26. Bella – More Clues
Chapter twenty-six
Bella – More Clues
I don’t go back to bed. Not after that.
Not after the ghost, not after the journal discovery, not after the line under Lena’s skin like Tom’s.
That shape in the hall definitely existed and absolutely did not introduce itself like a normal, polite haunting. It’s surely Dr. Mercer.
I stay downstairs reading the journal, settling in the reception area in a comfortable chair with a blanket over me. I pet Charlie, “We’re not going to spiral. Let’s think about this.”
Charlie stations himself at my side like a co-conspirator and says nothing, letting me think. He knows when he should hold back his commentary.
I flip the journal open, scanning Mercer’s entries again, slower this time. Not just reading but studying. Patterns. Language. Details he thought were important enough to write down.
Warmth of skin.
Elevated pulse.
Unusual surface tension … movement inconsistent with expected clotting behavior.
Unusual webbing under the skin. Advances quickly.
I flip forward.
Progression uncertain. Spread mechanism undetermined.
Advise isolation until further observation.
Isolation?
My thoughts move instinctively between Lena, Tom and Silas.
Three patients. Similar odd patterns but not identical.
And the girls that came in with odd bruising and anemia. They said many of their friends had the same thing. I’ll need to see them again … See if they have webbing under their skin. If something is advancing. I need to follow my plan of talking to residents.
I write down a list of questions for a town questionnaire that Nurse Betty or the Mayor can prepare and send out to everyone. I need to know who else is having issues, bruising, weakness or even webbing of the veins. Who else may have been attacked and didn’t report it.
I mutter, “Something’s going on, but what? I’ve got to figure this out. Maybe an island disease? Some kind of infected tick or a poisonous island plant, maybe?”
Charlie shifts.
“But clearly there’s something in The Wilds. Two almost three attacks.”
I go back to Lena’s room again, reaching for her wrist.
Pulse—faster than ten minutes ago. She’s warmer, too. And the line under her skin? It’s more defined. Not faint. A faint discoloration follows the vein up her forearm, coming from her wrist, subtle but undeniable now.
Lena stirs, her brow furrowing. “Doctor?”
“I’m here,” I say immediately. “You’re okay. I’m just checking you.”
“It feels … weird,” she murmurs.
“You said that.”
“Like … some pressure,” she adds, eyes still closed. “Inside.”
A chill runs through me. She feels pressure and movement. I grab a penlight, angling it toward her arm. The line doesn’t react or shift. But it’s there. This is something moving through her.
And then I hear a knock.
“Unbelievable,” I mutter, already moving. “It’s 2 a.m.”
I look through the glass and see Darius and open the door without hesitation.
“You realize it’s 2 a.m.? But … you have excellent timing,” I say.
“So I’ve been told,” he replies in that low voice.
He steps inside quickly, and as I take his hand, a thrill runs through my body. He notices but says nothing.
“Lena’s changing,” I say immediately, dropping his hand and turning back toward the exam room. “Something is happening to her internally. Some webbing of veins under the skin like we observed with Tom. Increased pulse, heat, and—”
“I know,” he says.
I stop. Turn.
“You know?” I repeat.
“I felt it,” he replies.
“What? That’s not how medicine works.”
“It is here, on this island. I have a gift.”
I exhale sharply. “You keep saying things like that and then not explaining them.”
“Can you show me? Please?”
I lead him into the exam room. Lena stirs again as we approach, her eyes fluttering open.
“Mr. Hunt is here,” I whisper.
“Yes,” she says. “Hello.”
Darius moves to the side of the bed, his gaze dropping to her arm and the odd marks.
For a moment, he doesn’t touch her. Doesn’t move. Just observes. Then—slowly—he reaches out.
His fingers hover just above her skin.
Lena inhales sharply.
“Do you feel that?” he asks.
“Yes,” she whispers. “Like … buzzing.”
“What is it?” I ask, stepping closer.
He doesn’t answer immediately. Of course he doesn’t.
“Darius?”
His gaze lifts to mine.
“It has begun,” he says. “No doubt now.”
My pulse spikes. “What has begun?”
He studies me for a moment and motions for me to follow him out of the room. Then, quieter, he says, “It’s in her blood. It’s in Tom’s blood, too. The … infection.”
“I figured as much,” I snap. “What is it doing?”
“Changing it.”
“Into what?”
“I don’t yet know. It’s different than last time.”
I take a breath, forcing myself to stay grounded. “Then we track it,” I say. “We monitor changes. We test her blood. We—”
“You must isolate her,” he says. “And anyone else who shows these symptoms. Tom, to start with.”
I tense up. This is what Dr. Mercer wrote in his journal.
“If it progresses—” he begins.
“Then I treat it,” I cut in.
“With what? Treat what?”
Silence. He’s right. How do I treat something that is a mystery?
“With observation,” I stutter. “With data. With—”
“With hope?” he finishes.
“Maybe.”
“It’s not enough.”
I step closer, holding his gaze. “It’s what we have.”
For a moment, neither of us moves. Then he nods.
“Anything else?” I ask.
“Yes.”
Of course there is.
“If her condition changes rapidly,” he says, “you call for me. Same with Tom, Silas or anyone else.”
He holds my gaze.
“Okay. I’ll text you.”
“And I might feel it. I might know anyway.”
I almost laugh. But I don’t.
“Well, you showed up now, when I needed you.”
Charlie moves closer to Darius and presses against his leg for a moment, then comes back to me. A kind of thanks?
Something is in Lena’s blood. But something is changing her? Maybe Silas and Tom, too? Maybe the girls who visited? Maybe others in town?
I look at him suddenly.
“Hey, how come you walk around at night, when no one else dares? After sunset? After the bell tolls?”
“I have my mysteries,” he says, as he turns to leave.
“Wait,” I say.
He pauses.
“Darius, what happened here before?” I ask. “Silas said it’s back. Dr. Mercer writes of cases in his journal.”
He pauses then says simply, “It started and then it ended.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It is the only one that matters.”
“How?” I press.
He doesn’t turn.
“It was contained.”
“And now?” I ask.
He pauses longer this time, turning to go. “It is not contained yet. And I’m not sure how to.”
The door closes behind him.
I reach for my notebook, flipping it open with steady hands.
“Okay,” I murmur. “Let’s document this.” Charlie leans against me, looking contemplative if that’s possible.
I write in my own journal:
Internal progression (Lena)
Rapid internal progression, almost immediately after attack (Tom)
Rapid healing but odd marks around the wound (Silas)
Blood anomaly (all three). Silas’ blood moves in the vial and doesn’t behave normally.
Lena and Tom have veins with blood that are webbing under her skin and feel alive. They are more ill.
Lena, Maris and Jenna have anemia and do not wear a silver necklace.
Silas wears the silver necklace. Tom unknown.
Silas, Tom and Lena attacked or chased in The Wilds
Then I add another line, a question. Can this spread? What happens if it progresses? What will it do to the patients? Is it contagious? How can I treat it?
I stare at the words. Then close my notebook.
“Right,” I say softly. “Now we figure out what it is and then how to stop it.”