Read Halfway Heroes Page 62


  Chapter 37—Placing the Blame

  After she’d cried until her eyes were dry, Lydia discovered from Sylvia that she and several others had been infected by the SN91. Fortunately, the hospital had acquired a large shipment of the cure right away from Rooke Pharmaceuticals, courtesy of Rooke himself. The symptoms had hardly had a chance to blossom before the cure nipped the disease in the bud. Rooke had even footed her medical bill once again. Lydia was grateful to him, although Sylvia reminded her that Rooke was connected to Heather and to the others. Lydia didn’t know if she believed that yet, having yet to see any concrete evidence. However, Sylvia did note that he’d obtained the cure suspiciously soon after the hospital had indeed confirmed what had become a new version of the disease.

  “He’s doing this to avoid suspicion,” Sylvia said with certainty.

  The emergency workers had cleared the bank and surrounding blocks, preventing further infections. Sylvia told Lydia that her courageous intervention had played a part. Jando and Aidan had been flown back to the Cave. Sylvia didn’t know their fate or punishment. Lydia was due to return to the Cave within a couple of days. “As soon as possible,” Sylvia told her. “Arthur’s orders.”

  When Lydia tried to refuse, Sylvia had pointed out that her safety was important. “We’re assuming they have some of your blood already. Arthur’s looking into it,” she said. But she sounded as unsure and perplexed as Lydia just why they wanted her blood. “They’re targeting you. We need to get you out of here.”

  “What about my dad?” Lydia asked.

  “Arthur will bring his body and your mother up to the Cave for a small, private funeral of your own,” Sylvia said from her armchair near the bed. “She’ll be safe for the time being while the police search for Heather, Finster, and Mark.”

  “What if you can’t find them before she leaves? What happens then?” She turned to her mother. “I can’t let you come home alone, Mom.” Debra had already been making arrangements for his burial. But without Arnold, she would be alone now, facing everything by herself.

  “I’ll be fine,” Debra said, as she sat on the hospital bed. According to Sylvia, Debra had been at the hospital ever since Lydia had been brought in. Her crumpled clothes and worn-out face confirmed it. “You need to stay safe.”

  “But Mom, they came after you once. They might do it again!” Lydia said.

  “We’ll take extra care to watch your mother,” Sylvia said, trying to assuage her fears. “I’ve already had a chat with the police, and they’re going to station patrol cars outside your house and your law firm. Rest assured that there will be eyes on her all day.”

  Lydia opened her mouth to protest. Debra wrapped an arm around her. “Honey, please just do what Sylvia says. I’ll be fine, but I couldn’t bear to lose you, too.” Lydia sighed and relented.

  She spent the next couple of days in the hospital. She had a few visitors from school, most notably Dariela. Lydia nearly jumped out of bed with excitement when her friend walked into her room the first day of Lydia’s stay. Dariela filled her in on everything that had happened since she had been gone as well as the rumors floating around about Lydia.

  “Many keep saying you were whisked away to Area 51,” Dariela said, laughing. “That you’re in a chamber somewhere, being tested by top government agents. Nobody believes me when I try telling them the truth. They look at me like I’m the crazy one!”

  “I wonder why,” Lydia said, grinning and rolling her eyes.

  “Some even think you’re dead. We have to capitalize on this when you get back. Run around and scare people.” Dariela clapped her hands. “By the way, I saw the news. You’re famous. They’re interviewing people, saying that you and two others helped save everyone! They keep calling you guys Good Samaritans and are looking for you to say thank you. Judging by the damage, it also looks like you gave those guys a thrashing at the bank!” She frowned a little. “Sorry about your dad.” That was the only time she mentioned him. Lydia was thankful for that.

  She enjoyed all of Dariela’s visits, which brought for the first time in a long while a sense of familiarity, which was comforting. Lydia was growing bored of the daily routine of eat, have vitals checked, eat, lie around, vitals, eat, sleep. Dariela always arrived in the nick of time to break up the monotony.

  Her other injuries hadn’t been too serious—bruises and scrapes. In truth, she felt worse than the doctors said she was. However, the cure for the SN91 took a while to work through her system, to finally eliminate the disease. This gave Lydia plenty of alone time, when she wasn’t entertaining any visitors, and her mother was asleep or out buying lunch for them. She barely had a chance for her own thoughts with all that had happened.

  She was happy that everyone else was okay. But she was also upset when she learned that Finster, Heather, and Mark had slipped away. Sylvia assured her that the police were searching for them using all possible resources.

  Lydia could picture the three of them, sitting around, smugly celebrating how they ruined her life. Finster, especially. How Lydia hated him! In the wee hours one night, after a nurse had checked her vitals, she vowed to hunt him down and make him pay. Finster, Heather, Mark, Rooke—if he was involved—and anyone else connected to her father’s murder.

  Mark. She despised him. Lydia wished upon him the foulest and worst ills she could imagine. He was a worm, a festering boil on the skin that served no purpose other than to make life worse. Can’t believe I actually worried about him. Actually prayed for him! He was on her blacklist. Anyone remotely close to Finster was on it.

  She curled her fist. She would shape up, throw herself into training at the Cave, and find Finster. She wouldn’t simply kill him. No, death was far too swift for the likes of him. Lydia wanted to make him suffer the same pain she had to endure. Tenfold even. It’s all his fault. It’s all his fault.

  But was it? This little doubt poked its head into the courtroom of her brain to provide a fresh perspective and bring new evidence to light. Lydia had disobeyed every order given to her. She had left the Cave. She had confronted the criminals. She had initiated the fight.

  Finster was going to kill Sylvia, she reasoned.

  As true as that may have been, a doubt struck with its strongest hand. Why had Finster and the others kidnapped Lydia’s parents? Certainly not for the thrill of a heart-pounding run-in with the police. No, they had been trying to get at Lydia. She was the cause of everything. The enormous strength she possessed was the key to the entire matter.

  The doubt closed its case. In summary, while Finster was to blame, Lydia was a guilty party. Perhaps as guilty as Finster.

  Lydia appealed the verdict, shifting the blame to Mark. He had pushed her against the crate in the storage room. So he was guilty of causing her new level of strength. But the pressing realization of events after that eventually caused her to break down. It’s true. If I never had this stupid strength or if I had stayed at the Cave. Why? Why, God? Why did this happen to me? Why?!

  She punched her mattress. Unsatisfied, she pounded it repeatedly. My fault! She tore her pillow apart.

  “Lydia?” Debra stirred to life in a chair. She sat up straighter. “What’s wrong?”

  Lydia looked at her mother, tears in her eyes. “It’s my fault. I’m the reason Dad is dead.” She hit the mattress again. “It’s my fault.”

  Debra embraced Lydia, holding her back from breaking the bed. She shushed her daughter. “Don’t think like that. It’s not your fault.”

  “Yes, it is,” Lydia said, clutching Debra’s arm. “If I’d stayed in the Cave, if I didn’t have this strength! Dad died because of me. Why do I have this strength? It’s not useful. Why did this happen? Why did God do this to me?” She lifted her arms. “Everything happened because of me. I wish I had died on that field trip!”

  Debra’s face darkened. She stared Lydia down. “Now hush up. You’re not too old for me to pop you across the mouth. Don’t you ever say that. Ever. You hear me?”

  Lydia nod
ded, wiping her eyes. “Alright,” she mumbled, hiccupping.

  Debra kissed the top of Lydia’s head. “Now, I’m not going to lie. This,” she said, holding up Lydia’s arm, “is your fault.”

  “But Mark—”

  “It’s not Mark’s fault. It’s not Rooke’s, not God’s, not anyone else’s fault. You shouldn’t have been messing around in the restricted area to begin with.” Lydia sniffed and bowed her head. “I think you’ve learned that lesson already. However, your father’s death is not your fault.”

  “But Dad still died because of me,” Lydia said.

  “He made a choice,” Debra said. “Yes, he died for you, but because he chose to do so. Just like those people who kidnapped us chose to do all those terrible things. You can’t stop them making those decisions. They’re free to make those bad decisions and would’ve made them anyway. Like your father made the decision to help you. He wouldn’t have wanted you to stop him from helping you.” She smiled. “He loved you every bit as much as I do. And we would give anything for you no matter what. Including our lives.”

  Debra rocked Lydia back and forth on the bed. “My strength has brought nothing but trouble though,” she said. “It was the reason those people took you.”

  “They might’ve kidnapped someone else if you didn’t have your power, Lydia. Some other parents would’ve been in trouble.” She nestled her head on her mother’s shoulder. “You want to know something else?” Debra asked.

  “What?”

  “I don’t think your strength is so bad,” she said. “I think it can be really helpful. Look at the bank. I think God put you there to help out and fight those people. All those other hostages you defended? Those other fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, grandparents, and others? The people outside? They’re saved. I’ll bet their families are pretty happy about that.” Debra squeezed her daughter. “Where you see a mistake, I see you doing much good. You were brave and stood up to those three.”

  It was food for thought. Yet Lydia believed that was only one instance in which her bane had been useful. Most often, her strength was problematic in daily functions. Otherwise, why dedicate all the time to learning to control herself? Plus, she knew that as long as she had her strength, Finster and anyone he worked for or with would come after her loved ones. Lydia couldn’t guarantee she’d always be able to escape from her confines to lead a rescue. She needed to be rid of her strength. After taking care of Finster, Heather, and Mark.

  For the time being, Lydia yawned and closed her eyes. Debra hummed a soft, sweet tune that lulled Lydia into a peaceful sleep. “Good night, sweetheart,” Debra whispered. “I love you.”

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