Chaos Rising

10

"Mom-" I start, not knowing what I'm going to say.

"Call 911." She orders me, anyone, trying to keep her tone calm. I freeze, staring at my best friend, the guilt I feel is unbearable as I stare at his sunken eyes, unable to meet my gaze. A slow, steady trickle of blood leaks from the corner of his mouth, staining his lips. "Now!" My Mom yells, snapping me out of the reverie I was in. I can barely breath as I fiddle for my phone, my hands shaking as I struggle to dial the three digit number. He can't be. I just got him back. "Keys!" She barely glances up as she starts chest compressions. "Where are his keys?"

"Here!" Liam grabs a key fob from the kitchen counter, the metal jingling in his hand. "Here!"

"Go start the jeep. Now! Noah!" She snaps. Looking up at Stiles' father, determination lighting up her face. "Noah! Look at me. Take his legs, and Derek, help him bring Stiles out to the jeep." No one moves. "Now! Goddammit!"

"Mom?" I ask, my voice barely audible. "Is he going to be alright?" The silence in his chest is deafening.

"Jeep. Now." She says to me, her tone stern as she points to the driveway, moving out of the way for Derek and the Sheriff.

Lydia and Derek sit in the back with Stiles, neither looking as if they are present in their own minds, vacant. Besides the four of us, everyone stayed at the house. Waiting. Sheriff Stilinski's car is in front of us, driving as a police escort as we speed down the road, tiles squealing with every sharp turn.

The ride to the hospital is long - too long - and deadly quiet.

He's going to be alright.

He's going to be alright.

He can't be dead.

He's too young to die.

Paramedics are already waiting with a stretcher when we arrive, yelling orders as Stiles is wheeled into the elevator, limp. Only his father is allowed to follow beyond the front entrance, his hand gripping his sons even after the doors slide shut.

I take a seat, placing my head in my hands. The clock reads 3 a.m., but it means nothing to me. Minutes pass, hours, days, weeks, I loose track of time. Surely it's only been a few hours. My mother had followed the doctors to the emergency room, leaving Lydia, Derek and I in the front. None of us know what to do, what to think. It all happened so fast...

"Scott." Lydias voice comes from behind me. I spin around, inhaling a breath I didn't know I was holding, or for how long. She's staring at the computer screen behind he front reception desk, her face grave.

"What's wrong?"

"You know the deadpool?"

"Yeah?" I say, joining her.

"Look at this." She points to one of the names on the list, I squint to read it. Then I do a double take. That can't be right.

"50 million? Lydia, that's impossible." I stare at the price. "The Hale vault only had 117 million, and all the names add up to that number. Where is this extra 50 million coming from?"

"No, Scott. I don't care about where the money came from." She whispers. "Look at the name."

"Holly shit." I curse as I reread the name over and over again. "How?"

She raises her head, he heartbeat faltering at whatever it is she sees. "I don't know." She says quietly, nudging my arm. "But he might." She jerks her chin towards the elevator, I follow her gaze and standing within it's open doors, I find myself staring at the newest addition to the deadpool.