Thank you, brother.”

He carefully
pulled the blanket over Thomas’ face.
 
Returning to the large stone, he hefted it, high into the air, and
brought it crashing down in one swift movement.
 
Anthony refused to listen to the sounds of a human skull
collapsing under the weight of a heavy rock.
 
Again, and again, he brought his hands down, obliterating
anything that looked like it might still be in one piece.
 
Five minutes or twenty minutes
later—Anthony had lost all track of time—he found he couldn’t lift
his arms above his shoulders.
 
His
hands and fingers were numb.

Carefully,
he folded the blanket and its contents into a neat pile.
 
Within a half hour, he had collected
enough dry wood for a good-sized fire.
 
He would burn everything.
 
It would be a great funeral pyre, he thought.

Anthony
stood back and watched the flames.
 
Higher and higher they climbed.
 
He chuckled.
 
“Thomas, it’s
a great Viking funeral I’ve given you.
 
Remember when we used to pretend to be terrible, bloodthirsty Norsemen,
raping and pillaging the Saxons?”
 
A brittle laugh burst from his chest.
 
“I guess we had one hell of a day, today, didn’t we, friend?
 
Goodbye, Thom.”

Without
looking over his shoulder, Anthony turned and walked away.
 
He’d have to find a way to live with
what had just happened, and he wasn’t sure he could.

* * *

Sophie was
admiring her husband’s bare backside, when it suddenly dawned on her, that Tony
had nothing to wear on the plane ride home.
 
“You know, Tony, you’re not exactly dressed for traveling.”

Tony stirred.

“You can’t wear
that gown home, no matter how sexy you look in it.
 
I think I should make a quick trip to a men’s clothier and
pick you up a few things.
 
I’ll get
you everything you need.
 
Since
they seem to be in no great hurry to release you, I should have plenty of
time.
 
Promise not to go anywhere
without me.
 
Go back to sleep.”

She grabbed her
designer handbag and kissed her husband’s cheek.
 
“Rest, darling.
 
You do look terribly tired.
 
We’ll finish our discussion when we get home.
 
I love you.”

“Buy everything
extra large, Sophie,” he mumbled.
 
“I’ve got a lot of padding under this sheet,” he joked.
 
“I love you too, sweetie.
 
Hurry back.”
 
He rolled over, and went back to sleep.

* * *

The shopping
expedition took Sophie longer than she expected.
 
First, she had a currency problem, and then she didn’t
understand the difference in sizes.
 
She resorted to holding the clothing up to a particularly helpful
salesclerk.
 
If it fit him, she
hoped it would fit Tony.
 
It took
several hours to gather up the necessities for traveling back to the U.S., time
she didn’t have.

The sun was
beginning to set behind the buildings, and the businesses were shuttering their
doors by the time Sophie entered the hospital lobby.
 
“Of all the rotten luck,” she moaned, glancing up at the
clock.
 
“It’s too late to leave,
today.
 
I’ll have to sleep in that
skinny hospital bed, next to Tony,” she grumbled to herself.
 
However, as she entered the elevator,
her frown dissolved into a huge smile.
 
She had a mental picture of the two of them, sharing space in the
extremely small bed, with Tony’s strong arm slung over her waist and breathing
into her hair.
 
Listening to the
beat of his heart, she knew she would sleep most comfortably.

As she arrived
at the end of the hall, Sophie slowed her pace and stopped just outside Tony’s
door.
 
She listened to the quiet
noise of the hospital, before turning the handle.
 
Something felt different.
 
She peeked her head around the door, and looked into the darkened
room.

“What’s that
pumping sound?” she murmured.

She stepped
in.
 
Sophie was shocked at what she
saw.
 
Obviously, without Tony’s
permission, or even her own consent, the doctors had decided to pump their
“chemicals”
into his body, regardless of his wishes.
 
She tried to read the labels on the various hanging bags, but they were
written in Latin or French or some other stupid language she didn’t
understand.
 
At least, Tony looked
comfortable, and he appeared to be sleeping.
 

Walking
quietly, she took a thin blanket and pillow, down from the closet, and made
herself a bed in the reclining chair, preparing to wait out the night.
 
Uncomfortable and angry as hell, she
planned to raise a stink, in the morning—American style.

It was Tony’s
retching and heaving that woke her up, a little after five o’clock.
 
The man, that
never
got sick,
was very sick.
 
She grabbed a wet
washcloth and wiped down his face and neck.
 
He looked so scared.
 
Sophie understood.
 
This was
all new to him.
 
He hadn’t been ill
in over two hundred years.

“Tony,
sweetheart, listen to me.
 
This
will pass.
 
Just try to ride it
out.
 
Breathe slowly and try to
relax.
 
Think beautiful
thoughts.
 
Think of how I’m going
to shoot someone for this.”

Tony almost
chuckled, but smiled and nodded, instead.

Within a short
amount of time, a warning had been sent throughout the hospital.
 
All the staff was to be aware of the
crazy American woman, in Mr. Barton’s room.
 
She was to be considered unstable, and they needed to use
caution when in her presence.
 
Mr.
Barton had received the maximum dosage of a new and experimental
cancer-fighting drug.
 
If he
refused further treatment, he could be released, against the recommendation of
his doctors, and sent home to die.

Sophie and Tony
were ecstatic.

“Hurry, darling.
 
Put on your pants, before they change
their minds,” Sophie prompted.

Tony
laughed.
 
“They aren’t about to
change their minds, sweetheart.
 
They figure it’s in everyone’s best interest to get rid of you.
 
Who would have thought I married such a
formidable woman?
 
They’re scared
to death of you, sugar.
 
God, I
love you, Mrs. Barton.”

Sophie tied her
husband’s shoes, while he grabbed his new jacket.
 
The shoes pinched his feet, but the jacket was big enough to
make up for them.
 
The long sleeves
took away from the short length of the pants.
 
Tony laughed at his wife’s honest efforts.
 
He’d never been happier.

“When we get
home, Sophie, I’m taking you shopping,” he boasted.

“Oh, Tony,
you’re spoiling me.
 
I don’t need a
thing.
 
Really, I don’t.”