Rollie released a long, tired sigh. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Despite her illness, she’s still incredibly perceptive. Cora, I swear to you: we are done. This,” he said, waving his hand at the stretcher beneath her, then the medical cart, “has shown me it’s impossible to ensure we stay within the boundaries you and I established.”
“It took this for you to realize that?” she asked, raising one eyebrow.
“No,” he said softly. “It took Finn for me to realize it.”
Finn’s chest tightened, and he glanced at Lily, hoping she understood why he’d played up Cora’s feelings toward him.
Her attention fixed on the ground, she didn’t acknowledge him.
“I’m mothballing the project,” Rollie continued, “which is more reason not to tell him. If Kristian knows, it’ll be harder for him to give this up.”
“What are you talking about?” Finn asked, the sting from his abrasions flaring.
Shaking her head, Cora bypassed the overturned examining table and moved outside. Standing among the dormant weeds, she held the space blanket tightly around her.
Something bumped into Finn’s back, and he spun around and accepted a gear pouch from Kristian.
“Sorry for the rough treatment earlier.”
“Drop dead.” Finn hurriedly put on the suit as Lily, still in the corridor, did the same.
Kristian surveyed the room and located Cora, in the field. “I want things to be better between us,” he said in a surprisingly gentle tone.
“Give me my sweatshirt.”
He grabbed a plastic bag from the corridor and tossed it to her.
“And my satchel and scalpels.” She stepped out of sight, regaining a modicum of privacy while she put her top back on.
Kristian gesticulated to Rollie that they shouldn’t return her blades.
Finn had to agree that doing so right now could be deadly for them all.
“She’ll need them to survive on her own, as is her wish,” Rollie said loudly, clearly for Cora’s benefit.
She stepped into view. “My things.”
Crossing his arms over his chest, Rollie mouthed the word “go” to Kristian.
Kristian stalked into the hallway, almost knocking into Lily.
“Not a word,” he said to her.
She huffed. “You’re a hypocritical, chauvinistic pig.”
Finn stifled a smile. No doubt she had a few choice words lined up for him, too.
Returning moments later, Kristian handed the items to Cora, and quickly retreated.
“I’m sick of fighting,” he said from the interior wall.
“That’s only because you’ve lost. If you didn’t worship the memory of a man who tortured me, and thousands of others, I’d still be giving you monthly blood specimens.”
Kristian raised his index finger. “Ulrich’s experiments at the work camp were meant to ultimately save lives. He took far too many liberties in the name of the ‘Greater Good,’ but that doesn’t change the fact that people will keep dying because of your selfishness. All those tiny, burned bodies you saw lined up on the lawn after the Slocum, that’s nothing compared to those that will stack up outside morgues and in freezer trucks if a pandemic hits New York City.”
Her face had twisted in anguish.
“I know those memories haunt you. My family still hurts, too, from our loss.” Kristian put his hand to his heart. “I read in the library archives about the hero diplomas. The empress of Germany presented them to fifty-one nurses, but not you. If you’d received one, I’m sure it would be in that bag of yours. You wish you could have saved even more people that day. This is your chance.”
Momentarily, Finn thought she might acquiesce. Then her expression hardened.
“This latest theory of yours,” she said, her voice rising, “will lead you to the same place as all the others—a dead end.”
Kristian shook his head. “Not this time. All we need is thirty units of your blood, and your permission to let us conduct a trial on the island, aboveground.” He stepped toward her. “Sylvia’s the same passionate woman you once knew, even when a sliver of light or a whisper is enough to make her wish she were dead. You’d enjoy seeing her again, and watching her heal through your generosity. And then we’ll use that same technology to help the world prepare for the next viral threat.”
Shaking off the vision of a brighter future, Finn marveled at Kristian’s skill in manipulation.
“I do care about Sylvia,” Cora said, rubbing her pocked cheek. “And mankind. Just because I’m stranded here doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten the value of their lives.” She gestured toward Manhattan. “Unfortunately, though, I’ve realized that the power that would come with harnessing my immunities, in your hands, could do more harm than good.”
“You conniving bitch,” Kristian said, his sneer visible through the protective face shield.
“Kristian!” Rollie barked.
“You think I should take that from her?” He turned to Cora. “My motives have always been pure—not that you’d understand morality. As Ulrich liked to say, you’re just a lowly mutt, no different from any other lab animal.”
“What would you do with a vaccine?” she asked, clearly choosing not to dignify his insult with a reaction. “Who would get the first doses?”
“Americans,” Kristian stated. “Every single one of them, regardless of race, color, or gender.”
“What about the people in the Mideast? And China? Would you help them next?”
“You’re too ignorant and simpleminded to understand geopolitics.”
“Boys, let’s go home,” Rollie said, stepping between Kristian and Cora.
“Am I the only one here who cares about Mom?” Kristian asked.
“Cut the family loyalty crap,” Finn spat. “Two hours ago, you hit me on the head with a pipe and tied me to a table! You’re pathetic.”
“Boys!” barked Rollie, but Kristian’s arm was already in motion. His fist connected with Finn’s mask, and the pain from the whiplash momentarily stunned Finn.
His ears rung, and he realized it was Lily’s screaming.
He charged at Kristian and pinned him to the wall.
Kristian’s arm snaked around Finn’s neck in a chokehold. Gasping, Finn writhed to free himself.
“He can’t breathe,” Finn heard Lily say.
Kristian loosened his hold just enough to free Finn’s air passage.
“I’ll kill you if you ever touch her again.”
“You do have feelings for the mutt.” Kristian made a tsking sound, and his visor knocked against Finn’s. “Poor Lily. Such a sweet girl, whereas you can never touch that petri dish.”
Finn kneed him in the balls. Kristian groaned and doubled over.
When he stood back up, he was holding the Lyme syringe, which he must have grabbed from the ground.
Rollie, Cora, and Lily screamed for him to stop.
“You’re insane!” Finn yelled.
“What genius isn’t?” He thrust the needle at Finn, who jumped out of its range.
The edges of the room and the others faded away. All Finn could see was the hypodermic pointed at him. His hands outstretched, he darted around his brother and grabbed an instrument from the tray.
Kristian sprang toward him, and Finn waved the surgical knife in a defensive arc.
The blade met resistance, and Kristian grunted as a ripping sound signaled that his suit had been punctured.
The knife fell from Finn’s grip and clanged against the ground. A moment later, Kristian’s syringe landed near it with a ping.
Cora’s wail splintered the fading echoes.
Clutching his abdomen, Kristian fell against the cart, bringing it down with him.
A sharp crack filled the room like a rifle fired from close range.
&n
bsp; Medical equipment clattered as it hit the ground.
Finn gaped at his brother and then his empty hand.
“Oh my God,” Lily said with a gasp and rushed to him as Cora shrieked, “What have you done?!” and leaped over the toppled examining table.
The women almost collided above Kristian.
“Your pathogens, get back!” Rollie yelled to Cora and rushed to Kristian’s side.
She gasped and sprinted back to her spot beyond the outer doorframe.
“You, in the hall!” he barked at Lily, then said to Finn, “Help me get this off him!” and began cutting the Teflon away from Kristian’s abdomen. Crimson red spilled onto the floor.
“He’s losing blood fast.”
Finn yanked on the material. “I’m sorry. I’m so—”
“There’s no time for that.”
“Should I call nine-one-one?” Lily asked, fumbling in her bag.
“They won’t get here in time,” Rollie said, “There’s an emergency kit in our lab. Can you find your way back to the tunnel entrance?”
Lily scrunched her face in concentration. “I’m not sure. I was running. There were so many trees.”
Rollie locked his eyes on hers. “You can do this. Head toward the single-story maintenance building, that way,” he said, pointing. “Once there, you’ll recognize the way. Be careful not to rip your suit again. Now go.”
She nodded and ran down the corridor.
Finn returned his attention to the horror before him. His dad had resumed cutting away the suit, the gap now revealing a deep gash above Kristian’s navel.
Rollie surveyed the medical instruments scattered across the rubbish. “Cora, get the suture kit from my duffel.”
Now wearing an N-95 mask and gloves that must have come from her messenger bag, she retrieved the kit, handed it to Rollie, and returned to her post outside. “Please don’t let him die,” she said, sobbing. “Please.”
“He needs a transfusion. We’ve got to get him to a hospital before . . .” His father’s voice trailed off.
Finn could tell his brother wouldn’t make it that far.
Seconds Later
lood covered Finn’s hands. No matter how much pressure he applied, it continued to slip past his fingers, pooling around Kristian’s large intestine. “Hurry! I can’t stop it!”
“Let him concentrate,” Cora said from the doorway, her hands raking its concrete frame.
Seemingly oblivious to both, Rollie continued suturing a severed artery in Kristian’s abdominal cavity.
Fighting off a wave of nausea at the sight of his brother’s innards and the warm, wet sensation of so much blood, Finn gritted his teeth, willing his father to work faster.
“Almost ready.” Rollie tied off the stitch and rethreaded the needle. “I need to get where you are. Switch to one hand, and apply more pressure.”
While pressing firmly, Finn shifted to give his dad more space. He leaned over to make eye contact with his brother, and a tear landed on the inside of his face shield, directly above Kristian’s cheek.
“Stay with me. Milo needs you; Hannah needs you; Mom needs you.” Only minutes earlier, he’d threatened to kill Kristian. Now Finn wished he could take it back. “I need you.”
Kristian’s pupils seemed to lock onto Finn, then his eyes rolled back into his head.
A memory pushed through Finn’s panic, at the movies, sharing popcorn with Kristian while watching Terminator 2. He’d been too young for the R-rated film, so Kristian had sneaked him in. So many times, Kristian had been the big brother that every younger brother wished he had. Finn blinked back hot tears.
He cuffed the side of Kristian’s hood. “You can’t die now, not before paying me back for that kick to the balls. You hear me?”
The sound of Kristian’s labored breathing through the respirator dimmed to a barely audible gasping.
“No!” Finn shouted. “Don’t you dare give up!”
“Is he breathing?” Cora asked, her usually gritty voice now laced with shrapnel.
Finn put his ear to the side of Kristian’s face shield. “Barely.”
“He’s lost too much blood,” Rollie said without looking up. “He’s not going to make it.”
Cora wailed, and the desperate sound ended in a series of racking coughs, barely muffled by her surgical mask. With one hand clutching the door frame and the other pressed to her chest, she began hyperventilating.
Her entire body swayed.
Finn feared that she might collapse, but neither he nor his father could leave Kristian.
“Wait.” Finn sat up. “What’s my blood type? Is it the same?” “No.” Rollie grabbed another suture thread. “If it were, you’d already have a needle in your arm.”
“Cora,” Kristian stammered so feebly, Finn thought he might have imagined it. He brought his head closer to his brother’s visor but Kristian’s lips didn’t move again.
Why had Kristian mentioned her? Finn glanced at Cora, whose wheezing had become interlaced with appeals to God, and back to his brother. And why was she so emotional, so desperate for him to survive?
Kristian’s eyes had closed, his head slumped to one side. No! “He’s unconscious.”
Rollie checked his pulse. “He needs CPR,” he said, rising on his knees. “Move.”
Finn scrambled out of the way, and Rollie removed his hood and then Kristian’s.
“CPR means he’s not breathing?” Cora asked quietly from the doorway. “My God!” her voice rose to a wail. “He’s dead!”
“Not yet. Keep praying.” Rollie began chest compressions.
“He asked for her. For Cora,” Finn said in disbelief. “Why would he?”
“He did?” Cora asked in a shrill tone. “He needs me. Let me go to him.”
“No,” Rollie said without breaking his rhythm. “He was referring to your blood.” He gave Kristian two breaths and resumed the compressions. “You’re O positive. A universal donor, just like him.”
“We’re a match,” she whispered, gazing into her cupped palm, then fisted her hand. “It’s the only way,” she said, looking straight at Rollie as she crossed the threshold. He returned her stare while continuing to count.
Finn’s heart raced. “No way. Cora cannot be his donor. She’ll kill him!”
Cora pushed the N-95 mask against her face. “Finn’s right. It’s too dangerous.”
“He’ll die for certain if we don’t,” Rollie said, winded from his effort.
She fidgeted with the tips of her latex gloves. “What if—”
“We’ll figure it out later. If he makes it.” Rollie dropped his head to expel air into Kristian’s mouth.
“Are you crazy?” Finn jumped to his feet. “This is murder. Her pathogens. He’ll never . . .” Even as he said it, he knew there was no alternative.
“Finn’s right. Rollie, I can’t do this.” Cora tugged at her crucifix pendant. “If it doesn’t work, I’ll have killed my—”
“I need tubing and IV needles. Where’s Lily? We can’t wait for her. There might be some in this mess. Start looking.” Rollie listened for Kristian’s breathing. “I’ve stabilized him, for now. Hurry.”
Cora’s eyes flashed with hope. “He might make it?”
“Only with your blood.” Rollie rifled through the fragments within reach.
She dropped to the ground behind the toppled examining table to search for the needed supplies.
Still shocked by the plan and Cora’s willingness, Finn tried to focus on the immediate task. He spotted a handful of white packets beside the overturned cart and crawled over to them, his slick gloves leaving behind red streaks. In the dim light, he strained to read one of their labels: gauze. Continuing his search, he turned toward Cora and the upended table.
“I found tubing,” she called out and tossed the pa
ckage to Rollie.
Finn shuffled closer to her. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because,” she said, furrowing her brow, “I have to.”
“This is your chance to be rid of him.” Just voicing the notion sickened him, yet he needed to understand. “If he makes it, he’ll never leave you alone.”
“The pain will be worse if he dies.”
“This was my fault,” Finn said, choking on the words. “You don’t need to do this to clear your conscience.”
She shook her head. “That’s not it.”
“Then why?” he asked, squinting to distinguish her face from the sunlight behind her.
Her sky-blue eyes looked heartbreakingly soulful. Finn felt the urge to embrace her, despite all the reasons he knew he shouldn’t. He looked down at the river of brittle vines that ran past him. Soon they would be supple again. The seasons would repeat. If Kristian lived, he would find a way to torment her despite their father’s edict. Cora would pass the next years the same way she had the last hundred.
He pictured the scars that traversed her body and remembered what she’d said about her interior being even uglier. Although incomparably prettier than Frankenstein, she, too, had been transformed by scientists who’d believed they could play God. It made perfect sense that she’d revolted against the family that had viewed her as their creation—and property. So why was she helping them now?
He leaned forward and lifted her chin, so she had no choice but to look at him. “You owe me an answer.”
Her eyelids fluttered, their long lashes shining with tears.
Rollie called for them to hurry, but Finn didn’t stir.
Neither did Cora.
At last, she met his gaze. “I love him.”
He must have misheard, yet her words had been crystal clear. “How could you possibly?”
Already turning away from him, she plucked a package from among a scattering of antiseptic wipes. “Needles!”
“Bring them here!” Rollie commanded.
“Where do you want me?” she asked, rushing to his side.
“On the gurney.” Rollie connected a needle to each end of the tubing. “So the blood can flow down to Kristian. Finn, help her.”
The Vines Page 35