Dying To Live Read online

  Dying to Live

  Sam Carter

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and

  incidents either are the product of the author's imagination

  or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons,

  living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2019 by Sam Carter

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced

  or used in any manner without written permission of the

  copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book

  review. For more information please contact: [email protected]

  First paperback edition February 2019

  Book cover by Edward Bettison

  Interior Design by Word-2-Kindle

  To my best friend, favorite person and biggest fan, Amy. Thank you for never giving up on this book and me.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Four years ago, Stacy changed Dr. Harlan Allred’s life forever. Today, as he prepared for a busy day with his pediatric patients, he had no idea she was about to do it again.

  This morning, like almost every morning, Harlan went over his schedule name by name with his nurse, Clara. Seeing that Stacy Montgomery was his first appointment put a smile on his face. Throughout all the changes and stress in his life, Stacy always made him feel better. Every doctor is thankful for patients like her, patients that help them remember why they do what they do.

  “You’ve got that look in your eye, Doctor. The same one you always do when you see Stacy on your schedule,” Clara said with a smile on her face. She had been a pediatric nurse for over fifteen years and had spent the last seven with Harlan. She knew him, and she knew what she was doing. She wasn’t afraid to remind him of this every chance she could.

  “And what look might that be? It can’t be any different than how I look every morning—exhausted and wishing it were 5:00!”

  “Shut it. You know that’s not true.” Most people would be surprised to hear a nurse talk to a doctor that way, but Harlan loved it. Kept them on the same page. “It’s a combination of happiness and sadness—like you are excited that she is here to see you, but wish she never had to come in.”

  How Clara could read Harlan like a book he would never know, but she hit it right on the head. Stacy shouldn’t have to come in for visits with a surgeon. And it was his fault.

  Stacy was only six when she was first rushed to the ER at Seattle Children’s Hospital after a horrific car accident. Harlan was on call that night and performed the surgery that would ultimately save her life.

  On that fall night four years ago, the weather was doing what it does best in Seattle—raining. Not raining hard, just spitting. But it had been spitting long enough that the roads were quite slick. As Stacy and her mother drove home from one of Stacy’s dance classes, a car coming from the opposite side of the road headed right toward them in a busy intersection.

  Stacy’s mother tried to move out of the way but overcorrected and slid fast into the middle of the oncoming traffic in the crossing road. This movement, this quick and sudden movement, put them right in front of the glaring headlights of an SUV speeding directly toward them.

  That was the last thing Stacy saw before opening her eyes to see Harlan staring at her as she was wheeled into the emergency department. No one knows what caused the other driver to be in their lane because, unfortunately, the driver of the car that caused the accident drove off like nothing happened and was never found. People have speculated it was either someone who had too much to drink, or an idiot sending a text instead of paying attention to the road. Either way, it remained a mystery. It didn’t really matter. At least it shouldn’t, but it always would to Harlan.

  Harlan clearly remembered the looks of both horror and peace in this young girl’s eye—she could only open one eye at the time—but that look of peace amazed him even then. How anyone could look anything but completely terrified during a time like that was beyond Harlan, but somehow Stacy looked calm. She looked like she knew she would be ok. She looked like she knew that Harlan would save her and help her come out of this even better than before. That very moment Harlan swore to himself that this little girl, this angel, would be ok. Better than ok. She would be 110 percent better and completely back to normal. He was going to do it.

  Unfortunately, he could not completely reverse the damage caused to Stacy by this horrible accident. She would always walk with an awful limp, and the burns on her face would always be a part of her life. Stacy didn’t care; she was always happy. She helped make Harlan’s job worth it and was the reason why he chose such a challenging field.

  At the same time, cases like Stacy’s were partly why Harlan had let his life spin so far out of control—why his wife had left him and, until recently, why his son would hardly talk to him; why he spent so much time at Alcoholics Anonymous meetings; why he wasn’t the person that he knew he should be.

  The questions and second-guessing were sometimes more than he could bear. Why couldn’t he have saved her legs? If he had just been quicker or maybe made better decisions in the ER that night, she would be out running around with friends like a normal ten-year-old.

  Maybe if he had been by her side the second the ambulance rolled into the hospital, he could have lessened the damage to her face, and then in a few years she would be getting the attention from boys that an extraordinary girl like her deserved. Harlan had too many maybes in his life. Too many wrong decisions. Too many what ifs.

  “Doctor? You still here? Get out of dreamland, it’s time to get to work.”

  “I’m here. Just thinking about what it would be like to finally fire you,” he said with a smile that caused Clara to let out a full belly laugh.

  Before they got to the room where Stacy was waiting, Clara, true to form, started talkin
g Harlan’s ears off. If Clara wasn’t talking about the patients, she was usually talking about one of two things: reality TV or whichever man she was seeing at the time. As much as Harlan despised shows like The Bachelor (none of those beautiful people could find a date on their own, really?) or Survivor (was he supposed to believe those contestants lived off the land without any help the whole time?), he would rather hear about who got a rose or who got voted off the island than get the latest news about Clara’s love life.

  He couldn’t keep track of all the different men and stories, and he didn’t want to either. As she started to talk, Harlan said a silent prayer that last night someone had lost a lot of weight on The Biggest Loser or that some team had cheated on The Amazing Race.

  Unfortunately, Harlan’s prayers were not answered. “Last night I had the time of my life with Dalton. You remember me telling you about Dalton? The big ol’ sexy, delicious policeman?”

  Harlan nodded because even though he had no clue what she was talking about, he didn’t need to hear the details of how they met or specifics about what he looked like. He just wanted her to get on with her story.

  “Good. Let me tell you, Harlan, this boy is yummy. With a capital Y-U-M. First, he took me out to a fancy dinner downtown where he fed me bacon-wrapped shrimp. It was divine, Harlan, divine.” Harlan could tell she was just getting started, and he was afraid of what would come out of her mouth next.

  “After that, he took me on a picnic and fed me some chocolate-covered strawberries, not outside because of that pesky rain we live with here. But it turned out much better that we were inside because the strawberries were not the dessert, my friend. Not at all,” Clara said, emphasizing every word just in case Harlan couldn’t picture the vivid painting she was creating with her words.

  He thought he was going to be sick. Good thing they were near a hospital.

  Just as Clara was about to give Harlan details that would make a porn star blush, they reached the door. Clara stopped talking, thank the Lord, and put on her figurative nurse hat. She was so amazing at being where she needed to be and putting everything else in the periphery. Harlan could not do that, which led to the need for weekly AA meetings. He wished he could.

  Harlan opened the door to where Stacy was waiting, but the normal feelings of hope that filled the air whenever he met with her were noticeably absent. Stacy was still smiling, but it seemed more out of habit than because she actually meant it. Something was different. Something was wrong. The question wasn’t just what was wrong, but what in the world Harlan was going to do to fix it. And if he even could.

  Chapter 2

  Stacy’s father, Phil, was the first to talk. Harlan had been a physician for fourteen years and always felt it was important for the doctor to begin the conversation, but in this case he had no idea what to say.

  “This morning Stacy woke up in tears. I know what you’re thinking, and it wasn’t a nightmare this time. She woke up crying in pain, drenched in sweat, and looked like she was lost. I have no idea what is going on. Please help, Dr. Allred. Please.”

  The hopelessness in Phil’s voice was apparent and strong. Stacy was all he had now. On that horrible night, Stacy lost more than her ability to run and play. She had also lost her mother. Harlan could hear in Phil’s voice that he could not handle even the thought of losing anyone else. Stacy was his world, and he just needed her to be ok.

  Harlan took a deep breath and began to examine Stacy. Everything looked normal. Her breathing was fine, her temperature was normal, and her pulse was what it needed to be. There were no obvious symptoms that showed something had changed in her health, but something had changed.

  Just as Harlan and Clara were about to end the visit so they could leave to discuss what they had seen, Stacy screamed out in pain and grabbed her legs as if they had caught on fire. Harlan rushed to her side while Clara calmly placed her arm around Phil to give him the comfort he so desperately needed.

  Stacy grabbed her stomach as the pain appeared to move throughout her body. The look of worry on Stacy’s face was something Harlan had never observed in any of their visits, and he knew he had to act fast. But before he could do anything, the pain was gone. Stacy stopped screaming and the tears dried up. It was almost as if nothing had happened at all.

  Now it was Harlan’s turn to be in shock. He stood there, almost frozen in time. Clara reached over and calmly took him by the arm, waking him up from his momentary absence. They looked at each other, and trying their very best to be the professionals that they were, began to decide what the next steps would be.

  “Stacy, we are going to need to admit you for the night. The best thing for you—and for you, Phil—is for you stay at the hospital so we can have a better chance at discovering what is going on.”

  “What else will you do? How will you stop this? What is going on with my daughter?” Phil said through sobs. He was lost, and honestly, so was Harlan.

  “The best thing is for her to be here where we can watch over her. We will also draw blood and run tests so we can see if she has some sort of infection. If we can figure that out now, we will be able to get Stacy out of here in no time. How do you feel about that, Stacy?”

  Stacy smiled—thank goodness for that trademark smile. “Sounds great. You saved me once, Dr. Allred. I know you will save me again.”

  Harlan could hardly hold back the tears as he left the room for his next appointment.

  Harlan and Carla walked through the halls in complete silence. Both were baffled by what they had just seen. Stacy was making so much progress. Today was supposed to be the day when they let her know they would not need her to come back for regular visits. What could have happened that would lead to such a reversal in her fortunes? Harlan wanted to be confident they would figure it out quickly. He wasn’t sure he could stomach any more tragedy.

  Chapter 3

  The rest of the day grew more difficult for Harlan as his clinic filled with patients showing symptoms similar to Stacy’s—one moment they were fine and happy, playing and interacting as kids do, and then, without any warning, everything would change. Their whole world would come crashing down, their faces reflecting complete pain and shock, while everyone else was at a loss for what to do.

  As Harlan went to each patient, he could not understand what he was seeing and became more and more concerned. Each patient had recently shown signs of improvement and had appeared to have turned a corner, but now they seemed to be worse off than before.

  But there was something else that made Harlan stop and think. As he checked their charts, he found that each of them had been scheduled for appointments with their doctors over the last few days, and each had some lab work done prior to coming in. He needed to figure out what the link was between these events. If there was one at all.

  Harlan was researching each case more closely when his phone let out the annoying text message beep. No matter what, it startled him every single time. But this one was worth it because it was from his sixteen-year-old son, Jack.

  “C U at the game. Gonna be amazing! Thx!”

  No matter how hard Harlan tried, he would never understand why kids couldn’t write out the entire word, but it didn’t matter. Jack wanted to be with him that night, and that was all Harlan needed to hear.

  Jack was Harlan’s oldest child. He had a little girl named Leslie, too. While Leslie had stayed by her father’s side during the divorce, Jack had wanted nothing to do with Harlan. Jack never returned a phone call or text message and wouldn’t talk with Harlan during their visits. He had done everything that he could to cut his father out of his life. Until three months ago. Now they were as thick as thieves, and tonight would be another opportunity for that new bond to grow.

  Tonight they would witness history together as father and son. They were going to go watch their beloved Seattle Mariners play the last game of the season as they prepared for what Harlan hoped would be a long postseason run, finally leading to a championship for Seattle. Plus, and this
was probably the best part, they would get to watch their favorite player, Luke Masterson, become the first player in over seventy years to finish the season with a batting average over .400.

  To the non-baseball fan, maybe this wasn’t a big deal. But it was huge to those who followed and unhealthily obsessed over it. And that was Harlan and Jack. They had gotten that trait from Harlan’s father, Dr. Alan Allred. That’s right, Harlan had gone into the family business. He wasn’t sure if he was grateful for that or not.

  Harlan’s life had been difficult for the past few years and he knew he had done it to himself. But this year was different. He was five months sober, his teenage son was finally talking to him on a regular basis, and the Mariners were going to the playoffs. And Harlan gave all the credit to one man and one man alone: Luke Masterson.

  Chapter 4

  Luke Masterson had accomplished the impossible, or at least he almost had. On the last day of a long 162-game Major League Baseball season, he was about to do something most people thought would never happen again. He only had to hold on for one more game. Luke needed to show up to the ballpark and do what he had been doing his whole life—hit. If he did that he would be the king of all sports, at least until the twenty-four-hour news cycle moved on to the next “great thing.” But that’s not what Luke was thinking about.

  In fact, Luke was barely thinking about that at all. He was thinking about everything that would happen, everything people would learn, everything he alone had accomplished to ruin the lives of so many, and all those fools had no idea. He was thinking about the ridiculous looks on their faces as they realized their lives had changed forever, and they didn’t even know how it happened or how to stop it.

  Luke thought he had accomplished something impossible that would change humanity. Maybe he was being a little dramatic, but he felt he had earned it. After all he had been through just to get to this point, he had earned a moment of self-indulgence. So he took that moment to bask in the glory of being Luke Masterson and to revel in the fact that no one would ever be able to reach his heights or ability. Ever. And those thoughts, those all-consuming thoughts, were the reason he could not wipe the smile off his face; and no one knew it.