CHAPTER FIVE
“I’m sorry, kid. Only family is permitted to see patients, and if you’re not family,” says the nurse with dark circles under her eyes.
“I’m a close friend,” I say. “Can you at least tell me if anyone is with her?” It somehow bothers me to think of Miriam all alone. Not after that. Not after what she’s just been through.
“No, but we don’t have contact information for her next of kin. If you’re able to provide it, that would be helpful.”
“I, uh…I’m sorry. But I’ll make a few phone calls and see what I can do.”
From the tone in her voice, I suspect the nurse is approaching the end of a very long day. I decide to try again after the shift changes. I will tell them I am Miriam’s younger brother. Not that she and I look alike, but I find a smile and the right attitude can sell almost anything. Especially from someone like me.
For the next hour, I watch carefully from a dark corner near the pay phones, noting that no one has come asking for Miriam. I also take the opportunity to search her name on the internet, hoping to track down a parent or someone related.
I dig her card from my coat pocket and cross-reference the library’s information with her full name. Miriam Murphy. I input the few other facts I know about her, such as where she went to school.
Jesus, what is this? Page after page comes up about her parents dying in a tragic car accident last year. I look through the obituaries and see she is an only child. There is even a picture of her, though she looks about twenty—my visual age. Her hair is neat, cut into a straight bob. She’s wearing a conservative, but formfitting blue dress.
Huh. I scratch my scruffy jaw. The photo looks like Miriam, but it’s not. I wonder if the change in appearance is due to the tragedy of her parents, which could explain why she allowed herself to be with such an unworthy man.
“Goodnight, Gale!” says a young pretty nurse with brunette hair and cats on her scrubs. The tired nurse leaves the front desk, and this is my chance.
I walk up, immediately putting on the charm. “Hi, uh…I was told my sister was in an accident and sent here? Please tell me she’s okay.”
“Your sister’s name?” the new nurse asks.
“Miriam Murphy.”
“And your name?” she asks.
“Michael Vanderhorst—Miriam is my half sister,” I explain.
“Let me get the doctor. She’ll need to fill you in.”
This isn’t a good sign. “Thank you.”
Ten minutes later, I’m called into a small room where a Dr. Evans, a tall thin woman with silver hair, explains that Miriam was the victim of a random attack and has a fractured skull, a broken neck, and severe brain swelling.
“What are you trying to say?” I ask.
“We have done what we can, but we don’t know if she’s going to make it.” My shock must be obvious because the doctor reaches for my arm, a look of deep pity in her eyes. “Have you called your parents yet?”
“Huh?” I can’t think straight, because I know this is my fault. Why did I hesitate with my ridiculous ten hand flexes? They cost me half a second, the time it would’ve taken to stop that man from striking a second blow. Why must I always be so careful, so perfectly controlled?
I wasn’t careful when I killed the bastard.
“Your parents?” she repeats.
“Oh. No.” I shake my head. “They’ve passed. I’m her only family.”
She nods with sympathetic eyes. “I’m very sorry. But I understand the police are searching for the man who did this. He fled the scene, but there were a few witnesses.”
That’s not good.
“Would you like to see her now?” she asks.
My hands start shaking. I am going to do something foolish. I just know it.
“Yes. I’d like to see her.” I follow Dr. Evans into the room. The walls are a pale blue and there are two beds. One is empty. The other holds Miriam in a vice of braces, tubes, straps and such.
“Christ.” Two blows did all this? The damage is a reminder of just how fragile humans are—nothing at all like the characters in those action films that are so popular today.
“I’ll give you a moment.” The doctor leaves, and I stare at Miriam’s sweet face: the fine line of her brown brows, the pert nose, the pink lips that are now taped around tubes.
She’s not going to live. I can smell it on her and all around us. Blood, death, the heat of her skin as her body fights to heal itself. It won’t win.
Sonofabitch. I want to help her. I feel I must, but I cannot. If I give her my blood and she lives, we will be bonded. If it fails and she dies, she will become like me. Still, I cannot sit on my hands.
No. What am I thinking? I can’t help. Yet, once again, I’m intrigued. I’ve never, not in all my years, considered giving anyone my blood. So why her? It’s simply too enticing a mystery to resist.
I look over my shoulder at the door and then back at Miriam.
I cannot believe I am doing this. I bite my thumb and draw a single drop of blood. Her mouth is taped shut, so I open her right eye and place the drop over her pupil.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her. “But it’s not your time yet.”
I gently close her lid and leave. For the time being, there’s nothing to do but wait. I will return tomorrow.
As for me, I’ve got a body to dismember and bury in the desert.