Apocalypse Plus One: My Snarky Sidekick novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: Room 412

Annabel meets the man in the next wing, signs as his emergency contact and learns the Space only holds while he lives. Plus One says he has never heard of him, too fast.

Maisy drove back to the hospital with both hands tight on the wheel.

"You want to explain why a stranger's heart is your problem?" she asked.

"I know whose fault it is," I said. "Dane hit his van."

"Okay. But why does it feel like it's yours?"

I did not have an answer, so I watched the road.

In my head, Plus One was quiet. He had been quiet since the call.

The nurse met us outside the step-down unit on the fourth floor.

"He's stable again," she said. "The doctors don't know what happened. Nothing was wrong with the equipment."

"Can I see him?" I asked.

"You're not family."

"I'm the other person in the crash," I said. "I was in the car that hit him."

She looked at my sling and my hospital bracelet, and then she opened the door of 412.

The room was small and dim.

A man lay on his back with an oxygen tube under his nose and a feeding line taped to his arm.

He had dark hair that needed cutting and a pale scar through his left eyebrow.

His face was thin from five days in a bed, but it was not hard to see he was young.

His chart hung at the foot. I read the name.

Jude Weatherford. Thirty. Courier driver.

"Jude," I said softly.

In the Space, the wristband on its hook swung once and stopped.

"Don't," said Plus One.

His voice was sharp, and he sounded frightened.

I froze. "Don't what?"

"Don't read his name out loud. Please. Just don't."

"Do you know him?"

"No," he said. "Never heard of him."

It came out far too fast.

I let it go for now, because someone was behind me.

A woman in a grey cardigan knocked on the open door. She carried a folder and wore a badge that said Social Work.

"Ms. Holt? The nurse said you were asking about Mr. Weatherford."

"I was in the other car," I said again. "I wanted to see him."

"Then maybe you can help me." She opened the folder. "He has no family on file. His employer's coverage ends at the end of the month. The hospital will move him to a long-term facility in two weeks."

"A facility where?"

"Wherever has a bed. It might be out of the city." She sounded tired. "We need one name on the form, someone to call if anything changes. Without a name, the state takes over and we can't reach anyone."

Maisy leaned on the doorframe and watched me.

I thought of the radio in the last life, and the dark nights when I was the only one who answered anybody.

"I'll sign," I said.

"It's only a contact. You won't be responsible for his care."

"I know."

I wrote my name and my number on the line.

Annabel Holt. Relationship: the other car.

The social worker smiled for the first time. "He's lucky somebody came."

She went out. Maisy stayed where she was.

"Annie."

"Give me a minute."

I went to the bed and picked up Jude's hand from the blanket.

His palm was warm, with a rough thumb from steering wheels and boxes.

Inside my head, the wristband on the hook went perfectly still.

A warmth ran up my arm from his hand to my shoulder.

It ran into the grey room, and the shelves seemed to grow by one board.

"Oh," Plus One said, very quietly. "Oh. Let go."

"What is it?"

"Let go of him. Please."

I let go, and the warmth went out of the room.

"You're lying," I said.

"I'm a sidekick," said Plus One. "It's in the job description."

Maisy stepped closer. "Who are you talking to?"

My lips had been moving.

I closed them.

"Nobody," I said.

"Annie, you've been talking to nobody since the warehouse."

"Okay." I took a breath. "I'll explain tonight. I promise."

I looked at the man in the bed again.

He had come into my life as a name on a police report. In the last life, I had never heard of him either.

"Plus One," I thought. "Tell me what happens to you if he dies."

For a long moment, nothing came.

"The Space holds only while he's alive," Plus One said. "When his heart stopped today, I felt the floor go."

"How do you know that?"

"I don't," he said. "Don't ask me again, Annabel."

I looked at the thin man in the bed and the hand I had just let go.

Then I took my phone out and began to look for the best specialist in the city.

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