A Healer's War

Chapter 14 - Beggar's Choice

Chapter 14: Beggar's Choice

08:38. Monday. April 16th.

Rory made record time on his misty bike ride home, replaying his conversation with Chuck again and again, pumping his pedals with stinging eyes.

By the time he plopped down on his couch, physically and emotionally exhausted, the questions buzzed in his mind like biting flies. What does he say when he quits? Should he keep it brief or explain? Did it matter? Would anyone care? Those who remained barely remembered the nurses who had left. They could replace anyone. He looked down into his lap, at his hands, but caught the blue plastic band around his wrist.

Family. Healing. Hope.

Those three commandments felt hollow. He pulled the bracelet off and tossed it on the cardboard coffee table. What's the point? No matter what he did, no matter how long or hard he fought, it wouldn't differ. As things were, tragedies like Tommy would never stop. The sickness was too deep, the sponge too full. He thought about Chuck's weak smile and Deborah's ridiculous hope. And what can a single person possibly do about that?

A sharp silence replied, long and lingering, and Rory knew the answer. Nothing.

THUP.

Rory looked down at his feet, surprised at not seeing an orange fluff ball demanding pets. "Sneaks?"

Thup-thup.

The sound came from beneath the sofa. He stood, his body heavy. "Did you find the cat-nip again?" he mumbled.

Rory grabbed the flashlight off the fridge and hoped it had batteries. It needed a good shake first, but the flashlight turned on, and Rory crouched down, peering under the couch. Sneaks' eyes shimmered green in the light as she batted something small and solid.

"What'd you get?" Rory lay on his side and reached for the object. It felt small and smooth.

The stone from the pouch. Caroline.

"Where did you get this?" Rory pushed himself up. Sneaks, not done with her game, emerged from under the bed and rubbed against Rory's leg, purring. He turned it over, running his thumb over the grooved arch etched into the surface.

If you're angry enough and tired of waiting, Caroline's note read. Drink the vial, follow the wisps, and... There was another part, but Rory couldn't remember.

And tired of waiting... he paused, shaking his head as a fire built in him. What am I waiting for?

For the last two years, Rory had absorbed blow after blow. He could feel his heart breaking. He could hear that senator's voice. "This is what we pay you to do. You're just lazy. Deal with it. Or get a new job." He felt dizzy.

Turning the river stone over his palm, Rory pictured Tommy lying in his crib, helpless and dying. In such a complex world, it was often difficult to tell right from wrong, but... that was wrong. Chuck had to be stopped.

If you're angry enough...

Caroline's note was crazy—any rational person could see that. The sick didn't just get better. Magic didn't exist, and drinking glowing vials of mystery liquid from a stranger was a terrible idea. But as he stared at his choices, he shook his head, dismayed. It was all bad. How the hell did it come to this?

Curling his fingers around the smooth river stone, Rory squeezed it, feeling something inside his heart give way.

"Maybe we need a little crazy, Sneaks."