“Veterinary too?” I ask.
“Whatever she can learn from a book,” O’Donnell says, walking with us. “I’m going to let Aiken know what happened. Ricky’s already on his way over, but I need to be there too,” she says. She pats Fluffy’s side gently. “You’ve got this, girl.”
And then she breaks off into a run and I’m left wondering why the hell she feels the need to be there while Ricky lets Aiken know what just went down. Joan is walking across the street, and her eyes widen when she sees me. She runs over, looking relieved that it isn’t Adam that I’m carrying.
“Mikey? The boy?” she asks, her words tremoring.
“Not now, Joan, I’ll come find you later,” I reply, walking away from her.
She looks hurt by my easy dismissal of her, but there isn’t the time now to explain everything.
The door to the doctor’s opens as we get closer and a young dark-haired woman comes out, her face immediately filled with concern. She holds the door open as we go inside and then she directs us to a back room and to a long table covered in Saran Wrap.
“On here, quick quick,” she says.
We lay Fluffy on the bed and I take a step back to let the woman do her thing.
“Okay, grab that tray and bring it over here.” She lifts the Hawaiian shirt off of the wound in Fluffy’s side. “Damn, girl, did you fight with a werewolf?”
A noise comes from a door on the other side of the room, and I glance at the woman and Phil but neither of them has heard it, and since they’re both engrossed in trying to save Fluffy’s life I decide to take matters into my own hands and deal with the situation.
I pull out my pistol and take a step toward the door, my nerves twitching and raring to go, but I take it slow and steady because I don’t want to shock Fluffy and risk the dog’s life. The last thing anyone needs right now is me charging full pelt at the door with the deader behind it and scaring the shit out of everyone. Phil and the woman are still frantically working on Fluffy. There’s blood bubbling out of the wound on Fluffy’s side when the doctor lifts the shirt, and she presses it back down and orders Phil to grab her some gauze and a needle from the tray.
I take slow, cautious steps toward the door, listening to the soft scratching and noises coming from within. A slight growl followed by the telltale noise of sniffing. Typical deader behavior. But how the fuck did one get in here? Is this more than a makeshift hospital and a veterinary clinic? Is this woman performing tests on the deaders to work them out? It wouldn’t surprise me, and it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve stumbled into something like that. I guess I just thought better of the NEOs.
I reach the other side of the room, my gun raised to shoulder height, and I lean to one side of the door, my hand reaching for the doorknob.
“Achillies will kick your ass if you try to hurt him,” the woman says. “Not to mention what I’ll do to you.”
I look up, my heart in my throat and my eyes wide. “Achillies?” I ask, my voice sounding steadier than I feel.
“My dog,” she says, her tone serious, but there’s a slight smile on her lips. “You can go ahead and let him in. He’ll want to see his girl here.”
I nod several times, my mind still processing the information. “Her dog,” I mumble, grateful that I was wrong and the NEOs are turning out to be everything they say they are.
I turn the doorknob but the door is snatched out from under my grip, slamming open and banging against the wall as it swings wide and a large eighty-pound dog charges through the room and jumps up at the table where Fluffy is lying. His large paws land heavily on the edge of the table near her head, and his tongue laps out and he begins to lick at Fluffy’s face. Both of the dogs are whining and licking at each other, and it’s sort of beautiful if I’m being honest—that even dogs can still find love in this world.
“All right, boy, come on, give her some space,” the woman says, but Achillies doesn’t quit. The concern he has for his partner is evident in the frantic whining and licking of her.
“Is she going to be okay, Stormy?” Phil asks, his palm gently rubbing over the top of Fluffy’s head.
Stormy peers down at the bite mark, her face pinching in concern. “I don’t know, not yet. It’s pretty deep and it’s torn a lot of muscle and tissue. If I can get the bleeding to stop and…” Her words trail off and she looks up into Phil’s face. “I’ll do everything I can, but you need to prepare for the worst, just in case.”
Phil nods but doesn’t say anything, but by the glint in his eye I don’t think he can right now without crying.
“I’m going to get some fresh air,” I say, genuinely needing some space to get my mind around what just happened.
I walk across the room, passing Stormy, Phil and the two dogs. I pat Fluffy’s hind legs as I walk by. “You got this, girl,” I say, mimicking O’Donnell.
Phil’s hand reaches out and grabs my arm. “Hey, thank you,” he says and lets me go. He looks broken. Not just in his torn clothes, and the blood smeared across his arms, but it’s in his eyes. Like a light has gone off at the thought of losing Fluffy.
I nod and head outside, shutting the door behind me. Outside O’Donnell is pacing in front of the store, looking a mixture of concerned and furious.
“Whatsup?” I ask.
“Nothing. I mean nothing but the bullshit of someone almost killing us all, being attacked by zeds and rabid dogs, and then the bullshit of politics,” she snaps. “Come on, let’s walk.” She tugs my arm and we begin to walk.
“What was going on with Ricky and you?” I ask, glancing at her.
She shakes her head. “It’s just his way. He can be a big fucking drama queen when he wants to be. I wanted to be there while he told Aiken what happened so he didn’t blow that shit up out of proportion.”
“Out of proportion?” I ask, feeling confused. “How could he blow up what just happened? You said it yourself, we were almost killed.”
O’Donnell pulls me to a stop, her gaze flitting around us, scanning the area for anyone listening in. “You wanna find that kid of yours, right?”
I nod and she continues.
“Then we need to play down what just happened, or Aiken will send us to that barn guns blazing, bombs going off, and we’ll probably never find him.”
“He’d do that?”
She nods. “We’ve done it before. He doesn’t take chances with assholes. Not anymore. None of us do.” Her gaze stays on mine, our eyes connecting. The intensity coming from her suddenly makes me feel uncomfortable, like I’m betraying Nina somehow, and I look away. “He took the time today to talk to the rest of Haven about you.”
“About me?” I frown.
“Yeah, he told them about your…umm, about the haze of shit that seems to be following you around. The Forgotten.” She swallows and I can see that she’s uncomfortable with even talking about them, which means she’s worried about them, and she should be. “Everyone here thinks that you’re worth the risk, Mikey. Don’t let us down.”
“I don’t know what to say,” I reply. And I don’t. I’m shocked. These people are either stupid or they see something in me that I don’t. I look over at Phil’s house and watch Ricky heading up the steps to the front door. He doesn’t see me because he’s so focused on where he’s going. “And are you willing to take such a big chance, a risk?” I ask.
O’Donnell’s hand reaches out and touches my arm, and I look back to her. “I am for you,” she says, and everything about her tone makes me know why.
There’s something to be said for desire. It’s something that you can see, and hear and feel. When someone desires you, it’s not arrogance that lets you recognize it, it’s just something that’s easily recognized.
“Look, you should know—” I begin hesitantly, because this is not a conversation that I want to be having, now or ever. I can’t avoid her gaze, no matter how much I want to, and I witness the flash of hurt in her eyes before I even finish what I’m saying. Because just like desire, re
gret is easily recognized to. And she can hear the regret coming from me already.
“Hey, Mikey!” Ricky calls as he comes towards us, his eyes narrowing in on O’Donnell’s hand on my arm.
O’Donnell lets go of my arm and we look away from each other and turn to look at Ricky.
“Fluffy?” he asks as he falls in beside us.
I shrug. “No clue yet, the doc—Stormy is it?—she’s working on her. Says it doesn’t look too good, though.”
“That’s a shit deal,” he says. “But look, I think we’re going to have to rethink looking for your friend. The shit that just went down,” he shakes his head, “it’s not good, my friend.”
“What did Aiken say?” O’Donnell snaps, all softness gone from her.
A breeze hits me and I turn to look behind, half-expecting to see something coming toward us, but there’s nothing there.
“He’s thinking it over,” Ricky growls out. “No thanks to you.” His gaze moves between O’Donnell and me, as if it’s finally just hit him why she played down what just happened. “Don’t put everyone at risk, all of NEO, just for your selfishness, O’Donnell. He’s not going to be sticking around.” Ricky flashes me a dark look and storms away, leaving me and O’Donnell to watch after him awkwardly.
She finally turns back to me. “Ignore him. He’s had a shit time.”
“We all have.”
“That’s true,” she returns. “Come on, let’s get Alfie to stitch you back up before you bleed to death. Stormy’s been training him up for a couple of months now and he’s pretty good.” She starts to walk away and I follow her.
“Yeah, he was the one that did these stitches to start with. Can’t say he did too good a job, if I’m being honest.”
She laughs. “Can’t really blame him for them tearing open, Mikey. I think you need to blame the zed that tore you back open.” She smirks over her shoulder.
“All right, I’ll give you that,” I return.
She smiles again. “I bet you’d give me just about anything I want.”
I stare after her as she walks on ahead, my heart aching and my stomach clenching. I’m not sure how to take this woman, or her feelings toward me, but I know that I need to let her know how things are before it gets too serious. Right now, I’m not looking for anyone but Adam. Certainly not another woman.
In fact, I can’t see myself wanting anyone ever again—not after losing Nina. I don’t want to go through that sort of loss again. I’m boxing off my heart and putting it away for good. It’s out of commission; and at the end of the world, when all anyone wants is to connect with another person… all I want to do is disconnect from them all.
Chapter Fourteen
“Wow, you really messed this up, didn’t you?” Alfie says as I step out of my khakis and let them fall at my feet.
“Technically a deader messed this up, not me,” I reply.
“Hmmm. Well I hope that you put that…what did you call it?”
“A deader.”
He smiles. “We call them zeds. I like deader though. It’s more literal, I guess.”
“No,” I say. “‘Evil fucking deaders’ would be more literal, but it’s also a bit of a mouthful to say in a hurry.”
Alfie laughs. “True enough.”
I sit down in the chair and he sprays the open wound with some solution and wipes it all over carefully. I grit my teeth against the burn of pain that sings through my leg. Once cleaned, it isn’t as bad as I first thought. I’ve lost maybe two stitches, but the rough pull from the deader tore the flesh and made the cut wider.
“Can’t go in through the original stitches,” Alfie mutters to himself as he pokes around my leg, testing the flesh by separating the two flaps of skin. He rummages through his med kit and comes out with a little tube. “I’m going to put fresh stitches in and then glue it all. I’m warning you, it’s going to hurt, though.”
“I’m a big boy,” I snark, my gaze moving to O’Donnell leaning against the wall and watching us. Her lips quirk at my words. “I can take it,” I clarify.
“You’ve been taking your antibiotics, right?” Alfie asks, getting everything he needs set out next to him so he can grab it all easily.
“Of course,” I reply, pulling my antibiotics out of my pocket and throwing one to the back of my throat.
O’Donnell laughs. “I’ll go get us something to eat and check in on Fluffy,” she says, her gaze washing over me. “I’ll be back soon, don’t go anywhere.”
“Couldn’t even if I wanted to,” I joke.
She smiles at me and turns to leave.
“I’ll take something to eat too,” Alfie says, looking surprised when O’Donnell simply laughs at him and leaves the room. “Or not,” he mumbles under his breath. He glances up at me. “Favoritism,” he says and looks back down at my leg.
He stitches my leg up and then glues the wound shut, and he was right: it hurts worse than I expected, but I pant through the burning sensation that travels through my leg and he wraps it in a fresh bandage.
He hands me a fresh set of khakis—though I say fresh with reluctance. “Best we got,” he laughs. “Keep up with the antibiotics. A dog bite is no joking matter.”
“I will. It’s just been a busy day,” I reply, standing and testing my weight on my ankle. It’s not too bad, maybe a little more tender than it was before, but I’ve had worse than this. He was right though—a dog bite isn’t something to mess around with. Rabies is a real thing, and rabies leads to death and then to a life of the undead. Definitely not in my life plan.
“No luck finding the kid?” he asks, cleaning up his tools and piling them back into his med kit carefully.
I shake my head. “Didn’t really get much chance to check things out properly.”
“The shooters?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at me.
“Yeah.” I think about what O’Donnell said about if Aiken found out how bad it had gotten at the barn, and how he would go in all guns blazing and blow that place to high hell. While I don’t see that it would be such a big problem to do so—because hey, they nearly killed us—until I know for certain that Adam isn’t in that area, I can’t possibly let that barn get blown up.
“It wasn’t too bad,” I add. “They just caught us by surprise.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, we were just unlucky. Damn wild dogs caught us again. Between the dogs and the deaders, the shooter was the least of our worries. In fact, I’m not even sure they were shooting at us.”
I look away from him. I’ve never been a good liar.
O’Donnell comes back into the room as I’m buttoning up my khakis. “You ever heard of knocking?” I joke.
She laughs back. “I’ve heard of it. Can’t say I ever did it though.” She smirks. “Besides, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before, Mikey.”
An uncomfortableness settles across the room until she breaks it with a sharp laugh.
“Oh come on, stop acting like little boys.” She places some crackers, an apple, and a bottle of water on the table next to me. “Eat up, you’re going to need your strength.” And then she turns and leaves.
Alfie looks at me with a grin. “Lucky guy.”
“Lucky?”
“Oh yeah, I’d do anything to get that sort of attention from her,” he says, picking up my apple and taking a bite.
“Well, I’m not really interested in anything right now,” I reply, feeling uncomfortable having this conversation with someone I don’t really know. I’m not a sharing type anyway, and this is definitely delving too deep for my liking.
“I get it. We’ve all lost someone, we’ve all had that pain. But sometimes companionship can help heal that pain.” He takes another bite of the apple, watching me.
“Maybe I don’t want anything healing. Maybe I like the pain,” I reply.
Alfie shakes his head and smirks. “A good woman can soothe that pain though. Who wouldn’t want that?”
He bites into my apple again, not waiting for me to
respond, and leaves the room. I stare after him, wondering how I’ve gotten myself into this situation in the first place and why I’m discussing anything with him anyway. I have no intention of starting anything with O’Donnell or anyone else, and I’ll make that clear to her just as soon as I can.
When I finally leave the room and get back outside, the day has grown even hotter, and within seconds I’m sweating. I make my way back over to where Fluffy is being cared for. Phil comes out as I make it to the doorway. There’s blood smeared across the front of the t-shirt he was originally wearing under his Hawaiian shirt. His expression is grim and he lights up a cigarette and sits down on the step with a heavy sigh. His eyes are swollen and red and he puts his head in his hands.
It hits me like a lead balloon and my heart sinks at the thought of Fluffy being dead. Sure, she’s just a dog, I get that, and I know that human life is much more important than any animal’s. And I know I didn’t know Fluffy long, but it’s still painful to think of her being gone. To think that she gave her life for ours—for Phil’s.
“She was brave. You can’t buy that in this life,” I say to Phil, my words sticking in my too dry throat.
He looks up and nods and takes another drag on his cigarette.
“She loved you,” I add. “You could tell how much she loved you.”
His eyes are still shiny from crying. “You should go see her, dude. You were the one that got her out of there. You risked your life for hers. You saw that she was one of the team, one of the family.” He reaches up with his hand and I take it in mine and we shake hands. “Thanks, dude, for being there.”
I nod, realizing that I haven’t thought about it like that. But I did risk my life for hers because I saw her as one of the team. I helped bring her home, even if it was only for her to die. At least she died here, with her family.
And I know that whatever happens next with the NEOs, I secured mine and Joan’s place in this community by doing that. I’m glad that it happened, but I can’t hide away from the tragedy of the situation.
I push open the door and head into the back. Achillies lies by the table, his head resting on his big front paws. His eyes watch me as I cross the room, and he gives a soft whine in my direction. Stormy is washing her tools at a small white sink, and she looks over at me and offers a sympathetic smile before turning back to the sink.
Odium IV: The Dead Saga Page 11
