Read Killshot (Icarus Series Book 1) Online
Authors: Aria Michaels
Killshot (Icarus Series Book 1) (21 page)
“Yes,” I screamed. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
I sunk my face into my hands, almost paralyzed with relief. After the momentary loss of composure, I sat back up and began to inventory the vials. Most of the substances, I could not pronounce, but others I recognized. Levaquin, Clindamycin, and Dihydro-morphine. I had what I needed and the rest we could sort out later.
The timer on my phone beeped out a two-minute warning. I flicked my hair out of my face and grabbed the handles of the chest. I only managed to lift it a couple of feet off the ground before it slipped from my grasp and slammed back down onto the concrete floor. Either my muscles were too weak or the trunk was heavy. Either way, I wasn’t going to be able to carry this thing very far, very fast.
Simple problems require simple solutions.
My dad’s voice echoed through my mind.
I spun in a circle and ran to the rusty old wheelbarrow by the roll door. I lugged it over to the trunk and set it down on its pegs. The front tire was mostly flat, but there was just enough air in it to keep it from riding on the rim. After a few desperate moments of tugging and swearing, I managed to wrestle the trunk into the bed of the wheelbarrow. I scraped my hair from my face and raised the mask, to take in a much needed hit.
Nothing.
“No, no, no!” I frantically slid the pack from my shoulders and moved the tank closer to the light. Sure enough, the gauge read zero. “You have got to be fucking kidding me!”
I dropped the tank to the ground and kicked it. Okay, plan B; Load up, soak down, and run like hell.
A flat of water rested on the shelf across from me. I ran over to it, slid the case from the metal rack and dropped it into the wheelbarrow. I cut a small slit in the top of the shrink-wrap, slid a bottle out, and downed it greedily. The water tasted like lukewarm heaven as it drizzled down my aching throat. I pulled another bottle out, threw the cap over my shoulder, and dumped it over the towel on my head.
The water saturated my hair, dripped down my chest, and pooled in my bra. It was not going to make breathing any easier, but I hoped it would keep me cool enough so that I would at least have a chance out there. I grabbed the empty backpack that had held my O
2
tank and started tossing in whatever boxes and cans I could fit inside. There were M.R.Es in the mix, but I did not have time to discern what each of them was. As long as the food was still edible, anything but corn chips would be good enough for me. On a whim, I slid a few of the canning jars, the lantern, and some unmarked cans from their dusty homes and placed them in the wheelbarrow next to the remaining water bottles.
With the damp towel back in place over my mouth, I grabbed my wheeled bounty and lugged it over to the door. I took some big gulps of air and gathered myself as though I were at the edge of the high dive. When my lungs were full to bursting, I pursed my lips and yanked the garage door open. Without a moment’s hesitation, I slammed the door shut behind me and ran.
Fueled by purpose and adrenaline, I pushed the wheelbarrow straight down the driveway and over the pods that clung to the pavement. I kept my eyes trained forward, ignoring the sickening crunch-splat as I rolled over them. My shoulders screamed and my leg muscles protested at the strain, but I pushed on down the driveway and into the road. I turned as sharply as I could and sliced a crescent through the street until I was back on the other side at the front corner of the school. This path ran the length of the building and, if I could make it, would take me straight back to the gym entrance.
From point A to point B, was little over a block and a half. Without being able to breathe, it might as well have been the Boston Marathon.
Still, I ran (well, stumbled quickly), pushing the cart ahead of me. Every time I hit a crack in the sidewalk, something would bounce out and hit the pavement, one less provision to sustain us later. A bottle of water rolled down the sidewalk behind me while a jar of something red shattered on the sidewalk. Unable to avoid the glass, I rolled right over it. The shards obliterated what was left of the front tire, but I didn’t stop. I shoved the wheelbarrow forward on the metal rim and whatever shards of rubber remained, unwilling to lose my precious cargo. In the shrinking tunnel of my vision, I saw the jellyfish balloon floating over Zander’s fallen bike.
My legs were on autopilot now, and my lungs were burning in my chest. I was dizzy and the images before me started to warp and blur. The door seemed to get farther and farther away as I stumbled the last few feet to reach it. Just shy of the orange parachute, the shredded front tire of the wheelbarrow slammed hard into raised crack in the sidewalk and sent me and my haul skidding across the concrete. Something grabbed at me, and I lashed out, weakly.
“Let me go! Zander is…I have to—” The words died in my mouth.
I felt very light and the world around me went all fuzzy. Then…then, there was nothing.
“Riley, stop hitting me!” Jake’s voice sounded a million miles away. “I’m sorry, okay? Jesus,
owww!
”
“She made him promise,” Falisha said. “Go easy on the kid.”
“I don’t give a shit what she made him do!” Even semi-conscious, I could tell my best friend was livid.
“But—” Jake attempted.
“No, I am not interested in your
but
—” Riley screeched. “Oh, hell no. Don’t you
dare
laugh at that, you little weasel. I swear to God, Jake, if she doesn’t wake up soon—”
“Riley Baxter.” My best friend’s name scraped from my throat as I struggled to lift my head. “Pick on somebody your own size.”
“Oh, thank
God,
” she sobbed, running over to me.
Zander lay on the floor at my side. The lantern rested between us on the mat and threw warm shadows across his face. Even unconscious and struggling for life, he was beautiful. My heart did that little flutter thing and this time I didn’t fight it. If my visit to Mrs. Proud’s had taught me anything, it was that life was short to keep my heart in a cage anymore.
“Are you okay?” Riley was pawing at me, scanning for injuries. “What the hell were you thinking? Jesus Liv, you could have been killed.”
“Take it easy, Ry.” I could barely get the words out.
I slowly raised myself up onto my elbow. My head felt much too heavy, so I rested it on my shoulder. I tried to move my legs, but they too, were not cooperating. My throat felt as raw as my skinned elbow, and my face tingled with freshly brewed sunburn. Based on the pain in my hand, I was pretty sure I had even managed to break a finger at some point. As Riley would say, I was a hot mess.
“Don’t you dare tell me to take it easy,” Riley said. “Liv, I thought I lost you!”
She dove at me, strangling me in a tight hug as I struggled to sit up. She may have been tiny, but the girl was freakishly strong. It felt like she was crushing my achy bones, but I kept my mouth shut. She needed this and I deserved it after what I had put her through.
“I’m sorry,” I said, the words scraping like razor blades against my throat.
After a minute or so of some of the most creative combinations of swear words I had ever heard, she finally released me. She met my eyes and held me at arm’s length.
“You are so lucky I love you, you know that?” She sighed, rolling her big brown eyes as she set a bottle of water next to me. The shadows beneath them had grown since the last time I saw her.
“I know, Ry,” I smiled as she helped me into a seated position. “How long was I out?”
“Not long, maybe five or ten minutes. We had to drag you in, you know? You were kicking and screaming like a crazy person. It took all three of us to get you back down here.” A little snort of derisive laughter escaped. “By the way, you took a swing at pretty much everyone and I’m pretty sure you gave Jake a black eye. I gave him some Tylenol, but—”
“Crap! Where is the chest, Ry?” I asked frantically, suddenly remembering. “The gray box I brought back. Where is it?”
“It’s right behind you,” she pointed over my shoulder. “Liv, what are you doing?”
A burst of white-hot adrenaline shot through me, as I pulled myself across the mat by my arms. I slid on my hip until I could reach the chest and twisted open the latches. Jake, Micah, and Falisha heard the commotion and wandered over.
“It’s alive,” Jake yelled, in his best mad scientist voice.
Micah offered a half-hearted snort, shaking his head as he helped Riley from the floor. Falisha just rolled her eyes and bumped Jake with her hip, sending him stumbling sideways.
“All good, Sarge?” She crossed her arms over her chest.
“Yeah, great, wonderful,” I said too quickly. “Hold that lantern for me, would you?”
A brow shot up in a questioning glance, but she complied. I rummaged carelessly through the chest, shoving aside pills and stitch kits as I gathered my supplies. I fished out a needle, some tubing, a bag of saline, and two glass vials and then I set to work. I had no idea what I was doing, but I figured between the training my dad had given me, and hundreds of hours of prime time medical dramas I had watched, I could probably figure out how to put in an I.V.
Eventually, my shaky hands managed to hit a vein in Zander’s forearm. I pulled back on the plunger and sighed with relief when blood flashed into the tube. I removed it quickly, leaving the needle in place, and taped it down to his arm. Riley handed me the clear tubing, and I made swift work of attaching it to the needle, and then to the bag of saline.
“Hold this,” I said, handing the bag to Jake, who did, indeed, have a nice shiner forming under his right eye.
My hands shook and my vision started to go fuzzy as I reached for the little blue lever that would (hopefully) release the fluid. I held my breath, as the first rush of saline flowed slowly down the snaked tube and into his arm. I watched his skin closely for any signs the fluid was backing up, or that I had blown the only good vein he had. When his arm did not explode, I finally released my breath.
“That was awesome, Liv.” Riley beamed at me. “Where in the world did you learn to do that?”
“Umm, Netflix,” I said with a wry grin that earned me a few nervous laughs.
I grabbed the vial of Levaquin, and the anti-fungal medication I had found, but I was struggling to read the tiny print on the labels. No matter how much I blinked, the letters just twisted and blurred in front of me until Micah reached over and took the vials from me.
“Um, I’d say he weighs, like, what, one ninety?” Micah’s voice quivered. “According to the chart, his dose should be five hundred mils every twenty-four hours. Same on this one and both say slow drip.”
“Go seven-fifty, just to be safe,” I said.
“What if he’s allergic or something?” Riley asked. “The medicine might kill him, you guys.”
“It might, but that is a chance we have to take,” I said “Because, Ry, if we don’t give him the meds, the disease will kill him for sure.”
“Do it,” Micah said.
“Can you fill it for me Micah?” I held the needle up to him. “I can’t see straight.”
He carefully dosed out both medications into the same syringe and shook it vigorously and handed the needle back to me. I flicked the syringe to eliminate any air bubbles, slid the needle through the gasket and slowly emptied its contents into the tubing.
“Please work, please work,” I said to no one in particular. “Please don’t kill him.”
I watched his every move for the next five minutes straight. When he didn’t go into convulsions, I decided it was safe and repeated the process with the morphine. After a few seconds, the hard lines that had been etched into Zander’s face began to soften. His breathing seemed to deepen and shoulders relaxed against the mat. His eyebrows were no longer knitted together. He rolled onto his side and let out a soft sigh. The ache in my chest finally subsided and my body suddenly felt very heavy.
“Liv, I think maybe you should lay down,” I thought I heard someone say before everything went dark again.
“Wakey, wakey, eggs-and-bakey,” came the sing-song voice of an annoying little pixie.
“Ugh, Riley, get out of my room,” I barked, trying to roll over in bed. I made it onto my side, but my arm stopped short half way through its arc to join me and I felt a sharp pinch “What the hell?”
“Hey, take it easy,” Riley said, rolling me back over. “It took me like, forever, to get that freaking thing into your arm and you almost ripped it out.”
“What?” I was confused by the tubing attached to my arm. “What is this?”
“You passed out again, Liv,” Riley said, fidgeting nervously with a bottle of water.
“I…wait, what?” I tried, once again, to sit up and failed.
“We had to do something. You were super dehydrated and the back of your head started bleeding again, so I kind of had to wing it,” she said, looking chagrined. “Sorry about the arm, by the way.”
I looked down and grimaced at the long line of purplish green track marks stretching from just above my wrist to the crook of my elbow where the tube was taped down. “God, Riley. I look like a freaking junkie.”
“I said I was sorry,” she snapped back, sticking her tongue out at me like she was five. I couldn’t help but laugh, which, incidentally, also made my head hurt. Riley offered me her hand, and carefully helped me to a sitting position, then handed me a bottle of water and a straw. “By the way, you’re welcome for saving your life.”
“Thanks,” I said, rubbing at my temple with my free hand.
“Anyway, I thought you might want to know, Zander’s doing much better. Far as I can tell, his fever is almost gone and his pulse is not racing like it was— though that could change when he wakes up and sees the mess you have made of yourself,” she smirked at me and rose to her feet. “Well, I guess I’ll leave you to it.”
“Thanks, Ry,” I said, taking a big gulp from the water bottle.
“Hey, you,” came a raspy voice at my side. Zander’s eyelids fluttered, struggling to stay open.
“Zander, you’re awake!” I set down my water and reached out to touch him with the hand that wasn’t currently tethered to a folding chair by a saline drip.
“You…kmmmss…me,” he slurred, clasping my hand against his chest.
“What?” I leaned in closer.
“I said,” he cleared his throat. “You…kissed me.”
There was a touch of humor in his gravely tone. My face instantly heated, and I felt like I was back outside again, roasting and unable to breathe.
“I—you were, uh,” I stammered, looking into his eyes. “I didn’t.”
“Mmhmm,” the corner of his mouth twitched up, as he tapped his own temple.
“I must have given you too much morphine,” I dodged, feeling his forehead as a flash of heat raced through my own body. “You are hallucinating.”
He tried to laugh but ended up coughing instead. I offered him a few sips from the bottle Riley had given me, gently placing the straw between his parched lips. Once he got his fill, I placed the water back on the floor. He grabbed my hand and placed it against his chest, lacing our fingers together. With a sigh, he laid his head back down and closed his eyes. A comfortable silence stretched out between us and I was sure he had fallen asleep.
“I knew it,” he finally whispered.
“Knew what?” I asked, staring down at our joined hands.
“I knew you were special the moment I met you.” He pulled our clasped hands tighter against his chest, his heart tapping a frantic rhythm against the back of my hand.
“You should rest,” I said, dazed by the compliment.
“Hey, Liv,” he smirked again, his eyes still closed.
“Yeah, Zan,” I said.
“You
will
kiss me again,” he said, in a voice a sweet as melted honey. Then he was back out, leaving me slack-jawed and buzzing as my imagination took over.
***
Zander was still asleep, but he appeared to be doing much better now that he was getting fluids and proper meds. Still, that hand needed to be redressed, and after about an hour, I finally convinced Riley to unleash me from the I.V. so I could take care of it. Thankfully, she was much better at taking them out, than she was putting them in. My arm was definitely going to be sore for a few days, though I was pleased to see that the bruises had already begun to fade.
I held my breath as I slowly lifted the towel draped over his hand. The black tendrils had made their way up his wrist and now covered half of his forearm. He shuffled a bit in his sleep but did not wake, as I maneuvered his hand into the light. I took it as a good sign that his pain was finally subsiding. With any luck, that meant the blackness would stop spreading, as well.
The palm of his hand was covered in what appeared to be calcified black scales. Though his index and middle finger were still their normal fleshy tone, the other three were lost to the black. There didn’t seem to be much I could do to fix the damage that had already been done, but for now it did not seem to be getting worse. Between the vine-like tendrils and the way the blackness had spread, the disease acted more like a growing plant than a disease. On a hunch, and for lack of a better option, I cleaned his arm thoroughly and applied a generous slathering of anti-fungal cream. I finished bandaging his arm back up in record time and placed it gently on a pile of folded towels at his side. When I had done everything I could for him, I headed over to where the others were gathered to get an update.
“Seriously, Micah,” Jake said, clearly annoyed. “It’s 4:38 p.m. Same time it was thirty seconds ago, when you last asked.”
“It’s just, I’m sorry, but I thought we would be out of here by now,” Micah said.
We were all getting anxious and, quite frankly, a little claustrophobic. It felt as though we had been down here for days and the walls were starting to close in.
“I know dude, but the original time line was just an estimate,” Jake said. “I have been checking the readings every ten minutes, and I will continue to do so, but we have to wait till the numbers say we are in the clear.”
Jake had successfully tapped into the signal from the weather balloon and rigged it up so we could check the readings from inside the building. The only problem was that he had to run topside in order to check it since we had not scavenged enough cable to reach the basement. As of the last update a few minutes ago, it was still nearly one hundred and twenty degrees, humidity levels at about a quarter of what we should see, and the radiation readings were still all over the map.
From what Jake could decipher, most of the x-ray levels had dissipated and the rest had returned to normal, or close to it. There were still trace levels of gamma radiation that would spike from time to time, but as long as exposure was minimal, he believed it should be relatively safe. Relative to what, I didn’t know, but I hoped to hell my hair was not going to fall out.
“You are not gonna like this, Micah,” Jake said, cringing, “but I am going to suggest we wait until nightfall,”
“You can’t be serious,” snapped Micah. Then he turned to me. “He’s not serious, is he?”
“Just hear me out,” Jake insisted. “I am in a hurry to get out there too. My mom and my sister are out there, and— look, once the sun goes down, it will cool off considerably and the moisture levels in the air should make it a lot easier to breath. Plus, that will give Liv and Zander more time to rest. Neither one of them is ready to move out yet.”
“Listen to the kid,” Falisha said. “He knows what he’s talking about.”
“I’m sorry, but he’s right, Micah,” I said. “As much as I hate to admit it, we need to have enough energy to do this right. In the meantime, we can scavenge a few backpacks and pack as much food and water as we can carry. As long as things continue at this rate, we should be good to go for tonight, right Jake?”
“Abso,” Jake agreed. “By maybe ten, I’d say.”
“Fine,” Micah said, the muscles clenching in his jaw. “But at ten o’clock, I am leaving, with or without you.”
“Fair enough,” Jake said, holding his hands up in surrender. “If we are going to do this, we need a game plan.”
“Guys, I want to prepare you for what we are about to face, but I am not even sure where to begin. It’s bad out there,” I said. “Trust me when I say we cannot afford to just go wandering around in the dark.”
“When you say bad…” Falisha trailed off.
“I mean
bad,”
I said, shaking my head. “As in, stuff is on fire all over the place, there are abandoned and wrecked cars littering the streets, and the parking lot is a hot soupy mess of melted tar.”
“Which means that pretty much any street they resurfaced in the last few months probably is, too,” offered Jake. “I am thinking we should probably map this little trip of ours out.”
He stepped out of the center of the huddle, grabbed a poster off the wall, and slapped it facedown onto the concrete floor. Jake sat cross legged with the paper spread before him, pulled the pen from behind his ear and started to take down everyone’s addresses.
“Okay, last but not least, Falisha,” Jake said, not looking up from his notes.
“I’m good,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.
“You’re good?” He sounded exasperated. “I ask what your address is, and you say I’m good. What the hell does that even mean?”
“It means,
I’m good,
” she bit back.
“Seriously?” Jake either hadn’t picked up the finality in her tone or didn’t care because he pressed on. “Nobody cares what part of town you live in for Christ’s sakes. I think we are kind of past that prideful bullshit at this point don’t you? Would you please just tell where you live, so I can put it on the stupid map?”
Jake glared up at Falisha, clearly annoyed, but his frown quickly melted away as she sank lifelessly to the floor next to him and started sobbing. He flung his hands back like he had just broken a priceless vase, an expression of sheer desperation on his face.
“I— what just happened?” he asked, his eyes darting back and forth between us. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just trying to make the stupid map.”
“Go to hell,” Falisha buried her fingers in her hair and spun so her back faced him.
“Falisha, I’m sorry, I—” he stuttered, reaching out awkwardly to put his hand on her shoulder, but I shook my head at him and waved him away.
“What’s going on, Falisha?” I whispered.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I just don’t have one.”
“Don’t have one, what?” I asked.
“An address,” she sobbed. “I don’t have anywhere to go. My mom kicked me out when she found out about Zack.”
“God, I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“My mom was really old-school, you know? She didn’t believe in mixing races or whatever,” Falisha wiped her eyes. “She said,
as long as I live and breathe, no daughter of mine is gonna be with no white boy.”
“Jesus,” I said. “It’s not 1955.”
“Exactly,” she rolled her eyes, as tears streamed down her face. “We always had to be really careful about hiding our relationship so she wouldn’t find out. It was exhausting, Liv, and I hated keeping things a secret, but it was worth when we were together. Did you know we were both going to NIU in the fall? Yeah, we were going to get the hell out of this shit-hole town.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“I still don’t know how she found out, but when she did, all hell broke loose,” she flung her hands in the air. “She cornered me when I got home from school one day, slapped me right in my across the face. Called me a slut. I told her that I loved him and that he was a good man that treated me right, but she didn’t care. She said I had to choose, so I did…I chose
him
.”
“Damn,” I said under my breath.
“She moved to New York about a month ago, and I haven’t heard from her since,” Falisha said bitterly. “Get this, she even unfriended me on Facebook. Can you believe that?”
“I had no idea,” I said. “Where have you been staying since then?”