The Withered Series (Book 1): Wither (10 page)

“Oh,
no.” I shake my head, my hands quaking at my sides. My pulse
beats like a bass drum in my ears as I turn on him.  “It’s
exactly
like that.”

Devon
bears his teeth as he towers over me.  I don’t back down.
 Alex pushes Devon aside with far more ease than I would have
liked and steps between us.  “Yes, you’re useful,
dammit but that’s not why I kept you.”

“Then
why?” I press into his face, forcing him to look at me as he
spins his lies.  Although I’m several inches shorter than
him, he reacts instantly to the animalistic growl that bursts from my
throat as he tries to grab my hand.  I whip my hand away and
crack it across his cheek hard enough to make my palm sting.

A
vein pulses down his forehead as he steps back. A red patch grows
along his cheek.  I wait for the return hit, preparing myself
for the pain, but he doesn't move.  Doesn’t speak.  After
a moment of tense silence his hardened gaze softens and the lines
along his forehead disappear.  His shoulders sag as his head
dips low.  “Because you remind me of someone.  Someone
I once cared very much for,” he whispers.

Devon
glances over at him.  His displeasure is clearly written in the
tensing of his stance. He starts to speak when a terrible howl from
behind me makes my heart plummet into my stomach.  I whip around
to find Eva curled tightly into a ball, her mouth gaped open as tears
spill from her eyes.  

“What’s
wrong with her?” Victoria shouts, covering her ears against
Eva’s shrieks.  

Glancing
down at the mattress, my throat clenches at the sight of a small
trickle of blood seeping out from beneath the folds of her dress.
 “Oh, god! She’s hemorrhaging.”

“What
do we do, Avery?”  

I
cast an incredulous look at Alex.  “Why the hell are you
asking me? I don’t have a clue!”

Eva’s
screams mount as she thrashes, curling inward then arching back.  Her
stomach heaves and sweat begins to dampen her hair.

“But
you’ve done this before.  Eva told me about your kid.”

I
press my palm to my forehead, trying to think around Eva’s
screams.  “I was in a hospital with people who knew what
the hell they were doing!”

From
the corner of my eye I see Devon backing away. Sal slouches against
the far wall, looking indifferent to the scene before him.

“Victoria?”
 The older woman glances at me as I shout her name to be heard.
 “You’re the group know-it-all.  What do we
do?”

She
presses a hand to her hair, patting it as if lost in thought.  She
looks down at Eva but says nothing. Does nothing. She just shakes her
head and clams up.   

“God!”
I yell and rush toward Eva’s side.  “You are all
useless!”

I
grab my blanket and roll it up beneath the Eva’s head.  Her
eyes clench tight, lost to the pain.  “Someone get me
something for her to bite on so she doesn’t sever her own
tongue.”

Alex
is the only one to react. He rushes toward a stack of boxes and
begins digging, tossing packing peanuts and bits of tape over the
side.  Victoria watches from a distance as I brush Eva’s
hair back from her face.  She is pale.  Blood has begun to
slowly stain through the front of her dress.

“That’s
a lot of blood.” Alex says as he drops beside me.  He
hands over a long thick wooden stick and I realize it’s a
snapped broom handle.  

“Something’s
wrong.”  I gently pry open Eva’s mouth between
screams and place the handle between her teeth.  “Bite
down on this.  It will help.”

Her
head moves but I’m not sure she’s coherent.  Grabbing
the end of her skirts, I begin tearing them, casting them aside.
 Blood coats my hands as I ease her legs apart.  My stomach
lurches at the sight but I force myself to remain focused.  Devon
backs away, his head shaking rapidly as he fumbles back over a stack
of crates that fall far too close to Eva’s head for comfort.   

“Leave,”
I shout, pointing a bloody finger back toward the room with the
cowering couple. Devon rises and rushes on the door.  

“Do
you have any needles?” I ask Alex. “ Tubing?  Something
to start an IV so I can transfer blood to her?”

Alex
shakes his head.  “Nothing.  Someone tripped over the
one line we had left and snapped the needle.  Sal’s doing,
I’d say. That’s why I went in there to check.  I
knew Eva might need it sooner or later.  We’ve been
collecting blood in bowls and trying to cover them with pieces of
cardboard but even that’s useless now.”

My
hands clench against Eva’s knees as I bite my tongue at their
stupidity.  They aren’t even preserving the blood they are
stealing!

Eva
moans and rocks to the side, her knees trapping my hand.  A
steady trickle escapes between her legs.  “Someone throw
me a towel.”

From
the corner of my eye I glimpse Sal a moment before the door closes
behind him.  Victoria begins her frantic pacing, right past a
small stack of clean cloths.  I watch her, waiting for her to
hand them to me but she doesn’t.  The squeaking of her
shoes drives me over the edge.

“Get
out!” She jumps at my scream, her eyes wide behind her
red-rimmed glasses. “If you aren’t going to help then get
the hell out of here so I can think.”

Victoria
sniffs indignantly, hesitates as if she might actually consider
helping, then hurries toward the door.

“Coward,”
Alex mutters under his breath beside me.

As
I scoot closer blood soaks into my pant legs, warm and sticky.
 “She’s a science teacher. She must know how to stop
this bleeding.  She’s dissected animals, for pete’s
sake!”

“She’s
scared.”

“I
don’t give a shit, Alex.  Go in there and force her to
focus.  Eva’s life depends on it.”

I
wipe my hands on my shirt and prepare to try to search for the baby’s
head but pause when I feel him staring at me.  “What?”

“How
are we going to do this?”

I’ve
been asking myself that same thing over and over since I first
noticed Eva’s contractions.  “I don’t know,
but we are going to. Somehow.  I won’t let her die.”

Exhaustion
weighs down on me as I fight to keep Eva with us. My knees bruise
from kneeling on the floor.  The sound of her screams makes my
ears ring.  The worst part is not knowing if it’s from
labor pains or something worse, something internal.  My hands
tremble as I sink back, pressing my bloodied hands against my thigh
as I use my arm to wipe my brow.  

I’m
worried about how much blood she has lost.  Eva is barely
conscious and she hasn’t begun to push yet.

The
hairs on Alex’s arms are matted with blood.  The shirt in
his hand, pressed against Eva to slow the bleeding has begun to soak
through.  We ran out of towels fifteen minutes ago and began
using clothes. Alex gave the shirt off his own back to help.  It’s
not sterile but if we don't do something she’s going to bleed
out and it won't matter.

“She’s
not going to make it, is she?” Alex says beside me.  It is
not really a question and we both know it.  Without help Eva
will not last much longer.

The
towel I wipe my hands with is soaked through and just as sticky as my
hands.  Victoria finally got her head out of her backside and
managed to scrounge up some minor supplies from the warehouse.  A
small first aid kit, a couple moving pads that are stained with oil,
a mop bucket to hold water to clean our hands in and some unused mop
heads to soak up some of the mess on the floor.

As
Alex pulls his shirt away, I spread Eva’s legs and cry out.
 The crown of the baby’s head is within sight.  At
least I think that’s what it is.  The idea of grasping
this tiny life makes me nauseous but I’m the only chance Eva’s
baby has.  But what happens after that? What if we can’t
stop the bleeding?   How do we care for the baby if Eva
dies?  What if…I have a million of those questions going
through my mind right now.

Pushing
back off my knees I rise.  Eva’s head has rolled to the
side.  She stares blankly at the wall.  “I’m
going for help.”

“No.”
Alex struggles to rise.  His own legs must be suffering from the
same pain that mine are.

“She’s
going to die.  We both know it, Alex.  You have to let me
try to find help.”

He
shakes his head.  “Sal could go.  Or Devon.  I
can’t let you be the one to go. I have no clue what I’m
doing here.”

I
reach out and grab his arm, digging my cracked nails into his flesh
just enough to get his rising panic to subside.  “You told
me earlier that Eva is part of your group.  That she is yours to
take care of.  I’m asking that you let me help you do
that.”

He
glances back down at Evangeline.  “We both know Sal and
Devon don’t care about her like we do.  If you want her to
make it you have to let me go.”

I
realize, staring at him now, just how deep the extent of his feelings
of responsibility for her goes.  He has proven that he is
willing to do whatever it takes to protect his own, even stealing
blood from an outsider.  Now I need to lean heavily on that need
if Eva has any chance.

“She’s
only sixteen, Alex.   Can you really  live with
yourself if she dies on your watch?”

He
closes his eyes and shakes his head. “What is something happens
to you?  What if someone follows you?”

I
bite on my lower lip as I look around for a solution that will
placate him.  
So
close.  

And
then I remember Eva’s story. “Do you still have the radio
Eva brought with her?”

“Sure.”
He motions toward the closed door. “We’ve been monitoring
the military’s movements with it.”

“Ok.
 If anything happens to me, if I don’t come back, I will
find a way to contact you. Keep it with you, no matter what.”
 The moment his shoulders sag in reluctant defeat, I race for
the door, shoving Victoria aside.  I barely have time to feel
vindicated when I hear her topple to the floor as I race down the
metal stairs and through the vast warehouse.

The
first time I came through this darkened maze I had no real idea of
how large the factory was.  Shadows rise up before me just
seconds before I slam into a piece of machinery and bounce off.
 Battered and bruised, but fueled by a new round of screaming
from behind me, I rush past the endless row of windows in search of a
door.

Years
of disuse and grime smudge the glass, affording only a dim light to
see by.  The sun looks to be on the rise and I’m desperate
to feel it’s warmth on my skin again.

The
blustery cold steals my breath away as I throw open the door. The
wind tugs the handle from my hands and it bangs loudly against the
brick wall.  I squint against the brilliant dawn, shielding my
face until my eyes have a chance to adjust.  I don’t
recognize any of my surroundings. In the distance I can see the arch
gleaming like glass against the brightening sky.  A bank of
storm clouds move off to the East leaving the city in temporary
sunlight.

Without
thinking I sprint down the road, weaving around potholes and
abandoned cars.  Graffiti decorates the brick walls around me.
 Some of the roofs have caved in, charred and left to ruin by
the fires.  Bullet holes scatter the streets, in car doors,
through glass windows and mailboxes.  

I
skirt the opposite sidewalk to avoid a burst fire hydrant that gushes
water high into the air. A Jeep is jacked up on the hydrant, its
alarm blaring and lights flashing.  There is no one inside, but
I spy a puddle of blood beneath the open door as I jog past.

Before
all of this happened I would never have walked down these streets,
even in broad daylight.  Every city has its places that you
don't go alone.  This was one of them.  The other lies
across the river, my path of escape should I ever make it out of
here.

I
hold the stitch in my side, counting the slaps of my blood stained
chucks against the pavement as I run in spite of the pain in my ribs.
 I grow warm beneath my scavenged hoodie and pull it over my
head, tying it around my waist. The cold air feels amazing against my
exposed skin, cooling the heat trapped within the black tank that I
wore beneath.

After
several minutes the arch begins to rise into the sky and I discern
shops dotted along the street, interspersed with offices and
entrances to condos. I race around a corner and come up short.  

Less
than a block away people mill about.  The stench wafts my way
and I’m forced to double over, clutching my nose and mouth.
 The scent of rotting flesh, urine and feces hits me like a
wrecking ball.  Death lives here.

I
rise to my full height and then up onto my toes as I spy a familiar
sign.  Nearly thirty Withered Ones stand between me and a
pharmacy on the corner two blocks away.  It is small but should
have something that I can use to help Eva.  

Glancing
down the street I look for a way around the Moaners but the path is
blocked by a pileup of cars. It’s either go straight through or
adds a few extra blocks to my journey. Time is not on my side.

“You’ve
got this,” I whisper to myself as their raspy moans echo down
the alley toward me.  “Nothing to it.”

I
walk cautiously forward, watching those closest to me. A girl wearing
a Washington University sweatshirt slams into a wall ten feet in
front of me.  She stumbles back and slams again, repeating the
action with maddening persistence. The flesh of her forehead clings
to the trail of blood she has left on the wall.  Her shattered
nose gushes, the bone and cartilage concaved into her face. The bones
of her right cheek splinter, poking through her flesh.

Clutching
my stomach, I step past her and try to ignore the squelching sounds
each time she hits the wall.  I come upon a man of Asian descent
wearing a business suit.  Shattered metal-framed glasses slide
down his nose as he bounces off the trunk of a car and veers into my
path.  I swallow my scream as I duck to miss his flailing arm.
 The scent of gasoline is strong on him as he passes.