by Tracey Ward
“What’s happened?” an unfamiliar male voice barks.
“Our friend has been hurt and he needs a doctor,” Alissa calls out, her panic quivering in her voice.
“Why? How is he hurt?”
“He’s lost his hand,” Syd shouts, cutting Alissa off as she began to speak. “He’s in shock. Lost a lot of blood. He probably has an infection from the axe.”
“Is he running a fever?”
Syd hesitates only a heartbeat. “No.”
There’s a long tense silence.
“Please, he’s in so much pain,” Alissa calls out, openly weeping. “He doesn’t have The Fever, I swear to you. Just look at him and you’ll see that.”
Another pause. Another year of my life disappears in the roiling hot agony of my existence. Then I hear chains moving. Metal clinking against metal.
“You two step aside, over there. Anders, you and your team cover them while I go in.”
I hear the yawning moan of the gate as it opens. Footsteps slowly approach.
“There better not be any surprises in here,” he mutters.
“There’s not,” Alissa promises. “Just him lying on the bench. He’s the only one in there.”
The RV rocks gently to the side as heavy feet come up the small stairs. I open my eyes again, wondering when they closed, to find a tall shadow standing over me holding a gun. I can’t see his face but he looks down at me for a long time, watching and waiting.
“What’s your name?” he demands.
I lick my lips gingerly. “Jordan. What’s yours?”
Silence.
“If you’re expecting me to shake your hand,” I tell him, “I’m afraid you’re outta luck.”
“How’d you lose that hand?” he asks quietly. His voice is emotionless. Empty.
“I—“ I have to take a deep breath against the pain. The mere thought of what I did to myself is sending tendrils of red hot agony through my arm, up into my chest where it squeezes my heart near to bursting. “It had to go.”
“You cut it off yourself?”
I nod as I let my eyes fall closed again. The room is starting to tilt.
“Were you bitten?”
I force a chuckle. “See any marks?”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“I don’t have The Fever. Feel my head. I’m freezing.”
“Still not what I asked. Have you been vomiting?”
I don’t respond. I’m fading out. I can’t reopen my eyes and I feel my limbs going slack.
“Jordan!” the man shouts. I’m being moved, shaken roughly. “Open your eyes, kid. Hey! Open your eyes!” Fingers press into my neck, feeling for a heartbeat. I really hope he finds something because I’m beginning to wonder if I have one. I hear the man mutter a curse then he’s gone, out of the RV like a shot out of a gun. “He’s fading! Get him in the back of the Jeep! Call ahead and tell them to wake one of the doctors. Not the quack, get the real one. One of the nurses couldn’t hurt either.”
“Is he infected?!”
“No bite marks!” the man calls back vaguely. “But he’s lost a lot of blood. He’ll probably need a transfusion. Do either of you know his blood type?”
“No,” I hear Syd reply from the doorway.
He and several other sets of feet leap into the space with me. Hands are lifting me up quickly. I hear grunts and grumbling as they haul me out of the RV out into the night. I’m fighting to stay awake because even though I prayed for oblivion before, I know from their reactions to my condition that I need to stay awake. Otherwise I may never wake up again.
“I’m O positive,” Alissa says, her voice coming from a shadow near my head.
“Good. You’ll ride with him in the Jeep. The doctor will need you.”
“Being a universal donor,” a woman running beside us says, “he’ll probably want you to donate more than just this once.”
“He can have as much as he wants so long as he helps Jordan,” Alissa tells her.
“You’ll have to sit up, son. There’s no room to lay down.”
“I’ll sit beside him,” Alissa says quickly. “He can lean on me.”
I’m hoisted up into a sitting position beside Alissa. I have the strength to sit up straight but I lean against her anyway, resting my body against hers. She carefully takes my left hand, threads her fingers through mine and holds on tightly as the doors close. We take off immediately. This ride is smoother than the one in the RV. I suspect we’re on a true road or at least a good imitation of one instead of bounding across the open terrain. I wonder briefly where Syd is, but then my injured arm bumps against my leg and I feel like screaming. All thought rushes out of my head in a fierce burst of air through my teeth.
“We’ll be there soon,” Alissa coos in my ear. “If they could get my meds, they have to have pain killers. They’ll be able to help you.”
“Yeah,” I say through gritted teeth, feeling sweat rolling over my cold, clammy skin. I’m trembling again. “If they don’t put a bullet in my head first.”
She doesn’t respond to that because what is there to say? I’m lucky that I’ve gotten this far inside. The guy who told them to load me knows I was bit. He knows what I did to myself. I’m not sure why he let me in anyway. Maybe he wants to see if it worked. I know I’m curious. But once I hit their quarantine area where people are trained to watch for fever and to cure it with a bullet, I’m as good as dead.
It’s not long before we come to a stop. Before the doors are thrown open and Alissa and I come face to face with a large tent that looks like one of the ones in the makeshift village across the river. Exactly like one of the tents across the river, in fact. A stretcher comes rolling out of the doorway followed by a middle aged woman with a stethoscope around her neck and pink, flowery scrubs.
“The doctor is on his way,” she tells the people pulling me from the Jeep. “Did I hear right? He’s missing a limb?”
“His hand,” Alissa tells her, sounding suddenly calm.
“And how’d that happen?”
“He’s a clumsy woodcutter.”
There’s a disbelieving pause. “Really?”
“Yes.”
“Uh huh. Fingers I’d believe, hon, but his whole hand?”
“He has terrible depth perception.”
“I was drunk,” I mumble, trying to help.
“Plus he was drunk,” Alissa agrees.
Another pause. “Well, we’ll check his eyesight and liver while we’re at it.”
“Hand first,” I groan.
They ignore me as I’m whisked inside the tent.
I’m blinded by the lights hanging from the ceiling, glaring like several small suns burning into my retinae. My head is suddenly throbbing to my heartbeat, something I can feel in the ebb and flow of pain in my hand as well. I hear the nurse talking to Alissa about what happened. Not how it happened, we’re over that apparently, but more of what it happened with and what they did to treat it on the scene. I try not to listen because I’d rather not hear it right now, but I hear Alissa’s account anyway.
“My dad cauterized it to stop the bleeding,” she says evenly.
It’s so calmly stated that it startles me. Kind of pisses me off a little. Like saying they put Bactine on a paper cut. I feel that pressing a burning hot iron skillet to a man’s open wound is a little more hardcore than a Hello Kitty Band Aide. Where’s the tremor in her voice now?
“He also used his belt as a tourniquet.”
The nurse makes an appreciative sound. “Probably saved his life.”
“That’s what we were hoping for.”
“Where’s the hand?”
“What?”
“His hand,” the nurse repeats patiently. “Where is it? Did you bring it?”
“N-no.”
“Why not? The doctor may have been able to reattach it.”
I highly doubt that. Even if they have a fully trained medical staff here they don’t have the facilities or equipment to pull that o
ff. It’s a bluff to draw us out, to admit that I was bitten.
“Lost,” I say weakly, “in the dark.”
There’s a pause, this woman’s trademark move. Like Syd and his scowl.
“That’s a shame.”
Outside there’s a rush of footsteps, a brief bout of male voices mumbling, then I hear people bursting into the room.
“Doctor,” the nurse says cordially.
“Nurse Evans,” he replies pleasantly. “What’ve we got?”
“Missing limb. He’s lost his hand in a tragic woodcutting accident.”
“The whole hand?” the doctor asks incredulously.
“See for yourself. They used a tourniquet.”
“And something hot, it seems,” he mutters thoughtfully.
I catch a glimpse of an old man with slick black hair and large glasses hunching down beside me, examining my hand.
“Hmm,” he muses. “Messy. Infected no doubt.”
The doctor stands suddenly, glancing around the room.
“Is there no guard? Why isn’t there a guard with a gun? I assume he hasn’t passed his 24 hour quarantine period.”
“No, he hasn’t. I’ll get a guard in here with us.”
“Wait, no, he’s not infected,” Alissa insists.
The doctor looks her over. “Does he have a fever? Because it looks to me like he’s sweating.”
“The accident happened over an hour ago. He’s lost a lot of blood. He’s clammy and sweating from shock.”
“Rapid breathing as well.” the doctor states harshly. “Has he vomited?”
Alissa doesn’t answer. I flinch as the doctor drops his face quickly near mine. I hear him sniff sharply then he retreats to the end of the gurney, near the door.
“He’s been vomiting and he’s shaking. Sure signs of the fever. Get a guard in here, now.”
“Those are also signs of shock, aren’t they?” Alissa ask desperately, her voice becoming frustrated and angry.
“It could be, yes,” Nurse Evans agrees softly.
“If we encounter Fever symptoms of any kind, we terminate,” the doctor says adamantly.
“You mean kill him.”
“Yes,” he snarls at Alissa. “Now move aside. I’m getting a guard.”
I hear a quick rustling, a shuffling of feet, a small gasp. Then Alissa speaks quietly.
“I’ll shoot you both before I let that happen.”
Chapter Sixteen
“Miss,” the doctor says tensely, “stay calm.”
I force myself into a sitting position on the bed. The bright area swims in my vision for a moment before righting itself, leaving me feeling disoriented and a little like vomiting. I do my best to rein that in. It won’t exactly help my case.
To my right are the nurse and doctor standing side by side with their hands slightly raised. To my left is Alissa. She’s standing alone, her face stern. Her focus is entirely on the couple in front of her. In her hands she holds a gun.
“I’m very calm,” she tells them.
And the weird thing is, she is. She’s rock solid. Her hand holding the gun is steady as ever and when I look at her eyes, they’re clear. She hasn’t tripped outside her meds into la la land as it might appear. She’s totally and completely lucid. And utterly serious.
“I’m also very tired,” she says evenly. “It’s been a long day. I’m sure you understand. So I suggest we all help each other out. Like human beings.”
“What do you want?” the nurse asks quietly.
“Are you here to score drugs? You can have all the painkillers you want, just don’t shoot.”
Alissa scoffs at the doctor. “Seriously? You think we hacked off his hand looking to rob you of your drug supply?”
He narrows his eyes at her. “It’s not the most extreme attempt we’ve seen.”
“That’s not what this is,” I tell him gruffly. “I was bitten.”
“Jordan,” Alissa begins, her voice going tight.
“No, Ali, they know.” I turn to the two. “Right?”
“Well I didn’t, not until I came in here,” the doctor says indignantly.
The nurse nods, her eyes soft on mine. “I knew.”
“What?!” the doctor cries, turning on her. “How could you?”
“Lower. Your. Voice,” Alissa reminds him clearly.
He glances nervously at Ali, licking his lips. Then returns to berating his subordinate at a more discreet decibel.
“You knew and you let them in here? He could contaminate the whole place! I could have been bitten.”
The nurse looks back at him, her expression bored. When she speaks, her tone is completely without apology.
“He has no bite marks on him. That means he was bitten on his hand, the hand they removed. It takes 5 minutes for The Fever to take hold. 30 for the system to give up entirely. It’s been over 20 minutes since they showed up at the gate and he’s still conscious.” She turns to me. “What’s your name?”
“Jordan.”
“Where are you from?”
“Boston.”
“Do you hunger for brains?”
I chuckle weakly. “No. I don’t really hunger for anything at the moment.”
“You see?” she says to the doctor. “They stopped the infection. We’ve never seen anything like it. It’s a miracle. A breakthrough. They’ll want to know about this.”
“Shhhh!” the doctor insists, glancing quickly between Alissa and I.
“Where’s Dr. Fineman? He should know about this.”
“He was unavailable.”
“He was unaware of what we have here.” She looks to Alissa, turning very slowly, never forgetting the gun in the room. “Can we call someone else in here?”
Alissa considers silently. She’s statue still, barely blinking. I wonder if she’s breathing.
“Ali,” I whisper softly to her. “I trust her.”
She shakes her head mutely.
“How about,” the nurse says to her calmly, “we do what we can for now. We’ll clean and bandage the wound. We’ll give him antibiotics for any infection. That will let more time pass so no one can have any doubt that he’s in the clear. Then we’ll bring in the others. Alright?”
Alissa stares at her, unsure.
“Ali, is it?” the nurse asks gently.
“Alissa.”
“Alissa, I’m Leah. I don’t believe that your… brother?”
Ali shakes her head.
“Okay,” Leah replies, understanding. “I don’t believe he’s infected with The Fever. In fact, I think he’s a triumph. He is the only person we’ve ever heard of who has survived a bite.” She smiles brightly. “That’s amazing. It’s remarkable and exciting and I will shoot this asshole myself,” she says gesturing to the doctor, “if he tries to hurt Jordan.”
Alissa cracks a small smile. I watch her eyes soften as she lowers the gun slowly. The entire room breathes a little easier.
“Doctor,” Leah says, “let’s begin, shall we? This boy has been in pain long enough.”
He shakes his head. “I won’t be part of this. I won’t touch his filthy, infected blood. I won’t assist him in any way. We shouldn’t be healing him, we should be putting him in the ground. If any of you had any sense—“
Alissa covers the distance between her and the doctor in a blinding instant. He rears back as she closes in on him, his eyes flashing to the gun still pointed at the floor. Then she moves, fast as a viper, punching him solidly in the face with her right hand. The hand holding the gun. The doctor goes down, his body thumping to the floor.
“Do you need him?” she asks Leah, never looking away from the moaning man at her feet.
“I’ll be less inclined to help you if you shoot him, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“It’s not. I’m asking if you need him to help with Jordan or can you do it alone? Can I keep him here on the floor?”
“I’d prefer it, actually,” Leah replies.
“Good. Then that�
�s where he stays. Jordan,” Alissa calls out to me, still not turning from the doctor.
“Yeah?”
“If she does anything that looks shady, you tell me.”
“I will.”
“For as long as he can,” Leah says. She’s already at a cart pulling out gloves, gauze packets, needles, small bottles of liquid. “He’s about to meet Sister Morphine in a second.”
“I’m not opposed to that,” I tell her as I collapse back onto the bed. My last remnants of energy are spent. The action in the room is over, my adrenaline is gone and my brain is back on pain watch. It sucks.
“I didn’t think you would be,” Leah mutters, still rifling through drawers.
She finds whatever she was looking for then wheels the tray full of goodies over beside me. She looks down at my face as she snaps on her gloves.
“Are you allergic to anything?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Don’t call me ‘ma’am’ or I’ll pull the painkillers. I’m not that old.”
“Got it.”
“Have you ever been under anesthetic before?”
“Are you putting him completely under?” Alissa asks, sounding amazed and horrified.
“I wish I could. Even through the morphine, this is going to hurt like hell. But, no, I’m not.”
“Then why are you asking?”
“To gauge his tolerance to drugs.”
“I’ve been under,” I tell her. “I had my wisdom teeth pulled a couple years ago. They put me on Vicodin afterward.”
“And how did you react to that?”
“It made me tired but it took away the pain.”
“Right answer. Alright, let’s get started.”
I hear the flap at the entrance of the tent being pulled aside. My heart slams in my chest, my eyes flying to Alissa. The doctor is on the floor too far to the right to be visible until they come fully inside, but Ali is exposed. Luckily those reflexes of hers are still in gear because she’s hidden the gun behind her back before it could be seen.
“Everything alright in here?” the man calls inside.
Leah moves to the entrance where she takes a defensive stance. “Yes. If we need help we’ll call for it. Now close that door, please. We have an open wound in here. He’s already at risk for infections without you letting every piece of sand, dust and dirt in all of Oregon flood right in.”