Resonance, J. B. Everett [the top 100 crime novels of all time txt] 📗

trained to do these things. Her checklist included ‘notify family’ and ‘label patient,’ but it just didn’t spring naturally into her mind the way it had for everyone else.

 

The wedge that had always existed between her and society slipped a little further into the widening crack. With a nod, she checked Dr. Sorenson over for herself. Jordan slipped in beside her, remarkably steady on his feet for having just come around.

 

With wide eyes Jillian faced him. “It seems the longer they stay under the harder it is to pull out. At first people were waking up left and right. Then it petered off. When you woke up … . well, no one else has since.” Her shoulders hunched in abject misery. “I’m afraid no one else will.”

 

And I can’t tell you how glad I am that you did.

 

The ventilator provided a steady rhythm and forced the rise and fall of Becky’s chest while Jillian and Jordan worked silently. They ran extra fluid into her.

 

Becky’s heart still beat, only missing the rhythm occasionally. Mostly it was just slowing down. The powerstroke of the left ventricle had reduced to little more than a squish of fluid. The peach tones of her skin, already lacking their usual vibrance, were slipping to grays. Jillian pushed medication after medication, until Jordan’s hand on her arm stilled her.

 

She listened to the infrequent lub-dub of Becky’s heart fade to just a single sound. Her head snapped up as the ventilator gave one last hiss, then stilled. Jordan stood with his hand draped over the switches he had turned to stop the machinery. The heart monitor gave one last beep, and Jordan turned it off too, before it could go into its synthetic whine, letting everyone within earshot know its patient had died.

 

She felt her shirt get wet before she realized that she was crying. And threw herself at Jordan, the only remaining human being that she knew. His arms wrapped around her. “Jillian, you saved so many.”

 

“But all I can do is watch. I can’t change anything.”

 

His hand stroked her hair, following it all the way down to the middle of her back. Her eyes squeezed against the visions in her head, and focused where she had buried her face in the front of Jordan’s jacket. “I didn’t save any of them.”

 

“Yes, you did.”

 

“Before they fell, some of the men called their friends, they told them what was coming. Told them to get inside and lie down at the first signs of nausea. They saved people all over the world.” She shook her head against his chest, leaving smears of tears darkening the fabric. “Even here, so many were inside, on gurneys, lying on the ground. Some even had IVs run on each other.

 

. .” A hiccup forced its way up her throat, escaping in an embarrassing giveaway. “But I couldn’t get them all inside …”

 

“You saved David.”

 

Her breath let out. That she had done.

 

His voice flowed over her again like a wave. “I told them all to get inside - to lie down.”

 

She sniffed. “You saved them.”

 

“But the ones who didn’t… well, that’s what they chose. You shouldn’t feel guilty about that.”

 

She hadn’t saved anyone, really.

 

She chewed at her lower lip, still not looking up at him. Taking deep breaths, she fought the feeling of being out of control. Something that she hadn’t known was so very frightening until just this moment when she admitted it.

 

And her brain started ticking. Fifty three hours she had been awake. And slept only six. In small shifts, too.

 

She’d eaten only five small meals in that time. Thank God for the IV she had worn up until this morning.

 

No wonder she was so tired. The world had slipped away, and she was powerless against the changes that had come … that were still coming.

 

So she wasn’t surprised to realize that Jordan was carrying her out of the tent, even though she didn’t know when she had passed from standing on her own feet to having her weight entirely borne by him. As she looked over his shoulder she saw the curly haired nurse tug at the sheet to Becky Sorenson’s bed, and pull it up over her face.

 

Jillian squeezed her eyes to block the image, but it followed her.

 

As if in reaction to the unwanted sight, she felt her brain just shut off.

Chapter 18

She had been trying to wake up for a long time. Maybe two or three hours. It wasn’t her usual sleep. She heard sounds around her. Another person, several maybe.

 

And the thread snapped - the one that had held her back from consciousness. Even though her eyes wouldn’t obey and open, and her fingers wouldn’t quite respond to her commands. She was finally truly alert.

 

Inside her own body.

 

The person next to her spoke in deep tones, but not to her. “How are you feeling?”

 

“Ehhh.” Just a moan from the second voice - whoever the first person was talking to.

 

“We’re glad to see you’re awake.” Becky could sense or smell the man. She knew that he had shifted, that he was looking down at her. “From this twitching, it looks like your friend will wake up here really soon, too.”

 

Becky tried again to make her fingers move, her toes flex, her eyelids spring open. None of it worked as she intended. But she must have accomplished something, because smooth warm fingers glided into place, holding her hand. The deep voice spoke again. “I know you’re coming around. Just relax, it’ll come. I remember.”

 

She breathed deeply, then fought pain as sharp light penetrated her vision. Her face pulled tight to counteract the intrusion.

 

“That’s my girl.” The hand continued to hold hers, to squeeze occasionally with human contact, but he spoke to the blurry voice. “Would you like some juice?”

 

A bell rang, and reverberated around her skull. “Aauuuhhh.”

 

She was shocked that the sound had been her own voice.

 

Another voice joined in, “What can I bring?”

 

“Juice. Several cups.”

 

“Are these the last of them?”

 

She felt the vibrations of his body movement through his hand. He had nodded.

 

“Probably.”

 

Becky worked her mouth, the feeling of age-old cotton making her wish she was still under.

 

“Mmmmhhhh.”

 

“Dr. Sorenson, can you squeeze my hand?” The voice was close, she could feel his heat and detect that he was blocking part of the light that was causing her so much pain. She pushed aside the smell of the onions he had eaten recently.

 

She thought about squeezing. She could feel his fingers, but was unsure if she had actually accomplished the motion until he spoke. “All right, then.” Pause. She waited for him to flip up her eyelids and shine a penlight in them. But he didn’t. “Can you say your name?”

 

“Becky.” It croaked out of her mouth like frogs escaping flashlights in the night.

 

“Perfect.”

 

It had been far from it, she knew. Maybe the man was a dentist - that’s how he could understand what surely was nothing more than a mumble.

 

“What are you giggling about?” His voice shook revealing that he, too, was laughing.

 

“You understand me.”

 

He smiled. A kind, round face, with uneven teeth, and brown eyes.

 

She blinked slowly, immediately blurring her vision.

 

“If I sit you up will you drink this for me?”

 

The cup he held up looked like … urine.

 

She must have cringed. He spoke again. “It’s apple juice. It’s what we’ve got.”

 

So she nodded. Her neck releasing loud moose noises within her skull as she moved it.

 

“I’m Jack. Your RN.” He didn’t hold out his hand, and Becky figured they’d already done their handshake. In efficient movements she was sitting, the gurney creaking louder than her own bones, and he had pushed her hands around the cup, helping her bring it to her lips.

 

Heaven.

 

She hadn’t believed apple juice could be so good. She’d hated it since her mother had poured it down her throat day after day as a kid. But now … now it was sweet and clear and took her home.

 

To the living room with the old couches. The wear on the front carpet leading a path out the front door and continuing onto the paint and down the porch steps. The sagging split rail fence that greeted a person as they entered the yard, and asked them to return when they left.

 

Why had she memorized it so intently when she was there last?

 

Sitting bolt upright, Becky whacked her head on something.

 

No.

 

That wasn’t right. Sitting had simply caused a headache the proportions of which matched a good whack upside the head. “My family!”

 

Did they know about her?

 

Becky knew the Nevada site had been under for four days before people started waking up. Were they worried about her?

 

The voice interrupted her worrying. “The lists are coming in as we find things out.”

 

“Lists?” The light was still too bright and she shielded her face from it.

 

“Survivors. Who’s passed.”

 

Looking at her expression, the RN continued with his explanation, “The reversal hit everyone, right after it hit here. It was a few hours behind in some places, in others a whole day. But pretty much everywhere is waking up now.”

 

Becky inhaled. Pretty much everyone was waking up. “So the lists of the dead are short?”

 

His kind smile faltered. “No.”

 

“What?” How could that be? Nevada had lost some, but …

 

“We’ve lost over half.”

 

“What?!” Again the pain of a baseball bat hitting her head. “Ahhhhh.” She leaned herself back, squeezing her eyes against the light and the fire of tears. Again she said the two most important words. “My family?”

 

“I’ll bring you the books.”

 

Books? They had been ‘lists’ but now they were ‘books’?

 

He squeezed her hand again, this time in sympathy and not as a medical check. And then Jack disappeared out the tent door into the bright world beyond.

 

When she opened her eyes, Becky found her tent mate staring at her in deep sympathy. She tried to change the subject from her tears. “Do you know what day it is?”

 

“It’s Tuesday … I’d like to look at the lists, too. I have family all around here. Aunts, uncles, cousins. I already know my friend, Peter Wilson, he was a tech, didn’t make it.” Tears welled in his own eyes, and he showed no manly concern about hiding them from her, a total stranger. “He ran my IV for me, and made me get in and lie down.” She saw and heard the intake of air, “He saved me.”

 

But her sympathy was running low. Still she gave it her best shot, even though to her own ears it sounded hollow and vague. “Then he accomplished what he wanted, I’m sure. We’re all going to lose someone in this.”

 

Her words only served to wind herself up tighter. To make the outer edges of the world go fuzzy. Her family wasn’t small. If they’d lost just over half …

 

She didn’t want to think about it. So she checked out her IV, noted that vitamins had been added. Just when she had forced her breathing back to a shallow imitation of normal, Jack sauntered in carry reams of printed pages.

 

Becky sat herself upright. Ignoring the pounding in her head, she held her hands out. But Jack wouldn’t give it to her, “Now, what city do you need?”

 

“Knoxville.” Jack started to hand her the blue covered book.

 

But Becky remembered. She had sent them to Aaron. “No! Charlotte!”

 

“North Carolina?”

 

She nodded