Chapter 11 | Upon This Deathbed

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Hannah: "That's insane. Did he seriously try to blackmail you into sleeping with him?"

Azalea: "These lips do not lie, Hannah. Dale Evanston was a total tool. But as bad as that weekend was, it was nothing compared to what happened to Alex's dad at that hospital."

Hunter: "It's still mind blowing that he knew about Earnestine that whole time—I just wish he would have said something."





Alejandro Roberto Gonzales-Santos:

It was almost eerie the way that pale claws of shimmering light crept between the blinds guarding my window that Saturday morning. The brightness was bleeding, seeping through like translucent drops of blood as my eyes fluttered open, the heat of the winnowing sun against my face.

ZZZING! ZZZING!

I rolled over slowly and grabbed my buzzing phone from the wooden nightstand beside my bed, swiping at an incoming call lighting up the screen. "Hello?" My words were cracked and groggy when I answered.

"A-Alex...is that you?"

I gasped at the voice. "Alma?"

"S-some paramedics—they just rushed your dad in." Her words tumbled out on a wave of terror. "They found him in that forest pathway near your grandmother's neighborhood."

The scrape of an icy chill dragged down my neck. "Alma, what are you saying?"

"We aren't sure what happened...they found him in that forest pathway near your grandmother's." She hesitated. "Alex, someone shot him."

I gasped again. "WHAT!?"

"It wasn't lethal," she said quickly. "Whoever did this shot him in the arm. But doctors also found two major abrasions on his skull. They think he was attacked from behind with a blunt object before being shot..."

My head was spinning, dazed already from the unsettling fingers of sunlight intruding through the curtains. "I'll...I'll be there right away," I managed. "Thanks for calling."

Blinking twice, I lunged from beneath the bedsheets and sprinted to my closet, tossing on a button-up and some jeans before rushing outside, where I hopped on my bike and sped to the hospital.

The usually twenty-minute ride took seven, the screech of the road beneath my tires seeming nearly inaudible compared to the pounding inside my own head. When I arrived at the main building, I chained up my bike haphazardly against the metal rack adjoining one of the hospital's brick pillars.

Alma greeted me the moment I rushed inside through the sliding glass double doors, her eyebrows knitted together with worry.

"Where is he?" was my first question.

"Room 237B." She turned to the woman dressed in white standing next to her. "Sara, would you show him the way?"

I followed Sara through another pair of double doors, this set comprised of woodframed glass, and down the hallway to my father's room.

"Dad," I breathed, pushing inside through the slightly ajar door. "Dad, what happened?"

"Nice to see you too, son." His voice was low and weak.

"Dad." I shook my head. "...Why were you at grandma's house?"

He groaned uncomfortably. "Alex, could you hand me a glass of water?"

I grabbed a glass from the nurse's tray and passed it to him.

"Thank you." He drank slowly.

While my dad was drinking, Alma's hurried footsteps pattered inside through the room's entrance, her face grave as she turned and spoke directly to Sara. "We've got another one. His name is Ángel, shot while crossing about an hour ago. I need you in the ER now."

Sara turned to me and my dad as calmly as she could. "My apologies—my services are needed elsewhere. But please, feel free to use the call button if you need anything."

I turned to my dad. He met my uneasy stare with fear of his own as Sara and Alma both darted from the room.

"...Wow," I said as the door slammed shut. "So Alma's still working here."

He was silent.

"It's...it's a real shame that they're so understaffed."

Dad coughed. "Well, not many people want to sign up to work at a hospital for...people like us."

I could feel the pain in his voice.

"Dad, legal or not, everyone deserves medical care. Screw those wackjob politicians who think they know everything."

I saw a slight smile creep onto his face, though it seemed to fade as quickly as it had come, his eyes darkening. "And to answer your question, Alex, I was at the forest pathway behind Abuela's house because Mom sent me a text asking me to meet her there. She said she had something important to tell me."

"What was it?"

"I don't know." Dad shook his head, shivering. "The moment I got there, someone hit me in the back of the head. I ran, but whoever it was shot me before I could get deep into the woods." He winced. "I hid in the tree behind the clearing next to the swamp. I heard lots of footsteps, and I figured whoever'd attacked me must've already run by." More coughing—Dad shut his eyes this time.

"And Alma?" I asked. "How did she—?"

"I called her, but only when I was sure I was alone." He winced again. "I thought my arm was going numb, but I was scared to say anything with some...monster so close by."

I shook my head. "Who would do something like this?"

"I don't know, Alex—I don't know." He sighed. "I'm just glad they didn't come after you or Josefina."

I paused. "Hey, speaking of Mom, where is she anyway? I thought—"

The door behind me swung wide and slammed against the wall. "Roberto, Alex, oh my goodness," my mother's voice came out through tears as I spun to face her. "I'm so glad you're okay." She rushed into the room and ran over to kiss my dad.

"Josefina, I was so worried." Dad cradled her face with his good arm. "I thought you'd been attacked as well."

"Attacked?" My mother's eyes grew wide.

"Somebody tried to kill Dad," I explained. "He said he got a text from you asking him to meet in that clearing in the woods."

"Well, that's weird," she said. "I never sent him a text. In fact, I got a text from your dad asking me to meet him at the bank."

"Wait, what?" I asked. "This isn't adding up—how did both of you get a text?"

"Well, the one I got didn't come from your dad's phone," Mom said warily. "It was from a number I didn't recognize, and it sounded...off."

"Off?" I puzzled. "What did it say?"

"Well, it was something like...'Josefina, this is Roberto. Need to meet behind Gallensley Bank.'"

My dad gasped. "I never sent that text," he said, "and the text I got—it said the same thing."

"...So someone set you guys up?" I asked. "But who? And why only go after Dad?"

"I'm just glad you're okay," Mom interjected, smiling warmly at my dad.

"Well, that's still yet to be seen, Josefina. The doctors want to operate—they say my skull was cracked a bit. They're hoping to fuse the broken pieces back together. It shouldn't be a very complicated surgery...but there is some risk involved."

"Oh, Roberto," my mother sighed, tears welling in her eyes.

"I'll be fine," Dad promised, then smiled up at the two of us.

I hesitated in place. "...Mom?" I finally asked.

She turned to me. "Yes?"

"Um...can I see your phone?"

"...Sure." She quirked a brow as she handed it to me. "Why?"

I navigated to the recent messages, scanning for the mysterious number as—

"That's it!" I screamed.

My mother jumped at my exclamation, Dad's eyes widening as well as the two of them shot me puzzled looks.

"Alex?" my mother tried. "What are you—?"

"It's the same one! Mom, this is the same number I saw that day when I went to Hunter's house. Mrs. Singleton had been screaming at somebody, and they had this number."

"What? A-are you sure?"

"Mom, I never forget a number, and that's the one I saw."

My father scratched his head, shuddering beneath the bedsheets.

"Alex," Mom said, "if you're right, then whoever did this to your father may have also killed Cassandra."

I nodded. "Yeah, that's what I was thinking too." I turned briefly to Dad. "You guys, this is insane. We have to call the police—"

"NO!" my father thundered, his voice seeming to quake the entire room.

I gasped, drew away from his side. I turned to my mother, her eyes pained and uncertain as they darted between me and Dad.

"But...whoever did this..." I hesitated. "Dad, you were almost k—"

"No means no, Alex." He shook his head firmly, scowling angry daggers at me from his hospital bed.

****

It wasn't long after that my mother and I eventually left the hospital, my eyes glued to the ground as I followed Mom to the truck, stashed my bike in the tonneau.

I tucked my head between my shoulders as I climbed into the passenger's seat. "I...I really think we should call the police," I muttered. "I know what Dad said, but—"

"Alex, your father is right. We can't afford to involve the police right now."

I hesitated. "Well, what if I make the call? From a payphone. My accent's not that thick—they wouldn't be able to tell." I sighed. "Look, I know it sucks having to talk to the police, but we can't let whoever did this to Dad get away with it."

She exhaled, shut her eyes briefly. "Alright." She paused. "There's a payphone behind this hospital. Go now; make the call. I'll wait in the car."

I nodded back at her once, then swung open the door and climbed outside. I ambled across the parking lot and took a right at the hospital's second set of brick pillars while my mom stayed seated inside the truck.

As I doubled around the corner, mind whirring a thousand miles per hour, I slammed into a guy draped in what at first glance looked to be a robe of pure, silken white. I practically bounced off him, smacking my back against the wall as the force of the collision knocked the papers he was holding right out of his hands.

"I'm sorry," I said. "My bad, dude." I pushed myself forward from the wall and squatted to the pavement to gather up the papers I'd knocked from his hands. But before I'd even finished crouching, he'd already blitzed to the ground and snatched up every single page.

He didn't even look me in the eye before he shot up and power-walked away, turning a corner deftly before I'd had more than a second to look at him.

Well, that was weird.

I kept walking until I made it to the payphone and picked it up, dropping in a quarter to make the call.

"Gallensley Police Department. Please state your—"

I barked out the number I'd seen on my mom's phone.

"...Excuse me?" asked the man on the other end.

"The guy who murdered Cassandra Singleton—I think that's his number."

"Sir, I need you to slow down."

"I can't," I almost screamed. "I just...please. Look into that phone number."

A pause—the guy was hesitating. "What did you say it was again?"

I repeated it to him.

"Alright, got it. I'll pass this along."

"Thanks." I hung up the phone not even a second after the word left my mouth. I stepped away from the payphone, stole a careful glance to the left and one to the right, then bolted back across the parking lot toward the already whirring engine of my mom's truck.

****

The daytime sunlight was fading as Mom started making dinner, retrieving a pair of avocados and a bag of tomatoes from the refrigerator's middle shelf. She'd just placed the tomatoes on a wooden cutting board when the buzz of her phone sounded against the countertop adjoining the stove.

I glanced at the illuminated screen, saw Alma's name flash with each zinging surge.

My mother ambled to the counter and pressed Answer. "This is Josefina," she said, pausing for Alma's reply. In an instant, Mom's eyes grew wide, and a terrified gasp escaped her lips.

"Mom, what is it?" I asked.

"Alex, get to the car now," she ordered, turning to me.

"Wh-what? Why?"

"It's your father...he's critical." Her words came out tremulously, fear running through every syllable. "Someone administered extra anesthesia while the nurse wasn't looking..."

My jaw dropped wide.

"We have to hurry."

****

It felt like only seconds before we were seated and buckled up in the car, mirrors adjusted, engine roaring.

Mom must have run at least a dozen traffic lights as we raced to the hospital. The two of us rushed inside the moment we arrived, barreling down the hallway to room 237B.

Alma was there to greet us, trepidation spewing from her trembling eyes as she stood outside the door to my father's room.

"H-how is he?" my mother shuddered to ask.

"We're doing everything we can right now to keep him alive," Alma said, her own voice shaking. "I just don't know who would have given him so much anesthesia."

"Sure is one heck of an accident," I mumbled, feeling the first prickles of anger tug at my words.

As I stared down the palely lit hall, past the carts carrying packaged food and syringes capped with plastic, I felt my phone vibrate inside my pocket, tingling against my thigh. My hand descended to retrieve it, and I began instantly reading the dark letters cast against the bright-white screen—then I froze, terror gripping every inch of my body:

Your father's overdose was no accident. Go to the police again, and you'll be burying him.

I was gasping for air when I looked up again, fear doubtless written all over my face. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the edge of a flowing white robe sail past a door at the end of the hallway.

Huh? "Mom, did you see that?" I asked, turning speedily to face her as fear leaked into my voice.

"See what?" She whirled around, stared to the hall's end.

Without another word, I balled my fists and bolted down the tiled path—narrowly missing a cart of pills and blue nitrile gloves.

I sped into a forked hallway split, glanced left then right, spotted what looked to be the same white robe as it disappeared behind a beige door leading to one of the hospital's outdoor patios. I ran the distance between us, practically lunging for the door and slinging it wide.

Darting into the summery night air, I saw the robe of white as it snaked around a bricked corner about twenty feet to my right, just beyond what I assumed was a huddling family, their eyes all glued to smartphones as they strode in sync.

"Hey!" I yelled. "Get back here!" I bounded across the sidewalk, dodging the family of congregated members as I ambled forward, noted the approach of more and more pedestrians piling in from the parking lot. "I said get back here!"

The robe kept moving as I rounded the corner, weaving through the densely populated walkway and turning sharply down what looked to be an absconded alleyway.

I shoved my way through the thronging crowd and eventually made it to the alley, only to find even more warm bodies—practically a sea of flesh and blood—shuffling nervously up the asphalt. Some wore shorts in khaki and denim, while others sported loose-fitting slacks and dainty mini-skirts swept by the wind...but not a single white robe.

I spun wildly left, frantically right. I can't let him get away! My eyes flew back and forth, tracing every row of bricks, every line of asphalt, before landing again upon the literal horde of fast-moving, scrambling figures as I pushed against their grain. My eyes were hard and narrow, almost as if to pierce the crowd, as if to somehow x-ray every last body and soul sliding past me in the steadily dimming night.

But it was no use.

The wearer of the white robe had vanished.

"No!" I yelled, rage bursting. "NO!"

Screaming to the sky in frustration, I felt my phone buzz again.

Stop following. Your search is meaningless. I can promise you don't want to find me.

"Alex!" called the voice of Alma as soon as I finished reading the text.

I whirled, lifted my eyes above the crowd to spot her worried face as she stood pressed against an alley wall. "Alma?"

"Alex!" she cried again, this time curving her shoulders together and hurtling through the crowd. "Why'd you run all the way out here?"

"Look, this is gonna sound crazy," I breathed, eyes still bouncing through the forest of faces. "But I think the person who gave my dad the overdose was in the hospital."

Alma gasped. "What?"

"He was wearing this...this robe," I said. "And I think he was watching us while we were in my dad's room."

"...Alex, this does sound crazy. How do you know that—?"

"Because I'm pretty sure it's the same person who's been sending me these." I showed her the previous two messages on my phone.

"What on earth?" Her hand rose to cover her jaw as it fell.

"And I tried to call the police, but this guy found out and..." I trailed off, felt a horrifying thought tear its way into my brain.

"Alex...what is it?"

"He was here earlier," I said, the words sputtering out slowly, deliberately, pure terror bleeding into each one. "I...I bumped into him right before I called the cops. He...he must have been following me...even then." I stared straight at her. "Alma, I...I don't know what to do. This guy is everywhere, and..." I froze. "Oh, no. MOM!"

I twisted away from Alma and ripped back up the street, slamming people aside with both my arms as I sprinted into the hospital. I dashed past the reception desk the moment I was inside, ramming through the double doors separating me from the patient hallway, fear geysering throughout my brain all the while. I barreled into my dad's room to find my mother unconscious on the floor, hair splayed widely against the square tiles.

I'm too late! "Mom!" I cried. "MOM!" I lunged to the ground, gripped her shoulders, shook her again and again. "Mom, come on, you've gotta wake up!"

A burst of fear began rising up inside me, but I refused to give in. Keep it together, Alex, I shrieked within my own mind. Keep it together!

I pressed the call button next to my dad's bed and screamed into the speaker: "Nurse!" I hollered. "I NEED A NURSE!"

Mere moments after I'd said the words, the door swung open behind me, Sara rushing inside on swift footsteps. "Alex, what's wrong!?" she asked.

"My mom—somebody came in here and did something to her. She...she's not waking up."

"What about your dad?" she asked.

I froze. I hadn't even looked at him since I came in the room. "I—I don't know. I've been so busy freaking out about my mom..."

Sara went to his bed immediately. "He's out cold," she announced. "Roberto!" she called to him, "Roberto, can you hear me!?"

"Come on, Dad," I begged. "Wake up!"

"Alex," Sara asked, turned back to me while she placed her palm against my dad's forehead, "did you see anyone in here—anyone at all besides you and your mother?"

"Yeah." I nodded my head. "There was this guy in a white robe."

"Did you see what he looked like?"

"No...I barely saw him at all. He was wearing a hood—and...and maybe a mask—but I couldn't get a good look at his face."

Sara sighed. "Alright. I'm going to get some nurses in here to watch your dad around the clock. Someone obviously wants to harm him, and we can't let that happen." She withdrew her hand from my father's forehead.

"Thank you, Sara," I said. "Seriously, thank you."

She smiled lightly and nodded once to me before leaving the room, just as my phone buzzed against my thigh.

I gulped hard, shuddered

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