The Six: Genesis | A Reverse Harem Novel

Eighty-Eight

We didn't get a chance to have our discussion.

Minutes after we sat down, tragedy struck. Lewis' phone rang and rang, light flickering on and off as phone calls rolled to voice mail and text messages were delivered one after another. Cursing, he put his cell on do not disturb mode and turned back to me, but the calls didn't stop, and neither did the messages.

There were only a handful of people on the list allowed to break past the setting, and each one of them, except for me, was trying to contact him. For a minute, he seemed like he was going to ignore them, but I didn't want any regrets on his conscience if something terrible had happened. And it did happen.

He never received the promised text from Talia. She never made it to the library. And the snacks she'd purchased at a convenience store near the university library were scattered to the wind on Whittier Road. Those too heavy from blood stayed where they fell.

He could barely get those words out to tell me.

I didn't think there was anything capable of rattling Lewis, but this did. It sent his senses into gear and he shot off the couch, nearly knocking me over in his rush to dress. He tripped in the hall, knocked a hole in the wall and almost ripped his bedroom door off the hinges trying to grab his keys and wallet.

He was in no state to drive. So, I snatched his car keys and sank my hand into his as we ran downstairs. A ghost of a grin echoed across his features as I slid his driver's seat forward and adjusted the mirror downward.

The ride to the Sinai-MorningStar Medical Center.

Like the climax of an old drama TV show, rain pelted against the windows. It came in waves, an avalanche of water threatening to flood the only major road leading to where Talia fought for her life. Looking back, we only made it because of my augmentation.

Multitudes of SUVs and cars were perched perilously on the plateaus placed in the center of the roads, cutting the oncoming traffic away.

They awaited in the torrent. From my perch in the driver's seat, I could see their terrified faces—wide eyes, fishing mouths, and rattling hand gestures. Determined to get us there, I pressed forward.

Iris critically watched from my optical implants, providing water depth analysis and traffic flow research from a nearby satellite. We had to slow to a snail's pace, but we made it. Like an Oasis in the Sahara, Sinai-MorningStar was a beacon of light.

Despite the thunderstorm raging, the calm metal eves, heavy laden with lights, extended over the parking lot. Surprisingly, only a few cars remained. Stragglers, dressed in ankle-length black coats and carrying umbrellas, threw themselves into the weathered fray to reach the doors.

Minutes later, we followed. Chasing the light to find the heated interior of the hospital. Chaos waited behind the sliding doors.

Gurneys carrying bloodied corpses, driving by overworked nurses barreled by. A woman sat in the corner, muttering soothing words to a pair of dark-haired twin toddlers with big brown eyes. On crutches, a man hopped by wearing a low-brim beige hat over a flagging hospital gown.

Sinai-MorningStar Medical Center is the crown jewel of downtown. Like a hen on a nest, it's perched high and built from solid steel and stone. The complex, colorful design consisting of writhing teal, red and white traipsed through the marble floors.

Walls painted a stark white are broken up by colorful abstract paintings peppered between patient rooms. They lead to a massive nurse's station. Voices rise, machines beep and the occasional heartbroken cry of a baby breaks through.

So many injured...

As we delve deeper, a hand pops out of a gurney as it passes. The young male attendant barely bats an eye. He simply tucks the arm back in with a sign and continues down the hall toward an elevator.