72 St. Margaret’s Way Chapter 13
James was still somewhat propped up against the headboard with the crumpled sheets pushed down around his waist. His neck ached as he shifted and realized he’d woken up to the door opening, interrupting the Apollo 11 podcast that was still playing somewhere nearby.
Bradley stood in the doorway, holding what was clearly another cup of antidote. James stared at it in dread. At this rate, he was never going to be able to have anything strawberry ever again.
“How are you?” Bradley asked awkwardly as he came in, handing James the cup. “This should be the last one. Jolene just left. She said you’re doing better?”
“We were just at Gran’s.”
“What?”
“You and I…” James shook his head. “Sorry,” he said. “Has she tried to-”
His throat went tight as he tried to finish his sentence. He failed, but took a sip to try and cover up his inability to speak. It was still revolting and he forced himself to drink half the cup in a go.
“No,” Bradley said. “There’s no sign of her.”
Good. James painfully finished the second half, waited to make sure that it wasn’t about to come back, then nodded. “Do you think she knows?”
“Knows?”
His face burned, but he knew he only had a few minutes of consciousness to have this conversation. “That you guys figured it out.”
“Considering it’s been three days since you’ve been down at the wellness fair looking for her?” Bradley asked. “Yeah, I think she guessed that her mind control wore off.”
Now the antidote was coming back up anyway. James flew out of bed, tearing out the door and nearly knocking Bradley over. He didn’t know where the strength to move this fast came from and he vaguely registered a privacy screen spread out before the hallway ended in the living room. If there was anybody beyond it, they didn’t seem to notice as he hurried into the thankfully empty bathroom and threw up in the toilet.
His whole body was shaking and convulsing as he vomited, pink strawberry hell pouring out of him as hot tears fell and mingled with it. Mind control. He’d been fucking mind-controlled. And he had no idea how long he was a ticking time bomb or if he was even fully safe to be around right now.
James heard footsteps behind him as his body heaved again, sending up the last of the antidote he’d just drank. When it was over, he stayed where he was, gripping the toilet and shaking.
“That was insensitive,” Bradley said softly behind him. “I’m sorry.”
James lifted a hand off the toilet rim to wave away his apology. “It’s fine,” he said, then threw up again.
Bradley handed him a towel and he wiped his face, then sat back against the tile wall. His mouth tasted like strawberry and battery acid, but everything seemed to be done coming up. Even if his body felt like it was growing too big under his skin, like it was going to burst out and become something horrific, at least it was empty.
Then one of those tiny Dixie cups that always found their way into the bathroom (did Graham buy them? James had seen them at home too) was in front of him. James took it from Bradley with a feeble nod of thanks and drank the water, slightly reducing the hellish strawberry taste. He expected Bradley to leave, but instead he sat down against the side of the tub, facing James.
“I was walking around doing my fucking job for three days,” James said. “And I didn’t know until you tried to drown me. How can I be responsible for keeping the team safe when I don’t even know I’m compromised? What if it happens again?”
“Then I try to drown you again.”
“You liked that, didn’t you?”
The huff of laughter and genuine smile on Bradley’s face actually made him feel a little better. “Loved it.”
They sat in silence for a moment as James breathed, trying to will away that gross feeling in his stomach. “How did you guys know?” he asked.
“Because you’re an asshole sometimes, but you aren’t cruel. What she made you do to Madelyn was cruel.”
James was still shaking, but he needed to know the truth. Otherwise it would haunt him. “Right,” he said.
“Even before what happened the other morning, you were acting weird during a case that coincidentally involved mind control,” Bradley said, picking up a clean Dixie cup and eyeing it with distaste. “And Amelia took that training on control compounds a few years ago. Plus, we’re actually fucking investigators.”
James laughed weakly, resting the back of his head against the wall. It still stung, but the bandage was gone. “I was cruel though,” he said suddenly as he made the connection. “What I said to you when we were fighting. That was-”
“You being an asshole,” Bradley finished. “What did I just say? Stop worrying about that. I was being a dick too.”
James nodded, not really believing him, but too tired to argue. Then he groaned. “I threw up all the antidote.”
“There’s a spare in the fridge,” Bradley said, standing up. “Hang on.”
“Wait.”
Bradley stopped and looked down at him. “Yeah?”
“Did you call McGovern a motherfucker?”
“Narrow that down.”
“To his face.”
“Yeah.”
“Thanks.”
Bradley walked out of the small bathroom, leaving James alone. That feeling was still there, like he was splitting his skin and becoming something disgusting and wrong. But before he could get too deeply mired in it, Bradley was back with a familiar nauseating drinking glass.
James forced himself to drink it slowly. He set down the cup, wiped his mouth on the towel, then realized his mistake as the room lurched.
“Wait,” he murmured, starting to slide.
“Fuck,” Bradley muttered.
“Leave me here, it’s fine.”
“I’m not leaving you on the bathroom floor, shithead,” Bradley said. “Hang on.”
Between the two of them, James managed to get to his feet. Now he just had to race against time to get to a flat surface before he ended up back on the floor. It was maybe four feet from the bathroom to the bedroom doorway, but the ground seemed to rise up to trip him and he nearly fell. By the time they got into the gray bedroom, Bradley had taken most of his weight.
“Two more seconds,” Bradley said as James felt the burn of the antidote spiderwebbing away from his heart.
A shadow figure slid across the ceiling, mocking him.
***
He woke up later still feeling miserable. But he was alone in the room and not handcuffed to the bed, so maybe things were getting better.
The podcast was still going on a nearby phone, now detailing the trip home from the moon. It was familiar, comforting, and James stayed where he was, just listening to the soothing words beside him as Fang purred against his uninjured side. He reached down and touched her. No growling, no hissing, just contented purring.
He had no idea how he was going to face the others. One on one in varying stages of coherence was hard enough. But if he was done with the antidote, now he’d have to actually face the consequences of what happened.
Where had he messed up? He hadn’t eaten anything at the wellness fair. Even before McGovern’s only contribution had been to say not to, James wasn’t about to eat anywhere near that place. So how had it gotten into his food? Or maybe it was an aerosol? He might have inhaled it without realizing.
And now they were going to have to confront this woman and James wasn’t going to be able to do that. Even thinking of her scared him so badly he almost wanted to drink another antidote in order to block it out.
The door creaked open about ten minutes later and he looked up to see Madelyn quietly stepping into the room, leaning on her folding cane as she moved. She saw him looking at her and smiled. “Oh hey, you’re up.”
“Madelyn-”
“I just wanted to check my messages. I figured you were still sleeping.”
She went over to the side table where the phone was still playing the Apollo 11 podcast, then picked it up and scrolled through it for a moment. Then she set it down, the podcast still playing.
“It wasn’t your fault,” she said before he could apologize again. “You weren’t in control.”
James’s heart clenched as the thought of mind control settled back into that little place where he knew it would haunt him forever. “It was still me,” he insisted. “I still messed up.”
Madelyn stopped for a moment, clearly considering what she wanted to say. James braced himself, but she just sat down on the side of the bed. “It wasn’t you,” she repeated.
Before he could continue fighting, she leaned over and turned off the podcast. “Dr. Oliver said you’re done with the antidote,” she said, hugging one knee to her chest. “Do you want to come out to the living room? It’s me and Graham on right now.”
She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “He brought two more loaves of sourdough. I’m about to hide his starter.”
No. No, James never wanted to leave this room again. He was so tired and afraid. And something must have shown up on his face. “What is it?” Madelyn asked.
“I gave her a key.”
“I know. The locksmith came a couple days ago.”
How long had he been in here, pushing through dreams? He didn’t sleep after his last trip to the wellness fair before they caught him, because-
“She told me not to sleep,” he said quietly.
“What?”
“She said not to sleep and I didn’t. I don’t know why I did that. I was tired, but she said not to, so I just didn’t. I don’t understand…”
“Because you weren’t in control.”
James took a deep breath, doing his best not to cry. “Dr. Oliver left you some medicine to help with the lingering antidote pain,” Madelyn said, passing him an orange prescription bottle. “She also says not to be stubborn and to take the damn pills. Okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you mind if I stay a few minutes?”
James swallowed one of the three pills inside the bottle with a sip of water, then looked at her. “What?”
“Sorry, never mind. It’s just my…”
“No, that’s fine.” He shifted over, barely disturbing Fang. “Sit down.”
Looking a little uncertain, Madelyn sat beside him against the headboard the same way Gabriella had. “Want to keep listening?” she asked, holding up her phone.
James nodded and laid down as she turned the podcast back on. They were silent for a few minutes, listening to Apollo 11 make its way back to earth.
