End on Extinct

Chapter Five

Spring 2028

FOLSOM

Excruciating pain!

Folsom questioned if he could make it through this.

He kept thinking about his family. His children! Haizley! But she was gone. The children. How would he get through this for the children? How was he going to survive? They couldn't lose both parents. This had to end. How long did Haizley endure this?

Did the painkillers work?

No wonder she was on them, needed them, gave up her life with Folsom to be on them through her final days.

What about Ashyr?

What was he feeling right now?

Folsom wanted to pull his knees into his chest. He wanted to bite down on his fist and stop the pain.

It took everything in him to keep the grasp, to hold Ashyr's hand, to not let go of this memory exchange. He needed to hold on enough that Ashyr could feel the joy. The joy Haizley would have felt instead of her pain. Had he given her this. Had Folsom forgone the rules and just given her this final gift!

She could have had his memories, his past joy to offset her cancerous pain.

Folsom tried to focus on the what if while he felt the jagged breathing from Ashyr. The pounding. Cramping. Burning. Stabbing.

Smells were there, but it was hard to focus on them. Noises too, but other than nurse carts, Folsom couldn't sift through the sounds.

An X-ray came into focus and then was gone, briefly showing the horrid cancer eating away at Ashyr's body.

Folsom had to remind himself this agony would end.

And rather than dwell over his heartbreak that he'd never shared this with Haizley, he needed to focus on the miracle. Em-Path was working! Human-to-human. A genuine memory exchange. Folsom feeling what Ashyr had felt as if him. Seeing a glimpse into his life, an understanding. A rush of feeling toward another human's difficulties.

Beyond this crippling pain, Folsom found a mental grip to hold onto—he had built a success.

Still, how could he actually celebrate this while all he could see was so much pain through Ashyr's eyes? Through pressed closed eyelids, a red brilliance formed around him. Hot. Heaviness. A reminiscent glow of fire.

Folsom focused, determined now to hear the sounds. Nurses chattering. Laughing, flowing conversation around their weekend plans. Anxiety stirred in Ashyr's memory, which Folsom felt, another burn, a stab for a greater distraction than laying in this hospital bed waiting for his life to end.

A breath in, pulling toward the hospital smells, the building's thick cleaning agents as if they such cleanliness pretended to have an impact on Ashyr's fate.

His mouth felt dry. Through Ashyr, Folsom knew taste was a thing of the past. For two months food had offered Ashyr nothing. No interest, no flavor, or draw. No substance.

Another image appeared, this a photograph. Ashyr a younger, more vibrant man. Groomed dark hair drawing in a deep look of attention through his clear icy blue eyes. Another photo, this one a wedding photo next to a strawberry blonde woman, the focal point shifting to be over Ashyr's build.

Health.

Happiness.

Gone.

The tingling began to lessen. The pain softening, the fiery red turning to an afternoon sunlight glow.

It was through.

Folsom could remove his hand.

He had just survived the greatest physical agony of his life—and a glimpse of what Haizley had been through.