I reach the door to Olin’s room. The choice is obvious. I squelch the desire to pursue the man and boy. I have to check on my brother. Shaking, I place the tea on the metal table beside his bed. “Olintl?” I hover with an ear close to his mouth. His breathing seems more rapid than when I left—no longer in rhythm with the machine.

I complete a visual assessment of the tubes and equipment hooked to him. Everything appears the same. I look from my brother to the tea, and realize I’m not even sure if he’ll swallow it. For the last several days he’s received everything intravenously.

My internal alarm returns, more quietly than before, but it’s there, nudging me on. Too many people are interested in Olin. If the Ometeotl Guard find us here, like this…I cringe and chew the raw spot in my mouth until I taste blood.

I consider pouring the tea into the IV pouch providing Olin with fluids. But I’m not sure how the equipment works. I decide to try giving it to him orally.

After propping his head up, I clutch the tea cup and start with the tiniest of amounts. Nothing happens at first. I wait. His shoulders jerk slightly as the muscles in his neck constrict. Fear seizes me until finally he swallows.

Bit by bit, I pour the whole cup into his mouth. He swallows it all. For several minutes I stare at him in the darkened room, as if I expect him to jerk awake any second. Nothing happens. Not even a small victory to keep me going.

My mind wanders to the dark-skinned boy and the mysterious man. I’ve no idea what their connection to Olin and me could possibly be. Soon my lids droop. I haven’t genuinely slept since the incident, instead grabbing scraps of rest whenever my body is overwhelmed with exhaustion.

I hold on for several minutes more. Whisking my eyes open every time they fall shut, I focus on Olin in an effort to will him awake. Instead, I fall more and more asleep. Across the black screen of my closed lids, I see a gathering of people.

My parents are there. Olin and I are there. It’s the last time we were all together. Stupidly, I’m distracted with a boy. I’ve long wanted him to notice me, and finally he has. A commotion comes between us. The crowd jostles until I lose track of the boy.

Instead I turn toward Olin. He’s clenching my wrist hard enough to cut off the circulation. I start to bark at him, to punch him in the arm. He points toward our parents and screams. His skin crawls with barely visible blue flame.

I recognize it only from stories, urban legends about what happens the moment before someone erupts into telekinetic storm. The instant before someone unleashes an unfocused pulse of mental energy capable of disintegrating everything within its reach, supposedly their skin crawls with a shimmering light resembling living fire.

I calmly recall the information as an interesting point of fact. Without connecting the implications or realizing the danger, I attempt to follow Olin’s pointing finger. Before I see what he sees, a blinding light paralyzes me. So intense, the light impacts me with a physical force that dissolves all other senses.

My muscles jerk, waking me from the shallow sleep. I suck air into my lungs as if I’ve been holding my breath. Involuntarily I stretch and yawn. Through glazed and foggy eyes I see movement.

“Olin?” I press my fingers to my eyes in attempt to restore vision. I’m convinced I’m still asleep, or I’m so tired I’ve begun to hallucinate. Finally, I blink away the last of the fog. Olin has sat up. His eyes are open. But I’m not convinced it’s real. “Olin?”

He looks at me. A tear trails down his cheek. He croaks. Lifting an arm to rub his throat, he inadvertently yanks free an intravenous tube.

I watch in disbelief.

He loosens his pasty tongue and speaks with trembling voice, “What happened?”

I burst to life. Nearly throwing myself onto his bed, I wrap my arms around him and cry. I cry from exhaustion and relief, bitterness and joy. Through the tears I manage the best and only response I’m able to give him, “Nothing we can’t handle together.”

END