Toby finally returned, and Drake fought through the numb lure of death's call, despite how desperately he wanted his miserable life to end.
The kid handed him a vial full of blue fluid. "I only got three. You try one and we'll see what happens."
"Do I just drink it?"
"Man, I don't know. Maybe. I ain't never seen no one take it, just heard about it."
What do I have to lose? Drake emptied the vial into his mouth and swallowed.
Nothing happened. He slumped down in disappointment. Too good to be true.
Just as he was about to tell Toby that the drug was worthless, something buzzed in his gut. The rotten emptiness in his chest tingled with life, as if worms were crawling through him. He groaned and rolled onto his side.
Toby's voice came at him like radio waves that he could see, feel and taste. "What's happening, man?"
Drake opened his mouth, and tiny fairies with glittery wings flew out, giggling. He giggled with them, caught up in their merriment. Had the worms in his heart turned to fairies? Very cool.
Fire and ice burned through his veins, so hot it was cold, or so cold it was hot. He couldn't tell. He looked down at his arm and saw a green glow pulsing through him, leaking out of his skin. Everything came alive and the world exploded with color.
Motes of dust in the air danced and shined and waved and winked. Toby's exhaled breath lapped on his lips like blue waves on the ocean, and Drake found himself surfing on each gust, hanging ten on the iridescent waters.
His power hit, full and hard, making his body jerk and spasm as it knitted itself back together. He saw how close he'd come to Death's door, and waved. Death hid, spying through his peephole, then flipped Drake the bird and stalked off, sickle in hand, leaving him to heal alone.
When his body gleamed with new skin and tissue, and his bones and organs were good as new, he felt the presence of another—one so familiar, yet so far apart.
Sam.
Her fear and pain tore at him. She needed him, but he was too far away, too lost in his own living hell.
"Drake, our baby's coming. Drake!"
'Sam, I'm here. I'm sorry, Baby. I'm here.'
"How? How's that possible? Drake, wait, I need to tell you something—"
She screamed out, and he felt the pain, felt the baby pushing out of her. Felt the fear and joy and fear again.
He heard other voices around her, filtered through her own mind and awareness.
They told her to push, to stay calm, to breathe.
He said the same, sending her his strength, his healing, his power.
Then panic arose. The baby! What were they saying? He couldn't hear. Sam faded out. She moved farther away from him, away from the world. He knew what that meant. He couldn't let that happen.
'Sam, no! Don't go. Fight, dammit. Fight! Take my power. Take my strength. Whatever you need from me, take it. Keep yourself safe. Keep our baby safe.'
"Drake, I need you. I miss you. Why did you leave me and— Ah!" She whimpered in pain like a kicked puppy.
He focused, sending her more and more until the last drop of his power poured into her, and he felt their connection breaking—
"It's a girl, Drake. Ana's here."
She was gone.
Chapter 72 – Lucy
The sharp blade dug through the soft wood, slicing the final branch off the long tree limb. Lucy stood and tested it—perfect height and weight for a walking stick. She took a quick inventory of her bag: a computer, useless for now; tear gas, not especially helpful at the moment; a baseball cap.
An image pushed into her awareness: Robert had worn a cap like this. Her mind replayed the moment when the bullet tore into his chest, and his cap flew off his head as he fell to the ground. She pushed the memory down, burying it with the others.
No time for that now. Must focus. Must survive.
She put on the cap, needing the protection from the sun, and continued her inventory of the bag. The phone and walkie-talkie still didn't work. She had one more bottle of alcohol, useful if they needed to clean a wound; her water bottle, now almost empty; and one more can of stew, which was Luke's.
A cacophony of sounds created a symphony in the jungle. It was beautiful, in its own way, though Lucy didn't want to consider too closely what kinds of creatures were making those sounds. She focused instead on the bigger picture as she packed up her supplies and began her hike. The trees, the sky, the sound of the ocean in the distance—if she hadn't been stranded, she might have enjoyed this place.
First stop: she needed to find the waterfall again, or another source of fresh water, and refill. Then she'd look for food. How hard could it be to find something out here?
Whatever strength she'd derived from the canned stew waned as the hours passed. She couldn't find the waterfall they'd been to earlier. In fact, she couldn't find anything that looked familiar. No matter how far she went, everything looked the same. She'd never been the best at outdoor scouting. Her strengths lay in computers and hand-to-hand combat. Missions that required breaking in—infiltrating a secure area and neutralizing a threat, hacking into high tech computer systems—that's what she was good at. Hunting and foraging? Not so much.