Burning Emerald by Jaime Reed

himself like a dying spider.
    â€œCaleb!” I screamed and reached his side at record speed.
    Something sharp and tight took me to my knees. I no longer felt the cold or the ground beneath me, but the acidic burn that ate at my gut. It resembled the worst stomach flu in the world with a splash of malaria, and a freaky acid trip as garnish.
    Fitful heaves emptied the contents of my stomach even when there was nothing left. I crawled to Caleb and held his head in my hands, and he clung to me like a life raft. His jaws flapped as he clutched at his throat, fighting for one breath of air. He was drowning in some private sea of torment, quickly dragging me with him.
    I wasn’t the only one having a reaction. Lilith went into a full wild-out, itching from the inside out as if covered with ants, scrambling for an exit, an answer, something.
    Somewhere in a galaxy light years beyond the Earth’s sun, I heard a stampede of footsteps. “You okay, Sam? What’s wrong with Caleb?” a panicky voice asked. Shoes crunched the chilled grass, followed by speculative chatter. “Oh my God, look at her eyes! What the hell is she on?” someone yelled.
    Before I could reply, bolts of fire struck my midsection with such force I fell flat on the ground next to Caleb. My muscles locked, causing joints to snap violently. The stretching of tissue, along with overwhelming sorrow, had me curled into a ball and crying for my mother.
    Time held no true measure for these heart-stopping moments of fear and agony. Hands tucked underneath me and lifted me off the ground. I had no idea who spoke to me or where the flashing lights came from. More hands grabbed at my wrists and ankles, cruel in their assault and unmoved by my pleas to get to Caleb.
    Where was he? Was he okay?
    Through blurred sight, I saw Mia crying and squeezing my hand. A long, cold tube scraped my already raw throat, burrowing its way downward. Words floated in and out of range, loud, garbled noises that pertained to me in some manner. Everything after that was anyone’s guess because the fight soon left my body. Death’s cold finger rested against my lips and whispered, “Shh,” bidding me to sleep. Despite my will to hold on, what child could truly refuse?

7
    T he next thing I remembered was waking up in a hospital bed with a tiny construction worker jackhammering my skull.
    Turning over, I saw Mom dozing in a chair by the window. Something bad had happened, bad enough for Mom to wear holey pajamas in public. Judging from the dried tears and dark circles under her eyes, it had to be serious.
    â€œMom?” I called with a swollen, scratchy throat.
    Slowly, her eyes fluttered open. “Samara?”
    â€œHi, Mom. What’s going on?”
    She sat up straight and rubbed her eyes. “Oh, thank goodness, baby. Are you all right? How are you feeling?”
    â€œGroggy. Why am I in a hospital, again?”
    â€œYou were brought in two nights ago. You had a seizure and fell into a coma. Do you remember what happened?”
    â€œNot really.” I dragged my hand through my hair and leaned back against the pillow. “We were at Courtney’s party. Caleb had a bow and arrow and—Caleb!” I sprang upright, but Mom pushed me back down.
    â€œEasy now, just relax. He’s down the hall. His brother is with him. Tell me what happened.”
    My mind reeled, straining to recount the event in its proper sequence. “He was having a fit, some sort of reaction.”
    Mom’s expression was indiscernible. Several emotions flashed in those blue, bloodshot eyes, and hitting the top of the list was fear. “Samara, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” She buried her face in her hands.
    â€œWhat happened, Mom?”
    â€œHe’s in a coma. The doctors believe he suffered an allergic attack, but they’re having trouble diagnosing his symptoms. The paramedics arrived to the scene pretty quick and were