Chapter 72
A noise behind him caught his attention, and he looked up to see Annie standing there. “Here you are,” she said, her arms crossed beneath her ample chest. “Dr. Joplin, you are acting very peculiar, and I insist you tell me what’s going on right now. Or else I’ll have to call Dr. White and ask him to send you home for the day.”
“No, don’t do that,” James pleaded, turning to face her. “I’m fine. I truly am. I’m just… tired.”
“Your father said you were ill. If there’s a chance you could infect the patients…”
“Oh, there’s little chance of that,” James muttered.
“What is it then?”
There was no way for him to explain it, not to Annie, not to anyone. Everyone who knew about the Ternion, the secret world of Vampires, Hunters, and Guardians, was sworn not to tell anyone. Ever. He’d have to think of some other explanation for his condition, and yet nothing came to mind. “I can’t tell you,” he finally said. “But it isn’t catching.”
“You should go home,” Annie stated, matter-of-factly.
“I don’t want to go home,” James said. He rose up out of his chair but nearly lost his balance as the world swirled around him.
Annie caught him and forced him to sit back down. “That’s it. I’m talking to Dr. White. Whether it’s catching or not, you’re in no condition to be treating other patients.”
“No, Annie, please.” James reached out and caught her arm. “If I go home… they’ll….” He couldn’t finish that sentence. How could he make her see that returning home meant they’d make him take the serum and change who he was forever?
“If you go home, they’ll make you warm soup and let you rest,” she said, dropping to her knees and peering into his eyes. “You’re sick, Jamie.” She hadn’t used his given name at all, let alone his nickname, since he’d graduated from medical school. “You need to get better.” She stood, but not before kissing him gently on the forehead. The energy James had felt soaring through his body for days was now replaced with butterflies in his stomach and a tightness in his abdomen.
He could no longer argue, however, and as he watched her go, he sat and watched, trying to accept that life as he knew it was over. He’d have no choice now but to take the injection and become something he never wanted to be.
A few hours later, James was dressed in his nightshirt stretched out on his own bed beneath the blankets, as his mother and sister stood looking on. Uncle Culpepper sat in a chair next to his right side, and James stared up at him, completely uncertain.
“It will make it all better, I promise.” Uncle Culpepper spoke to him like he was a small child with a boo boo, but as he’d nearly drug himself home after Dr. White insisted he go home and rest until he felt better, James just wanted the pain to stop. He’d been assured the hospital would welcome him back once he was himself again. They just had no idea that would never be the case.
“You’ll feel a small sting, and then, the medicine will start to course through your veins. Eventually, you’ll go to sleep.”
Beads of sweat spotted James’s forehead as he remembered his sister’s screams. He really didn’t want to experience that for himself. He glanced down at her, and Margie smiled at him reassuringly. “You can do it, little brother. I promise you. It’s not so bad.”
He wondered if she even remembered her own shrieks, but he didn’t say anything to her.
“Ready then?” Culpepper asked.
“Let’s get this over with,” James nodded.
He knew the routine well, having given injections himself many times before, but he preferred not to look. As Culpepper tied a tourniquet around his arm, James chose to focus on the smiling face of his mother. She looked concerned, but she was trying to hide it. James thought she might just be upset because she knew he was in so much pain already. Likely, she would be just as relieved as he was once this was over with.
There was a slight stinging sensation as the needle went into his arm, and then a burning as the liquid entered his vein. Tempted as he was to get a full rundown on exactly what this concoction was and where it had come from, he had decided not to ask. Now, as the warm fluid spread throughout his body, he wished he would’ve. It seemed that molten lava might have been the main ingredient. James braced himself against the burn as it continued to spread and intensify.
“How are you doing?” Culpepper asked, pressing down on a piece of cotton he held to James’s inner elbow.
“It burns,” James managed.
“That sounds about right.”
“But you’re not screaming yet, so that’s something,” Margie observed, a large smile on her face.
James wanted to think of some sort of smart remark to make back to her in response, but he couldn’t think of much of anything. Right now, all he could do was concentrate on breathing so that he didn’t forget to do it. Every ounce of his body felt as if it was on fire inside now, and while he was sure it wasn’t as intense as burning at the stake must be, it was certainly more than a little uncomfortable.
Then, there was a shift, and the fire began to intensify, pulsating almost. James held his breath, gritting his teeth against the sensation. He knew his eyes were watering, and he fought back against tears since he had no intentions of letting his sister see him cry.
“How… long… did… you… say?” he stammered, hoping his uncle could make sense of the question.
“Usually a couple of minutes, give or take,” he replied with a shrug. He was in the process of securing a bandage to James’s arm now, and seemed preoccupied with that. “Eventually, you’ll pass out.”
“From the pain!” Margie chimed in, and James shifted his eyes to his sister’s face. “This… is … all… your… fault!”
“You’ll love it once you’re all Transformed though,” she reminded him. “You’ll be faster
and more agile. Who knows? Perhaps you’ll even be able to properly catch a ball.”
He wanted to lash out at her, but there were no words as the fire intensified. His stomach began to cramp up, and he felt the urge to move his limbs, though he couldn’t. He wanted to shake himself free.
“Marjorie!” his mother was chastising on his behalf, but James couldn’t even look at her to thank her.
“It’s true, Mother.”
“Be kind, or you will have to leave. Can’t you see how much pain your poor, dear brother is in?”
Margie said nothing. Or else James simply didn’t hear her. He was trying not to die. Although passing out did seem like a wonderful idea.
“You’re doing good there, son,” Culpepper said, patting his arm.
The sensation of his uncle’s hand on his arm was excruciating, and James wanted to tell him to move it at once, but he had no words. He began to feel faint, and the room around him became fuzzy, spinning around him. Suddenly, a bout of nausea also hit him, and now not only were his veins full of liquid fire, he was about to wretch all over himself. He closed his eyes tightly and began to say a little prayer that it all end soon—one way or another. His last thought was that if he was ever able to stand again, Margie would pay for this.
