The Operator

Peeved, Jack clicked the TV off and sat at the foot of the indulgent bed and sulked. But the shakes had abated enough that she could sit up. It was a breather, nothing more. The next wave was going to be the tipping point—and she didn’t know whether she could take it.

Confused, LB turned to the TV. “She told me she hallucinates,” LB said.

“That’s not the withdrawal,” Silas said, his head down over the open bag.

“No, I’m schizophrenic,” she said. “But Silas says the voices in my head are real.”

“You are not schizophrenic.” Silas dug in his bag. “I have something stronger. You want it now?”

“Why not,” she said, and LB frowned, clearly thinking it was a mistake.

“It might knock you out,” Silas said, and her eyes slid to him, drawn by the rattle of pills as he wrangled the safety seal off.

“Nicotine and now barbiturates?” LB asked. “Why didn’t you just get some nicotine caps and let her shoot up with them?”

“I’ve got my reasons,” Silas said, head down as he jiggled two into his palm.

Head aching, Peri grabbed the bottle instead of the two pills, shaking them into her mouth like candy.

“That’s why,” Silas said when she handed the half-empty bottle back and he dropped the original two pills back into it. “That’s too many,” he added, voice resigned.

Peri tugged her afghan closer. “You got anything to wash it down with?”

“Well . . .” Silas hedged, a bottle of what looked like cough syrup in his hand. He started to put it back in the bag, and Peri snatched it out of his grip. Her stomach clenched, and she gritted her teeth as the click-click of the seal breaking seemed to hurt her skull. It was getting harder to focus, and a lethargic, hot sensation was coursing through her muscles, making them feel as if they weren’t her own.

“You’re going to kill yourself taking it all at once like that,” Silas said, but that he was even saying it meant she hadn’t crossed the line—yet.

“Then at least it will be over.” Ignoring LB’s worried frown, she tilted her head back and the sweet, syrupy alcohol slipped down. It burned, tripping her gag reflex. She coughed, fending off Silas’s help as her eyes watered.

“She shouldn’t be mixing those,” LB said, and Silas patted her back.

“I know, but she’s going to throw up in about fifteen minutes,” he predicted. “What gets into her system between now and then isn’t going to kill her. Probably.”

Her foot began to shake. At this point, she wasn’t sure whether it was the withdrawal or the meds. Frankly, she didn’t care. Vertigo hit her, and she reached for the stability of the couch’s arm. “It’s not working,” she panted as her gut twisted. “Give me another patch.”

“No. That’s all you get,” Silas said.

“Give me another patch, damn it! It’s not working!” she shouted, tears springing up unbidden. She knew it was from the drugs, but nothing felt real anymore.

“Peri, I’m sorry! This is what I have,” Silas said. “It’s going to get better. I promise.”

Peri pulled her eyes from the bag, knowing there was nothing in it that could help her. “I’ve only had two doses. Why is it this bad?” she whispered. Her heart hammered and she looked at the ceiling, feeling the room spin. “It shouldn’t be this bad.”

“I’m sorry, Peri. I’d do this for you if I could.”

His eyes held an unexpected vulnerability, and she quashed her emotion as the bolts in her life slid to a new, locked position. She was not going to kick this, and she was not going to give in. Adrenaline pushed into her, and her stomach clenched. “It’s not working, Silas,” she moaned. “I can’t do this again. I can’t!”

“It will be okay,” he soothed, pulling her back to his front, holding her to keep her from shaking. From the corner of the room, Jack watched, hearing the lie as well. “I promise.”

But she wasn’t going to make it. Her hands were sweating, and she looked at them, shocked. They had gone pale. The adrenaline wasn’t mixing well with whatever was in that cough syrup. Her stomach cramped, and she held her breath. Her pulse was too fast, and she suddenly realized she was going to pass out.

“Peri!” Silas shouted as her body went slack.

Eyes closed, she distantly heard LB swear, and then her head swung forward. Arms limp, she felt herself shifted to the couch, the musty cushions pillowing her—almost like clouds.

“Shit, that was fast. She’s going,” someone said.

“Going? Going where?” another voice said, frantic.

“Under the ground, you idiot.” It was LB, but she couldn’t open her eyes. “Pick her up. Keep her awake. Slap her if you have to. How much does she usually get?”

“A half cc. No, she’s got this!” Silas exclaimed as she felt herself picked up, and the cloud cushions became arms, thick and warm, holding her as if she would break. But she had broken already, feeling her skin crack and fall away, the pieces slipping to the floor, one by one. She could hear them hit and shatter like ice.

“I don’t know what this shit is, but she can’t quit cold. Look at her. I’m giving her the Evocane. Now.”

Evocane? “Silas?” Shaking violently, she cracked her eyes. She wasn’t in pieces. Her skin was still whole. Silas was holding her, his expression twisted in fear for her. “You have Evocane,” she said, the need rising from everywhere, crushing the shakes and fatigue.