“Sounds like you run a tight ship.”
“Yeah,” Rider said. “We keep it running, that’s for sure. A month ago, I’d even say this City was a well-oiled machine. But tragedy struck and tossed a wrench in the gears.”
At a T-junction, Rider went left. The lighting in the halls had grown progressively brighter, and it was the brightest here. We passed empty rooms full of medical equipment—hospital beds, IV stands, monitors. Around the middle of the hallway, canned studio laughter drifted toward us. Rider stopped and pointed to the second-to-last room’s half-closed door.
“She’s in there, boss. I’ll leave you to it.”
I’ll admit, after the treatment I received in the care of John Berretti, some hospitality and kindness went a long way. It didn’t undo what happened to me, but it helped.
As Rider turned to leave, I said, “Hey, Nick.” He stopped, eyes wide, lips raising into a smile. I stuck my hand out, he took it, and we shook. “Thanks.”
“No, son, thank you. Your heroism hasn’t gone unnoticed throughout the City. People who’ve never met you are all talking about the crazy fella who ran through the snow in nothing but a t-shirt, and I think that was exactly what some of these folks needed to pick them back up after a long past few weeks. It’s what they needed to open up their tunnel vision a bit.”
I returned the smile, and then I went into Mia’s room.
She was eating a hot fudge sundae. Her face lit up when she saw me, and the spoon fell out of her hand and clattered against the glass bowl. Chocolate syrup was smeared at the corners of her mouth. Next to her, in a bassinet, lay Monica, swaddled, wearing a tiny pink hat on her head.
“Grady!” Mia nearly yelled before catching herself and turning her volume down to a whisper-yell. “You bastard, it’s so good to see you!”
I grinned and felt like crying, mostly because of how good she looked. Color brightened her cheeks. Her eyes were shining, her grin was sharp, and her hair was washed, brushed, and held back in a loose ponytail. After giving birth in the cramped cab of an old snowmobile, she had looked on the cusp of death. Now she looked normal. Healthy.
“I’m gonna hug you,” I announced. “And there’s nothing you can do about it.”
She set the bowl on the table by her bed and held her arms out wide. We hugged. I didn’t dare squeeze her too hard, the blood she lost during labor fresh in my mind, but she didn’t hold back. “This is a one-time thing, Grady. FYI.”
We parted. “Sure it is.” Standing at the side of her bed, my eyes drifted to Monica.
“Go ahead, man.”
“What?”
“Hold her. I know you want to. Who could resist that cute wittle face?”
“Did you just use baby talk?”
“Maybe.”
“Wow,” I said, “motherhood has already changed you.”
“Oh fu—frick off, Grady.” She chuckled. “Are you gonna hold my daughter or not?”
“She’s sleeping. I will when she wakes up. Plus, I already held her.”
“When she was all…slimy. Now she’s a clean, precious wittle muffin pie.Go on, she ain’t gonna wake up. She sleeps through just about anything.”
So I held her, but Mia was wrong about that. Monica woke up, only briefly. Her eyes opened wide, big and blue, and I swear she smiled at me. That smile made every terrible thing we had gone through up until this moment worth it.
Of course, when I told Mia about the smile, she said, “Aw, yeah…that’s just her passing gas,” which got us laughing so hard we had to cover our mouths and bite our lips.
“Are you all…good?” I asked.
“Picture of health.”
“What about the blood?”
“They couldn’t find anything wrong with me.” Mia lowered her voice. “Know what I think?”
I shook my head. Who ever knew what Mia was thinking?
“I think the ‘rages did it. I think they made that blood with whatever supernatural magical bullshit they do. They thought it would run us out, and it did, didn’t it?” She chuckled. “But we made it. Take that, motherfuckers! No, I mean, motherfuggers.”
Well, it made sense. If it was true, it only made me fear the monsters more. But Mia was right—we had made it.
The door creaked open a minute or two later, and in came a woman in blue scrubs. Not Dr. Hart, but the resemblance was uncanny. She held a tray of food. Tomato soup and grilled cheese.
“Yeah, I’m a dessert first type of gal,” Mia said. “Don’t judge.”
“I’m not judging.”
The nurse was surprised to see me. She cocked her head. “Oh, I didn’t know you had company.”
I put Monica back in her bassinet, completely prepared to get kicked out. The baby was fast asleep again. “I’m Grady, ma’am.”
“Relax, Nina,” Mia said. “He’s with me.”
Nina smiled as she set the tray down on Mia’s lap. “Not for long, I think.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“A few people just came through. Man and a woman. And a dog. They’re asking for you—the people, not
