The Last Hour (Thompson Sisters) by Sheehan-Miles, Charles (reading well .txt) 📕

I stood there, gasping, not knowing what to do, and then I felt arms around me. Alexandra on one side, and Jessica on the other.

The three of us stood there, like shipwreck survivors, and watched our sister, praying she wasn’t dying. Inside the room, the doctor held a pair of plastic paddles as they charged up with a whining sound, and a nurse pulled Sarah’s gown down and out of the way while another smeared gel on her chest.

The doctor yelled, “Clear!” and pressed the paddles to her chest. A loud thump sound, and her body spasmed. Jessica staggered next to me, and I turned and lifted her.

“Dylan, help!” I cried. He ran to me and lifted Jessica in his arms. She had turned pasty white, and a low, keening whine rose from her throat. Her eyes were wide open, bugged out, pupils dilated. Dylan said, “Come on, you don’t need to see this.”

“No!” she cried. She started to fight him, hysterical tears falling down her face as she struggled to pull away. He gripped her harder, his upper arms bulging with effort as he held her in the circle of his arms. He spoke to her in a hoarse whisper, “It’s going to be okay, Jessica. It’s going to be okay.”

I sobbed as the monitor above Sarah continued to emit a shriek. The doctor shouted, “Clear!” again. The nurses stepped back, and he applied the paddles again, and Sarah’s body flopped again.

The doctor and nurses stood back, watching the monitor, and nothing happened. Jessica started to moan again, and Dylan murmured, “It’s not over yet. Stay calm. Stay calm.” He didn’t let go of her. Two more doctors had arrived in the room by this time.

“Bag her,” the doctor said, his voice calm. “Compressions.”

I watched as a nurse fitted a breathing device over Sarah’s face, and one of the other doctors began CPR as a nurse pulled a curtain closed, blocking our view of the room.

“Clear!” the first doctor shouted. A thump, and the alarms continued.

“Compressions!” the doctor called.

Sarah was gone (Ray)

“What the fuck did you do?” I shouted.

Sarah shook her head. “I ... I don’t know…” she said. Her eyes were wide and shocked. And the scary thing was, she was still ... just a little bit ... transparent. She stood there, winded, her chest rising and falling with each staggering breath. I tried not to stare, but it was frightening, because tendrils of what looked like black smoke still curled out of her mouth.

“Sarah…” I said.

“What?”

“You’re ... fading.”

She swallowed. “What are you talking about?”

I grabbed her hand. She still felt substantial. But I could just barely make mine out underneath it. Through it.

“What the hell?” she cried, staring in shock. Neither of us paid the slightest bit of attention to what was happening just down the hall, where a doctor shouted, “Clear!”

But then we heard the thump in the other room, and she staggered and cried out in agony.

Jesus Christ! I thought as I reached out and grabbed her.

Her eyes were wide, and she cried out, “Oh, fuck that hurts!”

Daniel cried out, “Are you okay? I’m scared!”

And then it hit me. All at once.

We could touch people. With strong emotion.

She’d touched that EMT in the elevator, and even though we weren’t even really there, he’d reacted, unconsciously.

I’d touched Carrie, while feeling that awful longing, and sent her over the edge into longing and despair.

She’d freaking poured emotion into Lafferty. Rage, fear, overwhelming protectiveness of Carrie. Enough that he’d pissed himself and run in terror. But ... we were still connected to our bodies. We had to be. Because the minute she’d done that, the minute she’d poured all that energy into someone, it had stopped her heart in whatever the real world was.

We were still connected, however tenuously, to the real world. And her real body was dying because of what she’d done here.

They shocked her again, and her body, her non-corporeal body that was here with me, seized, and I felt it, a white flash of pain ripping through me. I let out a curse, and then, without thought, I lifted her in my arms and ran for the room where her solid body lay.

“What the hell are you doing, Ray?” she screamed.

“Shut up and come on,” I replied, carrying her into the room. Even as doctor leaned over her body to do chest compressions, I threw her on the table.

“Ray, stop it!”

“No!” I shouted in my best Army Sergeant voice, “You’re dying here, and sucking energy out of your own body! Get in there!”

She stared at me, horror on her face. And then the other doctor shouted, “Clear!” and she jerked in fear. Before she could get off the table, I leaned forward and pushed her down, into her own body.

“You have to go back!” I shouted. “You’re going to die!”

“No!” she cried out. “I’m afraid!”

“I don’t give a shit!” And now I was crying too. “Carrie can’t lose both of us, goddamn it!”

Then the doctor leaned forward and pressed the paddles against her chest and we both screamed in pain. Her body ... her spirit body... flopped in a seizure, and she screamed, “Ray, damn it, let me up!”

I grabbed both sides of her face and whispered urgently, “You have to go back.”

Her eyes were huge, and tears were streaking down her face. Her skin had gone pale, her eyes red-rimmed. She was still just slightly transparent, and that scared the crap out of me. We both ignored the doctor who began CPR compressions.

“I’m afraid,” she said. “What if I die? What if this is it? What about you?”

I swallowed and said, “You’ll be fine, Sarah. I promise. I think this is the only way. You need to go on without me, and ... I’ll figure something out.”

She shook her head, struggling against me again, and said, “I can’t!”

“Do it!” I said, my voice breaking. “I need you to go take care of Carrie. Do it!”

Her entire body