Death's Awakening (9 page)

How were so many people
this sick so fast? Chills ran down his spine.

He ran across the
street after Parrish, and dialed his dad’s cell number as he
went.

Pick up, pick up,
pick up.

His father’s
phone rang on the other end, but after half a dozen rings, it went to
voicemail. He cursed and ended the call, slipping the phone into the
back pocket of his jeans. His dad would freak out if he knew Noah was
rushing to help someone who was sick without even wearing a mask or
anything.

And maybe he was being
stupid. If the virus was really this bad and people were going to the
hospital, maybe his dad was right about staying home.

But how could he not
help? He couldn’t just let Parrish deal with this by herself.

He followed her up the
stairs and into her mother’s bedroom. He froze in the doorway,
trying to hide his shock.

It was bad. Worse than
a nightmare.

Her mom was lifeless on
the bed, puke and blood everywhere. Parrish grabbed a towel and tried
to clean her off a little, then looked up at Noah.

“Can you help me
get her to the car?”

His dad had given him
strict orders to steer clear of anyone who was sick. He’d
warned Noah his whole life about taking stupid risks when it came to
illnesses. That’s what had killed his mom and his dad had
reminded him of that nearly every day for the past ten years.

Noah stared at the
woman on the bed. She was practically unrecognizable. But then he
looked up at Parrish. This was her mom. He had to help, no matter the
risk.

“Come on,”
Parrish said. Her voice was high and wild. Tense. Scared. She was
sitting up on her knees beside her mother on the bed. She had her
hands underneath her mom’s shoulders and was lifting her
slightly off the bed.

Noah swallowed, his
throat gone dry as sandpaper.

He couldn’t just
turn and walk away.

He moved to the other
side of Mrs. Sorrows and slid his arms under her frail and shivering
form. He cradled her in his arms. She was only wearing a thin
nightgown. Even though it was warm outside tonight, her teeth were
chattering.

“Can you grab a
blanket or something so we can wrap her up and keep her warm?”

Parrish got off the bed
and ran into the large walk-in closet on the far side of the room.
She emerged a few seconds later with a small brown blanket. Together,
they wrapped Parrish’s mom as best they could. He carried her
down the stairs with careful steps and waited for Parrish to open the
door out to the garage.

“Do you want to
put her in the van or the smaller car?” he asked.

Parrish rummaged
through a bowl full of keys. Her hands were shaking. The keys clanged
together in the bowl.

Finally, she just
dumped the bowl over on the granite counter and snatched up one set
of keys. “We’re taking the Honda,” she said. “That
way we can just slide her in the backseat instead of worrying about
bucket seats.”

She opened the door and
stepped into the garage. She unlocked the van and slid the back door
open. He laid her mom down as gently as he could across the length of
the middle seat.

She’d stopped
sweating and he knew from his father’s work that it wasn’t
a good sign. She was getting dehydrated. She’d stopped
shivering and had gone completely, eerily still. He put his hand in
front of her nose and waited. Warm breath blew across his skin and he
relaxed his shoulders. She was alive. She’d just fallen asleep.

He walked back toward
the door, but Parrish was already climbing into the driver’s
seat. She hit the garage door opener and the door made a groaning
sound as it started to rise up.

He nodded toward her
clothing. “Do you want to get dressed real quick before you
go?”

She looked down as if
realizing for the first time that she was only wearing a simple black
tank top and a pair of men’s boxer shorts. She didn’t
even have any shoes on and her feet were covered with streaks of
blood.

She glanced back at her
mother, then shook her head. “I just want to get her to the
hospital,” she said. “Thanks for helping me carry her
down the stairs.”

Noah didn’t know
what to say. Should he go with her? She could barely pick a set of
keys up from inside a bowl. Could she make it to the hospital alone?

“Are you sure
you’re okay to drive?”

A tear ran down her
cheek. “Can you close the door?”

Noah nodded and slid
the door closed.

Part of him wanted to
jump in to the passenger seat and go with her. But part of him wanted
to run inside and wash his hands.

What kind of person did
that make him?

Before he could change
his mind, she backed the van out of the garage and onto the street,
turned the wheel and drove away. Noah stepped out into the driveway
and stared after the van long after the taillights had faded into the
darkness.

The engine was
practically silent as she pressed the gas and reversed into the
street. She almost wished they had a louder car. It seemed like the
kind of moment that begged for a revved engine and the squeal of
tires against the asphalt. But instead, the car’s silence
seemed to amplify her fear. It said everything was normal when she
knew it wasn’t. She knew it never would be again.

Parrish checked the
rear-view mirror for the hundredth time since they’d left the
house, but her mother was still. Her expression was almost peaceful
and Parrish wondered if, by some miracle, she was feeling better.

McLean Memorial
Hospital was only ten miles from their house. The fastest route was
to hop onto the highway, go two exits down, then get off and turn
right. She had been there often enough. The way her parents obsessed
about Zoe’s every bump and scratch had become borderline
ridiculous over the past few years now that she was a professional
musician.

They’d made a lot
of trips to the hospital.

Parrish sped along the
familiar path, praying that she wouldn’t get pulled over by
some eager police officer looking to make his monthly quota. She also
prayed the emergency room wouldn’t be too busy this early in
the morning. Maybe the phone thing was a fluke and all the towers
were just down.

She thought of trying
to call her dad again, but realized she’d left her phone on the
bed in her mom’s room.

She gripped the
steering wheel and pulled on to the interstate. There were more cars
out at this time of morning than she expected. She glanced at the
clock. Four-thirty. Too early for morning rush hour, even if it was
Monday.

She shrugged it off,
weaving in and out of the traffic until she had to get in the far
right lane for the next exit. As she turned the corner, though, she
had to slam on brakes to avoid the line of cars already in that lane.

At first she was
confused. Why would traffic be so heavy this early in the morning? It
didn’t make any sense. She slammed her fist against the
steering wheel and sat up high in the seat, trying to see what the
hold-up was. Was there some kind of accident? Could she drive around
it? She pulled the van forward and slightly off the road and craned
her neck, trying to see around the crowd.

In the back seat, her
mother adjusted her weight and began coughing again. Parrish closed
her eyes and swallowed down the lump of fear rising within her. She
took a couple of deep breaths.

Keep it together.
Everything is going to be okay.

But she didn’t
believe it. She unbuckled her seat belt and turned around in her
seat. She put a hand on her mother’s forehead, hoping maybe her
fever had broken and she was out of the danger zone. She’d
stopped sweating, so maybe she was going to be okay.

Only, her forehead felt
worse.

How could it possibly
be worse than 105? At what point did someone start getting brain
damage from a fever?

She couldn’t
afford to sit here in this stupid line.

Parrish looked ahead at
the long row of cars and pressed her lips together in a tight line.
Maybe someone up ahead knew what was going on. Maybe they could tell
her another way to get to the hospital. She got out and walked up to
the blue Toyota in front of her and knocked on their window.

A small Hispanic woman
jumped slightly, then slowly rolled down the window. Her dark eyes
looked kind, but tired. “Yes?”

“Hey, sorry to
bother you, but I need to get to the hospital. Do you know what’s
causing all this traffic? Was there an accident or something?”
Parrish shivered even though it was warm out. Maybe she should have
grabbed some real clothes after all.

“We are also
trying to get to the hospital. My son, he’s very sick.”
The woman motioned to the young man sitting in the passenger seat.
Parrish hadn’t noticed him before, but she could see that he
was wrapped in a green blanket. He seemed to be sleeping, but she saw
the familiar dark rings around his eyes.

The same as the guy
who’d collapsed on her street the other night. The same as her
mom.

“Do you know if
there’s another way around all this traffic?” she asked.
“Maybe we could drive around whatever’s going on. Maybe
they’re doing construction or something.”

The woman’s eyes
grew sad. She pursed her lips and shook her head slowly. “Haven’t
you been listening to the radio?”

Parrish took in a
ragged breath. Something in the woman’s eyes scared her.

“No, why?”

The woman reached over
and turned up the dial on her car stereo. Parrish leaned forward
slightly and listened, not sure what to expect.

“I mean, I can
hardly believe it myself!” a man said, his voice booming
through the speakers.

She immediately
recognized the voice of a popular late-night deejay called T-Bone.

“Again, folks,
let me confirm that Providence Hospital and Georgetown University
Hospital have both closed their doors. They are not accepting any new
patients, so they are advising people with a severe emergency to go
to any other local hospital. We are hearing reports that most of the
other health care facilities in the area are completely swamped.
Patients are pouring in by the hundreds every hour complaining of
high fever, vomiting and seizures.”

Feeling faint, Parrish
leaned against the hood of the blue car.

By the hundreds?

“I don’t
understand,” Parrish said. “What does this mean?”

Parrish opened her eyes
and looked down at the woman. Sympathy was written across her
features. Sympathy and fear.

“It means this
traffic is not traffic,” the woman said. “This is the
line to get in to the hospital.”

Parrish stepped
backward. Her ears began to ring and she couldn’t breathe. The
line to the hospital? But they were still almost a mile away from the
hospital. How could there be this many people waiting to be seen?

She lifted both of her
hands and pressed her palms tight to her head.

“Are you okay,
sweetheart?” the woman asked.

Parrish nodded, but it
was a lie. She wasn’t okay. None of them were okay.

Viruses didn’t
spread this fast. It wasn’t like people were fine one day and
then suddenly they were all sick with a high fever all at once. This
wasn’t how the world worked.

She jogged the few feet
back to her own car and got back in. She just needed to keep
breathing. Keep moving. Somehow, this was all a huge
misunderstanding.

She looked back at her
mother. She was sleeping again, thank God. Her breathing was rough
and raspy, but she looked relatively comfortable.

Parrish reached forward
and turned on the radio, scanning channels until she heard T-bone’s
familiar low voice.

The line of cars inched
forward.

“I’ve
gotten word here in the studio that several local hospitals have
called in help from the Red Cross and the National Guard. They are
working to set up temporary tent facilities in parking lots and
fields in order to accommodate the rush of incoming patients, but
it’s going to take some time to get things set up. They are
advising anyone who can to stay at home. If you have a loved one who
is ill, the best thing you can do right now is try to make them as
comfortable as possible. Do what you can to keep their fever down and
make sure they’re drinking plenty of fluids.”

Parrish listened to the
same station for the next hour, moving forward inch by painfully slow
inch. A few times, she considered turning around and going home, but
how would she get her mom back in the house? She needed a doctor. Her
cough had returned and she was moving some in the seat, moaning in
pain. Every once in a while, Parrish reached back to check her
forehead, but the fever was the same.

The minutes ticked by
like mini-eternities. Parrish bit into her bottom lip and tapped her
toes. If the doctors could see how much worse her mom was than
probably half these people in line, they’d take her first.
Delirious, she pushed forward, waiting for their turn and praying
this hospital didn’t close down before she got there.

Finally, the red
emergency room sign came into view ahead. She opened her window and
lifted herself up to see farther into the distance. There were about
twelve cars ahead of her now.

“It won’t
be much longer, Mom,” she said, even though she wasn’t
sure her mom could even hear her anymore.

The bag of ice she’d
brought was completely melted now, the water inside lukewarm and
useless.

Ahead, she could see
the bright white tops of tents that had been set up in one of the
parking lots. She could also see large military trucks shuttling
supplies from the hospital to the tents. About twelve cars ahead of
her own, she could see a large man in a green military uniform
leaning in to the driver’s side window of a pickup truck. All
of the soldiers were wearing white medical masks.