by Tara Ellis
The Shiners do as I ‘tell’ them and form a sort of wall around us as we run out onto the front lawn. I know Missy and the Shiners can’t keep up with me, so I try to pace myself as I sprint for the trees. We’re more than halfway there when I hear the unmistakable sound of a rocket-propelled grenade being fired.
Spinning around, I unleash a burst of gunfire at the roof of the building while I fall backward. In this brief moment of time, everything seems to move in slow motion. I can see a form falling from the ledge as my bullets find their mark. At the same time, I register the trace of smoke indicating the path of the rocket. As I hit the ground, the world erupts into flames, and the last thing I remember is seeing bodies fly toward me. And Missy is one of them.
THIRTY ONE
The world comes back into focus violently. Confusing sounds and smells assault me.
Where am I? What happened?
I’m lying at an awkward angle on the ground, my face pressing into the dirt. A field. Running. The lab! Yes, we were here to get the professor. There was an explosion.
I spot a hand sticking out of the tall, charred grass a couple of feet away, its pale skin standing out in contrast to the foliage. It’s attached to an arm and body in clothing that I recognize. I fight to regain my memory, and when I see the blonde hair, I finally gasp as comprehension punches me hard in the stomach.
“Missy!” I scream, my terror compelling me to move. Struggling to my hands and knees, a severe wave of nausea hits me as I crawl toward my best friend. Clawing at her shoulder, I pull myself to a crouching position above her and move her hair, sticky with blood, out of the way.
Her lifeless eyes stare back at me, the color gone from her face. A face that’s always brought joy, compassion, and love to everyone around her.
“No!” I choke out, feeling as if I’m struggling through quicksand. I can’t accept that Missy is dead. “Missy!” I shout again, shaking her now, willing her to be alive. But her lifeless body only moves like a ragdoll and I fall back from her, desperate, fighting to think clearly. I have to do something.
It suddenly comes to me. Ripping frantically at her smoldering shirt, I pop the buttons off and spread it open, revealing a large area of bruising and peeled-back skin. Muttering to myself, I try to remember where to place my hands.
“Center of the breastbone …” I breathe, repeating the CPR lesson we received our first week of training. Holding my hands over what I hope is the correct spot, I push down hard.
“Thirty compressions …” I tell myself out loud. “Thirty compressions. And … one? No, two. Two breaths.” Why is it so hard to remember?
A crunching sound from under my hands makes me pause, and horrified, I look at Missy’s face again. Bad idea. “Oh God, Miss. I’m so sorry.” Crying now, I start pushing again. “I’m so sorry Missy.” The instructor told us this would happen. It’s just cartilage popping.
“Come on,” I sob, my voice hoarse from breathing in the rancid smoke around us. I’m not sure how many times I’ve pushed now. “Please come back, Missy.”
Breaths. I have to give her breaths. Shifting to her head, I struggle to stay upright as the surreal, burning world around me goes dim again.
What was I doing?
Movement off to our left catches my attention and I turn just in time to see two Shiners staggering to their feet. They have massive injuries, but they’re still looking for us. I no longer have control over them. I’ve forgotten how we got here, but I understand that they are a threat. My AR is gone, so I pull my pistol from its shoulder holster and rapidly pull off several shots, dropping them before they notice us.
Blinking slowly as I re-holster the gun, I look down and see Missy’s bloodied face and realize that I have to open her airway. “Head tilt, chin lift …” I continue my mantra. “Give two breaths.”
Pushing against her forehead, I then pinch her nose and lift up on her chin to open her mouth. My hands are shaking now, and her face seems so far away. As I lean down and place my lips over hers in a sort of macabre kiss, I can hear my name being called.
“Alex! Alex, what are you doing?” The voice reminds me of a time before all of this danger; back when I was still … Alex.
Dazed, I look up at Chris and Seth as they reach us through the smoking rubble.
“Missy,” I mutter. I put out a hand to catch myself as the world tilts under me. “I have to help Missy.” Unable to focus on anything else, I somehow manage to get my hands back on her bared chest, just above the underwire of her bra. It’s even more difficult now to find the strength to push.
Why is it so hard?
Wiping at something that’s blurring my vision, my hand comes away covered in blood. Is it mine or Missy’s?
“Alex!” Chris shouts again, and he sounds angry. Searching for him, confused, I find him glaring down at me. “Move!” he orders as he roughly shoves me aside.
Falling back, something metal pokes me hard in the ribs, but I hardly notice. It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. Missy is dead. I couldn’t save her.
Oh God, what am I going to do?
Watching Chris’s back move rhythmically, I vaguely acknowledge that he’s taken over chest compressions. I can hear him calling to Missy over and over again.
“Alex.” This time my name is said softly, and I turn toward the source. Seth has knelt down next to me. Looking into his bottomless, blue eyes, I’m curious about what’s behind them.
Why is he looking at me like that? Where are we?
“You need a medic, Alex,” he says, reaching out to stop me from trying to stand.
Isn’t there a field medic assigned to this mission? But I can’t remember what the mission is now.
Do I need a medic? Do I really need or even deserve anything anymore?
Nate and Benuk run up and crowd around Chris, the confusing sounds of their emotional exchange reaching me through what seems like water. As I fall back gratefully into the darkness now beginning to blanket me, I feel Seth’s strong, protective arms gather me up.
THIRTY TWO
“Give me the epi!”
The demand is tinged with fear and it draws me up out of the welcoming void I’ve been floating in. Turning my throbbing head slightly, I see Chris digging through a trauma bag, likely trying to find the medication the medic is desperately asking for.
“What’s it look like?” Chris asks, holding up a small, glass bottle. The other man grabs it roughly and jabs a huge needle into the rubber stopper on it. One of the other men Zane sent with us is opposite them, moving up and down in a bizarre motion.
Where are we?
Blinking rapidly, I try to think through the pain in my temples. We’re moving, and there’s a tarp over us. I finally comprehend that we’re in the back of a transport truck. Wait. Our mission. Missy.
I open my mouth to call her name, but nothing comes out. Looking back frantically at the activity nearby, it’s obvious now that the other guy is performing CPR on my friend. Epi? Epinephrine? Why would they be giving her Epi?
Just as Seth notices that I’m awake and starts to say something to me, everything fades again and it’s with relief that I give into it.
******
“Alex! Alex, stay with me!” Seth is yelling at me from far away. I can’t figure out why he wants to talk to me so badly. He usually goes out of his way to avoid me. But he sounds really serious. Maybe I should see what he wants.
I don’t know why it’s so hard to open my eyes. It’s almost like they’re glued shut. My head is throbbing again, and - I was hurt. On a mission? I was running across a field, and -
“Missy!” My eyes fly open, finally obeying and I jerk back from the face that’s hovering so close to my own.
“There you are,” Seth says gently, wiping my forehead with a cloth or something. “I knew you were in there somewhere.”
I become aware of the hard, wooden bench under my back, but notice that my head and shoulders are cradled in Seth’s lap, and he’s holding my head i
n between his hands. I reach up to try and move his fingers so that I can turn to look at Missy. I remember now that she was lying on the bench opposite me in the back of the still-moving truck.
“Uh-uh,” Seth advises, tightening his hold on me. “We don’t want you moving too much, Alex. You took quite a hit. We only have one neck collar though and we had to put that on Missy.”
A wet nose pushes up against my limp hand, demanding a response. Flexing my fingers, I find some long hair to wrap them in and do my best to scratch weakly at Baxter’s head. He whines in response and then rests his head on my thigh.
“What’s her pulse?” I recognize the voice now as belonging to the medic. What’s his name? Kevin, I think.
“Forty-six or eight,” Chris answers.
“Damn! How about her blood pressure?”
It takes a minute, and I can hear the blood-pressure cuff inflating. We were taught how to take vitals at the same time as the CPR and first aid. “Eighty-eight over fifty.” Chris finally tells him.
“Okay, pull out that last bag of fluids,” Kevin orders. “We’ll have to use it now. We can’t wait any longer.”
“I would be careful, young man, that you don’t over-dilute her. You pushed those first two bags awfully fast.”
Professor Hassan? I struggle harder to turn my head so I can see who issued the warning. I swear, it sounded a lot like the professor. Not quite the same, but close.
“Yes, it’s your professor,” Seth whispers to me. I must have said his name out loud.
“How?” I mumble. I give up on my fight and instead look at Seth, who is still staring down at me. My question causes his brow to furrow, and he looks away for a moment toward Kevin and the others.
“You don’t remember?” he finally asks, turning back to me.
We hit a big bump and I come down painfully against the seat. The movement prompts a loud moan from near my feet that I recognize as Kyle. I want to ask Seth about him, but he’s swimming in and out of focus again.
What was I going to ask him?
“Can’t this piece of crap go any faster?” Nate yells from somewhere far away, and I don’t hear the answer.
******
“Missy!” I scream her name, sure that she’s gone.
This is my first thought as I regain consciousness, and I can’t get the image of her bloodied, lifeless face out of my head. I was dreaming about it. Replaying the horrific scene over and over, unable to escape it.
“Alex!” It’s Seth who answers me again, and I wonder why. Where are Mom and Jake? “Alex, open your eyes for me.”
I want him to go away and leave me alone, but I don’t want to dream anymore, either. I have to know if Missy is alive. This thought compels me to focus all of my energy on my eyelids and I’m finally able to squint at a bright light that surrounds me.
“Where are we?” I croak when I’m rewarded with the sight of both Seth and Benuk next to my bed. I’m in a bed. Well, that’s an improvement at least. I raise a numb hand to touch the uncomfortable collar wrapped around my neck. At the same time, I notice the tan, tarred tarp surrounding us. We’re in a tent.
“We stopped at the nearest camp with medical facilities,” Benuk explains. “Missy was very critical, and would not have survived the trip back to the base.”
“Survived?” I repeat, afraid to believe it. “She’s alive?” The rush of emotion causes my heart rate to accelerate, and I’m rewarded with an immediate, intense headache.
“She isn’t out of the woods yet,” Seth cautions. “She’s got a really serious head injury and a crushing chest wound. They think she bruised her heart, which is why it stopped. We need to get her back to the base, but they want to stabilize her first.”
Closing my eyes, I try to silence the rushing sound in my head and control my emotions. Missy is alive.
“How long has it been?” I ask when I think I can talk without throwing up. The pain is causing my stomach to cramp painfully.
“Almost twenty-four hours,” Benuk states. “You appear to have a bad concussion, Alex. They do not have the ability here to do any X-rays, but they are also concerned about your neck.”
“There isn’t anything wrong with my neck,” I say somewhat angrily. “Tell whoever it is that’s making the decisions now not to worry about me. I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine,” Seth counters. “You don’t even remember anything, and you’ve been unconscious most of the time. We couldn’t wake you up.”
“I remember what happened now,” I tell him, and it’s true. Unfortunately, I can recall the whole thing all too clearly. Reaching up to rub at my temples, I discover that my hands are bandaged. Looking at them curiously, I find Seth and Benuk watching me closely.
“You were burned in the explosion,” Seth clarifies. “Both of you were. Although, you seem to be healing rapidly from that. Your face is almost normal, already.”
“That’s what I’m trying to say,” I argue. “You guys know that my Nephume blood, plus the changes from the Genesis project allow me to heal really fast. Especially skin and connective tissue. My brain must be part of it too because I also remember the mission now. I need to see her.” I catch them off guard, and almost make it out of the bed before they can stop me.
“No way!” Seth holds me firmly, and I’m shocked at my inability to fight back. “I don’t care what kind of blood you have, Alex, because you still bleed. You might not care about what happens to you, but we do. When you’re well enough, you can visit her. But not now. It wouldn’t do either of you any good.”
“She has not woken up,” Benuk adds. “You would likely just cause yourself more harm if you get up to see her.”
Moaning, I allow Seth to push me back against the pillow. I realize now that I’m just on a cot. How can they take care of Missy here? “How’s the rest of the team? Was Kyle hurt?” I ask, remembering the sounds in the back of the truck.
“They’re fine,” Seth responds. “Well, Kyle caught a couple of bullets in his thigh. You would think the wuss almost died to hear him whine about it, but I call it karma,” he adds, rubbing absently at the scar on his calf.
“The professor?” I ask, ignoring his slam at Kyle.
“He refuses to talk to anyone but you,” Benuk answers. “Odd behavior for a Shiner.”
“Good! You’re awake.” Looking toward the new voice the best I can with this stupid collar on, I learn that the medic has come into the tent.
“We’re pulling out in a couple of hours. We finally got her stabilized,” Kevin explains, walking over to me with a syringe in his hand. “I’ll be sedating you for the trip though, Alex. It’s another five hours and I don’t think you want to be awake for it.”
Finally, someone who’s making sense.
THIRTY THREE
Three days go by before I’m allowed out of my bed to see Missy. I was perfectly able to do it by the second day, but everyone was being cautious. They wouldn’t even take the neck brace off until the doc managed to get his X-rays done, which didn’t happen for a while since he was understandably tied up with Missy. I haven’t complained about any of it, but inside I’m having some heated conversations with myself.
Like now. Dr. Paul insisted that the only way I can see her is if I go by wheelchair. Jake is happy with the whole arrangement because he gets to push me through the halls. I swear that he’s skipping back there, with Baxter running in circles around me. I know they’re glad we’re back and that everyone is alive, but my head still hurts, and all this cheer is making it worse.
“Jacob, maybe we should give Alex some privacy when she talks to Missy,” Mom says from somewhere behind me. I silently thank her. I’m still convinced she can read my mind sometimes, and I’m glad this is one constant that hasn’t changed during this whole mess.
“Sure,” Jake agrees good-naturedly as we go around another corner and come to what must be the door to her room. We’re back in the sub-basement of the base again, where the serious hospital stuff is still kept
. There’s always a fear that another EMP could be unleashed, and it would be stupid to move all of this sensitive equipment above ground where it would be vulnerable.
They’ve kept me down here just for the convenience of being close to everything. I haven’t been on the monitors for the past two days. Mom told me before we left on our little field trip though, that I get a new room with a window this afternoon. I don’t see why I can’t just go back to the barracks, but I know better than to argue with her because I won’t win.
After positioning my chair, Jake steps around to my side and looks at me for several seconds, a serious expression compressing his normally easy-going face. “I prayed for you,” he finally tells me.
“You did?” I ask, a bit thrown off. It wasn’t what I expected.
“Yeah. Chris told me back when I got sick that I should pray about it, and then I got better. So I figured it might work for you, too. I hope that’s okay,” he adds quickly, concerned.
“Of course it is,” I reassure him. “Thank you, Jacob.” Giving me a quick hug, he smiles at Mom and then pets Baxter, before disappearing from my sight.
When was the last time I prayed? I think it was that terrible day that I saw the Shiners throwing bodies into the pit. Is it because Chris stopped talking about God?
I always assumed that Dad stopped communicating with me because I didn’t need him anymore. But, maybe it has more to do with that than the fact that I stopped listening.
I could sure use him right now.
Now that I’m here, about to see Missy, I’m suddenly very nervous. I still picture her corpse when I close my eyes, and I’m terrified now that when I go in, that’s what I’m going find. Jake has already walked away and I don’t know if Mom is still behind me or not. Spinning around to look, I find the hallway empty, and I’m rewarded with a wave of vertigo. Grabbing onto the handles of the wheelchair, I shut my eyes against it.
