Death's Awakening

Chapter Twelve: Noah

Noah had been slipping in and out of sleep for the past couple of hours. He was exhausted, but his mind just wouldn't seem to turn off. His father had been working in the basement for days, and he refused to tell Noah anything about whatever illness was going around.

But something was definitely going on.

Noah had tried to get together with a couple of his friends earlier in the evening and none of them had been feeling well. His friend Alex had even been admitted to the hospital.

How serious was this thing?

His dad knew. Why wasn't he talking about it? Noah was about one more sleepless hour away from knocking down the basement door.

A loud banging broke through the silence.

He shot straight up and listened. Was that coming from the basement?

Another bang and he realized that no, someone was at the front door. He looked at the glowing clock beside his bed. It was almost four in the morning.

He jumped out of bed and ran to his window. Someone was pacing back and forth on the front porch, but he couldn't see them well enough to tell who it was.

An image of the sick man from the other night flashed through his head. The news had reported on him saying that he'd walked nearly two miles from his house in a delirious fever before finally collapsing on their street. Had someone else wandered over here?

Or was one of his neighbors in trouble?

He grabbed his jeans from the floor and stepped into them, then grabbed a t-shirt out of the dirty clothes pile. He took the stairs at a record pace and threw the door open just as he pulled the shirt over his head.

Parrish Sorrows turned, her violet eyes wide. He'd never seen her without her dark eyeliner. "I'm so sorry to wake you up, but I didn't know what else to do."

"What's wrong?" he asked. She was the last person he'd expected to see at his door in the middle of the night. He wiped the tiredness from his eyes. "Come in."

She shook her head wildly from side-to-side. "There's no time," she said. "I have to get my mom to the hospital, but I can't carry her down the stairs by myself. Can you help me?"

She was already starting to walk back down the steps, looking back to see if he would follow her.

"What's wrong with her?" he asked. But he already knew. Dread sank deep in his stomach like a stone.

"Fever of 105 degrees and now she's throwing up," Parrish said, a choked sob cutting off the end of her words. She took a breath. "I have to get her to the car, please."

He looked back toward the house. "Let me grab my cell phone. I'll call an ambulance."

"No," she said. She'd practically yelled it.

He turned back, questioning with his eyes.

"I tried that," she said. She walked down a few more steps, inching toward her house. "The phones don't work, Noah. I can't get through to my dad in New York and 911 is busy. We need to go, now. If you can't help me, I'll go next door."

Noah gripped the door. He couldn't process this. The phones weren't working? How could 911 be busy? Maybe she was delirious. "No, I'll help you. Wait here a second."

He took the steps two at a time and snatched his cell phone from the charger beside his bed. He dialed 911 as he ran back downstairs and out the door. Parrish was already halfway back to her house.

The phone connected and he got a busy signal. He stared at the phone for a second making sure he'd dialed right. He dialed again.

Busy.