Harrington 3

This Means War

El's screaming and sobbing echoes through the mall, and after wiping my mouth I turn back towards her. Everyone looks at each other and back at the writhing skin, clearly unsure of what to do. I'm almost certain even a trained surgeon wouldn't know what to do.

"What is that?" Erica asks.

"There's something in there," Mike mutters what we're all thinking, and Eleven cries out again.

"Jesus Christ."

"Keep her talking." Jonathan stands up, "Keep her awake, okay?"

Everyone goes silent, watching Eleven scream, and so I reach forward and grab her hand.

"Listen, El—"

She screams over my voice, and I squeeze her fingers so she looks at me.

"Listen! You're gonna be okay, okay?" I state firmly, convincing myself as well as her, "Just push through, all right? Push through and you'll be okay."

She manages a nod, grunting and clenching her eyes shut as tears rush down her face.

"Stay awake, okay?" Mike chimes in, "Let's get her on this side, on this side."

"Easy, easy, easy."

"It's uh—" Robin begins, her voice high and panicky, "You know, it's not actually that bad. There was a . . . The goalie on my soccer team, Beth Wildfire, this other girl slid into her leg, and the whole bone came out of her knee—six inches or something, it was insane."

"Robin?" Steve interrupts, and everyone is looking at the blabbering girl now, who turns to her coworker with wide eyes.

"Yeah?"

"You're not helping."

"I'm sorry," she breathes, looking back down at El as Jonathan comes running back. He pushes me aside, holding a knife.

"Okay. All right, El?" He kneels next to her leg, and she looks at him, "This is gonna hurt like hell, okay?"

"Okay," she sobs.

"I need you to stay real still." Jonathan puts on a pair of plastic gloves and hands her a wooden spoon, "Here, you're gonna want to bite down on this, okay?"

"Jesus Christ," Dustin says for the third time, and I swallow nervously, shuffling forward and pressing down on her ankle to keep her from writhing. Jonathan leans over her, wielding the knife and edging it closer to her shin.

"Holy shit. Holy shit."

We all look at one another, all breathing shallowly and looking terrified. Mike holds onto El's head and nods.

"Do it."

"Okay," Jonathan nods as if encouraging himself, and he shakily pushes the knife into Eleven's skin, slicing through her wound. She lets out a blood curdling scream, and I wince, forcing myself to stay by her side as Erica gapes down at the makeshift surgery.

"Oh, shit," Dustin gags, turning away. Nancy covers her mouth, and I take a shuddering breath in as Jonathan puts down the knife. I think to myself that the worst part is over, but realize I'm sorely mistaken when Jonathan closes his eyes and digs his gloved fingers into her open wound. We all make noises of reaction, and Eleven's sobs are muffled by the wooden spoon in her mouth.

"Jonathan!" Nancy shouts as Eleven begins screaming over and over, squirming in my grasp.

"Stop talking!" He shouts back at her, rifling around inside El's leg and clearly unable to find what's moving, "Goddamn it!"

"No!" El suddenly spits out the spoon, "Stop it! Stop!"

"Stop!" Mike shouts, and I pull Jonathan away, letting go of Eleven's ankle as she sits up and grunts.