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Copyright © 2018 by Morgan Rice. All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the author. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
CHAPTER ONE
Kevin was pretty sure you shouldn’t be told you were dying when you were thirteen. There probably wasn’t a good time to be told it, to be fair, but definitely not when you were thirteen.
“Kevin,” Dr. Markham said, leaning forward in his chair, “do you understand what I’m saying to you? Do you have any questions? Do you, Ms. McKenzie?”
Kevin looked over to his mom, hoping she would have more of an idea what to say next than he did. Hoping that maybe he’d misheard all of it, and she would explain. She was short and slender, with the tough look of someone who had worked hard to raise her son alone in Walnut Creek, California. Kevin was already taller than she was, and once, just once, she’d said that he looked just like his father.
Right now, she looked as though she was trying to hold back tears.
“Are you sure this isn’t a mistake?” she asked. “We only came in to the doctor’s because of the things Kevin was seeing.”
The things he was seeing. That was such a gentle way to put it, as if even talking about all of it might make it worse, or bring more of it. When Kevin had first told his mother about it, she’d stared at him and then told him he should ignore it. Finally, when he fainted, he’d woken up to find that he had an appointment with the family doctor.
They’d quickly gone from the doctor’s office to the hospital for tests, and then to Dr. Markham’s office, which was white-walled and filled with mementos of what seemed like trips to every corner of the planet. When Kevin had first stepped in there, he’d felt as though it was an attempt to make a cold, clinical space seem homey. Now he thought maybe Dr. Markham liked to be reminded that there was life that didn’t include telling people they were dying.
“Hallucinations can be a factor when it comes to diseases like this,” Dr. Markham said, in a careful tone.
Hallucinations didn’t seem like the right way to put it, to Kevin. That made it sound as though they were unreal, ghostly things, but the things he saw seemed to fill the world when they came. Images of landscapes he hadn’t seen, hints of horizons.
And, of course, the numbers.
“23h 06m 29.283s, −05° 02′ 28.59,” he said. “It must mean something. It has to.”
Dr. Markham shook his head. “I’m sure it must feel that way, Kevin. I’m sure that you must want it all to mean something, but right now, I need you to understand what is happening to you.”
That had been part of why Kevin had told his mom about it in the first place. It had taken him weeks to convince her that he wasn’t joking, or playing some game. She’d been sure that he wasn’t serious at first. When he’d started to have the headaches, she’d taken it more seriously, letting him stay home from school for the day when the pain was paralyzing. When he’d collapsed the first time, she’d rushed him to the doctor.
“What is happening to me?” Kevin asked. The strange thing was how calm he felt—well, not calm. Maybe more kind of numb. Numb was probably the right word for it. His mom looked as though she was on the verge of falling apart, but for Kevin, all of it seemed far away, still waiting to rush in.
“You have one of a group of degenerative brain disorders known as leukodystrophies,” Dr. Markham said. “Here, I’ll write it down if you like.”
“But I’ve never heard of that before,” Kevin’s mom said, in the tone of someone for whom that meant it couldn’t be real. He could see the tears she was trying to fight back. “How can my son have something I’ve never even heard of?”
Seeing his mom like that was probably the hardest part of it for Kevin. She’d always been so strong. He’d never had a problem she hadn’t been able to solve. He suspected that was what she was thinking too.
“It’s a very rare illness, Ms. McKenzie,” Dr. Markham said. “Or rather, a collection of illnesses, each of which presents differently. There are different forms, each one caused by a genetic abnormality that affects the white matter, what we call the myelin sheath, of the brain. There are usually only a few hundred sufferers of each of these illnesses at any one time.”
“If you know what causes them, can’t you do something?” Kevin’s mother asked. “Isn’t there some gene therapy or something?”
Kevin had seen his mom on the Internet. Now, he guessed he knew what she’d been looking at. She hadn’t said anything, but maybe she’d been hoping she was wrong. Maybe she’d been hoping there was something she’d missed.
“There are therapies available for some forms of leukodystrophy,” Dr. Markham said. He shook his head. “And we have hope that in the future, they might help, but Kevin’s isn’t one where there is any established treatment. The sad truth is, the rarer the disease, the less research has been done on it, because the less funding there is for that research.”
“There must be something,” his mother said. “Some experimental option, some study…”
Kevin reached out to put his hand over his mother’s. It was strange that they were already almost the same size.
“It’s okay, Mom,” he said, trying to sound as if he had everything under control.
“No, it isn’t.” His mom looked as though she might burst apart with the shock of it all. “If there’s nothing, then what do we do next?”
“We use the treatments that are available to give Kevin the best quality of life we can,” Dr. Markham said. “For the time that he still has left. I’m sorry, I wish I had better news.”
Kevin watched his mother forcing herself to be brave, piecing herself back together a little at a time. He could tell that she was doing it for his sake, and almost felt guilty that she had to.
“What does that mean?” she asked. “What exactly are you proposing to do for Kevin?”
“I’m going to prescribe tablets to help manage the pain,” Dr. Markham said, “and to reduce the chances of seizures. Kevin, I know that hallucinations can be distressing, so I’d like you to talk to someone about techniques for managing them, and your responses to them.”
“You want Kevin to see a psychologist?” his mother
