“Zander,” I said, tentatively. He didn’t respond. “Hey, Zan, I need to look at that hand again, okay?”
Still nothing. My chest began to ache, and I felt my pulse quicken as a chill ran down my spine. Something about his breathing was all wrong. It rattled out in short, shallow bursts, his chest barely rising with the effort. I put my hand on his shoulder and shook him. “Zander, wake up.”
He moaned into his arm, but otherwise he did not stir. I rushed around the side of the desk and gently slid Zander’s sweaty hair away from his face. “Shit!”
His face had lost all color and a thin sheen of sweat covered every inch of his pale skin. Even through the thin cotton of his t-shirt, Zander’s skin felt cold and clammy against mine. I pressed my wrist to his temple. He was burning up. His once bright and mischievous eyes looked sunken against his cheeks. His mouth hung slack as he struggled to take in enough air.
“Oh God, oh God!” I raked my hands through my scalp as my thoughts crashed around in my head. I scrambled through the lessons my parents had taught me over the years, grasping for one of their pearls of wilderness survival wisdom. “Damn it! What is wrong with him? Dad, what do I do?”
Fever, sweat, and chills...Infections are what kills. My dad’s words came to me, as surely as if he had whispered in my ear.
I reached into my pocket, slid the knife out, and popped the blade in one swift motion. The weight of it comforted me some and I carefully sliced through Zander’s bandages. He grimaced involuntarily a few times, but his eyes remained tightly closed. When his arm was free of the wrapping, I slowly rolled it over, exposing the palm of his hand. The edges of his wound were bright red, with red lines branching off in all directions. The worst of the damage, near the crook of his thumb, was now purple and oozing a thick, greenish liquid.
“No, no, no!” I raged, picking up the stapler and chucking it at the wall. It shattered with a satisfying clang, sending a shower of sharp plastic scattering across the floor. I turned back to Zander, lightly slapping his cheek as I yelled in his face. “Zander, wake up!”
My heart was banging hard against my chest, and a deep-seated ache settled behind my breast bone. Zander’s only response to my abuse was a strangled groan as his head slumped hard against the desk.
“Goddamn it,” I yelled, lifting his head back onto his arm. “Jesus, Zander. I need you to wake up. Open your eyes, please!”
“Liv, what the hell are you—” Micah froze, gaping in the doorway.
“Don’t just stand there,” I snapped, gesturing to Zander’s limp form. “Help me get him out to the mat.”
His hands shook as he slid them under Zander’s shoulders. He stared at me, with wide eyes, as I struggled to get a solid grip on his feet. We grunted in tandem as we hefted Zander from the bucket he was perched on, and dragged him out of the storage room. As soon as they saw us, Falisha and Riley shot to their feet and rushed over to help us lower him carefully to the mat.
“Liv, what the fuck happened?” Micah gritted out, as we lowered his cousin to the floor. “He was fine ten minutes ago.”
“He was never fine, Micah,” I huffed, lowering myself to Zander’s side. “It’s his hand. I think it’s infected, and it’s making him sick.”
“No way,” Jake rushed over carrying a pile of clean towels. “Sepsis?”
“I don’t know,” I croaked, swallowing back tears as I took the stack from his hands. “He needs antibiotics, like now. Somebody grab that water!”
I folded the softest towel in the pile and slid it beneath Zander’s head. Falisha set the box of meds next to me as Micah and Riley dragged the orange jug over. Then, she grabbed a small towel, dipped it into the jug, and wiped at the sweat on Zander’s brow. Micah wrestled Zander’s boots off his feet, while Jake, Riley, and I dug through the stash of medicine we had found, in search of antibiotics.
“Chantix?” Jake said, tossing aside a rust colored prescription bottle. “Wow. Just, wow.”
“This one says Erythromycin,” Riley said, holding the bottle out to me. “That sounds like an antibiotic, doesn’t it?”
“Let me see.” I grabbed it from her hand, squinting at the label. “Avoid exposure to direct sunlight. For the treatment of moderate to severe acne. Yeah, it’s an antibiotic, just not a very strong one. We’ll have to like double or triple the dose, I think.”
“How are we going to get him to take it, if he won’t wake up, Liv?” Falisha asked.
He hadn’t regained consciousness and there was no way to know for sure how long he had been out before I found him, so there was no time to waste. He needed the medicine, so we were going to have to improvise.
“Ry, find me a piece of paper and a pen,” I said. “Micah, grab me one of those free weights over there.”
Micah raced over to the pile of weights and returned with a five-pound disk. Riley was right behind him with clipboard and pen that held the weight room sign-up sheet. I yanked the paper from the clamp and folded it down the middle, then placed two antibiotic pills and four Tylenol into the fold. Holding the weight firmly in my hands, I pounded at them through the paper, crushing the tables into a fine powder.
“Water,” I said, holding out my hand as Jake slid me a small cup.
Despite the fear in his eyes, Jake’s hands were rock steady. I handed him the pen and instructed him to take it apart while I emptied the white powder into the cup. He handed me the empty tube from the dismantled pen and I used it to stir the mixture together.
“Falisha, can you sit him up for me?” I asked.
She nodded grimly, carefully placing Zander’s head into her lap. I dipped the tube into the antibiotic mixture, placed my mouth over the end, and sucked some of the mixture up into the straw. The second the bitterness hit my tongue, I wedged my index finger into my mouth and capped the end of the straw. I slid the bottom of the straw into Zander’s mouth and let a small amount of the liquid drip past his lips.
At first, he made no efforts to swallow, but as soon as the bitter liquid hit the back of his throat, instinct took over and his muscles contracted. With a sigh of relief, I dipped the straw back in and continued the process until I had managed to coax most of the mixture down his throat.
When I was done, I slumped into a heap at his side, exhausted and mentally drained. One by one, the group dissipated, leaving me alone with Zander as I struggled to gather my thoughts. After a few minutes, I rolled over to my side and propped myself up on my elbow. My eyes locked on a bead of sweat, as it rolled down the side of his tightened face.
“I am so sorry,” I whispered. With a shaky hand, I smoothed his hair back and pressed my lips lightly against his temple, confirming that his fever was holding firm. My head sagged against his shoulder. “Damn it, Zan, please be okay. You have to be okay.”
I sunk into the soft vinyl mat and threw my arm over my face. Despite my fervent resistance, this boy I had known for less than twenty-four hours, had gotten to me. From the moment Zander walked into the diner, I had found myself inexplicably, and undeniably, drawn to him. There was something about him, and I had no idea what that something was, that just made sense to me. The connection, however confounding, felt right somehow. No matter how hard I tried to deny it, I knew I could not walk away from it—from him.
I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked up into the worried eyes of my best friend. Micah was fast at her heels, brow knit with concern.
“How’s he doing?” Riley asked as Micah slid his hand into hers.
“He’s sick, Ry,” I said, looking up at her. “Like really, really sick.”
“It’s going to be okay, Liv.” Riley sat down next to me and rubbed my back. “Zander will be fine. The medicine is going to work. It has to.”
“Is he? I am way out of my league here, guys,” I said, cradling my head in my hands. “He needs a real doctor, a hospital, and I.V. antibiotics, not acne meds and Tylenol. Jesus, what was I thinking? I should have—I don’t know.”
“Liv, listen to me,” M
icah said, dropping to his knees. “You did everything you could to help him and I promise you it was a hell of a lot more than any of the rest of us could have done. Z is one of the strongest people I have ever met and we have to believe he will beat this. He’s like you; a survivor.”
“I hope you are right,” I said, swiping angrily at my tears.
As if on cue, the florescent lights above us began flickering and clicking in an angry rhythm. The light show had everyone’s nerves on edge and was certainly not helping to ease the headache that had been weighing me down. At the moment, I was afraid my head might actually explode.
“Can somebody hand me the bandages and stuff?” I asked, rubbing at my temples. The pain in my skull was really starting to piss me off.
For the next few minutes, I distracted myself from the agonizing migraine I was brewing cleaning and redressing Zander’s wound. I took my time, applying nearly half the tube of antibiotic ointment this time, before gauzing and re-wrapping the injury. Part of me wished Zander would wake up, but I was grateful he had fallen into a more restful looking slumber.
The weight room had cooled a little with the added insulation on the outer wall, but the difference was hardly significant enough to lift our weary spirits. We all lumbered about the room in a sweaty, lethargic trance. Merely existing in this heat was as draining on our sanity as it was on our bodies. Riley and Falisha had taken to giving each other new hairstyles. Falisha was now sporting a neat crossed-chopstick bun at the top of her head. She hummed quietly to herself, twisting Riley’s short hair back into tiny cornrows, while Micah and Jake debated the merits of Metallica versus ACDC.
I mostly tuned them all out, wiping the sweat from Zander’s head as I watched his chest rise and fall. Every once in a while, he would mutter something unintelligible, but he did not wake. I felt so helpless watching him fight a battle with his own body. The lights continued to flicker erratically above us, lulling me into a sort of catatonic state.
“Uhh, guys?” Jake turned the stolen iPod so the screen faced us.
“What’s wrong, Jake?” I asked, sitting up to get a closer look.
The image on the screen was pulsing, fading in and out at exactly the same rhythm as the florescent lights above us. Something inside the device shorted out sending a small rivulet of smoke up into the air, the screen went blank, and everything went dark.
Chapter 15
Plans
“Homer’s Deli, hands down,” said Micah. “Corned beef on marble rye bread with thousand island dressing and extra sauerkraut. Oh, and some of that sweet pasta salad with the peppers and onions. Mmm.”
“Gross, dude. Only old people eat sauerkraut,” said Jake. The weight room was almost completely dark now, but even in the faint glow of the cell phone resting on the floor, I could make out the disgusted scowl on his face. “I’m going with garlic chicken, fried rice, and boiled dumplings— you know, the ones that look like little monkey brains? Yeah, and then on the way back, I am gonna inhale some of those French fries with sea-salt from Wendy’s. How ‘bout you, Falisha?”
“I don’t know,” she said, dismissively. “Just skip me.”
“Come on, Falisha, you could at least pretend to play along,” said Riley. “It’s not like we have anything better to do.”
“Ugh, whatever,” Falisha sighed.
“Well?” Riley prodded. “If you could have anything to eat right now, what would it be?”
“Jesus, Tinkerbelle, would you give me a second?” Falisha snapped. “Okay, before my gran died, we had this tradition. We got up at the crack of dawn every Saturday and threw together a batch of chocolate chip pancakes. We’d make a complete mess of the kitchen, dancing and goofing around while Gran and I sang old church songs.”
“Chocolate for breakfast?” Riley’s voice carried a smile. “Yum, sign me up.”
“To be honest, the pancakes were actually pretty terrible and we burned them almost every time,” she laughed, but then her voice cracked. “Still, it was kind of our thing, you know? Up until—.”
An awkward silence fell over the room and thoughts drifted away to friends and family on the outside. Though none seemed willing to speak their fears, they lingered above us ever present.
“How’s he doing, Liv?” Riley asked, shifting the subject.
“He seems to be resting comfortably,” I dodged the question, not wanting to worry the group. The truth was, Zander was in trouble if we didn’t get him some serious medical attention. Soon. “How much longer, Jake?”
It had been nearly two hours since things had gone dark. Jake had insisted we wait a while before reconnecting the batteries to our devices and during that hour of complete darkness, we did everything we could think of to keep ourselves distracted. It began with a rather unimpressive round of “have you ever?” which quickly fizzled out and morphed into a heated discussion on the implausibility of the show LOST. Micah and Jake were, yet again, on opposite sides of that debate. We were all tiring of their bickering, when someone had initiated our current source of entertainment: a rather painful conversation about our favorite foods.
I ignored the rumbling in my stomach, and skipped our last meal break, in favor of watching Zander breathe. Our snack stash had dwindled to potato chips and melted chocolate bars, neither of which was particularly appetizing when you were trapped in an underground sauna that reeked of musty gym socks and muscle cream. Without the circulation provided by the ventilation systems, things were unnaturally still and the stagnant air pressed down upon us like a lead blanket fresh from the dryer.
In the absence of light, the heat just felt more oppressive.
Zander’s head lay motionless on his towel pillow at my side and I continued to stroke his sweaty hair, hoping it somehow comforted him. I had no idea if he was in any pain, but the possibility he was suffering tied my stomach in knots. He was going to need meds again soon and I was a little concerned about having to play chemistry lab in the dark.
“There’s no way to know for sure. Based on what Taylor said, I’d say we have maybe two to three more hours, but we don’t know when that loop started, and— ” he didn’t finish.
He didn’t have to. We knew things were a crapshoot at this point. Our plan was little more than ignorant guess work based on vaguely delivered half-truths. All we could do was hope for the best, which was becoming more difficult as the dark minutes stretched on.
“Goddamn it,” I said, suddenly panicked. “Zander is burning up and he has been out for hours. I’m afraid he doesn’t have that kind of time.”
“We don’t have a choice, Liv,” urged Riley, her voice dripping with worry as she grabbed onto my wrist. She knew me too well and could already see where this was headed. “We don’t know how bad it is out there.”
“That’s just it,” I said, pleading with her. “We don’t know for sure. Maybe Tara was right. Maybe—”
“No,” Jake said, cutting me off. “We are not doing this. Tara was an idiot and her stupid God will save me crap probably got her, and the rest of those guys, killed!”
“You don’t know that,” hissed Falisha. “They could be okay. They might have found help.”
“You’re right, Falisha. I’m sorry,” he said, looking just that. “Look, I am sure that Zack and the others are fine. I just meant that until we know for sure what is out there, we can’t just go traipsing around like it’s a casual stroll in the park.”
“I agree,” I said. “That’s why I am going alone.”
“No,” screamed Riley. “No way in hell.”
“Riley,” I said.
“No, Liv, don’t do this to me.” She had both hands wrapped around my arm, now. “Please, Liv? You don’t understand. You are the closest thing I have to family. You and Micah are all I have left. If something happened to you, Liv, I—.”
“Come on, Ry,” I pleaded with her. “This isn’t just a cold, okay? Zander is really sick. If he doesn’t get the right medicine, the infection will spread to his blood and then
there won’t be anything we can do. Do you know what that means?”
“I—,” she said weakly.
“Riley, Zander will die.” I was physically painful just to say the words.
Her hand dropped from my arm, and her face fell along with it. Tears rolled down her face, but she made no effort to wipe them. And then her tiny arms were locked around my neck.
“Fine,” she said, finally. “But, so help me, Liv, if you don’t make it back here alive…I swear on all that is good and holy, I will kill you myself!”
“I’ll be fine, Riley, I promise,” I said, trying to ease her worry. “I’ll just go up, see what we are dealing with and come right back.”
“Liv,” she said, gritting her teeth with worry.
“I’ll be back before you know it, Ry,” I said, prying her arms free. “I’m fast, remember?”
“And I’m coming with you,” Falisha said. It was clearly not an offer.
***
“Ready?” Falisha asked as she joined me at the door.
“Not really,” I shrugged. “You?”
“Nope,” she agreed, scraping her hair back.
“Awesome.” I stepped through the door and headed for the stairs without as much as a backward glance. I couldn’t risk seeing the look on Riley’s face as I walked away.
“Right behind you, Sarge,” she laughed nervously, tucking the end of her lavender, terry cloth headdress away from her face.
As a last minute precaution, Jake had insisted that each of us be fitted with a wet towel that wrapped around our head and neck. I had protested initially, but it turned out he had been right. The air became drier and more difficult to tolerate the closer we got to the door, and I was instantly grateful for the moisture dripping down my back.
“Sarge? That’s funny,” I said, rolling my eyes for no one’s benefit but my own. “Just try to keep up, okay.”
We inched our way up the stairs, sticking close to the wall opposite the metal railing. The heat in the stairwell was not much greater than it had been in the weight room, but we were still technically underground. After what felt like hours, we finally reached the door at the top of the steps and chose the door on the left that led into the boy’s locker room. It was closer to our destination; the main lobby. I grabbed the hand towel from my back pocket, then folded it over on itself and used it to grip the doorknob.
Killshot (Icarus Series Book 1) Page 13