The Last Hour (Thompson Sisters), Sheehan-Miles, Charles [reading an ebook .txt] 📗

the first time she’d laughed in a week or more, and I wanted to savor it, put it in a bottle so we could take it out and listen any time. But her laughter didn’t stay. In fact, after a few moments it turned to tears, and I had pulled her to me in a tight embrace and whispered back to her the same words she’d once said to me. “We’ll get through this together, babe. I promise. I’m here for you. Forever.”

What if I couldn’t keep that promise?

I needed to get up and take a walk or something. Sitting here feeling sorry for myself wasn’t going to help anything. I stood up, and it was odd and disconcerting that I felt no need to stretch, or anything, after sitting hunched over for so long. It drove home my condition more than just about anything else possibly could have.

My condition: I had no condition. I didn’t exist.

My eyes fell back to Carrie in her seat, still looking as exhausted as I’d ever seen her. I couldn’t just walk away. I couldn’t leave her alone. I walked back over and got on my knees right in front of her. I put my hands in her lap, and leaned as close as I could, and whispered, “I love you, Carrie.”

Then I kissed her.

Her body gave an involuntary shudder, and tears started rolling down her face. Silent tears, as she raised her hand to her mouth and bit one of her knuckles, trying desperately to suppress grief. Her eyes had gone bloodshot, and her expression looked as if ...

 ... as if she’d just lost everything.

I jerked back. That wasn’t what I’d intended. Oh, Jesus. Carrie bent over in her seat, turning her face away from Jessica, and stifled a loud sob. Jessica dropped her phone, moved forward next to Carrie and whispered something I couldn’t hear.

Carrie shook her head violently. Then she replied to Jessica. “I’m … what am I supposed to do?”

“I know,” Jessica said, her voice sad.

“No. No, you don’t. I’ve spent my entire life taking care of other people. And for a second there, it was like ... it was like he was right here. Like I could feel him.” Her chin started to tremble, and then her whole body shook. “I finally found someone who took care of me. And I’m so afraid I’m going to lose him.” And then she broke down completely, almost wailing, her face buried in her lap.

I gasped, and watched. Helpless.

Hopeless.

Jessica threw her arms around Carrie. And that’s where I needed to be. Protecting her. And I couldn’t. God damn it!

“Way to go, Einstein,” I heard a mutter behind me.

I spun around, and for the first time I felt a hammer of rage at Sarah. “Sarah, will you just shut up?”

She sighed and gave me a look that would have frozen my balls into icicles if I’d actually physically been here.

I closed my eyes and tried to take a deep breath to calm down. Finally, I said, “Sorry. I just don’t know what to do.”

She nodded. “I know. I tried with Jessica, too.”

I stared off at the wall. “I hate being helpless.”

She looked at me and said, “We can affect some things. You saw that. I think I figured it out. It’s ... strong emotions. That’s all that comes through.”

“I don’t know what good that does me. Or her,” I said.

“I don’t either. Let’s go find out what’s happening, then.”

“What?”

“The operating room.”

I felt a shudder. The thought of seeing the surgeons cutting into my body ... operating on my brain—I couldn’t get my mind around that. I slowly shook my head.

“Come on, Ray. We’re not doing any good here. If anything, we’re making things worse.”

“I need to stay with Carrie.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and gave me a skeptical look. “You may need that, Ray, but does she? Look at her! You keep touching her, and it’s driving her insane. You heard what they said! We’re both as good as dead. How the hell is she supposed to get through this if you keep touching her?”

In all my years, I’ve never hit a woman. Never even wanted to. But it took everything I had to not scream at her. My fists were balled at my side, and I shouted back, “She needs me, Sarah!”

“She needs to survive this, Ray.”

I wanted to scream. I wanted to shake her. I wanted to run out of here and howl at the doctors and the idiot driver who had hit us. I wanted to find all the people in the Army and NIH who had made our brief lives together such a miserable struggle, and hurt someone. But I couldn’t do any of that. Even if I’d been here physically, even if I’d had the opportunity ... I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.

I looked up at the ceiling, struggling to contain my rage. I tried to breathe, and calm myself, and let the emotions just flow out. It was almost palpable, almost real.

But not quite.

My shoulders sagged, and I said, “Look, why don’t you just go on without me, all right?”

And then Sarah did something completely unexpected. She looked away from me, and wiped her right arm across her eyes, and said, “Because I’m afraid to go alone.”

I closed my eyes. All right. I could do this.

“Okay,” I whispered. “Let’s go.”

I grabbed her hand, and we walked together out of the waiting room, right through the sliding doors that you needed an electronic pass card to open.

Beyond the doors, it was crisp and brightly lit.

“How do we find ... us?” she asked.

I shook my head. “I don’t know.”

“I feel gypped. Aren’t we supposed to get a spirit guide or something?”

I suppressed a laugh. “They must be all booked up or something. We’ll find it.

And we did. We walked down the hall, looking in the small window in the doors. The first door was an office, but the second opened into an anteroom, filled with equipment on tables and