Demanding Ransom

Chapter FIVE



“Maggie?”

I turn over in my bed. A thick blanket of darkness swallows up my entire bedroom and my vision, like an opaque veil covering my eyes. I fumble for a clock on the nightstand, but nearly every possession I own is back in my dorm room in Davis. I rub the sleep from my eyes with the back of my hand and blink away the haze.

“Maggie?” This time there is a knock that follows the hushed whisper. “Mags, can I come in?”

I push up in my bed. It’s gotten easier to do that this past week. Collin has really been working me hard, and while his name has become more of a curse word for me than anything else, I’m so glad to have him in my corner, cheering me on. Forcing me to do things that I didn’t realize I had the strength to do.

“Yeah, Mikey.” My words crack with fatigue. “What is it?”

Mikey pushes the door open slightly and it squeals on its hinges. Dad said he was going to oil that, but now that I only use this room when I’m visiting, I think the task been placed on the backburner. Dad’s a man with a lot on his plate right now. Squeaky doors should not take priority.

“I need to take advantage of your ability to handle ‘all things gross’ right about now.” He’s carrying the yellow Tupperware that we typically use as our popcorn bowl on family movie night. But I’m pretty certain there’s not popcorn inside it this time. None of that familiar, buttery smell that makes my mouth water. “You prepared for this one?”

“Not sure,” I say, rubbing my eyes once more. He slides onto the bed next to me and the pungent odor assaults my senses before I can even see what’s in the bowl. “Is that what I think it is?”

He pushes the bucket under my face.

“Damn, Mikey! Did you eat straight ketchup for dinner?” The bowl is filled halfway with vomit, but it’s not the color I would expect to see. Not that I spend my time staring at puke often, but this doesn’t look normal.

Mikey’s eyes are bloodshot and his face holds a ghostly white pallor. That I can see clearly, even in the pitch black of my room. “I’ve been throwing up for the past three hours. This is the most recent.”

“Thank you for sharing,” I groan, covering my mouth and nose with my palm, grateful for the perfume I’d splashed on my wrists this morning because it masks the bitter smell.

“Does that look like blood to you?”

I groan again and venture another look into the bowl. “Yeah. It kinda does.”

“This round sucks, Maggie.”

Mikey’s doctor started him on chemo a week ago, noting that though it’s not always routine procedure for brain tumors, he felt confident this was the right treatment plan for Mikey’s specific type of cancer. They would start with chemotherapy first, and then follow up with radiation if they saw it fit. Mikey wasn’t too thrilled with the list of side effects presented, especially when his doctor noted that nausea and vomiting were likely to occur because chemo has a direct effect on the vomiting center in the brain. Based on the contents of the bowl in front of me, it looks like Mikey is in the throws of experiencing that unwanted side effect firsthand.

“Oh Mikey.” I try to pull the bowl from him, but he tugs it back at the last minute and retches into it with force that doubles him over completely. I steady the bowl with one hand and rub his back with the other as he continues to gag and spit into it, moaning with each dry heave. I feel the damp moisture of sweat beading through the fabric of his shirt. When he lifts his head up, his eyes are wet and a line of red streaks down his left nostril to the top of his upper lip.

“Oh God, Mikey,” I gasp. He wipes his face with the heel of his hand, and his eyes widen until there’s nothing but white circling all the way around his hazel irises. His fingers are coated in thick, crimson blood. “I’m calling 911, Mikey.”

He nods, then collapses onto my bed.

***

“How long has he been vomiting?” Trav stands in the doorway to my bedroom. Ran and another paramedic have Mikey on a stretcher next to the bed and are checking his vital signs. At least that’s what I assume they’re doing. I honestly know next to nothing about medical procedures, only what I’ve gleaned from unrealistic TV dramas.

“Um.” I dig my hands into the pockets of my hooded sweatshirt and fiddle with the loose fuzz that coats the inside of it. “He said three hours? He had another round of chemo this morning.”

“And the blood. When did that start?”

I shake my head and it induces a shudder that I try to mask, but I’m sure Trav sees it. “I don’t know. I think right before he came in my room.”

“Alright.” Trav nods his head. I don’t remember actually seeing him last month during the accident, just being aware of his presence in the ambulance and his assistance in getting me to the hospital. He’s mildly good looking with a mop full of auburn curls that rivals the tight ringlets of a poodle. But his dimpled grin is what stands out. It’s a reassuring, friendly smile that you’d want to see in an emergency situation, so he’s definitely the right man for the job.

“He’s going to be fine. Most likely just an esophageal tear.”

“He has cancer.”

Trav places a steadying hand on my shoulder and I’m certain this is something he does with all of the people he treats. Something about him feels like a friend. “Right,” he says, “I know. And there are many things to worry about with that. But this is not one of them. He’s going to be fine, Maggie.”

Ran and the other paramedic roll the stretcher toward us, and we both step back from the bedroom doorway to allow for easier passage. Ran has his grip on the bed while the other guy holds a plastic bag with a circular ring at the top up to Mikey’s mouth. I clench my teeth and hum quietly to drown out the retching noise that continues to pour from Mikey. It doesn’t really work, but it’s all I can think to do.

Trav eyes me cautiously. “Come on, you’re riding with us.”



“How’s your leg?” It’s the first thing Ran has said to me since the ambulance pulled up to the house and it completely catches me off guard. Especially since he’s not looking at me, but still has his eyes fixed on my brother as he pierces the fleshy inside of his arm with the tip of a needle.

“Better,” I say, pressing my hands onto my thighs—a little too hard because I feel the pull on the injury underneath. “Thank you. You guys did a good job with it.”

“You liked the balloons?” It’s strange how it’s almost as though I can hear the shape his mouth makes as he speaks. Like I can sense those curved lips breaking into a flirtatious smirk just from the sound of his controlled, low voice.

“Yes,” I say, choking on the words because my heartbeats and my syllables are trying to inhabit the same space in my throat and there’s not enough room for both. Trav eyes me over my brother’s head and huffs out a slight laugh of air. “I liked them a lot.”

“I got that impression when I saw the one tacked to your bedroom wall.”

My palms drench with sweat and I gasp. I close my eyes tightly shut to keep them from popping out of my head completely. Why is this guy so forward? Trav doesn’t do me the honor of hiding his laughter this time and his shoulders roll repeatedly.

“You don’t have much in your room, Maggie.” Ran’s back is still to me, so I allow myself to explore every angle of it—every pull of his navy blue shirt over the muscles that are so evident underneath.

“No. I don’t really live there. I’m supposed to be away at school, but I came back for Mikey’s game,” I explain. “Then everything sorta got turned on its head.”

The irony in my statement isn’t lost on Ran and he chuckles faintly. “Well then, I’m glad my gift could serve an alternate purpose as temporary room décor while you’re visiting.”

Trav shakes his head and rolls his eyes, catching my gaze. It appears he thinks we’re pretty entertaining, which says a lot, considering their line of work.

“I’m not visiting. I’m taking the semester off.”

Ran lifts another bag to Mikey’s mouth and collects his vomit like it’s no big deal while he rotates at the waist to face me. “Then you’ll need some more decorations. I’ll see what I can do about that.” Aside from just having nice lips, he has nice eyes, too. More than nice. Entrancing, with their light blue hue rimmed with dark, thick lashes.

“Do you give gifts to every girl you transport to the hospital?” I’m stunned by my confident question, but decide to own it while his penetrating stare is locked with mine. “Or just the ones who nearly bleed out on the way there?”

“No.” He shakes his head and a lock of chestnut hair falls onto his forehead. “Just the ones that pay me lots of compliments. You gave me three. That was deserving of a balloon bouquet.”

“And what would four have gotten me?”

Trav is talking to someone on what looks like a walkie-talkie, and Mikey is either completely drugged into unconsciousness, or lulled into sleep from exhaustion, so it suddenly feels like it’s just Ran and me in the vehicle, despite the drone of noise and the physical bodies around us.

“Four would have gotten you flowers. Five might have gotten you a chance to lick my lips.”

I choke. “I didn’t say I wanted to lick your lips!” My volume is too high, so I try to pull it back down by speaking through gritted teeth. “I just said I liked your lips. And I don’t even remember saying that—you could have made that up for all I know.”

“Oh, you said it. And you have to admit that you at least thought it.” He folds his arms across his chest. “And right now you’re thinking about it again, aren’t you?”

“No.” I toss my head back and forth violently. “No, I’m not.”

“Maggie, you and I both know that it’s nearly impossible not to envision the subject matter of conversation.” His unbearably long lashes flutter as he blinks and his eyes hold mine. His fixated stare would be intimidating if he wasn’t so intriguing. “Puppies.”

“Excuse me?” I cough.

Ran smirks at me devilishly. “See, now you’re thinking about cute, furry puppies.”

“No, I’m not.”

“So you’re not, not thinking about puppies?”

I let out a frustrated sigh. “I’m thinking about how annoying this double talk is and that I’m glad I passed out so many times during my own ride last month so I didn’t have to endure it back then,” I defend in a rush of words.

“Lips.”

“Shut up!” I shoot my very best glare at him, but Ran is totally unaffected. His lips spread into a slow, measured smile and I think I even see his tongue run deliberately across the surface of the bottom one. My stomach clenches and my breathing accelerates. “Are we almost there?” I hate the shaky sound of my voice.

“You anxious to get to the hospital?” He cocks his head to the side, his bottom lip now pinned between his teeth. It does something strange and unfamiliar to my insides. “Didn’t spend enough time there last month?”

“I’m anxious to get out of this ambulance and gain some distance from you.”

“Won’t you miss this nice face?” He waves a palm across his features. He’s so good looking that it makes nothing about this conversation fair.

I scowl, but it’s hard to do when my eyes can’t stop staring at his perfect mouth. “No, I’ve got that stupid balloon to remind me of your goofy grin, staring at me as I try to fall asleep.”

“It’s not nice to belittle someone’s attempt at friendship, Maggie,” Ran scolds. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you how to graciously accept a gift?”

“My mother never taught me anything other than how to be a deceitful, home-wrecking liar,” I spit.

Ran’s eyes flare open, then he immediately recovers and they soften with empathy. If my own eyes hadn’t been so obsessed with his mouth, I would have missed the brief moment that I caught him completely off guard. The moment I caught myself off guard, too. Why do I still hate her so much?

“Well, she might not have taught you how to play nice, but I doubt she taught you to be a liar. From my experience, you seem pretty frank.” Ran tilts his upper half toward me and I push back into the wall to reclaim my personal space. “That might be who she is, but that’s not who you are.”

“You don’t know who I am.” My voice falters, the emotion heavy in it like it’s a physical substance.

“No, I don’t,” Ran agrees with a lift of his chin. I glimpse the illuminated, red EMERGENCY ROOM sign through the front window as the ambulance slows and settles at the entrance to the hospital. “But I’m hoping you’re gonna give me the opportunity to get to know you a little more.”