by D. Laine
If it were Thea out there . . .
Jake turned to her now, and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Stay here. If anything happens . . .” He looked at me, and I knew he wanted me to reassure him that I had everything under control, that I could handle the responsibility.
But since I was apparently a bad liar, I said nothing.
“What are you doing?” Thea grasped his coat when he started to walk away. “Jake, no!”
He stopped to peel his sister’s ironclad fingers from his sleeve. Holding her hand in his, he said, “I have to.”
“No. I’m sure she’s fine. We’ll lay down cover fire once we see them, and they’ll get by the tags and—”
“I’m in love with her, Thea.”
My jaw dropped. At the same time, Jake released Thea’s hand. It fell to her side, striking her thigh with a soft thwack.
“You would do the same if you had to.” Jake glanced at me, and I nodded. To Thea, he added, “Stay here. Protect the town. Wait for us. I have a feeling we’re going to bring some company with us, so be ready.”
A second later, he slipped through the gate and disappeared into the veil of fog. I watched him go, knowing that as much as I wanted to follow him, he wanted me here. Jake made it clear: He was no longer my number one priority. Thea was.
21
THEA
I didn’t know if I was more impressed by or upset with my brother. Probably a little bit of both. Mostly scared out of my mind for him. So scared I could barely shoot a gun.
And I had to shoot. A lot.
After he left, tags were everywhere. At the gate. Snarling from the other side of the fence. Climbing the fence.
It felt like hours before they were gone. Most lay in heaps in front of the gate, and I know someone had to have killed them. Maybe I killed some of them. Two lay twisted in the barbed wire lining the top of the fence. Their blood dripped to the ground, splattering into the crimson river that ran under my feet.
I stared up at their mangled corpses, entranced by the sudden silence.
Then a loud bang sounded from directly over my shoulder, and I spun around with a squeal. A Duggie stood at the gate, his face covered in so much blood I couldn’t recognize him.
Chaos unfolded around me. Someone hurried to open the gate as more Duggies rushed toward us, bleeding, limping, and pleading for help. Some made it on their own. Others were carried.
As expected, they brought more tags with them. I had one job. Kill as many of them as I could so that my brother made it back alive. I channeled so much focus, I didn’t realize it was all over until Dylan’s hands were on my shoulders and his face was in mine.
“Thea?”
I blinked, shifting my attention. The gate was closed again. Blood and bodies were everywhere. More blood. More bodies.
I couldn’t look. I couldn’t stand to see Jake’s lifeless eyes among the dead.
“Thea?”
I blinked again, this time focusing on Dylan.
“We need to go,” he told me gently.
“What? Where?”
He swallowed. “To the hospital. Jake needs us. He needs you.”
“The hospital?” I grimaced at the squeaky sound of my voice.
“Yes. Jake needs you,” he repeated.
I didn’t know what Dylan meant by that, or why he kept saying it, but I let him lead me away from all the death at the gate. I vaguely noticed Sadie and Ewing trailing after us. They were talking, and I thought I heard someone mention Calvin’s name. But my ears were ringing so badly I couldn’t be sure what I heard. I had bigger problems than not understanding the conversations around me.
Jake was hurt. He needed me.
I stumbled forward on unsteady legs, and if it weren’t for Dylan’s arms around me I probably would have never made it to the hospital. Stepping through the door, I nearly fell. Not because of my worthless legs, but because of the puddle of blood on the floor.
Not just in the entryway, but everywhere. Trails of it were smeared in different directions—too many to count at the moment. Each trailed disappeared behind the partition. I heard voices—so many voices. Some barked out orders, others soothed, and some screamed in agony.
I reached for Jake through our bond, and felt a weak hum. Other than reassurance that he was alive, I got nothing from him. No clue as to how badly he was hurt, or why he needed me.
What could I do?
Dylan guided me to the left, and I stared at the trail of blood under my feet that we followed. Instinct told me it was my brother’s blood.
At the partition, Dylan released me. He pulled the wall back and poked his head into the room where I suspected Jake lay injured. He said something, and a second later, a familiar man stepped out.
I recognized him as one of the refugees. Ray? Or Roy? Whoever he was, he had blood all over his hands. I stared at it, knowing in my heart it was Jake’s blood.
“Doc closed the wound,” Ray/Roy told Dylan. “He’s already moved on to someone else, but he told me what to do. I think I can manage it.”
“I’ve seen it done a few times,” Dylan responded. “I can help.”
Ray/Roy turned to me, and I braced for bad news. Like “I’m sorry but your brother is going to die and there is nothing I can do about it” kind of bad news. Instead, he asked, “What’s your blood type?”
I glanced at Dylan, and he gave me an encouraging nod. “Umm . . . I’m an A. A positive.”
“Good. You match Jake,” Dylan told me slowly, like he knew my brain cells weren’t firing on all cylinders. “He’s lost a lot of blood, and he needs a transfusion or . . .”
Or he would die.
“You need me to donate?” I glanced between the two, and they both nodded. The decision was an easy one to make. No hesitation. “Show me what I have to do.”
HOURS LATER, I sat on a small stool beside Jake’s cot and watched as the last of my blood traveled through the thin, clear tube that connected us. The last of my blood for now. They never let me give too much at a time. Because Jake needed more than I could safely give him without killing myself, I had to give a little bit at a time to enable my body to recover.
Dylan stood against the wall across from me, ever present and ever observant. If I even started to suggest giving more blood, he quickly shut me down.
I needed to preserve my energy. I needed to drink plenty of water and eat between sessions. If I got anemic, I couldn’t help anyone, least of all Jake.
I didn’t bother to tell him I was pretty sure I was already anemic—if the dizziness and blurry vision were any indication. I didn’t want to risk them putting a stop to the transfusions.
Behind me, Robbie rested on a second cot that had been squeezed into the room. She was much better off than Jake. She wasn’t fighting for her life, but she wouldn’t be able to walk for at least a few days thanks to the large chunk of flesh that had been ripped from her calf. Jake had saved her, as I knew he would.
But he got pretty beat up in the process. The worst wound, and the one that had nearly taken his life, was the gash in his side. Barely missed his liver, Doc had said. But he had lost a lot of blood. With the transfusions, antibiotics to fend off an infection, and a big dose of luck, he had a chance.
He would have a better chance if Dylan would allow me to give more blood, but I couldn’t exactly argue with him. Not without slurring my words and giving away just how woozy I was.
“You okay?” he asked me. Again.
I nodded, and immediately regretted the action. The deepening frown on Dylan’s face told me I hadn’t fooled him.
He stepped up to the cot to check the lock on the catheter connecting me to Jake. When turned up, blood flowed from my vein into his. When turned the other way, the flow stopped. It was a neat little gadget. Apparently good for emergency transfusions “in the field.”
Dylan made sure it was in the down position now. “Give it another hour,” he suggested.
“I’m fine. Really.”
&nbs
p; “The quiver in your voice is giving you away, Thea. You’re not fine.”
“I can’t not do this. He’s my brother.”
“I know.” Dylan laid a comforting hand on my shoulder. “You’re doing great, but we can’t risk you losing too much blood.”
I nodded. “I’m just tired.”
“I can get another cot brought in here.” Dylan glanced around the tight space. “I think there’s enough room.”
I opened my mouth to protest, because I really was fine. The partition snapped open, interrupting me. Lieutenant Anderson stood in the opening with a tired look on his face. He nodded at me once before turning his attention to Dylan.
“I need two guys to patrol the perimeter,” he said. “You free?”
Dylan glanced at Jake, then me. He nodded reluctantly.
“You and Red will relieve the other two members from your group. We’ll be doing four-hour shifts. When you’re done, come find me and Decks to swap out.”
Two-man teams patrolling four hours on, eight hours off. They were going to be exhausted. But everyone else was either dead or laid up in the hospital right now. They had no choice.
I hadn’t heard what had prompted the tag attack. Maybe nothing. Maybe they were simply doing what they do, and thought we presented an easy target. I had no idea why anyone had gone outside the fence, though. That was plain dumb.
I made Dylan promise not to do anything stupid in the four hours he spent on patrol before he left. It was to be an ongoing agreement. Nothing stupid or dangerous from here on out.
And when Jake woke, I would make him promise me, too. Because what he had done was stupid. Romantic in a sick and twisted kind of way, but incredibly stupid.
At least I wasn’t the only one who thought so.
Seconds after Dylan left, Robbie’s raspy voice came from behind me. “They’re both crazy, right?”
I swiveled in my seat—as far as the catheter in my arm would permit—to see her. “They kind of are. But I think it’s part of what makes them so lovable.”
Her dry, cracked lips lifted into a weak smile. “Yeah. They’re that, too.”
I gave her a quick once-over since I couldn’t exactly move to check on her. I didn’t see any fresh blood coming from her leg wound. She looked tired and uncomfortable . . . but okay.
“Do you need anything, Robbie?” I offered. “Some more pain meds or—”
“Water.” Her voice cracked, obviously dry.
Considering Doc and the refugees with ironclad stomachs were busy keeping the more critical Duggies alive in the neighboring rooms, I didn’t think Robbie’s request for fluids would be considered a priority. I held the bottle in my hands out to her. “Here. Take mine.”
“You need it.”
“You need it more.”
She reluctantly took the bottle, and gulped down a hearty drink. Then another. I expected her to finish it, but she handed it back still half full. Seeing the look on my face, she shrugged.
“You need to make blood,” she explained with a nod toward Jake. “For him.”
I peered down at Jake with a faint smile. His cheeks held a little more color than they had three hours ago, but his face was still noticeably pale. The dark shadows under his eyes only made him look frailer, and I suspected he hadn’t slept much lately. Like I knew Dylan hadn’t.
I wondered if the Watchers were communicating with Jake now, when he was at his most vulnerable. Our connection didn’t feel fuzzy. Just weak. But I blamed that on his injuries. It didn’t feel like Watcher interference.
“He saved me,” Robbie said, interrupting my troubling thoughts. “I was a goner. I couldn’t . . . there were too many of them. Then Jake was there, slicing through them to get to me. I owe my life to him.”
“He said . . .” I gave her a sheepish smile. “He loves you.” For some reason, it came out sounding like a question.
“Yeah, I think he does.” She beamed. “So do I.”
I hesitated, unsure how to ask my next question. “When did it happen?”
“Me and Jake?” Her eyes drifted, taking on a distant look. “I guess there was always something there from the beginning. It took a while for either of us to act on it though. That happened when we were at the campground.”
“I knew it!”
“Everyone saw through us, huh?”
“Dylan and I did.” I shrugged. “The chemistry was hard to miss.”
Her smile faded slowly, her eyes growing heavy as she stared at Jake. “I want time, Thea. Time to see it through, find out if it really will be as great as I think will be. Because he is great.” She flashed me one final, too-brief and too-sad smile. “We’re hardly living a fairy tale, but I think he’s my real life Prince Charming.”
I didn’t know what to say to her. What could I offer her, other than empty promises? No one knew what was going to happen. No one knew if we would be able to stop Lucifer and the Watchers, and live out the rest of our lives the best we could given the mess we would be left with.
All we could do was hope. So that was what I decided to give her. A little bit of hope that it would all be okay.
“The two of you will be great together,” I said.
Her eyes fell heavy soon after that. The frantic chatter from the other rooms gradually waned over the next hour. Doc checked on me once, took one look at my face and put the bottle of water to my lips with an order to drink up. And then get some rest, because apparently I looked like the walking dead.
I felt like one, too. That didn’t stop me from lifting the lock on the catheter in my arm after Doc left. A little more blood loss wouldn’t hurt me, but every little bit helped Jake.
I WOKE to the sound of screaming. Close screaming. Frantic wails for help belted right into my ear, causing my eyes to pop open and my head to snap up. Either the sudden movement, the ringing in my ears, or the amount of blood I had lost caused me to sway unevenly on my stool and it took me a moment to gather my bearings.
Jake. Exactly where I had left him.
Robbie and her identical twin. Standing beside me. The screams came from her.
Doc. Racing into the room.
We glanced at each other, then we both looked at Robbie. I blinked a few times until she and her body double merged into one. She talked so fast I struggled to keep up.
I hadn’t even figured out how she was standing on her injured leg yet. Beneath her, blood dripped onto the bloody mess already staining the floor. But she didn’t seem to care, or notice. Her attention was on Jake.
Jake. Something was wrong. Perspiration dotted his forehead and his cheeks were unnaturally red. His features were locked up, as if he were silently suffering pain. Doc moved over him, touching him.
“He has a fever, alright,” Doc concluded glumly. “I’m afraid the antibiotics aren’t helping.”
Behind me, Robbie made a whimpering noise while I stared blankly at Doc, trying to make sense of the words he said.
Things like fever and infection I understood. I got hung up on the other things he said, like systemic and organ failure. Then he grabbed my arm, yanked the catheter out, and said, “There’s no point in this anymore.”
He turned to walk away, but stopped before closing the partition behind him. He glanced at Jake, then Robbie, and then me before muttering, “I’m sorry.”
I blinked, and he was gone. His words echoed between my ears.
He was sorry? But . . .
What exactly was he saying?
“Robbie?” Her hand came down on my shoulder and she sniffed. “What’s happening?”
“I woke up, and he looked so flushed. I saw him sweating and . . .”
“He has a fever,” I repeated Doc’s words. “He can’t die from a fever. That’s not—”
“Thea . . .” Robbie’s grip on my shoulder tightened. “They were worried about infection. Fever means infection.”
“No, it . . .”
Maybe he just had a fever? He could have a damn fever!
I
stared at my brother, at the tiny drops of perspiration that dotted his forehead and dampened his hair. I squeezed his sweaty hand and lowered my head to his shoulder. With a strangled cry, my fractured heart shattered completely. Every piece of it poured from my eyes as hot tears and fell to the cot, where they mixed with blood. Some of it mine. Most of it Jake’s.
At some point—seconds, minutes, or hours later—I accepted the inevitable. My tears dried as the cold hand of awareness settled over me.
The brother I never knew would die before I had the chance to really know him.
I FELT the tremors under my cheek first, acting as a warning for what was to come. No sooner than I lifted my head, Jake’s entire body locked up. Robbie was at my side in an instant. She immediately went to his head, where she cradled him and whispered in his ear. Seconds later, the thrashing started.
She jabbed one finger at me. “Hold him down!”
I threw myself on to his legs, using my weight to pin them while I battled his flailing arms. Even unconscious he was too strong for me, so it didn’t work out too well. A forearm to the temple had me seeing stars, and a knee to the kidney nearly knocked me out. I hunched over, fighting the dizzy spell that threatened to take me under, long after he stopped moving.
Finally sure that I wasn’t going to black out, I glanced up. Jake’s chest moved; he was alive. Robbie stood straight as an arrow at the head of the cot, staring down at him.
“Robbie? What was that?”
“I don’t believe it.” She glanced at me with the hint of a smile on her face.
“What? What’s happening? I don’t—”
Suddenly, I understood. Or I thought I did. There was only one way to know for sure.
I pushed to a full stand, the best I could manage on my wobbly legs, and moved closer to Jake’s head. The way he had come to rest, and the angle I now had, permitted me a clear view of the spot directly behind his ear.
There, I saw the faint purple and red markings identical to the ones behind my ear. Behind Robbie’s ear. And Sadie’s. And Ewing’s.
“Oh, my God.”
Jake didn’t have an infection. He wasn’t dying.
