The Deadly Discord by Marc DeGeorge

Author:Marc DeGeorge [Marc B. DeGeorge]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: MuseMarc Studio LLC
Published: 2022-12-14T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter twenty-five

“Hey, you look good,” Parrish says as he comes into my room. His face wears a humble smile, and he bows his head a little, as if the ceiling is too low for him. It’s standard human height, however, so his act comes off as odd. I’ll chalk it up to every other space in the Teddy ship, save for Doc Elizabeth’s room, being much lower.

“Yeah, for a guy who just took a three-month-long bath,” I reply with a smirk.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like that question has been seriously abused ever since I woke up.”

Parrish laughs, then pulls up the one stool in the room. Other than the tub, the bed, and a counter with a bunch of drawers under it, there’s nothing else in here. It’s as sparse as can be without becoming nonfunctional. It also cannot be any whiter.

“I bet,” Parrish says. “Don’t take it personally. We just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Dude. I’m alive. After being dead, I couldn’t be more okay.”

I have no memory of anything from when the assassin pulled the trigger until I started dreaming. I don’t know how long ago that was. I had no sense of time, nor did I really care about it. I was content. Happy even. Until I remembered something to be concerned about, I had no worries. There’s something to be said about that when compared to life.

I’m glad that it was Parrish who was there when I woke up. There is no one stronger, more stable, or more grounded. I needed to have all of that or else I might have lost my sanity. I only wish he could have hung around longer.

Which reminds me.

“Hey, where’d you go yesterday?” I ask.

“Well…” Parrish tries to hide his face from me. There’s no way I’m going to accept that as an answer. If he’s got something he needs to tell me, he’s got to get it out.

“Come on, dude. You can tell me. It doesn’t matter what it is. I’m listening, okay?”

Parrish’s head hangs lower. I grow concerned, but I’ll try to be patient with him. He’s always given me the time when I needed it.

“Mom’s not doing well,” Parrish says as he clenches his hands together.

“Yeah, I know.” Then I blink and remember that they bombed our houses. I never had time to ask him about that. “Was she hurt in the attack?”

“No. It’s not that.”

“Then?”

“They took her in after the explosion and checked her out. That’s when they found the reason she hasn’t been feeling well.” Parrish swallows. “The doctor gave her only a few months left to live.”

My jaw goes slack. What do I even say to that?

“Wait, have you talked to Doc Elizabeth? What about this thing?” I point to the tub. If it could fix me, then it could heal Parrish’s mom, too!

Parrish’s brow wrinkles, and he stares hard at the floor, as if there is something there he can’t make out. Then, after a moment, he shakes his head.

“I asked,” Parrish replies. “She explained it, but I couldn’t really follow.

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