The kid shook his head. "I hid 'em. You know, in case they came after me."
Drake sighed in relief. "Good job. Very clever. Now, listen carefully. I do have certain powers. And if you can get me some of those drugs, I can heal myself and help you and your mom, okay?"
The boy frowned. "You ever done 'em before?"
"No."
"Then how do you know? You playin' me, man? Trying to steal from me?"
"Kid, what would have happened to you if I hadn't fought those guys?"
He looked down. "Dunno. Probably be dead."
"Right, so maybe I am trying to help? What's your name?"
"Toby."
"Toby, I'm Drake, and I really can help you. But you've got to get me that drug, okay?"
Toby nodded and took off down the alley. Drake tried to stand, but his legs wouldn't hold. He desperately hoped this drug would bring back his powers. It seemed unbelievable, but he would grab at any straw to protect his family again.
Pockets of time blurred together as Drake faded in and out of consciousness. The pain, so sharp at first, ebbed—still there, but not such a big deal. He wondered if he was dying, but had a hard time caring either way. The only things that kept him tethered to the pain—to life—were Sam and their baby. If he died, he would never be able to help them, and Sam would forever think him the worst kind of human being for abandoning them.
Toby finally returned, and Drake fought through the numb lure of death's call, despite how desperately he wanted his miserable life to end.
The kid handed him a vial full of blue fluid. "I only got three. You try one and we'll see what happens."
"Do I just drink it?"
"Man, I don't know. Maybe. I ain't never seen no one take it, just heard about it."
What do I have to lose? Drake emptied the vial into his mouth and swallowed.
Nothing happened. He slumped down in disappointment. Too good to be true.
Just as he was about to tell Toby that the drug was worthless, something buzzed in his gut. The rotten emptiness in his chest tingled with life, as if worms were crawling through him. He groaned and rolled onto his side.
Toby's voice came at him like radio waves that he could see, feel and taste. "What's happening, man?"
Drake opened his mouth, and tiny fairies with glittery wings flew out, giggling. He giggled with them, caught up in their merriment. Had the worms in his heart turned to fairies? Very cool.
Fire and ice burned through his veins, so hot it was cold, or so cold it was hot. He couldn't tell. He looked down at his arm and saw a green glow pulsing through him, leaking out of his skin. Everything came alive and the world exploded with color.
Motes of dust in the air danced and shined and waved and winked. Toby's exhaled breath lapped on his lips like blue waves on the ocean, and Drake found himself surfing on each gust, hanging ten on the iridescent waters.
His power hit, full and hard, making his body jerk and spasm as it knitted itself back together. He saw how close he'd come to Death's door, and waved. Death hid, spying through his peephole, then flipped Drake the bird and stalked off, sickle in hand, leaving him to heal alone.
When his body gleamed with new skin and tissue, and his bones and organs were good as new, he felt the presence of another—one so familiar, yet so far apart.
Sam.
Her fear and pain tore at him. She needed him, but he was too far away, too lost in his own living hell.
"Drake, our baby's coming. Drake!"
'Sam, I'm here. I'm sorry, Baby. I'm here.'
"How? How's that possible? Drake, wait, I need to tell you something—"
She screamed out, and he felt the pain, felt the baby pushing out of her. Felt the fear and joy and fear again.
He heard other voices around her, filtered through her own mind and awareness.
They told her to push, to stay calm, to breathe.
He said the same, sending her his strength, his healing, his power.
Then panic arose. The baby! What were they saying? He couldn't hear. Sam faded out. She moved farther away from him, away from the world. He knew what that meant. He couldn't let that happen.
'Sam, no! Don't go. Fight, dammit. Fight! Take my power. Take my strength. Whatever you need from me, take it. Keep yourself safe. Keep our baby safe.'
"Drake, I need you. I miss you. Why did you leave me and— Ah!" She whimpered in pain like a kicked puppy.
He focused, sending her more and more until the last drop of his power poured into her, and he felt their connection breaking—
"It's a girl, Drake. Ana's here."
She was gone.
Chapter 72 – Lucy
The sharp blade dug through the soft wood, slicing the final branch off the long tree limb. Lucy stood and tested it—perfect height and weight for a walking stick. She took a quick inventory of her bag: a computer, useless for now; tear gas, not especially helpful at the moment; a baseball cap.