Wake-up call.

“-damage isn’t too severe, he should be up on is feet in a day or so,” Logan Ravers heard an older, masculine voice explaining to someone. “Now, the psychological trauma is dependent on other factors, but before we address that-“

“What does he need?” That one was familiar. Husky, but pitched in distinct worry. Heather? “We have money out the ass, whatever treatment works. Bone marrow? Kidney, what? I’ve still got all mine!”

“Ms. Ravers, we appreciate your willingness to help your cousin.” Logan tried to open his eyes, but could only crack them a little. Everything was blurry. Judging by the smaller, dark-haired figure and the taller man, he would guess Heather was talking to his doctor. Last thing he remembered was … a guy in the road? Then the guardrail. Then nothing. “It’s nothing so dramatic, though. He needs a blood transfusion.”

“Done. IV or should I find a knife?” She sounded angry. He wanted to laugh at that, but nothing came out. Still, he could feel his throat moving. At least he wasn’t paralyzed, but everything was moving achingly slow and stiff. What the hell had he HIT?

“Please, there’s no need for that kind of a rush. He’s type O-. That means he needs O- blood, and that’s not what our records say you have. B+ means you can GET blood from him, but can’t give.”

“I’m compatible,” another male voice cut in. Uncle Rob, definitely. “And clean, test as recently as last month. It shouldn’t be an issue.”

“Thank you, Mr. Ravers. Are supplies are dry on O-. Frequent use and all.”

“I understand. But he’s my nephew. If you can’t take what you need from me, I can make some calls. Someone else in the family’s bound to have the same if I can get him out of the woods.”

“Now, there is the matter of his parents and their-“

“Hey!” Heather snapped, the shape he recognized as her moving over to his bed. “He’s waking up! Get a nurse or something, maybe?!” The doctor immediately moved to the room’s intercom to do so as Logan’s eyes finally got all the way open wide. Robert was being ushered out of the room by one nurse while another checked the machinery Logan glanced down to see he was hooked up to. A completely insane impulse to tear out his IV shot through his head, but fortunately, that’s all it was.

“Probably good I can’t move very well yet …” he croaked, mouth absurdly dry and causing him to hack briefly. Heather bolted away, then returned in a few seconds as the nurse finished making sure he wasn’t at risk of dropping dead. He felt a little ridiculous having someone his age holding a straw up to his mouth, but the actual water was way too much of a relief to get hung up on that. “Thank you.”

“Dad’s going to go get blood drawn, but he’ll be back as soon as he can. How are you feeling?” Logan noted near-transparent streaks of black down her cheeks. Jesus, he was fine. Heather wasn’t exactly one to cry at the drop of a hat.

“Like I got in a fight with a train,” he answered, managing to scoot back up to sitting upright instead of reclined. “I guess I won, at least.”

“Comparing you to John Henry feels weirdly racist, so I won’t,” Heather said with a weak grin. “Anything you want? I mean, we got a barber surgeon instead of a real doctor, APPARENTLY!” She shouted the last bit over her shoulder. “But they said you shouldn’t get up for a while. You still have stitches in, and they could pop.”

“I’m … fine. As good as I can be right now. God, dad’s going to be so pissed once he knows I’m not dead,” he hummed out loud. Looking over, Heather seemed … oddly distressed by the statement. “I mean, I’m sure he’s been worried until now, but once I’m fine, gloves are probably off, right?”

“Logan …” she said very, very carefully. Why? Oh. Oh, no.

“Fuck, did they crash, too? Mom?”

“That’s what they’re saying … that, and animal attack,” Heather told him as sensitively as she could. “Logan, they’re … God, I’m so sorry I have to tell you this, they’re dead.”

“…” He tried to speak, but nothing, this time distinctly not a dry throat. No words formed. He wanted to believe this was some kind of ill-conceived prank. That someone was going to jump out and tell him everything was fine, and Heather just had a remarkably bad sense of humor. But … the streaks made more sense for a woman whose aunt and uncle just got killed. “Was … was it me?” he asked blankly, unable to summon the emotion to sound angry or sad, too much jamming inside his head. “Did I do it, when I crashed?”

“Logan, sweetie, no!” Heather almost cut him off in her rush to speak again. “No, something … something attacked them. We don’t know what yet, they’re looking into it.”

“Because they stopped to check on me,” he reasoned, guilt filling him with jagged, unpleasant shards of ice. “They’re … Jesus Christ, why didn’t it kill me?”

“Working theory is your car,” Heather tried to explain, sitting on the edge of Logan’s bed now. “The horn or when it caught on fire. You crawled up the hill a little before that, but animals … don’t exactly like huge pillars of fire?”

“What about the other guy?”

“Other guy?”

“Why I crashed. There was someone on the road. It was the dead of fucking night, and he was dressed … it’s hazy, but-“ Logan grabbed his head as a shock of pain ran through it. He gritted his teeth, an inhuman skull flashing for a millisecond through his field of vision, empty eyes burrowing into his cortex, pressure building nightmarishly. “GOD DAMMIT!” he screamed as it subsided, vision wobbling at its edges. “God, I can’t remember what. I want to say a robe. I swerved, I know I didn’t hit him, I know it.”

“Shh,” Heather hushed him softly, moving a hand over his head. It felt strange. Besides a brief wince of pain, it was closer than expected, his usually-messy hair seeming to offer no resistance. They must have shaved his head to operate. It was a small indignity, but every stressor seemed enormous in this state. “You didn’t kill anyone, Logan. You didn’t even hurt anyone. It’s just … it’s a shitty situation. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s … yeah …” he admitted with defeat. He didn’t believe it, not really. It felt more than a little like his fault. If he’d avoided the stranger better, if he hadn’t breached the guardrail, if he’d gotten back up the hill faster, maybe he’d still have a family. Izzy was out-of-state at least, so she was safe, though he couldn’t imagine how Aunt Carol was going to be breaking the news to HER. “Has anyone told Izzy yet?”

“Yeah, yeah, Carol and Leah got the call when I did. They said she’s taking it as well as can be expected.” Heather frowned. “Not great, but … she’s a strong kid. Like her brother.” She managed to smile saying that. Logan, with what little energy he had, returned it.

“I’m going to have to talk to the lawyers … and have a fucking breakdown when everything’s working again …” he mumbled, half to her, half to himself. “You’re right. Have to be tough.”

“Didn’t say you had to be. Said you are,” Heather corrected with a quick squeeze on his hand, something Logan was relieved he could feel the entirety of from how unresponsive his fingers still were. “And hey, once you’re out, we can have a total meltdown together! Just let me know if you need anything. Dad’s going to be busy with legal and formal stuff, but call or text me whenever. This is more important than whatever I’m doing. Okay?” Logan nodded as the doctor overseeing him came back into the room.

“Ms. Ravers, we’re going to have to ask you to give us the room now. We need to set up transfusion equipment in case Mr. Ravers here loses consciousness again,” he told her. Logan smiled more genuinely, a momentary allowance at how scared the guy who must be in his mid-fifties looked of his cheerleader cousin. She regarded him for a moment, then stood up, to which he backed away a little.

“Don’t fuck it up,” she commanded, pointing at him before turning back to Logan. “I’ll be outside until at least tomorrow morning.” As she left, the doctor and both nurses starting working on getting him prepped. Logan laid back, both at his instructions and to try to process the fact he was an orphan all of a sudden. He knew it wasn’t hitting him as hard as it would. That was worse, in a way. If it was all bursting out now, at least he’d be through the roughest patch. But with it still on its way … at least he could focus for the moment.

‘I KNOW I saw someone,’ he thought to himself as his eyes closed, chemicals in his IV’s taking effect. His sleep it brought on was restless, creatures of bone and blood and shadow in the corners of his mind, bright, twinned flares of light, and the rippling of something in the cold wind.