Endgame (Book 3)

Chapter 9

I laughed. It wasn't even that funny, but I needed something to take my mind off of the pain.

"I think...I think we both need a hospital," I said to no one.

"Really? What gave it away? The fact that you're dying from blood loss or that Sage was shot in the leg?" Sierra said.

"Shut up," I whined.

Cassie just shook her head, scolding us. "Sierra, you fly Jay. He's in the most trouble right now." She looked at Sage, who had fainted from the pain. "I don't know how we'll-"

"I'll do it," Ms. Loving offered.

"Thanks, Ms. Loving, but I think you've done more than enough to help us today," Cassie said sincerely. "Go home to your kids. Let them know you're okay."

"Sage needs help before her wound gets  infected," Ms. Loving argued. "I can fire-travel her there pretty fast."

"Whatever that is, when did you suddenly become the expert on your powers?" Cassie asked.

"Since I burned that thing," she answered, referring to Metagor.

Cassie sighed. She was defeated.

As Sierra lifted me off the ground- gently, to my surprise- Cassie gazed at me in worry.

She whispered in my mind, "Sweet dreams, Jay."

Without my knowing, or consent, my eyelids shut, and I drifted off into a light, wind-filled sleep.

*****

"Are you awake? If you can hear me, lay off the pancakes," Sierra said close to my ear.

I lurched away from her in the hospital bed. "What?"

She laughed. "Nothing."

I looked around.

Like before, the whole room was white, and my arm was hooked up to an IV next to my bed. A counter was added in with a sink. There was no window.

I tried to sit up, but the pain that erupted in my chest was too great, and I sank down again.

"Careful, now. Before the doctors and your family arrive, you need to know: you cut yourself on a jagged piece of metal while you were running to safety from the fire monster," Sierra informed me. "That's all you remember. Oh, and someone left those. They got there while I was out for food." She pointed on the counter, where a file folder filled with different papers rested.

Zero, I thought.

"Yep," he thought back to me.

"You really need to slow down," I told Sierra. My throat felt dry. "How long has it been? Weeks? Months?"

"Um, a little more than a day," she said skeptically. "What're you talking about?"

"Never mind," I said. She didn't know about the crazy lives we used to live, where you were comatose after getting knocked out a few times. The ones we never actually lived. "By the way, I have a question to ask you."

"Go for it," she said.

The thought came out of the blue, but it was a serious question. "Just how do you know me?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but the door opened. We were interrupted by a nurse, and behind them, my mother. Following her was my father, who had too many wrinkles lining his brow.