Guilt burned over her, mingling with the fever that raged in her body. “I couldn’t just . . . sit around and watch you . . . throw your soul away.”
Remorse filled his eyes. He looked down in an attempt to hide it. “You’ve been watching me . . . from heaven.”
“Something like that.” Sera struggled to lift her hand and touch his face, his hair, trace his lips with her finger. He took it in his and kissed it. “They’ll come . . . soon, Dex. . . . Please listen to
. . . me.”
“Who?”
Sera wanted to shake her head at him, tell him there wasn’t time to explain. Explanations weren’t important. That she didn’t have the strength. “It’s complicated. Call . . . them angels . . . but I’m not . . . not exactly dead. Some people who . . . care about saving the population . . . took my body before I died. They need to . . . take Elspeth’s before . . . it’s too late.”
Dex’s eyes lit up. “Then you’re better . . . or your body is . . . wherever it is?”
“Yeah, kind of . . . but—”
“Then you could come back. As Sera.”
She shook her head once, all that she had strength to do.
“But I could come with you.”
Tears clouded Sera’s vision, which seemed fuzzy anyway. Oh, please. Not yet. “They think . . . your body,” she struggled to breathe. No! But she knew it wasn’t The Guides rushing to take her—a confusing thought in and of itself—but Elspeth’s body was going quicker than anyone expected.
Dex seemed to understand. “Because of the drugs and stuff.” He covered his mouth with his hand. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Sera knew that only the first was addressed to her. She closed her eyes, unable to hold them open any longer. “Just don’t . . . waste . . . this.”
His hands slipped under Elspeth’s frail body. “No . . . Sera, babe. Please. Stay here with me.” He cradled her close to his chest. He choked on the words. “Please. Please, God.”
*****
“Please. I . . . I can’t do this alone. Not twice.”
Elspeth’s chest rose shallowly, but Dex knew she wouldn’t open her eyes again.
“We have to take her now before it’s too late.”
Dex looked up. A neat looking young woman, deep brown hair swept cleanly off her shoulders, stood at the end of the bed. “You can cure her,” he said. Actually, begged. Something made him reach up with one hand to wipe at the tears on his cheeks.
She shook her head. “We have discovered a treatment, but for reasons unknown to us, we cannot use it on Earth. We can slow the rate of destruction exponentially, until we are able to cure it. That is many years down the road, which is why we must salvage what we can in order to repopulate Earth when the time comes.”
“I need her. I can’t save myself without Sera,” he pleaded.
She smiled. “I don’t believe that anymore, Dex.”
“Don’t take her.”
Sadness crept onto the woman’s face. She frowned, as though it came without her permission. “That body is dying. It has mere hours left before everything shuts down and we cannot save Elspeth Ronan. Sera did not wish that sacrifice to be made.”
“Then let Sera come back. You said you can slow the virus.”
She shook her head. “Something in this atmosphere negates the treatment we’ve affected. Sera’s body would also die within days of coming back.”
Dex closed his eyes. He struggled for composure. “There’s nothing?”
“I am very sorry.”
He nodded, still unable to look at her. “Then . . . tell Elspeth thank you when you talk to her.”
“I will.”
Dex clutched the body for several more moments before laying it gently on the bed. He turned to the woman, who’d moved to the other side of Elspeth. “And tell Sera I won’t waste it.”
She smiled warmly at him. “Good idea.”
He left the side of the bed, glancing back only once before walking out.
*****
“Here on your right is the Transition Center, where clerks and overseers work to make your conversion to the Haven Base lifestyle as easy as possible.” Sera held her hand out toward the room, feeling wistful. She couldn’t help but wish for a peek at the computers, one moment to see how Dex was doing. But the guides forbade her from accessing Earth files. No exceptions. “Any questions?” she asked the small group crowded around her and the door.
The new arrivals looked bewildered. She didn’t blame them. Most of them had only woken from the “transition trance” as they dubbed it, a day or two before. Talks with their overseer could hardly prepare them for the tour Sera led them on of the massive Haven Base. When none of them spoke, she turned to move on.
“Sera? One moment?”
Sera looked up. Emily stood at the door. She smiled.
“Of course,” Sera said.
“He’s fine, Sera. I told you he would be,” Emily admonished.
Sera managed a weak smile. “I know. How is Elspeth?”
“She’ll need a few more days to recover, but she will be absolutely fine.” Emily patted Sera’s shoulder.
“I didn’t mean to push her so far—”
“As you have told me at least a hundred times since you got back. She is fine.” Emily laughed. “I need to see you after you get done with this round. Do you mind meeting me back at my office?”
“Of course. What is it?”
Emily just smiled and returned to the Transition Center.
She smiled. So hopefully it’s not bad, Sera thought. She strode ahead to lead the tour onward. Maybe I’m getting reassigned . . . I wish.
After handing over the group to their Transitions Overseer, Sera hurried through the pristine hallways to Emily’s private office. She could hardly concentrate the rest of the tour, racking her brain for what Emily might need to see her for. Possibly just another warning about trying to access Dex’s file. Sera hadn’t tried, but Emily might think she was getting desperate to know something. “He’s fine” felt so generic. Maybe she wants to show me an image or something to reassure me. Sera tried not to get her hopes up.
She tapped lightly on Emily’s closed door. It opened immediately. “Hello, Sera.” Emily smiled again, and stepped out into the hall with Sera. “Come with me.”
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.” Emily winked. “Why don’t I give you an update on Dex since you’re dying to know more than you’ve been told.” She turned to Sera, looking stern despite the casualness of her voice. “Thank you for obeying the orders not to try and see him, Sera.”
It sounded much more like a warning than praise. Sera sighed. “You’re welcome.”
Emily laughed. “Perhaps I should have told you earlier why you were allowed to use Elspeth’s body so long, though I thought you would have guessed by now. We monitored your interaction with Dex Porter closely. To our surprise, we saw signs of change early on. By the final days, we were sure your efforts touched him, which made the slight sacrifice to Elspeth’s body worth it.”
“And now?”
“Just as we suspected. Dex has striven to completely change his path.”
Sera smiled. “Really?”
Emily raised her eyebrows. “Really, Sera. Here we are.” She held open a door.
Sera looked up, surprised to find they were at the Arrivals Center. “Arrivals?”
Emily followed in behind her. “There’s someone scheduled to come up on the thirteen-ten shuttle. I thought it might brighten your day.”
Sera frowned. “Who?” Her mind ran through a list of choices as she watched the shuttle unload on the bay on the other side of the glass. Gurneys rolled out, their occupants each in varying stages of health, most looking better than Elspeth, even after a day in Recovery. Mom, Dad? . . . Never, they’re too old. She thought of her friends, not sure whether to be glad or scared that they were now here on Haven Base.
Then a tall, dark-haired young man ducked his head a
nd exited the shuttle on his own two legs. Sera pressed her hand against the glass. She gasped. “Impossible.”
He didn’t see her yet. A woman walked out behind him, took his arm and led him through the Arrival doors.
Sera stared in astonishment. She turned to Emily. “How?”
“I took the liberty of taking a blood sample before I left with Elspeth. I had a hunch. He has a certain level of immunity to the virus. It’s possible that it may eventually lead to a cure or a treatment workable within Earth’s atmosphere. The Guides felt it was an opportunity we must take advantage of.”
“But you said . . . his body is damaged.” As Sera watched him go through the normal vitals checks and scans before they released him, she struggled to keep tears at bay. It seemed so unreal, too good to be true.
“True. There is much we cannot repair.” Emily took Sera’s hand. “We are not soulless, Sera. Our mission is one of compassion, though I admit that sometimes we certainly overlook the small necessities because we are so focused on the larger picture. We would like to study Dex’s blood, but the bottom line is that you deserve to be with him.”
Sera couldn’t resist wrapping her arms around Emily. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you.”
“Sera?”
His voice made her turn.
“Phew,” Emily joked.
Sera spun. Her legs couldn’t take her toward him fast enough. His arms reached her, gathered her up tightly. “Sera . . .” he breathed.
She couldn’t say his name. She reached up, pulling his face down to hers and just rested her cheek against his, breathing in his scent, complete in his presence.
The End
About the Author of Haven
Raneé spends naptimes and bedtimes writing, editing, and blogging. She has a Bachelor’s degree in History from the University of Wyoming and is currently president of the PM Writers Chapter of the American Night Writers Association (ANWA). She, her superhero husband, and two boys live in Wyoming.
You can find more about Raneé S. Clark at:
http://raneesclark.blogspot.com
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SEEDS OF LOVE
The outstretched hide of a porcupine was draped on the deck of her new apartment when she returned from work. The beady eyes and prickly demeanor were intimidating despite knowing the carcass was harmless. If it weren’t for the bleached cow skull on the railing next to it, Blanca would’ve hopped into her Miata and high-tailed it back to Chicago. The skull had intricately beaded eagle feathers dangling from the horns. Blanca reached across the railing to examine the feathers when a man’s voice , startled her.
“It’s bad luck to handle sacred feathers. Didn’t they teach you anything in those fancy schools back east?”
Blanca withdrew her hand and looked over her shoulder at the man she’d only seen coming or going since she’d arrived in Crouch, Idaho. Just the name of the place she’d decided to call home made her snicker. She’d originally thought her paperwork had a typo and the town was called Couch. If Iowa had a town called Davenport, it only made sense Idaho would have one called Couch, right? But the State Trooper who had pulled her over just outside of Garden Valley and given her directions to Crouch had corrected her on that little detail. The jerk. Who pulls someone over for dodging boulders anyway, especially when their ride is a brand new 2012 Miata? Everyone knows the clearance on those babies is completely non-existent. The thought of the bright yellow, self-indulgent graduation gift made her smile. She knew it wasn’t practical for the area, but oh how her baby had sung on the seventeen-hundred mile drive from Downers Grove, Illinois to here.
“Something funny?” Longbow asked, before sidling past her on the stairs and carefully scooping up the porcupine pelt.
“No. Sorry, you surprised me is all.” She turned to follow the man. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I just wanted to get a closer look at the beadwork. It’s incredibly detailed. Is it yours?”
The Apache smoke-jumper her landlord had warned her to stay clear of shrugged his shoulders and continued past her to his doorway. Regardless of the landlord’s advice, Blanca was not about to let the elusive man off that easily. She’d been trying to find an opportunity to introduce herself since she arrived, but the man was like a pick-pocket on a crowded Chicago street. You know they’re there but unless they choose to grace you with their presence, you never really get close enough to identify them.
She stepped forward and shoved her hand between the man and his door. “I’m Blanca, by the way. Blanca Islas. I’m the new Nurse Practitioner for the clinic here in Crouch. Nice to meet you, Mr. Longbow.”
He didn’t take her hand or even bother to look in her direction. “Forest will do,” he said quietly, then stood as if waiting for her to move.
Blanca was about to appease him when his soft voice caught her by surprise. “White Island,” he said, translating her name almost reverently.
Blanca half expected him to turn and ogle her well-endowed chest like every other man with the ability to translate Spanish. She’d inherited the name from her great-grandmother, and despite being proud of her Spanish heritage, she wished her grandparents could’ve been something more common like German or Swedish, or that she could’ve been born flat-chested.
If men weren't eyeing her breasts as they spoke the English version of her name, they were inevitably asking her how someone as blond and pale as she could be of Mexican descent. She was sick of all the lame come-ons and ignorant people of the world. Only part of the reason she’d packed-up her stuff and moved cross-country the minute she’d graduated with her DNP, Doctorate of Nurse Practitioner. She was tired of being a city girl and all the politics that went with it.
“La Isla Blanca,” he said again in Spanish, “a beautiful island off the coast of Spain. Have you actually been there or does your family have a thing for naming their children after exotic places?”
Astonished by Longbow’s knowledge of the island, she didn’t respond at first. Then she pulled herself together and leaned back against the windowsill of his apartment. “My ancestors founded the island. Thousands of years ago, of course, but it’s my namesake as well as my great-grandmother’s and hers before her.” Happy they’d found a common ground, she continued to provide information about herself in hopes that her mysterious neighbor would do the same. “The name must skip two generations of women before it can be used again. My family’s version of old fashioned superstition I guess.” She motioned toward the skull, hoping he would explain the sacred feathers he’d admonished her for almost touching.
Longbow kept his eyes down as he spoke. “I heard about the condition your clinic was in when you arrived. There’s no excuse for it, but some people around here don’t take to city folk coming in and changing things up. It was no accident the windows were left open for the raccoons and squirrels to get in. I imagine there’ll be more pranks like that one before they learn to accept you.” He refocused his attention on the railing. “The skull is for protection. They won’t come near your apartment as long as it is here.”
“For me?” Blanca asked, starring at the vacant eyes and partially toothed mouth. What does the skull of a dead cow protect you from, she wondered? Or better yet, who?
Longbow nodded his head and turned like he was going to enter his apartment, but stopped at the last moment. “Normally I don’t poke my nose in other people’s business, but this time I felt it was necessary. Good night, Miss Islas of Spanish descent. May the spirits watching over you be more diligent in the future.”
Blanca realized as she watched Forest Longbow turn and duck before entering his doorway that the two of them weren’t so different after all. He, like her, with his lanky body, long hair, and matching angular nose and face, would forever be associated with the name given to him through his physicality. The natural beauty from which his name was originally inspired,all but discarded with the years. She wondered if a forest such as his could exist on the hot sandy beaches of an island such as
hers. Then she cut that train of thought short. She was not here to consider her compatibility with this enigmatic man, nor any other for that matter. She was here to prove herself as an independent practitioner.
The following days at the clinic were uneventful in terms of vandalism or wild animal ran-sacking, but Blanca knew better than to think the vendetta was over. State Trooper Reynolds had warned her that the doctor who used to oversee the nurse practitioners at the rural clinic, Dr. Phelps, was in no way pleased with someone new moving in and taking over.
Her independence as a doctoral level nurse practitioner meant the good doctor’s services of overseeing the clinic were no longer needed. And thus she’d come to the conclusion the doctor must be sore about the loss of income. Money was as good a reason as any for sabotaging the clinic and it wasn’t likely to let up anytime soon. She knew she had to keep her eyes open and be on the guard for ways in which Dr. Phelps or anyone else might try to undermine her.
After all, it wasn’t the first time she’d worked in a man’s world and had to deal with their fragile egos. She’d been an NP for nearly a decade. It was on her thirty-fifth birthday last year that she decided to go the distance and complete the newly offered doctorate which would give her the freedom to practice how she saw fit, instead of practicing under the iron rule of egomaniacs like the docs back home.
By the end of her first week at the clinic, Blanca was ready for a day off. Apparently so was the clinic secretary, Nikki, who greeted her the minute she stepped through the door with a cup of juice and a bagel.
“It’s Friday. I only work half a day on Fridays on account I have to be at the Dirty Shame by three-o-clock sharp to start the night shift.” She was decked out in a frilly shirt and jeans with a huge silver belt buckle at her waist. The circular tobacco ring protruding from her back pocket was a topic Blanca had yet to tackle.
Nikki moonlighted as a waitress at the Dirty Shame Saloon and Café on the weekends. It was the only bar and eatery in town and most likely a job she couldn’t afford to lose. With a population of two-hundred and fifty people, the town’s job opportunities were few and far between. Blanca understood what it was like to barely make ends meet. She’d worked as a waitress while putting herself through school the first time. She didn’t begrudge Nikki, a single mom of three, for doing what was necessary to get by.