“I think I’m—”
“Harper, come see me later so we can discuss her sessions,” Sanchez said, cutting me off. Or, you could just ignore me.
When she left, the rest of us returned to our meal, chewing absentmindedly.
“This sucks,” Sarah said under her breath, and we all shifted our attention to her. She looked around sheepishly. “I mean, this whole learning how to survive…thing. I already miss mani-pedis.”
Laughter broke out around the table. Harper stomped his foot and tried not to choke on his coffee as he swallowed. “I’m gonna miss wet t-shirt contests.”
“Reality TV,” Stacey added, and Tanya agreed.
Biggs smiled. “My mom’s chicken and dumplings.”
“Yeah, definitely Mom’s cooking,” Harper agreed. “She could make a mean meatloaf.”
“What about you, Baby Girl?” Harper asked, taking a sip from his mug. His eyebrows danced as he waited for my response, and I knew he hoped I’d say something inappropriate.
Everyone was focused on me, waiting. There were a lot of things that came to mind: fresh-made saltwater taffy, Bob Ross reruns, pub crawls with Dani… “It’s hard to choose, but definitely fireworks shows on the Fourth of July.”
“I didn’t know you liked them so much,” Sarah said, raising her eyebrows in surprise. There was a lot Sarah didn’t know about me.
“Ever since we were freshmen in high school, my best friend and I would sit up on my roof, drink wine coolers, and watch the fireworks. We looked forward to it every year.” I smiled. “Even after we moved away, we’d always come home for that.”
“I know what I’m gonna to miss,” Dave said, interrupting my happy recollections. “Red Sox games.”
I rolled my eyes. Surprise.
“What about you, Jake?” Sarah asked. He was the only one at the table who hadn’t said anything.
He glanced at me, then around the table. We all waited in anticipation.
“Hurry it up, people!” Sanchez called from the doorway. “Harper, Biggs, I need to talk to you.”
Reminiscing forgotten, we hurried to clean up. I gathered the dishes from the table and made my way into the kitchen to help Stacey.
I had just set the armload down on a stainless steel counter when I heard Dave clear his throat behind me—my body stiffened instantly. I spun and attempted to step around him, spiteful thoughts snarling in my mind, but he reached for my arm. The moment his unwelcome fingers wrapped around my wrist, he recoiled like he’d been burned. His mouth hung open, and his wide eyes glanced back and forth between his hand and my arm.
“Shit, Dave. I’m not contagious!” I blurted. I can’t believe I ever had sex with you!
“Sorry,” he apologized hollowly. He was nervous, frustrated, and filled with regret—his emotions were more palpable than they’d ever been before.
I was tempted to shout obscenities at him, but he was too pathetic. Instead, I sighed and rolled my eyes. Part of me, the stupid, kind part, began to forgive him.
His head was bowed in shame, and he wouldn’t meet my eyes as he said, “I’m sorry for what I did.” Even though I could feel how truly sorry he was, I waited for him to continue, finding vindictive pleasure in watching him squirm. “I was drunk and pissed off. I wasn’t thinking clearly,” he said, giving me nothing but lame excuses.
My anger flared, stifling the forgiveness that had begun to take hold in my heart. “You can’t fix this with apologies and excuses, Dave,” I snapped. “They were going to kill me!”
He breathed heavily, seeming to contemplate what he’d say next.
Growing impatient, I spat, “Just leave me alone,” and turned to walk away.
“Zo, I fucked up. I’ve been a mess because of everything that happened with Sammy and us, and…I was taking it out on you. I’m sorry. I just…” His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides as his eyes darted around the industrial kitchen. “I just can’t stand the thought of you hating me.”
For the first time since the cabin, I really looked at him. The old Dave had vanished—his features were drawn, and the egotistical gleam in his eyes had dulled.
“I don’t hate you, Dave. I just don’t trust you anymore.” I turned back to the dishes stacked on the counter, wishing he’d just go away.
He stepped up beside me. “Do you want me to help you with those?”
My palm went up instinctively. “We aren’t friends anymore, so let’s not pretend we are, okay?” Irritated, I escaped the confines of the kitchen, making my way outside and heading toward the hospital. Finding Harper and starting my medical training would be the best way to keep my mind off Dave.
Having fled from the barracks without a jacket, I pulled my sleeves over my hands and folded my arms in an effort to insulate against the cold. It was about noon, and the sun was peeking through ominous, ever-changing clouds as they sped across the sky.
Clear skies seemed like a distant memory, just like my life before the Virus. I had to concentrate hard to remember the way some things smelled, like laundry fresh from the dryer, while others were still easy to recall—Dad’s scent of woodchips after working in his shop and Dani’s candy-scented perfume.
I found myself wishing I’d done things differently, that I’d embraced life more. I used to be a fun person. Dani and I would laugh so hard our faces hurt and we nearly peed our pants. When was the last time I really laughed? I thought of Harper and appreciated our flirtatious friendship all the more. I used to be adventurous, too. I searched for the elusive Big Foot, went white water rafting, and whittled wood with my dad.
But the last five years were a blur of work and horrible dates. When did I change? Between graduating from high school and leaving for the East Coast, I’d managed to lose myself. Had I known life was as changeable as the clouds looming above, would I have taken a different path? Fortunately, I’d reached the hospital—I didn’t have to think about it anymore.
As I entered the boxy building for the first time, I took in the bleach-white walls, textured ceiling tiles, and chaotically arranged chairs. Fake plants occupied the corners of the ER waiting room, looking too lively and out of place. I was glad there was daylight so I could see where I was going—unlike the barracks, the hospital wasn’t being powered by generators.
The soles of my shoes squeaked as gray and blue carpet gave way to taupe, polished vinyl floors. Generic watercolor paintings hung on the walls—a variety of flowers and leaves. I tried to imagine swarms of people rushing in and out of the emergency room doors, barking orders at one another, and hustling from one patient to the next. It disturbed me to think that the facility would never again be filled with so much energy and purpose.
“It’s about time,” Harper teased from the end of a hall. He was wearing a knee-length lab coat.
“Yeah, I hit a detour called ‘Dave’,” I told him as he ushered me into a wide-open space filled with a nurses’ station in the center, a half-dozen curtained treatment bays along the far wall, and a glass-walled medicine room immediately to my left.
“Here, put this on.” Harper gave me a lab coat of my own. “I’ve already started sorting through the meds, jotting down what we have.” He handed me the clipboard he’d been using, pointing out a couple of hard-to-pronounce terms. “These are the vaccines and compounds we need to find, if we can. Let’s finish taking inventory today, and we’ll see what else we can scrounge up tomorrow. Make sense?”
I nodded.
“Thanks, Baby Girl.”
I headed into the medicine room and started sorting through the boxes and vials in the cabinets, compiling a list of everything we had.
Morphine Sulfate Inj. – 5.5mg/mL vials – 7 boxes
Morphine Sulfate Tablets – 15 mg – 100 count/bottle – 5 bottles
“Hey Doc,” Jake said, his rumbling voice startling me.
I whirled around to find him standing in the middle of the emergency room. His intense, brown eyes were locked on me, like he was trying to will me away
with his mind. As I stared back, I wished I knew what he was thinking. I waded through my emotions, hoping to recognize foreign feelings—Jake’s feelings—but my new sensory receptors seemed to turn on and off as they pleased. Currently, they were off, providing no insight into the mysterious Jake.
Suddenly, I realized I’d been looking at him for too long. I turned back to the open cabinet, surprised by the mixture of emotions and excited energy I was feeling. I didn’t want to give either Jake or Harper the opportunity to watch my fair skin grow rosy with embarrassment. Wiping my sweaty palms on my jacket, I refocused on my task.
“So you’re finally going to let me take a look at those stitches?” Harper asked Jake, his voice growing louder as he made his way over to me. He set a tray full of shiny, scissor-esque contraptions on the counter near me and asked, “Can you find some extra sutures and add them to the tray, Baby Girl?” He winked and turned back to Jake.
“Doctor’s orders,” Jake said, sounding unconcerned. If I’d just been shot, I’d be a little more than indifferent about it.
Abruptly, Cooper bounded into the room, nails clicking on the floor and tongue hanging out. I abandoned my clipboard to pet him, and he leaned against my legs, wagging his tail enthusiastically. You saved my life too, I realized, bending down to rub his belly.
“Zoe, would you bring me that tray, please?” Harper asked from the nearest treatment bay. He sounded distracted. “Alright, let’s take a look.”
As I brought the assortment of pointy tools over, Harper motioned toward the examination table, and Jake settled on the crinkly paper covering it. Cooper followed suit, situating himself on the floor directly below his master.
Looking back up from the dog, I started to set the tray down on top of a waist-high medical cart. “Just hold it for sec, would you, Baby Girl?” Harper walked over to the sink. In his most inquisitive doctor voice he asked Jake, “How have you been feeling?” while washing his hands.
“Alright.”
Taking a clean roll of gauze from a drawer, Harper returned to his patient. “I’ve got a feeling the wound’s fine, but playing basketball with a wounded shoulder isn’t a great idea. I’m concerned you’ve pulled some of the stitches out.” Harper smiled as he put on a pair of surgical gloves and said, “Take your shirt off.”
“I’m sure it’s fine—it doesn’t hurt,” Jake grunted, pulling off his long-sleeved shirt effortlessly and exposing the most toned, masculine body I’d ever seen in person.
There was no way Harper didn’t hear my sharp intake of breath. Really? I felt unbearably uncomfortable. When was the last time I got laid? I wondered, but I couldn’t remember. Swallowing, I blushed again.
Harper cleared his throat and continued, “You’re probably right.” He was eyeing me like he’d caught me raiding the cookie jar. “But it doesn’t hurt to check,” he added.
Before he could begin examining Jake’s shoulder, the door swung open. “Harper, Summer needs you!” Clara said from the doorway. Her straight, blonde hair was tangled, and her eyes were wide with panic. “Something’s really wrong with her. She’s getting worse, and Tanya doesn’t know what to do…” Clara’s voice tapered off when her eyes settled on Jake’s bare torso.
Although only his back was visible to her, Clara didn’t seem able to peel her eyes away. Did she forget about Summer already? She looked as dumbfounded as I felt, but her heated stare told me there was something more between her and Jake. My fingers tightened around the edges of the tray before I set it down and returned to inventorying.
I remembered the look on Jake’s face the night he’d pushed me away and the scowl I’d received every time I’d encountered him since then. Are they together? Frustrating jealousy flared-up inside me.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Harper said. “Zoe, check Jake’s wounds while I’m gone.”
My heart started pounding. “But—” I was still unsure if my thing was public knowledge, and I had no idea if Jake knew. The possibility of seeing his memories and feeling his emotions was enticing, but it felt wrong—like an enormous, unforgivable invasion of privacy.
Harper grabbed his medical bag before coming over to me. He placed an encouraging hand on my shoulder. “You did a great job with Dave’s injuries. I’m sure you’ll be fine. Just make sure all his wounds are clean and the stitches are still tight. I’ll come back when I can.” Registering the concern in my eyes, he repeated, “You’ll be fine.” And with that, Harper left.
As I locked eyes with Jake, my self-consciousness resurfaced; it was both disarming and unwanted.
Jake raised an eyebrow expectantly, seeming to say, “shall we proceed?” When I didn’t respond, he looked away.
It’s the perfect opportunity to thank him, I reminded myself, but his impatience and dismissiveness made me hesitate.
Jake resituated himself on the table, making his chest and arm muscles flex, and my blood suddenly felt like lava coursing through my veins. Although unexpected, the sensation was thrilling and my body tingled with excitement. This isn’t good… Afraid of touching his skin, especially in my excited state, I made sure to grab a pair of disposable gloves from the box beside the sink after I washed my hands.
Cooper whimpered as I approached the duo, his eyes pleading for more attention. Jake bent down and lovingly stroked the dog’s head before sitting back up to watch me impassively.
As I began unwrapping his arm, I could feel his eyes on me. I could almost hear the questions forming on the tip of his tongue, but he didn’t speak. His eyes—earnest and aware of something I could neither sense nor see—betrayed his expressionless face, but only for a moment. With one blink, his revealing stare disappeared.
Knowing I wouldn’t get a better chance, I took a deep, steadying breath, and said, “I haven’t had a chance to thank you…for saving my life, I mean.” It was excruciatingly difficult trying to thank a man who could barely stand to be around me.
“No need to thank me,” he said curtly, looking through me.
The ridiculousness of his answer triggered my defenses. “Why not? I know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t—”
“But, I did. So can we just drop it, please?” His rushed, quiet tone was all I needed to get the point. Whatever the reason, he didn’t want to talk about that night in the woods.
“Yeah, sure, whatever,” I said coolly as I picked up one of the stainless steel utensils and used it to pull the matted gauze from Jake’s wound—it came off more easily than I’d expected. “What happened between you and Bennington?” I asked. Jake’s conversations with Jones and Taylor kept replaying in my head.
Jake met my eyes. “He thought he could kill me, but he was wrong.” He watched me closely, waiting for my reaction, but I just shook my head at his vagueness. I wanted to think of something clever to spit back at him, but my annoyance vanished as I cleaned the crusted blood from his skin and took my first good look at his wound.
I must have frozen, because Jake looked at me oddly. “What’s wrong?” he asked, the baritone of his voice startling me.
“Um…” I didn’t want to sound more foolish than I already felt, but something clearly wasn’t right. “You needed stitches?”
He crooked his neck to see the wound. “Yeah, what’s wrong with it?”
I took a step back, completely astonished. “Absolutely nothing.”
The look on Jake’s face wasn’t one of curiosity or concern—instead, he seemed unaffected by my words.
“It’s almost entirely healed,” I told him, hoping he’d provide some insight into his apparent lack of surprise. “It’s barely been three days.”
“I guess I’m a fast healer,” he offered casually, looking around the room.
“But I saw the blood. You were in so much pain you could barely move.” I replayed the gunfight in my head, remembering how his features had twisted in agony. He’s hiding something.
I studied him carefully. “You don’t seem surprised. Has this happened before?”
&nbs
p; He smirked. “This is my first time being shot.”
“That’s not what I meant. Do you always heal this fast?” Go ahead, lie to me.
He looked into my eyes but said nothing. His silence was all I needed to confirm my suspicion that he was more than he seemed to be.
Checking the unscathed flesh where his wound should have been, I tried another tactic. “Why do you keep pushing me away?” Frustration had enabled me to blurt out the question that had been nagging at me.
Jake stared at me, his eyes narrowing and his thumbs tapping the padded table.
“Jake,” Sanchez said, hurrying through the swinging emergency room doors with a grin. “We found some more fuel in one of the warehouses, but we’re having a hard time getting to it. Can you help?” Looking around the emergency room, she asked, “Where’s Harper?”
“Checking on Summer. She’s not doing well,” I told her.
Sanchez considered the information for a moment, but her eyes soon brightened with enthusiasm. “Come on,” she said to Jake before heading back down the hall.
Jake glanced at me, reaching for his shirt. “We done here?”
“Hold on, I need to take out the stitches,” I said as I leaned closer.
“Just leave them,” he snapped.
“Well at least let me put some gauze over them until Harper can take them out,” I said, frustrated. “They’ll catch on your shirt and tear out. It’ll take, like, five seconds.”
Jake blocked my hand, and even through the thin gloves, the heat of his touch electrified my skin. “I’m fine,” he responded flatly.
The morning light shining through the high windows washed over Jake’s face only inches from mine, and for the first time, I stared into his eyes. His irises weren’t simply brown like I’d thought, but they were amber with pale golden flakes around the pupil and were ringed with ebony. They held secrets. Suddenly, his emotions invaded my mind. He yearned for something, and his anger and apprehension roared through me. I saw the girl again. She was looking up at him with nearly violet eyes, and her tears were mixing with blood as they streamed down her cheeks. She took a final, uneven breath.
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