Within These Walls

Chapter 42 - Final

(Please keep reading for the sequel, Life After Dark)

The first thing I notice when I come to again is that the noise is completely gone. Dead silence. My second realization is that I'm lying in a bed that isn't mine.

I'm back at the facility.

Gasping, I open my eyes widely, trying to see in the dark room. It's happening all over again. No, no, no—

Warm hands clasp mine, preventing my struggles. "April, relax. You're safe."

Marcus.

As awareness replaces confusion, I realize I'm in a hospital room. I'm not at the facility. He sits back down in the chair beside my bed, his gaze never leaving mine. He's dressed in a blue-and-gray flannel shirt, buttoned to his collarbone, and dark blue jeans.

The outfit alone stuns me. It's so normal. His face is clean of blood, but it's pretty banged up. Calming down, I unhinge my stiff jaw and whisper, "I hope I look better than you do."

He cracks a smile. It feels like forever ago that we stood in the middle of that dark road and I yelled at him for betraying us. The resentment is still there to remind me that nothing is okay, but I think part of what I felt had to do with my condition. That unhinged rage, the doubts and fears sapping me of my control. It's like someone has pushed the reset button and given me a chance to be myself again. I don't dare think it won't last for long.

I look around at my hospital room; it's small and white-walled, equipped with a few machines to my right. An IV drips clear liquid into my arm. I glance down at the needle, queasy. I've never been good with needles, something I knew better than to share with Sam. One of my few hidden weaknesses.

"You scared us," Marcus says softly. "The doctors couldn't tell what was wrong with you, but you were burning up so badly that first night your body shut itself down. You weren't reacting to anything they gave you. There were times when I thought . . ."

He doesn't finish, but I know what he wants to say. How close I came to death. "The serum. I think it's clashing with whatever is causing me to blank." What does it mean? Will I keep getting sicker until I blank for good, or until this kills me? I'm not sure which is worse.

"How long have I been out?" I ask.

"Two days." He peers out of the wide window on the other side of my room. "It's crazy out there. We're the talk of the nation. Almost all the kids went back home with their parents, but there are plenty of reporters parked out there for you and Willow."

I nod, relieved but mostly sad. So many families won't ever see their sons and daughters again. Camille, Rae, Nate, the girl who attacked Marcus in those first days. Maybe even Carson. Thinking about him is like a sledgehammer to the gut. I've failed him.

"What about the people in the other truck?" I ask to distract myself. "Did they make it?"

He nods. "They're the ones who called the cops for us."

"Good. How is Willow?"

"She's got a broken arm and a concussion, and she had to get a bunch of stitches. But she's doing okay." His lips quirk into a smile. "Willow and Janie don't always get along, but they're unstoppable when they do. Willow's compulsion works on people mesmerized by Janie. They've been terrorizing the town. They got us rooms at a motel a couple of miles away."

"Is she doing okay? I mean, with Alec and Sam . . ."

His smile drops. "She hasn't talked about it yet. I don't want to push her."