Vanguard | Post-Apocalyptic YA

Part 32: Supply Run

Too tired to respond, I close my eyes and concentrate on ignoring the growing pain in my left shoulder as the numbness is gradually replaced by sharp pinpricks. Amid the continued thunks of the flat tire, the others in the car begin to strategize.

"We can't go much farther like this," Jed says. "Otherwise we'll bust an axel and have even bigger problems."

"Let's do a quick–and logical–analysis of the situation, shall we?" Dad offers and the others groan.

You might be able to take the man out of science, but you can't take the science out of the man. Or something like that. Witty quips are much easier when you're not losing blood.

"As I was saying," Dad continues, ignoring the apathy and doing what he does best: saving the world with his brilliant mind while boring everyone to tears. "We have two, competing priorities, both of which are equally urgent. We need to speed up our journey, but since we already know that we don't have a spare tire, we'll need to find a suitable replacement. We also need to make sure that we haven't been followed or that wherever we stop is safe from other threats."

He pauses to let this sink in, only the thunks breaking the silence. When the others don't object, he goes on.

"At the same time, Will needs medical attention and while we're all focused on keeping him alive, none of us are safe. An old hospital or even pharmacy would be best, but we might have luck with a general supermarket to find bandages, painkillers and maybe even antibiotics. The problem is, we need a working car to get anywhere, hence this catch-22 situation," he says.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

"Listen," Jed says, his tone much more reasonable now and I wonder if my father's speech is responsible for the change or if there's something else I'm not aware of, which is a distinct possibility since there are orange jellyfish floating in the middle of the road that are likely just my imagination.

"There are a lot more options for finding a tire than medicine," Jed continues, driving through my phantom jellyfish. "How about I stop at the first hospital or store we see? While two of us raid the joint for supplies, the other two look around at abandoned cars to find some wheels. Sound good?"

"Yes. Good. Just go, please," Ellen implores, and I shiver. Not just because she's freaking me out with her overt concern, but also because my body temperature is falling by the second.

"I'm . . . I'm cold," I whisper, my teeth practically chattering.

"He's going into shock!" Dad yells and the thunking gets louder as Jed suddenly accelerates.

* * *

The air smells of mildew and I open my eyes.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," Nelly says with a giggle.

Sitting on a carpeted floor with my back leaning against her, I shift. Damn, that still hurts.

"How long was I out? Where are we? What's going on?" I ask, unable to focus on one thing, but wanting to know everything.

She continues to laugh. "Hold up, buttercup. You lost a lot of blood and there's literally just fishing line keeping that through-and-through wound from opening back up. So how about you relax for a bit, huh?"

I take a deep breath and follow her orders, allowing myself to melt into her embrace. Her arms around are nice and if we weren't hiding out in the dark in who knows where, I might have gotten myself shot earlier just to end up to feel this.

"Where are the others?" I ask, remembering that the last time I was conscious there were five of us in a busted car running from an ambush of rovers.

Nelly pats my elbow. "Don't worry. Jed, Ellen and your dad are doing one more sweep of the building to make sure that it's secure," she says.