A hard spray of water sprang from the showerhead.
“Yes!”
It wasn’t heated, but the pressure was good. There were even bottles of body wash and shampoo at each station. After finding a stack of clean white towels, I was good to go. I peeled off my clothes and stood under the cold spray to wash away the grime that had been building over the last few days. It didn’t bother me that the water was cold. It felt great. I shampooed my hair and was surprised to feel that a bunch of grit had accumulated on my scalp. It took a second for me to realize I was washing out tiny bits of Fenway Park. I lathered myself entirely to get every last particle of that nightmare off of my body. By the time I rinsed off, the cold water was making me numb, so I shut it off and stood there to drip-dry.
“I’m next,” Olivia sang.
I turned quickly to see her standing in the entrance to the shower area wearing only a towel . . . which was a lot more than I was wearing.
“Jeez, Olivia!” I complained. “Again?”
I covered my privates with one hand and reached for a towel with the other. By the time I had it wrapped around my waist, Olivia had stepped into the stall behind me.
“I’ll dry your back,” she said.
There were too many emotions fighting for control for me to do anything but stand there like a dummy. I was embarrassed and angry and nervous and, okay, maybe a little bit thrilled that the two of us were standing there together, as good as naked. Olivia gently patted my back with a towel as I stood frozen.
“You shouldn’t be doing this,” I finally said. “If Kent walks in . . . hell, if anybody walks in.”
“What?” she said innocently. “We’re taking a shower. Like you said, we’re all in this together now.”
“This isn’t what I had in mind,” I said, my voice cracking.
“Oh, relax. We’re not doing anything wrong. Are we?”
Maybe it was just my imagination or wishful thinking, but the way she said “Are we?” sounded like an invitation. Man, I was tempted. I had followed Olivia around like a dumb puppy all summer just hoping to get a kiss. Now we were standing in a dark shower, alone, nearly naked, and she was rubbing my shoulders even though they had been dry for a while.
“I was thinking,” she said. “Maybe we shouldn’t go to Nevada.”
“Why not? It’s as good a place as any.”
“Is it? What does Tori think we’ll find there? A bunch of survivors we can join up with and fight beside to take back the world from the clutches of the evil Air Force? Or SYLO? Or whoever else may be trying to take over the world? It’s a romantic idea, but is it realistic? Or is she just trying to finish what her father started?”
It was a pretty smart observation. Tori loved her dad. It wasn’t hard to imagine that she’d want to follow in his footsteps.
“What do you think we should do?” I asked.
“Oh, I don’t know,” she answered dreamily, as if she hadn’t really thought about it.
She came around to my front and continued to dry me off, rubbing the towel across my chest. It was making me crazy, but I didn’t stop her.
“Maybe the best thing we can do is head south. Somewhere tropical, like the Florida Keys. Somewhere that’ll be warm and comfortable, even in winter. We can find a house on the beach and fish for supper and sleep in the sand under a palm tree, and while the rest of the world sorts itself out, we’ll be in paradise. Doesn’t that sound tempting?”
She stopped rubbing my chest and looked me square in the eye.
I don’t think the word “tempting” was strong enough. It sounded great. I imagined lying on the beach with Olivia. Olivia was wearing the red bikini.
“Do you want to go to the beach with me, Tucker?” she asked playfully and took a step closer.
I was a breath away from saying, “Hell yeah!” when—
“Really?” came a stern voice from the door leading into the shower.
Tori.
She stood in the doorway with a towel draped over her arm, ready to take her turn. Instead, she spun around and stormed off.
“Oops!” Olivia said with naughty giggle and a shrug.
I took off after Tori. I felt as though I had been caught cheating, though I wasn’t doing anything. Not really. Tori and I weren’t even together. Yes, we kissed. Yes, I cared for her. But we never made it official and . . . man, I was in real trouble.
The last thing I wanted to do was hurt Tori. She had become my best friend. Why hadn’t I just walked away from Olivia?
Because I’m an idiot, that’s why.
“Tori!” I called. “Please, wait.”
I caught her before she left the locker room. She spun to face me, and even in the low light I saw that her face was flushed.
“What?” she snapped, obviously peeved.
“We were just talking,” I said.
It may have been true, but it was a totally lame excuse. What had been going through my mind was a lot more than conversation.
“I don’t care,” she shot back, sounding as though she actually did care. “You can shower with anybody you want.”
“We weren’t showering,” I argued. “I was finishing up, and she was next.”
Tori laughed as if I had just offered the weakest explanation ever.
“And she was in a hurry, so she was helping you dry off so she could get in faster, is that it?”
“No! She was, well, I don’t know what she was doing. She wanted to talk. I didn’t ask her to dry me off.”
“You didn’t stop her either.”
She had me there.
“Look, Tucker, I don’t care. If you and Olivia want to hook up, that’s your business. But be careful. You’re the one who said we’re all in this together. If you piss Kent off, I can’t help you.”
“I don’t want to hook up with Olivia,” I said. “It just . . . happened.”
Tori scoffed. “Yeah, I saw that.”
She turned and walked away, then glanced back and added, “Put your pants on and meet us at the radio. Jon’s got it working.”
With that, she left.
I was torn between the embarrassment of what had just happened and excitement about the radio. I ran back into the locker room to get my clothes and saw that Olivia was in the shower, casually shampooing her hair as if nothing had happened. I have to admit, I didn’t look away at first. I’d never seen a naked girl taking a shower before. Or a naked girl doing anything, for that matter. The sight froze me for an instant. Olivia looked at me and smiled.
That rocked me back to my senses. I turned away and grabbed my clothes.
“The radio is working!” I called to her.
“Be right up!” she called back, but it didn’t sound as if she was in any hurry to finish her shower.
I took my clothes out into the hallway and dressed quickly. Whatever had happened, or hadn’t happened, between Olivia and me meant nothing. The bottom line was that I had been stupid, and it probably destroyed my friendship with Tori. She had trouble trusting anyone since her mother abandoned her and her father. She had no friends in school and spent most of her time alone. I was the one person she finally put her faith in, and I totally let her down. I kept telling everyone how we had to trust each other, and I ended up being the least trustworthy of all. It was a miserable, lonely feeling.
Olivia turned off the shower. The last thing I wanted was to be alone with her, so I finished dressing fast and took off for the emergency room.
Kent and Tori were standing behind Jon, who sat at a keyboard and a computer screen, just as he had in Portland. The sight of an active screen was jarring because I hadn’t seen anything electronic for weeks. I had no idea what any of the numbers or different colored modules meant, but Jon did.
I looked at Tori. She kept her eyes on the screen. Just as well.
“Is it the same voice?” I asked.
“Shhh!” Jon admonished.
I listened and was stunned to hear the same woman’s voice coming from the spea
ker near the ceiling. It was not only the same voice, the radio signal was much stronger, and we were able to hear the entire message.
“We are the survivors. We have been bloodied, but not beaten. To all of those who have been attacked: Know that we will fight back. Join us. We will take you in and keep you safe. Hundreds have already arrived, and more are arriving every day.”
The message was slightly different from the one Tori had pieced together. The earlier message hadn’t mentioned anything about the number of survivors who had joined them.
Jon was frantically writing as the woman spoke.
“North thirty-six degrees. Twenty-six minutes, twenty seconds. West one hundred fourteen degrees. Thirty-one minutes, fifty-seven seconds.”
“Bingo, we got it,” Jon exclaimed while writing furiously.
“Please use caution,” the voice continued, “for we are being watched. Trust no one. We will fight for our home. We will repel the murderers. We have strength in numbers. The survivors will stand together. Do not hesitate.”
That was it. The message repeated one more time and was replaced by static.
Jon waited a few more seconds to make sure it was definitely over, then powered down the radio. The screen went dark, and we were back under lantern light.
“It’s pretty much the same message on the same frequency,” Jon announced. “Including the coordinates. There were a few additions about how many people they’ve got and to use caution. The message repeated five times.”
“Could it be a trap?” Kent asked. “Like with Faneuil Hall? If we’re not supposed to trust anybody, why should we trust them?”
“It could be,” Tori said thoughtfully. “Or it could be a lifeline. There’s only one way to find out.”
A shrieking scream shattered the quiet of the empty hospital.
“Olivia!” Kent shouted and took off running.
I grabbed the lantern and followed, with the others close behind.
Kent sprinted into the emergency room and nearly knocked Olivia down as she came running out. She had on scrubs and a towel wrapped around her wet head. She was in tears as she ran into Kent’s arms.
“Somebody’s back there!” she cried frantically.
Kent hugged her and looked back to us.
I glanced at Tori, who finally looked back at me. Whatever Olivia had seen, it was more important than the incident in the shower room.
“Do you have the gun?” I asked.
She reached behind her back to pull the Glock from under her sweater.
“Who is it?” I asked Olivia.
She was in a full-on panic and could barely speak through frightened, clutching breaths.
“I don’t know,” she managed to garble out. “A man.”
She pulled away from Kent and ran in the other direction.
Kent said, “I got this,” and ran after Olivia.
“Sure,” Tori said sarcastically. “You go, Kent. We’ll take care of the boogeyman.”
I flicked off the lantern and put my headlamp on. The light it threw wasn’t as good as the lantern’s, but it was focused forward, which meant we weren’t blinded by it. I took a few steps deeper into the emergency room, listening for the sounds of any movement.
“Hello?” I called out. “Who’s back there?”
There was no answer.
I steeled myself and walked forward, slowly.
Tori raised the gun and stayed with me.
Jon trailed close behind.
The light from my headlamp played over the drapes that separated the treatment areas. Somebody could have been hiding behind any one of them.
“We’ve got a gun,” Tori said loudly. “Come out before somebody gets hurt.”
We reached the first drape. I reached out and yanked it aside to see . . . an empty bed.
“Dude, don’t be stupid,” I called out. “We don’t want to shoot you.”
We reached the second drape. I wished that the throw of the light were wider. I feared that somebody might be lurking beyond the edges of our sight. I reached out and yanked the second drape aside.
Again, only an empty bed.
Jon said, “Maybe she was wrong. It could have been one of those dummies they practice CPR on.”
I liked that explanation. I sure hoped it was true.
We approached the third drape. I reached out to pull it aside . . .
. . . but the drape was yanked back before I could touch it to reveal a deathly pale, skeletal man with wide, haunted eyes. His mouth was open as he let out a pained moan.
Jon screamed.
Tori lifted the gun, but I pushed it aside as the man took a step forward . . . and collapsed at our feet.
FOURTEEN
The three of us jumped back in surprise as the man tumbled to the floor.
Tori was too stunned to even aim her gun at him, and that was a good thing. He wasn’t a threat. The guy was skeletal, with bony legs showing beneath his hospital gown. “It’s a zombie!” Jon cried.
“No, it’s a patient,” I shot back. “Turn on the lantern.”
I knelt down next to him and killed my headlamp while Tori fired up the camp lantern.
The guy was ancient looking, though I couldn’t tell whether that was because he was so old or just really sick. He was nearly bald but had thick, gray beard stubble that looked as though he hadn’t shaved in weeks.
“Is he dead?” Jon asked.
I put my hand to his mouth and felt a faint breath.
“No. Help me get him onto a bed.”
I grabbed under his arms while Jon took his feet. Lifting him was easy. He couldn’t have weighed more than seventy pounds. He moaned when we picked him up. He was definitely alive. We wrestled him onto the bed, and as I started to back away, he reached out and grabbed my arm with a surprisingly strong grip.
“Paul?” he asked with a raspy whisper that felt like a desperate plea.
“Uh, no. My name’s Tucker.”
He looked confused, as if I had thrown him off by not being Paul.
“I’ll get him some water,” Tori said and hurried off.
The guy was breathing quickly, as if he was overly excited. Or maybe he couldn’t get enough air. Either way, he was hurting. Whatever landed him in the hospital in the first place must have been bad enough, but if he had been lying around in the emergency room since the attack, it meant that he hadn’t eaten anything in weeks.
Tori came running back with a paper cup filled with water. I reached behind the guy’s neck to help him sit up so he could drink. He felt like a bag of bones.
Tori put the cup to his lips.
“Just take a little,” she cautioned.
The guy’s eyes were staring off into space, unfocused. But he sensed the cup at his lips and eagerly took a sip. He coughed once, and Tori pulled it away.
“More,” he begged.
Tori offered the cup, and he drank it. Most of it, anyway. A lot dribbled down his chin.
“I’ll raise the bed,” Jon said.
He pressed the button on the side of the bed. It didn’t move.
“Oh, right. Duh.”
He reached down and cranked the head of the bed up manually. Jon was hospital savvy.He raised the bed enough so that I was able to ease the old guy back into a sitting position.
“More, please,” the guy begged.
Tori took off to get more water.
The man slowly shifted his head toward me, his eyes focusing.
“I’m not Paul,” I said.
The guy squinted at me and said, “I know that!”
The cobwebs were definitely clearing out of his head.
“But who are you?” he asked, this time with a slightly less strained whisper.
“I’m Tucker. This is Jon. The girl’s name is Tori.”
“Screaming girl,” he said.
I had no idea what he meant.
“Pretty,” he added.
“Oh! That was Olivia. I guess you scared her.”
“I
guess so,” he said and actually chuckled. It made him cough.
Tori came back with another cup of water and a full plastic pitcher.
“Feeling better?” she asked.
He nodded weakly. Tori brought the cup to his lips, and he drank it all down. When he finished, he closed his eyes and let out a satisfied sigh.
“Thank you,” he said.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Doyle.”
“When was the last time you ate something?”
“Couldn’t tell you. A week? Two weeks? A year? How long have I been in here?”
We all exchanged looks. I couldn’t tell if Mr. Doyle was hallucinating or just old and confused.
“I’ll get you some food,” Tori said and started to walk away.
“No!” Mr. Doyle called out.
Tori stopped and turned back to him. “You have to eat something.”
“I’m dying, missy,” he said.
“No, you’re not,” she argued. “You’re just weak.”
“I’m weak because I’m dying,” he insisted. “There’s no food that’ll change that.”
“But you’re wrong, if you just—”
“Young lady,” Doyle said, his voice suddenly steely. “They brought me here to die. The fact that I’m still breathing is no small miracle. Though it is sort of ironic, considering what’s happened.”
“You know about the attack?” I asked.
Doyle nodded, then motioned for another sip of water. Tori poured another cupful and handed it to him. This time he drank it himself, though he moved very slowly. I’d never seen an old person in such bad shape. I was surprised that he had the strength to lift the cup of water.
“I was down in the bowels of this place getting another test done. An MRI or x-ray or God knows what. They insist on doing tests to prove that I’m dying. I could tell them the same thing and save everybody a whole lot of trouble.”
He started coughing, violently, and clutched at his chest. Tori grabbed the cup, and we watched helplessly as the poor old guy was racked by the painful spell.
Jon looked terrified, as if the guy might die right then and there.
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