Zombie Baby: Zombie Baby, #1

By Sonia Rogers

Frankie Collifax thinks she has the perfect life. She has her dream job working as an elementary teacher and even though she lives alone, Frankie is as happy as she's ever been.

Spending time with her students and her niece is fulfilling, but Frankie is certain she doesn't want children of her own. But when her sister Beth can't take care of her baby anymore, Frankie reluctantly brings India to live with her.

Adapting to living with a child is hard enough, but an unexpected trip to the emergency room will change everything.

India is not your normal child, and as Frankie learns more, she discovers that not only will India's problems affect her personally, but they'll affect the entire world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sonia Rogers
• Release date: Oct 17, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386168669

Sonia Rogers

Sonia Rogers is the author of a lot of books. Some are good, some are so-so, and a few are pretty terrible. Regardless, she continues to put her work out into the world, hoping to connect with the same sort of twisted minds as her own. She lives in Missouri with her husband and a pack of annoying (yet loveable and funny) beagles.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Inever wanted to be a mother. Never felt the maternal stirrings that most women my age claim to have. At twenty-three, I had just started my career, and my idea of having a family didn’t extend past buying a gerbil. And even that was kind of iffy. I just wasn’t sure I wanted that much responsibility – at least, not yet.

My life plan, at the time, was to become the stereotypical old-maid schoolteacher who lived alone (maybe with a gerbil) and dote on children that I didn’t have to raise. I had no love life, wasn’t looking for one, and my new career as a second-grade teacher at the local elementary school was fulfilling enough for me.

I loved my job, loved my students, and loved my life. The crème de la crème was that I had managed to land a job in the neighborhood I grew up in, at my old elementary school, only blocks away from my childhood home and my mother. My life was everything I had hoped and dreamed of since I was a kid.

I thrived on normalcy and boredom. Routine was my friend. Every morning, I would get up at six a.m., take a shower, then ‘fix myself up’ for the school day. That meant wiping the steam off the mirror and staring at myself in disgust for a few seconds. Then I would glance over at the makeup bag stuffed with bargain-store cosmetics, glare at it, look back at the mirror, shrug, and pull my long black hair into a ponytail. I would throw on whatever comfortable, yet professional-looking outfit I had chosen for the day, then go downstairs for coffee before brushing my teeth, gathering my papers, and heading for school.

I was always the first one to the school in the mornings, and the last to leave in the afternoon. Not because I had ambitions to be promoted, but because I loved my job, and sitting in the classroom that smelled of crayons, glue, and paper made me happy. Every morning upon entering, I would turn on the lights, smile, and then head to my desk, where I would set down whatever was in my hands, pick up the nameplate that faced the classroom, and dust it gently. ‘Ms. Frances A. Collifax’ was always shining brightly by the time the children would start filtering into the room.

I would greet each child by name as they came in, and I always tried to find something to compliment them on. Every smile that came my way was like a little gift, and I knew I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

Then life and all the surrounding circumstances that go with it happened, and I found myself living with a toddler. India Rose Collifax, my adorable niece, the closest thing to a child of my own that I ever expected to have, moved into my house, and everything I knew to be true became a falsehood.

Chapter 2

From the time we were old enough to talk, my sister and I fought. We were born on opposite ends of the spectrum, both in looks and philosophies. Beth was always the pretty one with her blonde hair, blue eyes, and tiny body, while I was the smart one – not that I was ugly, but my gangly height, darker complexion, and black hair was as far away from Beth’s fair looks as one could get.

While I got good grades in school and worked hard to get into a good college, Beth made partying with her friends her priority and dropped out of school in the tenth grade. We managed to maintain a mostly-tenuous peace while we lived at home with Mom, but as soon as we moved out on our own, the relationship deteriorated to the point that we barely spoke.

Mom did her best to keep my sister on the right track, but conforming to society’s rules was banned in Beth’s world of sex, drugs, and rock and roll. The fights that ensued always ended with Beth furiously slamming her way out of the house and disappearing for days at a time. That fury drove her even deeper into the world of teenage angst and despair – the one sure way to send a fifteen-year-old down the dark path of drug and alcohol abuse with her equally rebellious peers.

I can’t count the number of times I watched my mother cry herself to sleep over my sister, or heard her muttering darkly about how she’s just like your father. I did everything in my power to balance the scales- keeping my grades up, staying home with Mom on the weekends, and just trying to be the angel to my sister’s devilish behavior.

Beth’s wild lifestyle finally resulted in predictability. Adolescent rebellion mixed with sex, drugs and rock and roll almost always ends with teenage pregnancy. Beth managed to avoid being predictable until she was nineteen.

From the moment she announced her pregnancy, my mother and I waited, dreading the inevitable. We both knew it was only a matter of time before she did something that would hurt her, the baby, or both. We did our best to keep an eye on baby India. We loved Beth, but she had chosen her path, and there was no stopping her. All we could do was wait, and in the meantime, try to make sure the baby was safe.

India spent a lot of time with us anyway. My mother would show up at Beth’s house and jokingly announce that she was there to kidnap the baby. Beth never argued. It gave her and the baby’s daddy the opportunity to party even harder. She would always pretend to be reluctant, though, as though we couldn’t see right through her lies. Every single time, she would say, Alright, Mom, but I’m coming to get her first thing in the morning. You know she doesn’t sleep good at night, and you’re gonna be tired. I’ll be there by seven.

Mom would always nod and agree - whatever it took to get the baby out of that cesspool Beth called a home. I tried to convince myself that Beth always meant what she said about picking the baby up early – that she wouldn’t purposely put Mom through the exhaustion and work that an infant required for more than a night, but even then, I knew deep down that Beth cared more about her next high than she did her child.

India would usually stay at Mom’s house for days on those ‘overnight’ visits. Once she was there for an entire month before Beth finally showed up to collect her daughter. I got in the habit of going to Mom’s house after work on Fridays and bringing India home with me for the weekend. It was the only way I could help give my exhausted mother a break. Going back to work on Monday after very little sleep all weekend was tough, but it was worth it in the end. India developed a bond with Mom and me that she never had with her own mother.

By the time India was a year old, Beth was no longer capable of caring for herself, much less a child. Child Services stepped in, and before I knew it, I had a full-time child of my own. I loved my niece as much as I could have loved a child I had grown myself, but raising India full-time was a lot different than keeping her on the weekends. I was furious with Beth for not taking care of her daughter, and with no maternal instincts at all, I did my best to take care of the baby I loved, but didn’t want.

Mom and I worked out a system where she would care for India during the day while I taught school, then I would pick her up and bring her home to a house that was in a constant state of baby-proofing and chaos. In spite of my shortcomings as a mother, India began to learn to do all the things that a child her age should be doing – walking, talking, feeding herself – the things she hadn’t been given the opportunity to learn while living with her mother.

Then came the day everything changed. The day India Rose Collifax single-handedly transformed the world.

Chapter 3

Over the months, I managed to adapt my morning routine to include the baby. That day started out like any other morning. I woke up before it was light out, showered quickly, then went downstairs to grab a cup of coffee and scan the newspaper before the festivities began.

The festivities, meaning I had to get the eighteen-month-old awake and dressed. India wasn’t exactly a morning person. Hadn’t been from the moment she was born. She got her days and nights turned around the second my sister left the hospital with her, and it had taken weeks of us dealing with a cranky, sleepy child to get her somewhat turned around onto a daytime schedule.

So that morning, I was expecting the normal, grouchy child who never wanted to wake up. I was geared up to fight her into clothes, feed her a light breakfast, and then head to my mom’s house to drop her off before I went to school.

When I finished my coffee and dragged myself to my feet, I heard her crying. That was unusual enough to get my attention. India never woke up on her own that early, and while she cried sometimes when I woke her up, it was a different sound than what I heard that morning. I had never heard this cry before – a wail of pain so plaintive that I hastened my steps, taking the stairs two at a time.

When I burst through the door of her room, it was immediately apparent that the situation wasn’t just one of her normal boo-boos. India was lying in her crib, screaming as though a thousand hot needles had been injected into her tiny body at the same time. Her face was so red and twisted that she was virtually unrecognizable. She screamed again, and I froze, watching as her body first grew rigid, then locked itself into a shaking, quivering seizure. I scooped her up out of the bed, her body stiff and quaking, feeling her gasps for air all the way to my soul as I rushed back down the stairs with her.

I could feel her too-warm body jerking spasmodically in my arms, and desperation overcame me. I had become the mother of a child I never wanted, but the thought of losing her put a spike of terror in my heart I had never felt before. I didn’t think, letting panic take over, and snatching my car keys off the table next to the front door, I ran out into the chilly morning air with my child.

Hurriedly, I strapped her into her seat, then drove recklessly to the hospital, her agonizing pain burying everything else in the world. The closest emergency room was only a few miles away, and we made it there in record time. Without even bothering to shut my car off, I unbuckled India with trembling hands, the process taking twice as long as normal as I fumbled her out of her seat.

I’m not sure my feet touched the ground as I flew inside the building, my screams for help overpowering her cries of pain. The nurses took her from me and rushed her back into a room, and I followed, breathing heavily and feeling numbness take over my body. I stood helplessly in the corner of the small, too-warm room, trying to stay out of the way and yet still see what was going on, twisting my numb hands until they finally hurt as I watched them work on my child.

In a matter of minutes, I was surrounded by a sea of medical professionals and it wasn’t long before I was forced out of the room by the sheer volume of bodies. With no idea what was going on or what they were doing, I was lost and confused. A little voice in my head scolded me as I stared helplessly at the closed door, asking, ‘Why haven’t you called Mom yet?’ The voice sounded just like my sister Beth, but for the first time in my life, I didn’t disagree with her. Mom had always been the one person I could count on, no matter what, and I knew I needed her strength to get through this.

Reaching into my pocket for my cell phone, I realized it was inside my purse – at home. Reluctantly, I approached an older woman who stood at a neighboring door. Her shoulders were slumped and she held a tissue to her face to catch her falling tears, but the watery eyes never left the closed door in front of her. Her misery was evident, and it broke my heart a little to disturb it.

Softly, I touched her shoulder, making her jump. Excuse me, I quietly said, I’m so sorry to bother you, but do you have a cell phone I could borrow for a second? She never even looked my way as she mechanically reached into her pocket and handed the small phone to me. Thank you, I whispered to the wooden woman, who didn’t bother to respond. I took a few steps down the hall for privacy and called my mother.

Once upon a time, it was necessary to memorize the phone numbers of people you called frequently. With cell phones, that need had disappeared, but my mom had had the same house phone number since I was a child. I punched in the numbers without needing to think about it and held my breath while I waited for her to answer.

Hello?

At the sound of her voice, the dam burst and I broke into tears. I had barely been holding myself together, but there was something about hearing her voice that broke down my defenses and I sobbed so hard I couldn’t speak.

Is that you, Frankie? What’s wrong? Mom’s voice was soft and caring, but I could hear the thread of worry laced into her words. She knew I didn’t cry easily.

I tried to answer, but I couldn’t even begin to form a full sentence. All I managed to get out was, India...hospital...St. Luke’s...emergency... before Mom’s calm voice interrupted with the only words that could help, I’m on my way.

It didn’t seem like I had done much more than hand the borrowed phone back to its teary-eyed owner and head back to India’s room before Mom appeared and embraced me without a word. I burst into tears again at her touch, and she let me get it out of my system before finally asking, What happened?

I stared over her head at a clock on the wall, focusing on the second hand as it swept its way around the numbers. I knew if I looked her in the eye I would break down again. The bright red hand kept going, endlessly moving yet going nowhere. Just like me, I thought. Keeping my eyes on the clock, I robotically told her, I’m still waiting for them to tell me something. They’re working on her in the room. Mom held me at arm’s length and waited for me to meet her eyes. When I finally lowered my face down to her grim face, she asked the question I would have asked if our situations had been reversed, It wasn’t Beth, was it?

I shook my head again and answered, No, it wasn’t Beth. I haven’t heard from her in weeks. I just...I don’t know what happened! India started crying, and then she had a seizure, and I just grabbed her and brought her here!

My mom has always been a strong woman. After my father disappeared, she raised us without a bit of help. One thing you could always count on in an emergency was her cool head. She didn’t disappoint me now. Firing off questions, she went into what we laughingly used to call her ‘drill sergeant mode’ and began putting things in order. Where is your car? Where is your purse? Does India have any clothes with her? Do you? Have you called the school? Has the paperwork for the hospital been filled out yet?

I made myself answer Mom’s questions. It only took a few moments to realize that by forcing me into the act of thinking logically, Mom was helping me calm down. I started feeling in control again, managing to keep the panic at bay as I started planning what needed to be done.

Just then a doctor came out of India’s room and headed our direction. Mrs. Collifax? His voice was quiet and professional, and the small uplifting at the corners of his mouth raised my spirits more than any words could have.

I risked a tiny, tremulous smile. Please tell me India will be alright, Doctor. The little bit of smile on his face faded, silently changing the mood of our conversation without a word. The butterflies in my stomach rioted, throwing my system into shock. I could barely hear what he said over the roaring of blood in my ears.

Mrs. Collifax, your child is very ill. We know it’s a virus of some sort, but not what kind it is yet. He paused, then continued, his voice earnest, I promise we’ll figure it out – although it may take a little while - but I’ll be perfectly honest with you- I’ve never seen anything like it.

I stammered, But how...why... Mom was still in drill sergeant mode as she took over, asking what I couldn’t, Just tell us what’s going on, please. Even at her most forceful, Mom was always polite. The doctor cleared his throat and looked around the hallway before saying quietly, Why don’t we go in and see your daughter while I explain what our treatment plan is.

He held the door open for us, and I couldn’t help but gasp I saw my niece strapped down in the bed. Her tiny body had tubes coming out of every orifice, making her look like an alien in a bad sci-fi movie. Her face was pale and her eyes closed as though she were sleeping, but I could hear her whimpers from across the room. I rushed to her side, mentally berating myself for ever leaving her. I could hear the doctor speaking in the background, but I was focused on making sure India knew I was there and that I hadn’t left her to face the unknown alone.

Mom cast several longing glances toward us as I gently brushed stray hairs away from India’s forehead and whispered comforting nonsense in her ear, but she stayed to hear what the doctor said. Torn between letting my mother deal with the doctor or hearing for myself what his theories were, I stopped talking to the baby and tried to listen.  It only took a second before I knew I wasn’t going to comprehend most of it. Silently thanking the powers that be for my mother’s strength, I tuned in and out of the conversation.

...presented with seizures...fever...antibiotics...blood work drawn...observation... It felt like he droned on forever about things that should have mattered to me, but didn’t. All I wanted was the answer to one question – was my baby going to live? Because sometime over the course of the last few hours, India had stopped being ‘just’ my niece. The fear and worry over losing her had transformed my love, and those missing maternal feelings awoke with the force of a tsunami. My sister may have given birth to India, but I was her mother now, and I vowed I would be from that moment on. I felt a fierce protectiveness grow until it consumed me, and I knew that I would do whatever it took to get my baby well again.

I gazed lovingly at the little girl with my new outlook. She had fallen into a fitful sleep, her face pale except for twin red dots on the apples of her cheeks. I forced myself to try and listen to the doctor again.

...we’ll move her to a room as soon as one is ready. It shouldn’t take long, and in the meantime, I’ll let you know what the test results say as they come back.

Mom nodded, shook his hand, and the doctor looked at me with an expression of kindness. Holding out his hand for me to shake, the timbre of his voice changed, becoming softer and gentler as he said, I know this is a lot to comprehend, and you may not have caught all of it, but I want you to know that I’m going to do everything I possibly can to make India better.

I reached out, blindly taking his hand because my eyes were suddenly filled with tears. My throat was thick, but I managed to get out, Thank you. Still speaking softly, he promised, I’ll be back soon. Let the nurse know if you need anything. He left the room quietly, closing the door with a tiny click.

Mom didn’t waste any time, heading straight to India’s bedside. Taking the baby’s warm hand in her own, she looked directly at me, her eyes belying her words as she said, She’s going to be okay, Frankie. I’m sure of it. The doctor sounded very dedicated to finding out what’s wrong.

The liquid film over my eyes spilled out in a waterfall as I did my best to blink the tears away. I didn’t speak. I didn’t need to. Mom understood what I was going through, and even though her eyes were dry, I knew her heart was breaking inside. She had watched Beth come back from the brink of death too many times. Watching her one and only grandchild as she lay on the line between life and death was as heart-wrenching for her as it was for me.

We sat in silence for most of the day. Nurses came in to check on India, changing out the bags on the IV pole and asking if they could do anything for us. I finally asked for coffee just to have something to do with my hands. Mom left at some point and did something with my car, but I didn’t know what, and I didn’t care enough to ask. An office worker came in to officially admit India to the hospital, asking for insurance cards and things I had no interest in. I put her off with promises of dealing with the paperwork later.

The doctor finally returned. This time he entered the room wearing a paper gown, booties over his shoes, and a mask. His warm bedside manner was gone and he had a gleeful note in his tone as he said, The bloodwork came back. I’ve never seen results like it before. It’s a virus, but nothing like I’ve ever seen. I put in some calls to some virology specialists, and they’ll be calling back later today. In the meantime, I’ve secured a quarantined room for you, and they’ll be coming to move the three of you soon. Unfortunately, until we figure out what this is, the two of you will have to be quarantined too.

Stubbornly, I set my jaw and glared at him. I’m not leaving her side, anyway. The doctor, whose name I hadn’t bothered to learn, gave a curt nod and said, I thought as much. I’ll have cots brought in so the three of you can stay together. In the meantime, please don’t leave this room. Until we can figure out what this virus is, and make sure it’s not contagious, we need to contain it. If you need something, let one of the nurses know and they’ll get it for you.

That moment was when the first real trickle of fear began creeping up out of my abdomen and into my consciousness, a tendril of sickness that only grew over the day. I looked at Mom, whose face mirrored my own – a look of suspended disbelief. This wasn’t supposed to happen, I thought. Taking a toddler to the hospital meant getting a few stitches, or pulling a toy out of a nasal cavity, not being put into quarantine with no idea what was wrong or why.

And why was the doctor acting so funny? The little voice of my sister spoke up inside my head, ominously telling me that the doctor was excited to have a guinea pig. A new virus meant a chance to become famous in the world of physicians. ‘India will be poked and prodded and tested’, Beth’s voice told me. ‘They’ll take her away from you, just like you took her away from me.’ Sick with worry, I told the imaginary voice of Beth to shut up and waited to see what was going to happen next.

Chapter 4

It wasn’t long after the chilling conversation with the doctor that two orderlies came into our little room, both fully masked and gowned. Erecting a plastic tent over India’s bed, they politely asked us to put on the protective gear they had thoughtfully brought. Two more masked and gowned workers met us in the hallway, keeping a safe distance between us and any uninfected people in the area. Our little procession left the emergency department and headed down the hall to a set of elevators.

I had never experienced anything so surreal in my life. I could hear my breath being amplified by the mask I wore, hear the crackle of my laughably thin paper gown with every movement, and worst of all, I could feel the stares of the strangers we passed, making me wish the humiliating journey was a bad dream. In the Midwest city we lived in – so close to the popular tourist destination of Branson, we had the reputation of being friendly and kind, but I only saw dead faces and discomfort on that long trip to the elevators.

We took a silent ride to the second floor, where the extra staff parted ways with us, then walked down a long hallway until we reached a set of steel doors. I was confused when we stopped suddenly, still five feet away, until one of the men used his ID badge to scan a black box on the wall, and the giant doors opened on silent hinges, swinging toward us.

I looked over at my mother. Most of her face was covered by the mask she wore, but the look in her eyes worried me. I had no memory of my mom being afraid of anything, but I could tell she was as terrified as I was. When the men started pushing the bed through the now-open doorway, we resolutely followed, knowing we had no choice, but unsure of what waited for us when the doors closed.

I heard a click and looked behind me to see the doors swinging together again, as eerily silent as when they opened. The doors were just the beginning of the creepiness. This part of the hospital was old, and I wondered if it was the original building the rest of the facilities had sprung from. Parts of it looked as though it had been updated, but the original fixtures and flooring were the dull industrial work of the sixties.

There was absolute silence except for the squeak of the bed’s wheels and the occasional scuff of shoes on the old linoleum. With every step we took, my heart beat harder and faster until it was hammering against the inside of my chest to be let out. It didn’t feel right. Nothing about this felt right. We were being sequestered in an unused part of the hospital – alone - and we still had no idea what was going on.

How did this happen? How did my day start out like any other, just to end up in this silent prison? I stared steadily at the chipped, dull green walls as we passed empty room after empty room. I stopped counting after twenty, my curiosity dampened by the stale air and the worrisome thought that we were being led on a death march.

We reached a hallway running perpendicular to the one we were in, a nurse’s station at the junction. Behind it sat two nurses who were busily arranging and unpacking boxes. Neither of them looked up as we passed, and the fleeting idea that we were already ghosts made me reach over and touch Mom’s arm, as much for a reality check as for comfort.

We passed the nurse’s station just as silently as we had made the rest of the trip, then followed the orderlies who finally pushed India’s bed into a room. I nervously watched the men take the plastic tent off the bed. India lay quietly, seemingly not fazed by the journey, her face pale and yet somehow flushed at the same time as stared up at the black television screen hanging on the otherwise empty wall.

One of the orderlies cleared his throat and spoke for the first time, his voice muffled by the mask he wore, There’ll be a nurse in to check on you in a few minutes. I didn’t bother looking up as I curtly replied, Thank you. Mom followed the men to the door, and I heard a quiet conversation, but all my attention was focused on India. Nothing else mattered right then but her.

Mom came back into the room and dropped down into a chair next to the bed. Yawning, she said, They’re going to bring us some food and some coffee. I don’t know about you, but I haven’t eaten anything all day.

Reluctantly, I left India’s side and sat down in the only other chair. My stomach growled as I dropped into the padded seat, and we both laughed a little. I said, I guess I might be a little hungry. Mom, I’m sorry about all this-

She cut me off before I could finish, the palm of her hand inches from my face. Don’t you ever apologize for something that’s out of your control. Even if I had known that I was going to end up in quarantine by the end of the day, there’s nothing that would have stopped me from being here for you and India.

Tears came to my eyes – again. I whispered, Thank you. I don’t know what I would do without you. Mom reached over and hugged me tightly as she spoke into my ear, Me either, baby, me either. After a long, warm hug, she settled back into her chair, shifting to get comfortable. We sat in silence for a few moments, then we both started talking at the same time, Do you think- Should we-

We both stopped abruptly and I lifted my chin to urge her to speak. I knew what she was going to say. It was the same thing I was going to ask. Mom started again, Do you think we should call Beth? I clenched my jaw and made it a point to look away, even though I had been thinking the same thing. My sister and I had a disturbing, complicated relationship that had deteriorated once India was born and had become nonexistent since she came to live with me. Remembering the birth of the baby, I smiled a little at the only good time I could remember with Beth as an adult.

The day Beth went into labor, I forced myself to be the bigger man, so to speak. Those few days that my little sister was in the hospital with her beautiful new baby were the most stress-free of our familial lives. I would go straight to the hospital from my new job at the elementary school and spend most of my evenings there. We chatted, laughed, talked about old times, and took turns holding the sweet little being that had bonded us together for the first time since childhood.

Everything changed, though, when Beth took her new baby home. Or maybe I should say that nothing changed. Beth went straight back to her drug-dealing boyfriend, and it was only a matter of weeks before she reverted to the same lifestyle she led before she got pregnant. There was no doubt in my mind that she loved her child, but the downward spiral she was on put India firmly in second place behind getting high.

I dragged myself back out of my musings and saw Mom looking at me expectantly. No, I sighed as I said it. No, don’t call Beth yet. I don’t know if I could handle her drama on top of what’s already going on. Let’s find out what’s wrong before we freak her out. Plus, she would come bursting in here, and then we would be stuck in quarantine with her for who knows how long.

Mom smiled sadly and said, I’m not sure we can get hold of her anyway. I haven’t heard from her in a week. And she told me then that her phone was probably going to get shut off.

India stirred and whimpered in her sleep, and my first thought was that she knew we were talking about her biological mother. I jumped out of my chair and rushed to her side to comfort her. There was no color in her face, and her lips and fingertips had taken on a bluish-gray cast. She opened her eyes, but the impish delight that normally filled her blue eyes wasn’t there. Instead, a dull glaze that made me think of spider webs covered the irises.

India! It came out more sharply than I intended, and Mom jumped to her feet. I patted the cold little cheeks, trying not to let panic bleed into my voice as I barked at Mom, Call the nurse! Hurry!

Soothingly, I spoke to India, It’s okay, baby, Mama Frankie is here. Come on, baby, wake up for Mama. India, come on, sweetie, you can do this I shook her, patted her cheeks harder, did everything I could think of to get her to see me, but she didn’t respond. She stared blankly at nothing, her little body cold and limp.

Chapter 5

An eternity passed before a group of people rushed into the room and pushed me away from the bed. I stood to one side as they surrounded the bed and blocked my view. I never felt so helpless in my life as I did watching the medical professionals try to save the life of my little girl. Mom appeared beside me, and grabbing my arm, pulled me away to let them work. Come on, she whispered as she gently tugged me toward the door. Come on, she’s a tough kid, she’s going to be okay. Come on, Frankie, let them work.

Numbly, I followed her and stared at the scene playing out in front of me. I was standing in the back of a dark theater, watching a play that was too surreal to follow. People rushed off the stage, then back on again, carrying equipment or pushing carts. This was too insane to be real. It was only the night before that she was a healthy, happy little girl trying to trick me into thinking she had eaten her peas by sneaking them under her plate, and giggling when I caught her. I swore I would never make her eat peas again if she would just live.

I didn’t realize how tightly I was holding my mom’s hand until she pulled it from my grasp and rubbed it. The medical staffers were barking orders, and the rustling white lab coats moved with a choreography born of long hours working together. As I stared blankly at the scene, Mom leaned over and whispered in my ear, Isn’t that the same nurse that was in the emergency room with us?

I blinked. Then blinked again, trying to reset my memory, but I was so tired...

A flash of silver earrings caught my attention. A lightning bolt dangling from the blonde nurse’s ears, and I remembered. I