Chapter 38 BAD MEDICINE
“The Anadin box,” Martin said over to Drift. “I didn’t catch it in your backpack when I should have done. No one writes their name on over-the-counter painkillers. You keep seizure meds in there.”
Drift nodded, then rubbed at his head, it really starting to hurt because something itched, gnawed at the back of his head that he didn’t want to see. “Frankness,” he said flatly. “I’ve given you mine. You promised me yours when it came to Jack and family medical history.”
Martin said nothing for a moment, not looking ready to drop anything. “I did, yes.” The abrupt change surprised Drift. “Ask what you need to know and ease your head a little, because I can see what you’re starting to fall into,” said Martin. “But I think I know what your question will be.”
Maybe he did. “You said genetic disposition for seizures….” Drift held his look. “Is… is there a family history of seizures? From your side… maybe my mother’s? You talk like you know the symptoms.”
“And there we have it,” Martin said softly, the blackness in his eyes filtering out. “Damn smart boy to pick it up. Jack—fuck.”
Blood started to run from Martin’s left nostril, just a thin drop, and he wiped it away. “I’m…” He looked down at the redness dampening his fingertip. “We’re gonna have to avoid talk on me, Jack, maybe more so your mother for just a while.”
“No. Frankness doesn’t work like that. Only mind games do. And I’m sick to the fucking polluted gut of those.” He talked openly. He needed that back his way. “My mother…. You obviously didn’t stay around to find out she was pregnant.” Maybe he was clutching at straws, because it felt like time was starting to slip through his fingers. “You look, what? Mid-thirties, which when you slept together, that puts you at—”
“Seventeen…” Martin rubbed at his head. “Joanna was sixteen.”
Joanna…. His mother. He finally had part of a name. Although Martin… he’d mentioned a Joanna when they’d first met, hadn’t he? But seventeen… sixteen. Christ. Drift sat back. Kids raising a kid. But roughly the same age as him, the same drive to walk away. Only why had they? “Did you love her? She love you?”
Martin shook his head. “I was the Ava to her world.”
“What…” Drift stiffened. “You were what to her?”
Martin went to say something, but another trace of blood started to trickle from his nose. “You… you really need to shut up now and think.” He looked Drift’s way, and blackness bled to full-blown in his eyes. He looked to be fighting something. “Your head’s stopping you from seeing the wider picture here.”
The change in conversation was fast, hurried. One his head fought not to fall back into. “Do I at least get to know my mother’s maiden name?”
“ No .” Martin sucked in a pained breath and got to his feet before heading for the microwave as a little more blood dropped from his nose. Only he stumbled a touch and rubbed at his head as he did. “Shit. Not now.”
Giving a frown, Drift got up and went over and pulled kitchen towel free off the counter. “Here.” He pushed it at him. “You need anything else?”
“Time. I need more fucking time.” Martin swiped at his nose, not looking happy with the blood. “But you….” He came in close, searching his eyes, and Drift swore he would have climbed inside his head if the option was faster.
“Connect the fucking dots,” Martin said quickly. “From my side of the family, you have the genetic disposition passed down for potential seizures and aggressive blackouts. But it is only a potential genetic disposition. Ava saw your first one, and her very MO as a psychopath is to control and dominate. And what better way to ensure Grant kept her around than to slip you something that would cause seizures and concern with Grant for letting you out on the streets alone without someone on your level. Which West isn’t, Ava is.” Another drop of blood fell from his nose. “Because like Jack, you had one initial seizure due to a traumatic event—which anyone could have had due to the level of abuse and trauma. But unlike Jack, yours looks a one-off that Ava simply exploited. Then in comes the Night-walkers, with Ava running with them after you both caught the virus. So with her already playing around with inducing seizures and seeing you fall into your aggression, what better way to keep tabs on how aggression levels spike the virus than with a prepped subject? You are not Jack. You’re not me. Take away the meds, they could stop your seizures, allowing you to get your head out of the dirt and away from Ava.”
Double-tap.
His meds… sometimes they worked, sometimes they… didn’t.
All those years of needing to hide away, to move between different crews, stay away from Ava… the seizures, the tiredness, the blood on his hands he’d wake up to, wishing he could still lose all that hurt to Ava’s touch….
How his meds, he’d kept up with then day in, day out to avoid falling into the void…
Poison. They were the poison in his system, not his fucking head. Not his fucking—
The void rushed up, eating Drift whole, only this time he fought to breathe, to stay alive… body and soul not to….
“—Twenty-eight… twenty-nine… thirty.” Martin rested his head against Drift’s. “Fuck…, you back with me now, kid?”
Drift blinked once, twice, the third time bringing such a bone-deep tiredness as Martin pulled back a touch, a hand still resting on Drift’s neck as he counted down… no, counted in general.
Why the fuck was he counting?
Drift snarled, tried to pull away, mostly because he hated this—being seen. But he was tired, so damn tired, like pulling out of a drug without any of the good beforehand, weighing him down.
“No, no no.” Martin came back in close. “Family medical history,” he said quickly. “You need to—fuck.” He hissed and looked away, more blood escaping in a thin line from his nose. “Jack. Remember. You fucking remember his look.”
Jet black eyes came back his way, and a lot of hurt came in them, like Martin’s head was splitting in two.
“Farland would have used seizures as an explanation for you running away if it had presented whilst you lived with him. Stop the meds, they could stop your seizure and damn well will stop any testing from the virus, because I think those meds are the testing source. And Antibodies…” Martin nodded. “You’ve survived each stage, maybe including any potential airborne test, so the antibodies… the antibodies could still be in your system depending on the… on the last time they… they used you as an ongoing test subject. No wonder they needed us to back the fuck off you—”
Drift snarled, his anger finally breaking, and he fought to get free.
“ No ,” snarled Martin. “Fucking stay with me, don’t focus on the anger and feed it.” He shivered. “Family history. Ours. You haven’t seen Jack yet because… think… think absences. Think DID, think aggression, think meds to try and con… control and—”
Martin suddenly fell quiet. Frowned. Then he dropped his hold and took a step back and—
“You…?” Confusion laced silver-grey eyes. “What the fuck are you doing here? I mean… you can’t be fucking here of all bastard places.”
Drift took a step back. “What?” The voice… the voice was slightly different, the tones almost grating in his head, but everyone’s usually did when he was caught halfway between climbing out of the drug and—“Mart—”
“ Not. Martin. Ever. Here. ”
Drift jolted so badly. “I…” He backed off, not understanding, not wanting to react, really not wanting to react and hit out. Martin hadn’t been about anger, not the shouted kind that grated in his head. “You… Gray….”
“ Out .” Martin shoved at his shoulders, then instantly stepped back as though regretting it. “You can’t be here. It’s not safe, the people who live here are far from fucking sane. You can’t be exposed to that. What’s in here will be far worse than anything you face out there. You can’t—”
“ Th’fuck ?” Drift roughly shoved him back. “ What the actual fuck, you— ” Giving a cry, he spun away, found the door—more stumbled towards it, then he started to run, needed to run and burn out every goddamn inch of fear and confusion rushing his veins. Just find some… safety from twisted head games despite the shouts that seemed to batter his head from all directions.