Promise Me Darkness (14 page)

“Someone stepped on my hand and right ribcage. I probably have some broken fingers. And Eva, I’m having trouble breathing.” Three years of nursing school taught me that something wasn’t right.

“Fuck! I can’t deal with this,” Ryder said. He climbed out of the truck and started pacing back and forth outside, leaving the door wide open and the truck idling loudly.

“He’s just upset because you’re hurt,” Eva whispered as she looked at my fingers. “But that’s nothing. You should have seen him when we lost you in the club. I thought the man was going to tear the place down with his bare hands to get to you.”

"He would try," I said, my voice sounding raw.

"Yeah, I know. Asshole is in love with you."

I didn’t have the strength to argue.
What was the point? She was sticking to her guns on this.

The penlight cast a small amount of light on my hand. I grimaced when I saw my fingers. They were already turning black and blue. One was very swollen, almost twice its normal size.

Eva gently started to move each of my fingers. The pain was excruciating. When she touched the swollen finger, I jerked my hand away with a cry. Ryder quickly reappeared, looking concerned.

“Her fingers are a mess, Ryder. Possibly broken but I’m not sure. They may only be dislocated,” Eva said, glancing over at him.

I sucked in a breath as she started to poke around on my ribs. Blackness loomed at the corners of my vision.

“Ryder.” His name slipped out between my ragged breathing. The pain was so great that I didn’t know if I could handle it. I needed him beside me.

“I’m right here,” he said. His arms wrapped around me in the darkness, pulling me toward him. One of his hands took over holding the napkin against my bleeding forehead.

“I’m guessing she has a cracked rib, Ryder,” Eva said.

“Does she need a hospital?” his deep voice rumbled.

“Yes, she could use stitches and x–rays,” She answered, turning off the penlight. The truck went black again.

Ryder held me for another minute. We sat in silence, unsure what to do.

I was starting to lose consciousness when he slowly unwrapped his arms from around me and let Eva hold the napkin to my bleeding head. Looking out the side mirror, Ryder threw the truck into drive. Turning the wheel sharply, he floored it, whipping the truck around.

“What the hell are you doing, Ryder?” Brody asked, holding onto the door handle as the truck fish–tailed all over the road.

“Going to the hospital,” he answered, bringing the truck back under control.

We took a corner at top speed, not slowing down. I slammed against him, unable to keep myself upright anymore.

“Maddie?” he asked, glancing down at me, gauging my condition. “You staying with me?”

I heard the worry in his voice but the grayness at the edge of my vision grew. My eyes closed again.

"Eva, keep her alert, damn it," he snapped, glancing down at me.

“Wake up, Maddie,” Eva said, nudging me. “You need to stay awake. If you have a concussion, you can’t sleep. You know that.”

I nodded weakly and lifted my head.
Open your eyes! Focus!

For the next few miles, I was in and out of awareness. Each time my eyelids closed, either Eva or Ryder would prod me awake, keeping me alert for short periods of time. The blackness was taking over, capturing me and pulling me under, when a shout brought me back.

“Holy shit!”

I was pulled back into consciousness by the voice. I slowly raised my eyelids, grimacing at the pain in my head.

“Sweet Mother of God! What is happening?” Eva whispered, staring outside the windshield.

Wincing, I sat up straighter to see what was going on. We were at the ER and it looked like a battlefield.

There were people everywhere. Nurses, doctors, patients – too many people to count. Gurneys were being hurried away. Patients in hospital gowns were standing outside, looking lost and frightened. Police officers were barking commands, pointing this way and that, trying to keep order.

It looked like ground zero.

Ryder threw the truck into park in the middle of the road. Next to us sat two abandoned cars and an ambulance, each one with its doors opened, empty.

Turning off the ignition, Ryder tossed the keys to Brody. “Stay with the truck.”

Throwing his door open, Ryder got out and reached for me. Putting an arm under my knees, he swept me out the door. I tried not to cry out when his hand wrapped around my ribcage but I couldn’t hold back a whimper.

“I’m sorry, Maddie,” he said, upset. “God, I’m so sorry.”

“Ryder, I can walk,” I said, weakly.

“Like hell,” he said, looking into the truck. “You coming, Eva?”

I watched Eva scoot over to the driver’s side and climb out, looking ready to take on the devil himself.

“Of course,” she said.

Ryder turned and started walking, holding me close. The nighttime air had turned humid, making everything wet and sticky. I felt sweat start along my hairline, mixing in with the blood already there and making the gash burn.

The closer we got, the more chaotic the scene. We passed an elderly person clutching her chest painfully. A doctor screamed for help. Someone else yelled, asking if anyone had seen his pregnant wife.

Mayhem reigned.

Ryder made his way through the crowd, carrying me like I weighed nothing. When we passed a doctor performing chest compressions on an older gentleman, I buried my face in his shirt, not wanting to see the devastation around me.

The once sliding doors of the ER were now popped open, allowing people to rush in and out uninhibited. Eva pushed ahead of us, leading the way. Ryder followed, trying not to bump into men and women as he carried me through the doorway. What I saw on the other side had me sliding out of Ryder’s arms, appalled.

The ER waiting room was dark and jammed full of people. Screaming, crying, shouts of despair — I could hear it all.

Numerous flashlight beams bounced around the room, shining on one person before moving onto the next. Doctors and nurses ran from room to room, from person to person, their flashlights the only thing lighting their way.

“Come on,” Eva said, motioning for us to follow.

Ryder picked me up again, despite my assistance that I could walk.

"I’m carrying you, Maddie. Don’t argue with me. I said you were mine and I take care of what’s mine," he said in a deep baritone voice that left no room for argument.

Well, when he put it that way, how could I refuse?

We followed Eva into the madness. She led us down a narrow hallway, packed with patients and gurneys. If it wasn’t for the small flashlight beams racing around we would have been left blind in the darkness.

“Excuse me, can you help us?” Eva asked, stopping a woman in scrubs.

“I’m sorry, you’ll have to wait,” the woman said over her shoulder, rushing by without pausing.

Eva looked around, searching for something or someone. Spotting an empty gurney, she pulled us over to it.

“Keep her here, Ryder. I’ll see if I can find help.”

Ryder placed me on the gurney carefully. The crisp cotton felt warm beneath me, sleep worthy. I just wanted to lie down and rest but knew that wasn’t an option, at least not with Eva and Ryder around.

"Find someone soon, Eva, or I’m going postal on this place," Ryder threatened, keeping a hand on me.

"Okay, Ryder. Damn, you’re pushy," Eva mumbled.

"For Maddie, anything," he growled.

“DOCTOR RUSSELL!” I heard Eva shout a second later. In the darkness, I could see a flashlight beam bouncing our way.

“Miss Andrews?” a deep voice asked, shining the flashlight on Eva.

“Yes, it’s me!”

“What are you doing here?”

I could see the man now. He was older, possibly in his sixties, with grey hair and a small mustache. He looked worn–out and stressed, pushed to his limit.

Seeing his white doctor’s coat, I suddenly remembered where we were — Texas Health General, the hospital where Eva completed her ER rotation. This place was her second home.

“My friend is hurt, can you take a look at her?” she asked.

In the dim light, I saw him glance down the hallway with uncertainty.
Surely, he had more important patients to tend to than one with a gash on her head and a few broken bones.

Looking back at me, he sighed deeply, deflated. “Fine. What’s the problem?” he asked, pulling his stethoscope from around his neck.

“Gash on head. Possible concussion. Fingers discolored and swollen. Possible cracked rib,” Eva said.

The doctor shined the flashlight on my forehead. I winced when he started to prod and poke at the gash. Next, he took a penlight out of his coat pocket and aimed it into my eyes. Moving the light back and forth, he studied my reaction.

“Gash is deep. Probably needs stitches but not necessarily. Her pupils dilate just fine. No concussion.”

He picked up my right hand, holding the flashlight above it. “Fingers are a mess.” He gently rested my hand back in my lap. “Lay down, please.”

I carefully laid down on the gurney, gasping at the pain that ran all over me. The doctor’s hands went to my ribcage, tracing each rib individually. When his fingers pressed against the broken rib, I cried out and tried to curl into a fetal position. Ryder’s hand was there instantly; touching me, somehow giving me his strength.

“Yep, one broken rib,” the doctor said, matter–of–factly. “Wrap the rib, bandage the hand, and I’ll get you some pain meds.”

“Wait!” Eva said, reaching out to grab his arm when he started to walk away. “She needs x–rays.”

I saw the doctor study Eva quietly, looking indecisive. Finally, he spoke, sounding weary and defeated. “We’re without power and the back–up generators aren’t working. I’m sorry but there’s nothing I can do except give her some meds.”

He started to walk away but stopped and turned back around.

“Go home, kids. Lock your doors and don’t leave. Something’s happening and it’s not good. Not good at all.”

“There’s some major shit going down, isn’t there?” Brody asked when we climbed back into the truck, now with pain pills tucked into Ryder’s pocket.

“Yeah, we’re in it deep,” Ryder answered.

The dash lights cast a small amount of light on Ryder’s face. I could see his uneasiness. He was always so confident and cocky that to see him like this shook me like nothing else could.

“You going to be okay, Maddie?” Brody asked.

“I’ll be fine,” I told him. If all that was wrong with me was some injured fingers and a cracked rib, I was pretty lucky. I could have died in that club.

I looked back at Ryder and caught him clenching his teeth. With more force than was necessary, he threw the truck into drive and pulled away. Within minutes, we left the hospital district behind, heading home.

“So what’s happening? What was all that back there?” Eva asked, fear making her voice higher–pitched.

Instead of answering, Ryder simply asked, “Anyone’s cell phone work?”

Both Eva and Brody tried their phones. “No,” they both said in unison.

Ryder reached over and turned the radio on but there was only silence. He switched stations. Nothing. Not even the emergency broadcast could be heard.

Ryder’s next words were calm despite what he said. “We’re packing and leaving.”

My head was still pounding painfully.
Did I hear him correctly?

“Pack? Where are we going?” Eva asked, confused.

“Where do you live, Brody?” Ryder asked, ignoring Eva’s question.

“A mile from the girls’ place but I’m not leaving Eva.”

“Fine, we’ll stop at your place first. Grab what you need and only what will fit in a backpack or duffle bag. Then we’ll head to the girls’ apartment and pack,” Ryder said, gripping the steering wheel tightly. “We need to leave the city immediately.”

I cradled my injured hand against my chest and glanced out the windshield, trying to process his words. I began to notice something. There was an emptiness that seemed wrong, unusual. The businesses around us were dark. The streetlights above us were unlit. There were no cars. No people. No lights. This was not normal.

“Why do we need to leave?” I asked, feeling fear.

“When the club first started shaking, I thought it was an earthquake. But when the place went dark, I knew it was something else,” Ryder said. He paused as he turned a corner to a residential street. “When I saw that plane go down…I started to think maybe…”

He stopped, the memory of that plane crashing too awful to go on. Finally he spoke again. “Iran, Russia, some of the Asian countries…they all have the power to take out our power grids and they’ve been threatening to do it. With this war…I think the U.S. just got attacked.”

In the beam of the dash lights, I saw his fingers tighten on the steering wheel, turning his knuckles white.

“I think it was an EMP,” he said, clenching his jaw. “There are only three power grids in the United States and one of them is in Texas.”

"No, that can’t be right. It has to be something else," I said, feeling rattled. I had spent a better part of my life listening to Ryder’s dad talk about end of the world scenarios. I knew about EMPs, nuclear bombs, and so much more (more than I wanted to know).
Ryder had to be wrong. There had to be another explanation.

“My dad warned about the possibility of it happening. An electromagnetic pulse. A nuclear bomb detonated high above us. The pulse from the bomb would destroy our electrical grid, frying everything in its path. An enemy could shut down the entire United States and send us back to the dark ages with just a few strategically placed explosions,” Ryder said, looking down at me to gauge my reaction. Scared and shocked would describe it.

“If an EMP hit, all electronics would be fried. That means no television, no internet, and no phones,” he added.

I watched the truck’s lights pierce the darkness around us. A shiver raced up my spine at the nothingness.

“Is that why no one at the club could start their cars?” Brody asked.

“Most car engines have computers so when the EMP hit, they stopped running. We’re lucky Eva has this old truck or we would be walking right now,” Ryder answered, glancing out his rearview mirror. “Most vehicles before ’75 don’t rely on a computer to run them.”