"Can’t you be both?” I squint my eyes at him, and he quickly caves. “Fine, well, since your last idea was so stellar… plus, you had that rotation working with Kenzo?" He shrugs.
"Yeah, 'cause the compound hospital was oh so advanced and exactly like this one." Regardless of my words, I find myself taking the lead. Flashlight in hand, panning back and forth across the hall ahead, I start looking for clues. I read the signs and door placards as we go, the wheelchair squeaking out behind me. I can't decide if I like the squeak because it lets me know that they're still behind me... or if I hate it because it also alerts anything else about our whereabouts as well.
"It would definitely be somewhere on the inside of the building, right? Somewhere safe and guarded," I say to myself.
The squeak behind me stops and I halt, waiting for it to continue. When it doesn't, I look back. Brent's eyes are wide. "Did you hear that?" he asks.
I hope he's joking.
We both stand still, listening. I turn off the flashlight to hide our presence. We shiver in the dark, and my eyes strain to see movement in the shadows. I last all of 30 seconds before turning it back on. Brent seems relieved as well. These creatures don't seem to have any problem seeing in the dark, but we wouldn't see them coming.
After a few minutes, I make the call. "You're hearing things. There's nothing there." I jerk my chin, gesturing for us to keep going, and we start up the squeaking creep down the hall once more.
At the end of the hall, we're faced with a choice. Forward through swinging doors or turn right. I peek through the door, shining my light down yet another hallway, but it seems to be an open area with empty beds, privacy curtains pulled back or dangling from their tracks, nurses' station in the middle. That doesn’t sound all that menacing, but this doesn’t look anything like the hospitals from my memory. The whole room is like something out of a horror movie. The beds aren’t just unoccupied, they’re abandoned. A few of the gurneys have been toppled over, and there are suspicious smears of something brown across the sheets and tiles. A thick film of dust covers every surface, which does nothing to soften the violence of whatever happened here.
But at least I can see that the dust has been undisturbed; no creepy crawlies hiding out in there. One room down, far too many to go.
We have to be getting close. I turn back and take the right hall instead.
I know it when I see it, even without checking inside. It's the only door we've come to so far that's been kicked in, splintered wood around the broken deadbolt. Dammit. I push the door open with the end of the flashlight and take a steadying breath and then angle the flashlight across the small room. The light glints off all the shattered glass; scattered pills crushed on the floor. The cabinet that once held pills is now nothing more than a cracked and twisted wreck.
There is nothing here for us.
Brent and I share a look, and it's filled with disappointment and dread. What the hell are we supposed to do now?
As the disappointment fades, it's replaced with something else. Rage. "This is bullshit!" I yell. We've made it this far, and for what?! Yet another dead end?" I kick a cart and it rattles across the floor. "I can't just do nothing!"
"Uh, Lori?"
"No, Brent! I will not calm down, so don't bother telling me to. I don't give a rat's ass who—or what—hears me. Let them come!"
"Lori!"
"What!" I shout, rounding on him.
He points down at the floor, now cleared from where I kicked the cart away. There, lying amidst the scattered remains of our only hope is... our new only hope. A single glass vial. "It's possible it's something we don't need. Like a flu shot." I'm scared to look, reluctant to pop this tiny bubble of optimism in my chest.
After a pause, Brent breaks the silence: "Aren't you going to look?"
"I'm not sure yet."
After another pause, Brent sighs and bends down to pick it up. I rush forward and snatch it from his fingers. "You wouldn't even know what it was anyway," I grumble. "Clindamycin," I pronounce slowly, shining the flashlight on the vial to read the label. "What the hell is that?"
"It sounds like an antibiotic... probably..." Brent says.
"Do we risk it?"
We both look down to where Dad is slumped in the chair. The answer is yes. Obviously we risk it.
I hold it up to the light again. Deciding to use it isn't the only problem here.
"What are you waiting for?" Brent says. "Just find a needle and stick him with it."
I blow out a breath. "Good luck with that. Even if we had a needle."
I shove the vial into his hands, and he examines it, frowning. "Why is it all powdery? Did it dry up? Maybe he can just swallow it?"
"First off, it needs to be reconstituted. I need water and a needle. In an ideal world—or at least at the compound, anyway—I would have an IV bag of saline, and we could give it to him slowly over time. But obviously, nothing about this scenario is ideal, so we're going to make do." I’m mildly impressed with myself; it almost sounds like I know what I’m talking about. I gesture with the flashlight around the room. "Help me look through this mess?"
Brent nods and we get to work. We sift through the remains of the dispensary, carefully picking through the shards of broken glass. Here in the interior of the building, we have no idea what time it is. Minutes could have passed, or hours. The sun could be setting even now, and the beasts could already be on their way to hunt us down and devour us. But in this exact moment in time, we have only one concern, and that's finding what we need to help our dad.
"Ah-ha!" Brent's muffled voice come from where he has crammed himself halfway behind a shelf.
"Good 'ah-ha'?"
"Great ah-ha!" He wiggles his way out from his cramped position and brandishes a plastic-wrapped needle.
"Ah-ha!" I shout and we both hold our hands in the air in triumph. "Now all I need is some water."
Brent pulls a bottle of water from his backpack. I cringe. Kids, don't try this at home. Nothing about this is a good idea, but I'm hoping it'll work in a pinch.
I open the package and pull out the syringe. I then dip the tip into the water bottle and pull back the plunger. Brent watches on skeptically. "Uhhh... didn’t you say something about saline? That’s not even sterile."
"Do you see any sterile water around here?" I snap at him. "Unless you would perhaps like to start a fire and boil me some?" Honestly, I would do exactly that if I had the time, but we just don't have even a second to spare. I inject the germ-infested water into the vial and add it to the powdered hopefully-antibiotic. Even if the water gives Dad an infection, at least he'll already have the medicine to help fight it. Right?
I shove down all my doubts, deep down into the pit where I have put all my regrets and memories of Kenzo, and bring the reconstituted medicine back into the syringe. "Well... here goes nothing."
I roll up Dad's sleeve and prod at the crease of his elbow. No veins are volunteering themselves. "Seriously?" The infection is probably lowering his blood pressure. "Brent, get over here and help me."
Brent pulls the string from his hood and uses it to tie off Dad's arm. Finally, a small bump appears. and I quickly insert the needle before I lose it. I slowly push down the plunger and inject half the liquid into the vein. It's probably best that I don't shove it all into his body at once. With an IV, it would be spread out over hours.
"Maybe you should take some too?" Brent suggests. He gestures down at my sloppily bandaged hand. The trip wire had cut fairly deep into the skin, but I had mostly gotten used to the throbbing.
"No, it's fine." I shake my head, capping the needle and putting it safely in my bag, wrapped in some spare socks I had packed. "Dad needs it more than I do."
Brent tips his head down and doesn't make eye contact. I wonder if he's thinking the same thing I am. That maybe Dad's already a lost cause, a waste of precious antibiotics. Maybe they would be better put to use saving someone who has a better chance of surviving this hellish landscape.
>
The mere thought makes my insides squirm. No, I refuse to believe that Dad is past saving.
"What time do you think it is?" Brest asks again. And it's as if he's ringing a dinner bell. A high-pitched howl echoes somewhere in the distance.
"I guess it's about that time." We stand in petrified stillness for a beat, and then we dash into action. This room isn't at all a possibility for hiding out. The door's latch won't close and there's no other way out. Brent grabs the wheelchair, and I'm already in the hall with the flashlight, looking left and right.
"Left?" I ask Brent, but he just shrugs, his eyes as big as dinner plates.
"Left it is." I rush down the hallway, dodging abandoned gurneys, the chair’s squeaking amplified now that we know we're being hunted.
A crash comes from somewhere behind us. Oh god. My heart is pounding, my breath panting. I'm so frantic I can't concentrate. I swivel my head back and forth, but I don't see anything that looks like safety. At the very end of the hall, we come to a T intersection. Both left and right extend into almost identical halls, filled with nothing but more doors.
But straight in front of us is an elevator.
I make the decision without discussing it with Brent. "Here, help me with this."
I wedge my fingers into the crack between the doors. Brent tries to pull it open from the other side, but his fingers are too large to find purchase. He pulls the small steak knife from his waistband and slides it between the metal doors. With a final push, the knife blade snaps from the wooden handle, but at least it first gave us a little wiggle room in the seam. Between the two of us, we finally pry it enough to be able to slide the doors wide. It opens into a dark empty shaft. I didn't really expect to find the elevator waiting for us, but it might have been nice.
The shaft above us looks like it goes on forever, the light from the flashlight dispersing quickly before being swallowed by darkness. Down, though, the light reflects off of the elevator car at the floor below, almost like it's waiting for us. I decide to take it as a sign.
"A giant metal box. How much safer can we get." I shrug at Brent, who just raises an eyebrow. There's a ladder running along the inside of the elevator shaft, and it's easy enough for me to reach around the corner and swing myself onto it. Getting our dad down is going to be another story.
"Dad?" Brent gives his shoulder a gentle shake, then a more vigorous one. "Dad? We could really use your help here."
Dad's head flops around a little with Brent's jostling, but he does manage to open his eyes a little and give a soft groan. "What's going on?" he says. His voice is slurred, like that time he drank too much of Jose's black-market moonshine. I miss the days when getting caught with a bottle of booze was our biggest concern.
Dad seems confused by what's going on around him, but can you blame him? He wakes up only to find himself staring down into an elevator shaft. It doesn't exactly instill warm and fuzzies. Brent is coaxing Dad out of the chair, and as Dad leans forward, I severely regret being on the receiving end of this pass. Dad's body wobbles, his knees weak and his legs rubbery, and he staggers forward a step. He reaches for me, but his momentum has him headed straight for the drop-off.
"No!" Brent shouts, reaching for the back of Dad's shirt. His fingers graze the fabric but can't find purchase. Dad sobers up real quick as he pitches forward at a steep angle. The whites of his eyes are shining with fear; I get a good look as he sails past me.
I don't shout. I don't make more than a gasp, but my body reacts without my asking it to. My hand lashes out, hooking onto his shirtsleeve. The fabric, once soft, is now hard from his dried sweat. It helps to give the fabric more tension in my grip. As his body drops into the shaft, my hold on his shirt locks tight, and the sudden pull of his weight nearly pops my shoulder from its socket. We stop dead, frozen in this dangle, for a good three seconds. Long enough to feel relief... and then dread for what's about to come.
The metal rung of the ladder makes one extended creak before coming loose. Luckily, Dad doesn't have far to drop, since he had already been dangling halfway down, but I fall the full height, landing on the elevator car with a booming thud. The sound reverberates all the way up the shaft, through the whole building. The elevator cables give a metallic twang but maintain their strength.
"Are you guys okay?" Brent whisper-yells down.
I look over at Dad to confirm that he's still intact, and he gives me a wide-eyed nod, patting his hands down his body, seemingly surprised that nothing's broken. "Yeah, we're fine, but I think you'd better get down here too." As if to confirm, a beastly roar erupts from somewhere nearby. They are most definitely in the building.
Brent's movements become jerky, and he nearly slips on the ladder on the way down, as sweaty as his palms must be. He tries to push the elevator doors back into place, but whatever gears that used to keep them closed have long since broken down. They remain half-open, our handprints no doubt visible against the layers of dust, practically a flashing sign alerting anyone that this is where we're hiding.
We're in full-on panic mode now. I'm surprised to find I have any adrenaline left what with everything we've been put through lately. My limbs are weak in their constant post-adrenaline burn.
Brent finally reaches the bottom of the ladder, and together we pull back the hatch leading down into the elevator car. This time he goes down first to catch Dad, while I try my best to lower him down gently. At least he's somewhat conscious now, and he's doing what he can to help his own progress.
When I hop down into the car, we close the hatch back up, turn off the flashlight, and huddle together in one corner. If our luck holds, maybe the monsters will pass us by. Worst case, they pop open this elevator like a tin can with those claws. I have no doubt they're capable of it, remembering how easily the car at the compound had been torn into. Slicing steel like it's warm butter. I clutch my family tighter, squeezing my eyes shut against the suffocating darkness.
Our breathing is loud in the small space, but so is the sound of approaching monsters. They're getting closer, their grunts and growls, their claws clicking on the tiled floors above. I cover my mouth, muffling my pants, but then a terrifying thought occurs to me. What if they can smell us? Predators have an array of tools at their disposal; their teeth and claws for taking down their prey, obviously, but also keen eyes, ears, and sense of smell to find their next meal, even if it is burrowed beneath the ground. Oh god.
I clutch at Brent's hand in the darkness, and we find comfort in each other's grip. This might very well be it, the last moment we have with the ones we love. I take a brief moment to think about those we left behind. Trey, already gone for months and quite possibly dead; maybe I'll be joining him momentarily. Jose, who was always more than a boss or a friend, who watched out for me as a father would. I hope he didn't get into any trouble when we left. And Kenzo, whose warm brown eyes crinkle at the corner when he smiles. Seems like a good time to accept that I'll miss him more than I've admitted before now.
And then we hear the door above us grind fully open. I keep expecting to hear a crash as the beasts jump down onto the elevator, the squealing of tearing metal. Instead, we hear speaking. The voices have the same character as Kelly's, the deep rumble, half-beast, half-man.
I strain my ears, but I can't make out what they're saying. It doesn't sound overly menacing, but it also doesn't exactly sound like they're going to invite us over for tea. More impassive. Almost bored. Are we nothing more than a game to them? Or just another meal? I mean, they hadn't exactly said they were going to eat us, but it had been implied, hadn't it? We hadn't seen any other food sources while out wandering the streets. Maybe they're vegetarians. Sure, and those teeth and claws are made for tearing open coconuts, or something, peeling bananas. Okay, so not likely, but it's a pretty bleak existence for carnivores out there. Are all the other animals dead? Or are they in hiding somewhere underground like we were at the compound? Is there possibly an ark out there somewhere, all the animals protected in breeding pa
irs, two by two?
I can't believe I never wondered about these things when I was confined in the compound. We weren't exactly exposed to what was going on outside, but it's not like we weren't free to speculate. And now, the longer I'm out here, the more I regret not just leaving the relative safety of our captivity, but also my existence period. Who the hell wants to live like this? Maybe I would be better off just handing myself over to these creatures, begging them for a merciful death. At least then I would nourish them at the same time as getting the hell away from this miserable excuse for a life.
I'm about to stand and give myself up, but Brent holds tight to my arm. All at once my selfishness smothers me. I may have made my own decision, but I didn't ask what my dad or brother wanted. If they want to keep going, keep fighting tooth and nail, then it isn't my place to take it from them. I have to keep fighting alongside them until it's the right time, until giving up doesn't put them at risk.
I can do that... for now. No promises long-term, though.
The monsters have quieted above us. They've made no move to get at us, but I haven't heard their clicking claws as they retreated either. And seriously, what reason would they have to just give up?
The adrenaline has retreated from my muscles, leaving me exhausted and shaky. I haven't eaten in almost a day, because we just haven't had time for it. First, racing against the sun to get here, and then finding the medicine for Dad. And now, once again, running for our lives. Can't a girl catch a break around here? Maybe I could take a nap while those things up there decide what to do with us. I close my eyes and rest my head against the metal wall behind me, and I feel myself relax into a bizarre state of delirium.
It's amazing what kind of inner peace you can achieve when you realize that nothing is within your control.
I'm not sure how long I remain in that state, or whether I doze off. I startle to awareness when I hear a strange metallic twang. "What was that?" I whisper, ignoring Brent's shush.
Prey (The Shade Chronicles Book 1) Page 20
