The Wounded (The Woodlands Series) (24 page)

The child in my lap stiffened, his legs flying out straight and his arms board
-like at his sides. The stick still gripped tightly in his hand began to pulse mechanically. My heart stopped. It didn’t beat fast or erratically, it just stopped, as did my breath.

I held him
tightly, trying to stop the jerky movements. He didn’t seem to be breathing, his mouth hard and clamped down, his head banging hard against my chest telling my heart to beat, my blood to move. I wrapped my arms around him like a bandage as he convulsed over and over, his beautiful eyes nothing but white framed by blond eyelashes.

Blood trickled down my arm. I looked to his clenched fist, red pushing through the gaps between each
of his fingers. “Let go,” I screamed, fear gripping me like a hand around my throat. But I knew he couldn’t hear me.

The air thinned. The trees
looked like jagged spears, caging us in. Orry slumped in my arms, the movement ceasing as quickly as it had started. What was wrong with my baby?

“Baby, wake up, wake up
,” I whispered, stroking his cheek gently, so afraid he might cave in, or start convulsing again. I put my head to his chest. His little heart was beating so fast, but at least it was beating. The stick fell from his slack hand, coated in red like we had been stirring paint. His palm was indented with tiny holes from each bump of the bark. He’d held on so tightly that it was imprinted in his skin.

I stared down at the blood-covered stick, standing out against the mud and
the dirt for one brutal second. It spun like a compass in my vision. Then I gathered him up, rocking him slowly. He felt empty, light. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, though I didn’t know how I spoke. I hadn’t breathed in minutes.

The inhalation was sharp and daunting
, all the panic pushing through me on that one breath.

Oh God, Oh God, Oh God.

Not him.

Me.

Hurt me.

I pulled him close, tight, stood
up, and ran.

My feet didn’t touch the ground. The cold air would have burned if I could feel anything, anything except this down-to-the-bone panic.
Not him,
I kept saying as I ran.
Not him, not him, not him.

I shielded
his head, with one hand squeezing him as close to me as I could, like if I could hide him, I could outrun this. I could turn back the clock. He flopped limply in my arms as we passed the rotted buildings being torn apart by vines. He didn’t seem to be in any pain, but I didn’t know what that seizure had done to him, how it might have felt in his little body as happened. The thought made me sick. I closed my eyes. Maybe it would be ok, just a weird thing, a one-off. I prayed hard, but I knew. I knew the truth like it was etched under my skin. Something was terribly wrong.

I glanced up at the clock
as we clambered up the stairs. It read 2:25.
Orry, you’re one now.
Tears wanted to stream down my face, but I dammed them. I wouldn’t let Orry see how scared I was.

We flew inside, the great hall cutting triangles of
cold, white light across my back. I jumped from one to another, barely registering.

Some monkeys swirled down the pillars and followed me, the sound of twenty padded feet and my bare ones echoing dully down the tunnel.

I wasn’t sure when I started screaming, but by the time I got inside, my voice was hoarse and fifty people were heading towards me, Joseph included.

When I saw
him, my resolve collapsed like a matchstick house. My eyes welled and overflowed, my chest hurt, everything hurt. Joseph’s eyes met mine and I didn’t want to say it, but I forced the words out. “Something’s wrong with Orry.” His eyes slid to my shirt where thin streaks of Orry’s blood ran across the white cotton like a lazy claw mark. And then back to the limp, ragdoll child that lay across my arms like a bolt of fabric. Every part of my skin went bumpy, the hairs standing on end in terror.

Everyone started yelling and talking at once. We were pushed on a sea of people towards the infirmary. Joseph
’s hand was on my shoulder, his fingers gripping me so firm it was painful. He tried to take Orry, but I wouldn’t let him go. We got to the door just as Matthew was about to come out of it. His eyes widened as the force of fifty people pushed him back into the room.

Our eyes connected, my lips
quivering, and his whole face fell. “It’s Orry,” I managed to whisper. “Something’s wrong with Orry.”

Matthew nodded
shakily and turned to the crowd. “I understand everyone’s concern, but I need room. Everyone out except the parents.”

Everyone shuffled
out, but I knew they were waiting just outside the door. I knew more were gathering. The murmurs were louder than an avalanche. It was love. It was support. It was too much.

*****

Without the sounds, the wind rushing past my ears, the people chattering competing words of concern and worry around me, I found the wall. Because I couldn’t stand, I couldn’t hear, and nothing made sense. I would be crushed. I was already crushed. Matthew took Orry from me, and I let him. My eyes slid to the door, a scary set of bloody footprints led a trail back to me.

Joseph’s eyes were ground down. He looked instantly weary and so scared. He glanced back and forth between
Orry and me. Matthew laid him down gently on one of the rickety beds. Little rainbows with stupid puffy clouds were printed on the curtain. I glared at them. They might as well have been knives, blood, and forest fires. Matthew pulled the curtain over, and the movement pulled me to my feet. Joseph held out his hand and we walked together towards an absolute nightmare, worse than anything my crazy imagination could have come up with, because this was real and happening while our hearts were being iced and shredded in our chests.

“Tell me what happened
,” Matthew said while he leaned over and put the stethoscope to Orry’s chest. Orry opened his eyes briefly, turned his head, and vomited.

Joseph’s gripped tightened, the bones in my fingers starting to squelch and mash together.

I opened my mouth and only breath and squeaking came out. Joseph drew his hands up to my face and stared into my eyes, unblinking. From his nose up, he appeared calm, stern even. But when he opened his mouth, the anguish was there. “Rosa, tell us what happened. Did he fall, did he hit his head?” His voice was hopeful and regretful all in one breath, because he was a doctor-in-training. He knew it was something bad.

I closed my eyes and pictured Orry walking towards me, so happy, so clever. “He started to walk. He didn’t fall. He walked to me and clapped his hands. And then, then
he just started convulsing… I held him down… Was that the right thing to do? I saw the blood and then…” I kept my eyes closed.
Please let this be someone else’s story. Let this have happened a long time ago. That I’m reading it, dreaming it, I can’t…

“You did the right thing.” He mouthed or whispered. I couldn’t quite hear him through my anxiety.
Joseph let me go and lifted Orry’s tiny fingers, holding the hand that was splintered and bruised. He looked at Matthew, who looked back, confused. Orry eyed me groggily. His expression waned and stretched. He was so confused. He tried to sit up, but it was like a stone was on his chest. I gasped.

We were all horrified.

Orry cried out and vomited again, this time blood-tinged liquid. Joseph spoke first, his voice commanding but with the edge of a shake to it. “Sedate him. Blood, urine and swab just in case. Matt, have you got any idea what this is?” The last part was pleading, the tone inviting Matthew back in.

Matthew shook his head
as he swiftly inserted an IV into Orry’s arm while Joseph held it still. “I’m not sure. And I certainly don’t want to say anything until I’m sure, so let’s just leave it at that.” A nurse I hadn’t even noticed handed him a needle, and he injected something into the bag. Orry’s eyelids fluttered, and his eyes quickly rolled back.

Joseph
nodded, but I took a few steps towards Matthew, my eyes wild. “What? Just say it, please. I’m thinking the worst right now.”

“It’s what I’m thinking too,” he said sadly a
s my heart and my lungs turned to liquid and drained away.

Joseph gripped my wrists fiercely and pulled me into his chest. He cursed into my hair and I tried
, as hard as I could, to remember how to breathe.

Apella entered carried by Alexei, my father sneaking in behind them. She connected with my eyes briefly, sadly, but once put in her chair, she wheeled straight over to Matthew. He said something to her, to which she shook her head in response. He sighed deeply.

It had been
hours, and Orry had seized twice in that time. We were in a pattern of barely contained panic to absolute panic every time it happened. Joseph was nodding off in the plastic chair next to me. But I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t do anything. I was useless in this situation.

Matthew appeared to steel
himself, and then he strode over to the two of us. The teenage parents. He sighed again. I blinked up at him, the white lights blinding me. I smacked Joseph’s chest. “Wake up.”

This felt like getting my allocations, reading Joseph’s letter, waking up
pregnant, and Joseph dying in front of me all rolled into one.

“Come with me
,” he said

The others waited near Orry as Matthew brought us into another room at the end of the infirmar
y, a solitary desk strewn with paper with a microscope its only adornment.

We sat down and he sat on the edge of the
desk, leaning towards us, his face a crumpled mess of emotions. He swiped his forehead with his hand and said, “I’m sorry.”

Joseph stood up suddenly and punched the wall. I jumped in my chair. “Sorry for what?” I
asked stupidly. “What’s happening?” Matthew put his hand on my shoulder, and I shook it off. “What’s wrong with Orry?”

Joseph rubbed his fist with his hand and came to stand behind me, his breath hoarse.

“I don’t know why, but Orry’s blood cells are exploding in his body. He is anemic, and his liver is not coping. His cells are just expiring,” Matthew said, exasperated. I leaned back into Joseph’s stomach, the up and down of his erratic breathing matching my own.

I gripped the arms of the chair
. “Damn it, Matthew. Don’t talk about him like he’s a tub of old yogurt. That’s Orry out there.”
Oh God, my baby.

“Is there anything we can do?” Joseph asked hopelessly.

“I’m trying. I’m searching everywhere for a treatment, a solution. And I’ll keep looking.”

My head snapped up
. “Hessa, where is he? Is he ok?”

“That’s the thing, Hessa’s fine. Apella explained to me that she was in charge of Hessa’s
development, but Este had already taken over the reins when Orry was made.”

Made, development, what horrible words.

“How long do we have before…” Joseph couldn’t complete the sentence, and I was glad he didn’t.

“At the rate his cells are degenerating, I’d say, a
few days at most.” Matthew was trying to keep it together, but a couple of tears made their way down his cheeks. “We’ll keep him sedated and feed him via tube for now.”