The following story is the original conclusion to The Story of a Button. At this point, I have yet to read any alternative conclusions to TSOAB due to an unexpected and unscheduled trip to the operating theatre. Painful and expensive and that was merely the bill. The epilogue has been "softened" upon the advice of beta readers and upon reflection that Rita is human too, hence, possibly capable of a redeeming, softer side. My thanks to those who have given feedback, especially DFWBeast. All mistakes and terrible aspects of the epilogue are solely mine.
*****
I could never fathom how or even why I survived. The answer only dawned on me when I read the file the men in suits had slapped down on the table in front of me almost a week later.
Greed.
That was what saved me and my last name wasn't even Gecko.
More specifically, the greed of a scientist who was suspected of attempting to sell a synthesised version of a toxin to foreign agents allegedly unfriendly to the USA. The very same scientist who was fortunately caught by the FBI and "persuaded" to produce a largely harmless placebo, which had all the nasty side effects but little of the fatal toxicity of the real thing, for a sting operation aimed at rounding up said foreign agents. Of course, neither the FBI nor the scientist expected a lab technician to steal the placebo in his own attempt at making a deal. And no one ever imagined that the placebo would end up in the hands of an angry duo and used on a bunch of traitorous friends and neighbours.
Equally unexpected was Willa's decision to call the emergency services and inform them of the poisoning case at our house before she climbed into bed with me to await death. Of course, neither of us were conscious when emergency services burst through the door and started treatment. And no one in the neighbour seemed to have noticed the men in cheap suits talking to local law enforcement and emergency services just before they broke down the door.
It only transpired later that the neighbours had thought some scandal surrounding Rita and her extramarital affairs had broken and that somehow emergency services had gone to the wrong house. Of course, none of them believed the old herring thrown out by the FBI of a gas leak. Well, as an old neighbour across the street sniffed disdainfully, "what gas leak warrants people all togged up in hazmat suits?"
The buzz declined slightly when it was later revealed that four of our neighbours died. But I had no knowledge of that when I first woke up that hazy Monday morning.
Three months earlier
My first thought when I woke up, feeling a mouthful of sawdust, was how normal Hell looked. After all the fire and brimstone that Mrs Dubois had threatened kids like me with, Hell was depressingly underwhelming. Only the sight of Willa hooked up to machines next to me told me I was still of this world.
Jackass that I was, I wasn't letting anyone or anything keep me from my wife. Two seconds after I managed to get to Willa's bedside, an alarm sounded.
"No! Stay with me! Don't you give up, Willa!"
I was gripping Willa's limp hand in mine when the doctor and nurses came rushing towards us.
"Mister, you're going to have to release her hand. We need to treat her."
I watched as they peeled Willa's hand away and closed the curtains separating our beds. I listened closely, praying against all odds that the words "time of..." didn't come out of the doctor's mouth.
It seemed like a century later when the doctor and nurses emerged. Seeing the anxiety on my face, the doctor approached me.
"Is that your missus?"
At my nod, the anxiety depriving me of the ability to speak momentarily, he smiled reassuringly.
"Your wife is recovering. The delay in the antitoxin being administered has resulted in a slower recovery but she should make a full recovery. The real trauma was suffered by the foetus and subsequently led to the miscarriage..."
The sound of blood rushing in my ears drowned out the doctor's words. A sudden memory of Ashton's words about "their baby" made my blood run cold. How long had Ashton been banging my wife? Fury overwhelmed me even as my rational mind told me I was hardly fit as a judge considering my role in this mess. Only several deep breaths later did I manage to unclench my fists and return to my bed. Despite the clear indication of my wife's infidelity, I still felt too much guilt to condemn her. Not when she was still unconscious and I hadn't heard her side of the story. Woodenly, I requested to make a call to Willa's sister to check on our kids. She was curious but decided not to press the point when I mentioned Willa and I were still in hospital.
It was later that day that the full story of that Saturday night disaster surfaced. I was stunned when the nurse showed an older, mostly bald stranger to my bed. He introduced himself as an FBI agent and at the look of alarm on my face, said reassuringly that he would be back to brief me and Willa when we were feeling better.
I felt like the air was sucked out of my lungs when he revealed that the casualties of that horrendous night extended beyond Willa and me. Becky, Elaine and Lisa had died in a car crash along with Ashton. Rita, by some miracle, had barely survived and was on life support. The doctor said she had little to no chance of waking up.
From the little information that the agent was able to give me and a whole lot of guesswork, I came up with a version of what had happened after Willa poisoned us both and Ashton ran off.
Ashton had panicked upon hearing Willa's revelation that she'd poisoned the pies and rushed back to his house, hoping to remedy the situation when it became clear that Willa wasn't leaving with him. That was pure speculation on my part but there didn't seem to be any other explanation for Ashton to be in the car with Rita, Elaine, Becky and Lisa when the crash occurred. The agent mentioned a leaking brake line which might have led to the tragic accident which was currently under investigation.
I closed my eyes but behind my lids danced the awful images of the group of women at my garage when I taught them the basics of sabotaging a car. They'd died not because of poisoning but because Rita had sabotaged her own car in an effort to frame Ashton and force his hand with regards to the alimony. And I was at least partially responsible for it.
A curious sound from Willa's bed caught my attention. Sounding like a gurgle, it seemed my wife was waking up. Willa's eyelids were slowly fluttering open. Relieved, I shouted for the doctor and as the staff rushed towards us, the agent realised any further attempts to gain information from me were futile and left. Saved by the unfaithful wife, who would have thought.
*****
Silence. That was what occupied the arm's breadth of distance that lay between me and Willa. It was odd how I could hold her hand when she was unconscious but felt the same gesture when she was awake was something I wasn't permitted to do when she was awake. After quick assurance that the kids were still at her sister's, we had lapsed into awkward silence.
"So...what happened?"
Her left hand was worrying the blanket when she wasn't clasping her hands together. She was nervous and the tell was typical of the Willa I knew.
I briefly outlined what happened to our neighbours. Her face paled and her eyes brimmed with tears.
"Oh God! I didn't mean to kill them!" she gasped before breaking into sobs.
