Page 191 of Envious Of Fire
Kaleb hears the words, soft and distant, like a dream.
“… our lives, once in the hands of demons and devils, now in the gracious care of this town, another sign of His good grace …”
Kaleb feels a hand within his own, woven between his fingers, a warm palm, refreshingly warm.
“… stay good, no matter the sins committed against you.Stay gracious of Him, no matter the life that has been robbed of you. Stay kind, no matter the bitter losses we suffer …”
Kaleb opens his eyes. The blank ceiling of a hospital.
“… it is all part of His great design, His great plan …”
Did they not make it out of the blood donation room? Are he and Raya still in the House of Vegasyn? Have they failed?
“… you are made stronger from your suffering. The next trial you face may be far more formidable than the last. But you are stronger now, and He knows you will overcome even this …”
Kaleb glances toward the voice. Blood 288, if he remembers it right. A sweet old man, the one whose voice he’s been listening to, a former preacher, who gave encouraging sermons every morning in the commons. He stands near the door to the room with two teenage boys, the knitting ladies 83 and 513, and a morose Blood 304 who leans against the wall, arms crossed, lips hanging open.
“… you are made in His great light again,” the old man tells his listeners. “This … is your second life He has graced you with, a second chance … with countless promise and possibility …”
It’s Blood 304 who notices first. Her eyebrows lift. “1025?”
The old man stops. Everyone turns to face Kaleb, stirred out of their thoughts. No one says a thing, their breaths held, eyes on the shape of Kaleb in the bed.
“I … What’s …” Kaleb isn’t sure what to ask first. “Did we … get out? Is this a … a real hospital?”
Then he turns his face the other way.
His brother’s face hovers over him, eyes wide, lips parted with surprise.
Kyle’s face. Exactly as he remembers it from his dreams.
An ageless Kyle. Youthful Kyle. His sharp, unmistakable eyes.
Kaleb can barely form the name. “K-Kyle …?” He realizes it’s his fingers that are woven through his own. He lifts his hand—their hands—astounded. His thoughts come slow. His words, even slower. “How … How are you here? How are …?”
His brother brings his other hand to Kaleb’s forehead. “It’s all okay now. You’re safe. You’re out of there. You no longer belong to that place.”
Kaleb’s mouth is so dry. His throat, raw. With his brother’s hand on his forehead, he quickly becomes aware of all the papery bandages covering his face. They’re annoying suddenly. He tries to touch them, to peel them off.
“No, no,” says his brother, gently coaxing Kaleb’s hands off of his face. “They’re protecting you from infection. Your wounds are treated. You were given antibiotics.”
“Drowsy as fuck,” moans Kaleb.
A soft chuckle comes from Kyle. “I think that’s the first time I ever heard you cuss.”
“Stings. It all stings. Are you really you?” Kaleb turns back to his brother—then everything spins. “I feel … so tired.”
“Sleep … You can sleep. You’re safe now.” His brother keeps stroking his forehead and his hair. “I will be right here when you wake up. I love you.” His voice starts to shake. “I love you so … so fucking much, Kaleb.”
Kaleb tries to sneer, but any movement of his face hurts. It’s uncomfortable, to just see his brother with one eye, the bandages covering the other. “Why’re you crying?” he asks, words slurred.
Then he drifts away.
The next time he wakes, strips of daylight are cutting in from the blinds. He hears a soft conversation near the opened door, turns his face toward it, his one eye.
“Could be a day, could be a week, could be ten years, I have no idea,” says a woman, out of sight. “Magic is … unpredictable. Unfathomable. I’m not even convinced itismagic, whatever we’ve done. I probably inhaled too much of something I burned.Maybe those funny candles have a hallucinogen in the wax.”
“You have to stop doubting yourself. You’re incredible.”
