Page 12 of Reverie

“Here y’all go,” she drawls, using her hand to open one of the medical-grade double doors. We all cross the threshold, and Luna goes to one end of the room where two people in black scrubs stand next to a medical device. The clinic is pristine, and there are several more people milling around the triage area.

In one of the bays is my son.

“August!” Winter rushes toward him. As she approaches, August puts one hand up to his ear and uses the other to point at Winter’s bloodied arm.

Winter draws up short and says, “August, are you all right?” She frowns, and I force myself to unglue my feet from my spot.

“August,” I say, rushing toward him. “Shit, I’m sorry I handed you off back there.”

August rocks from side to side and then turns away to sit on the floor with his back to the wall.

Winter turns to the medical staff surrounding August.

“Has he been assessed? Who is in charge here? Where the fuck is the communication tablet hejusthad?” Winter’s voice rises with each question, and I swing my gaze from her to August.

The tablet I watched him take when he got off the helicopter is gone.

“Hi, I’m Alison. We had a little mishap with his tablet, but we’re working on getting a replacement within the hour.”

“A mishap?” Winter presses, emphasizing each syllable. “How? Why? When? Where?”

The short brunette grimaces against the force of Winter’s demands.

I walk toward my son but speak to Winter. “Breathe, Sunbeam.”

I settle into a crouch in front of August. Pulling out my phone that’s miraculously still functional, I tap into the app that connects with August’s AAC account.

“August,” I say with a soft voice, “what do you need?”

Winter moves from person to person, interrogating each one about August.

I hand him my phone, and he takes it with a trembling hand.

Rocking back and forth several times, he taps his thoughts out on the smaller screen.

After a few strenuous minutes, he taps the “talk” button.

“I am scared.”

His words hit me in my chest, and it takes me a moment to start breathing again.

“August, I’m so sorry all of this happened,” I say, and the words are thick in my throat.

Sorry. I’m always saying fucking “sorry.”

He releases a deep, keening sound, bending over so tightly it’s almost like he’s trying to make himself into a ball.

It breaks my fucking heart.

“August—” I rasp, and he surprises the fuck out of me when he jumps into my arms. He squeezes me tight, and the tremor that wracks his body makes me want to kill people.

I band my arm across his back, giving him firm pressure to orient himself like Winter taught me.

“We are safe right now,” I vow to him.

Please let this be true.

“Let go of me!” Winter’s pained scream causes me to jerk to a stand, August still in my arms.