Origami Dreams (Books of the Kindling #2)

Prologue

“I need a gurney or a room or something, now!” Daniel walked through the glass doors into the ER carrying her in his arms. She was so small and fragile, even bundled in all those blankets.

A burly man in scrubs came around the admissions desk. “I’ll take her, sir.”

“No. I’ll carry her. Just point me to a bed,” Daniel insisted.

“Take it easy, fella.” The man waved his arms. “We can’t let—”

The double doors to the treatment area banged open and Beth Campbell came running out. “It’s okay. This is my neighbor, Daniel Woodruff.”

Daniel was relieved to see Beth’s familiar eyes over her mask as the orderly backed away.

“We’re ready,” Beth said. “Bring her on back. Room 6. This way.”

Daniel trudged after her. “She started talking… She wasn’t making sense. Now I think she’s having contractions. There was blood—”

“Let’s not panic. It could be a false alarm,” Beth said.

“It’s not,” Daniel said. “It’s not Braxton-Hicks or anything like that. It’s that virus. Grace said—”

“It’s all right, Daniel. I know. Lay her down and we’ll take over,” Beth soothed, patting the bed.

The room soon filled with people in gowns and masks with face shields as Daniel eased her onto the bed.

She was still warm, still breathing. But her eyes were wide open, staring unseeing at the ceiling.

Now and again, she shuddered, as if invisible strings pulled at her limbs.

He leaned over to kiss her brow, but someone pulled him away.

He was herded out the door as the professionals took over, until he could no longer see her and the door swung shut in his face.

“I’m sorry, sir, but you can’t be back here.” Someone took his arm and almost shoved him into the waiting room, where the scattered occupants gazed at him with worried eyes above masks.

“Danny? Danny!” A tinny voice came from his hand. He realized he was still clutching his cell phone, still connected.

“Grace?”

“Yes, I heard everything. You got there in one piece.” Grace’s voice was thin and far away. “Take some deep breaths. The OB on call is in there.”

“Yeah. But…if it’s this virus, why is she…? She’s having seizures, Gracie. It’s not just the baby.” He looked at the blood that covered his sleeve. “And she’s bleeding a lot.”

“She’ll be all right,” Grace said. “It’s just the contractions.”

Daniel noticed that Grace didn’t mention the baby. “I know. She’s a tough little thing.”

“She is. We’re boarding in a minute. I’m… I’m so sorry I couldn’t get back in time, Danny,” Grace said. “So sorry.”

Grace could have stopped this from happening. Grace could have fixed it. But she couldn’t get a flight home fast enough.

“We were so careful. She hasn’t been out of the house in weeks. And when I went out, I masked up. I… We haven’t even let Jamie come around. How could she have—?”

“You don’t know that’s what’s wrong. Not yet.”

“What else could it be?” Daniel barked. “What is this thing, Grace? Has anyone down there got a clue?”

“Maybe.” Grace didn’t sound convinced. Daniel heard the noise of an announcement and then the rumble of Nick’s voice in the background. “We’ve got to get on our flight. We’ll be there as soon as we can. I love you!” Her voice broke on a sob. “Tell her I love her. Tell her I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

“It’s okay, sis. It’s okay.”

Nick’s voice came over the line, steady and reassuring. “Hey, Daniel. Hang in there, okay? We’ll be home in a few hours.”

“Thanks, Nick. Tell Grace it’s not her fault. She can’t be everywhere at once,” Daniel said, his voice breaking. “I didn’t see this coming. I didn’t—”

“This thing is fast, Daniel. You couldn’t have. You focus on taking care of that precious lady of yours. We’ll be there as soon as possible.”

Daniel ended the call and shoved the phone into his pocket, eyes locked on the door into room 6. He wanted to barge in, but they had their protocols. He’d already broken a bunch carrying her back there. But he needed to hold her hand, just be with her.

Instead, he went over to the seats, but he couldn’t bring himself to sit. He leaned against the wall and stared at the desk, knowing the hospital personnel would soon motion him over to provide his insurance information.

Watching the haggard, pale faces of the staff, he wondered how many times they had seen this happen since the outbreak began.

How many miscarriages? How many children lost?

Shaking his head, he glanced down at a stack of magazines on the table next to him.

The media called it the Foggian Flu, for the town where it first emerged.

There were suspicions it was some bioweapon development gone wrong and the article titles reflected the rising global tensions.

There was a Time magazine with a chart on the cover.

A simple line graph told the story—a stark red line sliding downward, labeled “Global Birth Rate.” He picked that one up and saw another beneath it with a cover showing an empty crib.

His vision blurred as he thought about the nursery they had almost finished decorating.

Why did Grace have to be away now? Why today of all days? Nick had wrangled a meeting with some geek at the CDC who was willing to listen to her about what she could do. That was saying something, given all that was going on.

But why today?

He closed his eyes, trying to make it all disappear.

I don’t want to see this.

He heard the door to the treatment rooms open. The edges of his vision had gone dark, as if part of the surrounding room had vanished.

Shut it off now.

He tried to focus as Beth emerged, but his vision had narrowed until her eyes above her mask were the only thing he could see. As if a spotlight were focused there, and the rest was in shadow.

She was crying as she motioned for him to come with her.

Shut it OFF!

Like a light going off, Beth’s face blinked out.

There were voices in the hall outside his hotel room—loud and Italian—reminding him of where he was. When he was. He opened his eyes. Bologna. The conference. The dim light of morning was enough to kick the pain behind his eyes into something excruciating.

“Dammit.”

He wiped his hand across his face, which came away wet. He could still feel the strain in his muscles from carrying the woman into the ER, and there was a hollow pain in his chest when he thought about their baby.

It was one thing to dream about fruitless trees and dusty fields, food shortages and a slow slide towards extinction, but this nightmare promised an apocalypse that was far from slow. This plague, whatever it was, was devastating and immediate. And very personal.

The first time he’d had this dream, he had thought it was Grace in his arms, losing her precious baby. But this time he had been on the phone with his sister, and she was in Atlanta. So, if it wasn’t Grace…

But there was no one in his life, and he had been determined for a while that there never would be. No. It was a normal nightmare, just like everyone else. Cooked up by his subconscious. Or maybe too much sambuca in his espresso last night. Horrible, but not prescient.

A nightmare, that was all.

But his arms still ached with the woman’s warm weight. His heart was still raw from the terror he had felt for her and their baby. The feeling of loss was real, potent. And, most telling of all, his headache was debilitating.

Damn.

Only a true glimpse of the future ever left him with a nausea-inducing migraine like this.

As he waited for the pain to ease, he grasped for the details, any details at all, that could help pin the event down.

But the dates on the magazines had already slid away from him, along with the face of the woman he’d held in his arms.