I feel…metal. Smooth and rigid beneath skin and muscle. A vibration transfers through my hands, consistent and mechanical.
In my mind, understanding assembles rapidly.
My focus fractures, snapping backward in time. Darius on the ship, taking components apart and fitting them together with methodical repetition.
The behavior I had categorized as nervousness, a way to occupy his hands. It wasn’t that.
He’s been buildingthis. An artificial cardiac unit designed to sustain life in place of a real heart.
“Idris,” I say, my voice breaking despite my attempt to regulate it.
I grip his shoulders, increasing stimulation, my hands shaking now as panic bleeds through control.
“You need to wake up,” I plead. “Come back to me.”
Footsteps rush into the greenhouse. Stan’s voice cuts through the space as Lix explains what we saw, his words speedy yet detailed.
I catch some while I try to coax Idris awake, Lix’s words mingling in the air with my erratic breaths.Darius…Looked affected by Kys…Cut out Idris’ heart…Replaced with a machine…
Lix and Stan are on either side of me. I can hear them, but the sounds out of their mouths no longer register as words while my head spins.
All I see is Idris. His eyes are shut. His skin isn’t as cold as the biting winter wind. He only has to wake up, so I keep shaking him, even when Stan’s hands attempt to stop me, and Lix’s arms are around my waist.
But a miracle takes place a moment later. Blinking back tears, I breathe shakily, seeing Idris groan. His eyes open partway, unfocused until his pupils dilate when they point toward me.
“Hey, Em,” he says, words slurred and voice strained. “I’m okay.”
His words don’t match the reality of red and blood on my hands.
“I wish I could tell you everything,” he continues, breath shallow. “But if I do, you’ll be in his crosshairs. I can’t let that happen to you and—”
His body gives out before he finishes his sentence. His head turns to the side, weight going slack.
Stan carries Idris, careful to protect the incision. “Hospital,” hesays. “Now.”
“Should we call an ambulance?” Elle asks as we pass her by the door, fear breaking through her voice.
“I drive faster,” Stan tells her. “Sorry and happy birthday!”
My legs fail to mirror the pace of Stan’s sprint.
Lix takes me into his arms as he charges forward.
“We’ll be back,” he calls back to Elle.
“Please be safe!” Elle calls after us, as I see Sterling’s arms closing around her, while we disappear into the sudden swirling flurry of snow.
***
After a fast ride through frozen roads, Stan barrels through the emergency doors with Idris in his arms, shouting for help before they even clear the threshold. His voice carries, loud and commanding. It cuts through the waiting room noise in an instant.
They must recognize him as a Song-Smith.
Nurses break into motion. A gurney appears swiftly. Doctors follow, white coats flaring as they pivot toward Idris, haste overtaking any attempt at professionalism.
Idris disappears behind swinging doors.
His absence is abrupt, letting dread drown me in thoughts that he may not survive this.
