A snap near my ear jolted me awake. A blue glove being pulled onto a yellow sleeve. Who was wearing yellow in our group? The figure rolled around the table, her footsteps swift. Elizabeth looked like a real doctor. She had on a yellow surgery gown, her hair twisted high up out of her face.
"How long was I out?" I groaned.
"Not long," she said with her back to me. A big bottle of brownish liquid swished in her hand as she turned. "Less than a minute. The pain was just a lot for your body." She set the bottle on the table, exchanging it for a pair of scissors. "I hope you don't like your outfit too much," she said as she cut my shirt off.
Very gently, she peeled the fabric away from my wound. "You've lost a lot of blood. I need to see if I put in an IV."
She sloshed some of the brown liquid in the corner of my elbow, smearing it with a piece of gauze. "Ian, grab that metal thing that looks like a coat rack." She pointed just behind him. "Warner, check the cabinet behind you and look for clear bags with clear liquid. It looks like bagged water."
Warner rummaged, brandishing two bags. "These?"
Elizabeth looked up from opening packages and prepping what looked to be some sort of needle. "Yes. What does the label say?"
He looked at them like they were on fire, holding them away from his body. "One says 5% dextrose and the other says 0.9% sodium chloride--"
"The second one," EIizabeth commanded. "Hang it on the coat rack, but leave it closed. Then, bring the coat rack over here."
Warner looked confused, but did as she asked. She held up some clear tubing, muttering and cursing as she tried to get it set up. After attaching some tubing to the bag, she picked up a blue rubber band. She tied it tight around my arm before attempting to stick me with a needle.
"Thank God you have good veins." She slid the needle into my arm, satisfied that she got it on the first try. Given that she was a doctor, I would be surprised if she didn't.
"Is it usually harder than that?" Ian asked, standing awkwardly next to Warner as they awaited more commands.
Elizabeth twisted a tube into the needle in my arm, darting over to the coat rack to adjust the settings. "Yes, much more. It's hard to find a vein, let alone get it right away. I don't do it that often since I am not a phlebotomist or a nurse. I'm just glad it's in." She turned her attention to me. "How are you feeling? And don't give me any bullshit right now. I need to know."
I raised my hands in surrender, keeping my shoulder immobilized. "Like hell, honestly."
"Dizziness? Nausea? Blurred vision?"
"Not anymore. It just feels like my shoulder is on fire."
She nodded, taking mental notes. "You probably need a blood transfusion, but I don't know where to get any blood. Hopefully the IV will be enough to stave it off. I'm going to deal with your actual wound now."
She put more of the brown stuff on some gauze. "What is that?" Ian asked, fascinated.
"You are full of questions today." She smeared it on my shoulder around the wound, careful not to get it in the wound. It still made me wince. "It's betadine. An antiseptic." She frowned at the wound. "I'm debating taking out the bullet."
"You'd leave it in there?" Ian said, confused. "Forever?"
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. "Yeah, it happens all the time. I'm just worried that the bullet might cause more damage if we leave it in, just based off of its location. Ideally, I'd get an x-ray, but there's no power. I can't even get Luke's vitals up on the monitor."
Warner shrugged. "Not much you can do then."
"No." She fished around in a drawer, pulling out a penlight. After examining the wound again, she picked up a strange, curved pair of tweezers. "It's coming out. Better safe than sorry. At least here I can control the bleeding. I don't want some problem to happen when we don't have the supplies to take care of it."
She felt along my shoulder, probing the wound with gentle touches. "Good news is that your scapula seems undamaged." Seeing my blank look, she clarified. "Your shoulder blade."
"The bad news?" I asked. Starting with the good news inevitably meant that there was bad news too.
She sighed. "The bullet is lodged in your subscapularis muscle. The one right under your shoulder blade. By some miracle, it missed the subclavian artery. Unfortunately, that makes it really hard to get to. I can't go through the back because of your bone, but going through the front risks damage to the subclavian."
She wasn't really talking to us, more like thinking out loud. I guess she needed to reassure herself that she was making good decisions. That didn't reassure me. A doctor's confidence is less about them and more about reassuring their patients. But I trusted Elizabeth. She was incredibly smart and caring. I knew that she would do all that she could to help me.
This wasn't my first gunshot wound, and I was pretty certain that it wouldn't be my last. Not that I really appreciated that particular premonition.
"Okay," she announced. "Today, Ian and Warner, you are honorary nurses. Grab some hand sanitizer and grab a trauma gown and some gloves."
"Why can't I be a doctor?" Ian asked as he slid on a yellow robe and blue nitrile gloves.
"You didn't go to medical school." Elizabeth smiled. "At least you get some title. I could have called you simply an extra set of hands. A robot to hand me instruments." Ian made a face at her, which she returned in all of its childish glory. "Nurse Ian and Nurse Warner, who is better with the blood?"
Warner and Ian glanced at each other, each holding up a fist. "Rock, paper, scissors, shoot." They bobbed their fists in sync before flashing paper and rock. A deadly combination for Ian.
"Victory," Warner said, smugly patting Ian on the shoulder. "You get the menial task."
"Great, it's settled then." Elizabeth was no nonsense now. "Warner, grab the scalpel for me. Ian, the light."
Scalpel. She was going to cut me open?
"Are you chopping me up? I thought my shoulder was already messed up enough."
Elizabeth gave me a weak smile. "Well, the hole in your shoulder isn't big enough to get the bullet out. I can't see it. I just have to widen the hole with a small incision so that way I can get it out." A glass vial shone in her hand. She inserted a big needle, squeezing the plunger so that a little bit of liquid squirted in the air. "I'm giving you some morphine now, so it'll hurt, but not as much as it could."
Warner picked up a scalpel, a thin wicked blade. Elizabeth accepted the tool end first, taking a deep breath before pressing it into my skin. With a quick swipe, she ran it across my shoulder. The morphine dulled the sharp edge, but the pain still radiated through my body.
"Ian, more light." The scalpel clattered as she tossed it onto an empty tray. "Forceps." Elizabeth held out her hand, still staring at the wound.
Warner scoffed. "Elizabeth, calling us nurses doesn't mean we know jackshit. What the hell are forceps?"
She frowned, tossing him a dirty look. "The tweezer. The big ones." He gestured to the tray behind me and she nodded, accepting them easily. "This is going to hurt, Luke."
She jammed the metal up into my shoulder, driving waves of pain through my body. My vision went red, blotches of white streaming into view. A sickening shink echoed in the room, the sound louder than any gunshot.
"The bullet is out. Time to stitch you on up. How are we doing?" Elizabeth's voice was soothing, a hint of triumph in her timbre. "Warner, grab that package on your right."
"Pretty damn awful, darlin'."
"The worst part is over. Just some sutures now." She accepted Warner's offering, tearing open the paper easily. Her bloody gloves left red stains on the packaging. She wound the thread around a pair of curved tweezers, the blue string a sharp contrast to the crimson coating everything. "You were one tough cookie, Luke. Not many people could take that as well as you did." Two stitches went in, a sharp pain, a pulling tug, and momentary bliss. "Rest, now. You've earned in."
She repeated her pattern of inserting the needle, pulling tight, twisting and tugging. I lost count of the sutures, drifting off to the lovely reassurances of her voice. For the first time in a long time, I felt safe enough to sleep deeply and freely.
----
My eyes peeled open, thick and heavy with the remnants of sleep. My shoulder throbbed, but the pain was nothing compared to yesterday. Was it even the next day?
I tried to sit up, using my good arm to hoist myself up, but a warm lump trapped me down. On a stool near my bed sat Elizabeth, head slumped over onto my arm, her body overcome with exhaustion.
Warner sprawled out on the floor, using his jacket as a makeshift pillow. I leaned back, locking eyes with Ian from where he sat by the door in the darkness. I jolted slightly, jostling Elizabeth.
"Jesus, Ian. You scared the hell out of me." I closed my eyes and tried to calm my racing heart. The increased speed made my shoulder ache.
"Sorry," he said, his voice soft. "I didn't think you'd be waking up so soon after all that. I'm on watch for right now."
The windows showed full dark, not even a hint of moonlight or street lights. "What time is it?"
Ian shrugged. "Some time after five. You passed out around six, been out for almost twelve hours. We've held down the fort since then."
I nodded, not sure what else to say. But Ian did. Warner always complained that his kid brother would never let him get in a word otherwise. A teasing complaint from another time and another place.
He motioned towards Elizabeth, who was still fast asleep with her head on the edge of my cot. Her blonde hair was messily scraped out of her face, streaks of blood in her roots and staining the tips. "She fixed you up pretty well?"
"Yeah," I said. "I was in pretty bad shape, but I'm feeling a lot better now." I flexed my bad shoulder, wincing slightly. The pain was nothing I couldn't handle now. "She worked a damn miracle given the circumstances."
"She always does. I've had to watch her at the clinic." Ian wasn't satisfied. He leaned forward, pressing for more answers. "But what do you think of her? She's on this run team now whether you want her to be or not. The real question is whether you trust her to have your back."
I was genuinely surprised. Ian and Elizabeth seemed close, always joking and bantering with each other. I hadn't expected him to question her loyalties. Wasn't it enough that she had chosen to come after us? Chosen to stay with us despite everything that happened? She obviously got access to a car through Ian which she could've stolen and gone home with. But she didn't. She chose us over herself. What more could we ask from her?
"I do. She just saved my life. Of course I do." Elizabeth shifted in her sleep, her hair falling from its knot and spilling everywhere. The blood stains and dirt smears streaking through her hair were a testament that she was willing to give everything up to help us. I knew a lot of women who wouldn't have sacrificed their hair. "Why are you asking?"
Ian's eyes were hard. "Because we are out here and we all have to trust each other. We can't keep up a ruse of friendliness out here. If we've got a problem, tell them straight up. We can't waste time with petty fights."
Ian's words resonated with me. He was right, but why did he bring them up? Unless there was a problem that I was unaware of, our group got along well.
"Ian, what am I missing? What happened while I was out?" I pleaded, needing the information.
"Nothing," he said. "Just go back to sleep."
"Ian." I looked him dead in the eyes. "Tell me. Right now."
"It really is nothing," he protested. Another glance at Elizabeth. "After you passed out, Elizabeth had sort of a meltdown. Warner and I had no idea what to do. We had never seen her like that. It just made us a little concerned."
Ian's face told me to stop pushing, but I couldn't. "And?" I prompted.
"Fine," he hissed. "But you gotta keep your mouth shut about this and hope that she doesn't wake up while I tell you this."
Talking about someone behind their back was never nice, but sometimes necessary. It facilitated drama, but also conversation. It brought people closer together and drove others apart. It was just a natural part of life.
I usually tried to stay out of the drama, but it seemed I had pulled myself into the thick of it. Talking behind someone's back was one thing. It was another when said person was in the room. That was only a recipe for disaster.
Ian sighed. "I just don't think she realized what a rescue mission meant. To be honest, I didn't really either, but I have been training for this. To be a soldier. To fight. She hasn't. She just got thrown into the thick of it."
"Ian, I don't need you to make excuses for her. I know what it's like. Just tell me what happened," I said. "Please."
It was the please that broke him. "She shot an infected today. Killed it. To save us." He shook his head. "Instead of seeing that as a win, she thinks she killed someone. She took it really hard. I think after she knew that you were okay, her adrenaline stopped and she just lost it."
I frowned down at Elizabeth. Poor girl. I didn't even think twice about shooting an infected. Maybe it made me a horrible person, but I had accepted the fact that I would have to take them down in order to protect myself. These weren't killings in cold blood.
My years in the military had given me time to distinguish this. To live with my decisions, the good and the bad. In terms of shitty situations, this was one of the worst. For me, that meant doing whatever it took to survive. To get through one more day.
For Elizabeth, that may mean something completely different. Her whole career was based on helping people, not harming them. How could she reconcile killing an infected if she still entertained the notion that they could be saved?
"How bad?" I asked. "I need to know how much this bothers her."
There was the obvious motive of wanting to know to make sure that our group was sound of mind and able to fight. More than that, I cared. I wanted her to be okay, to be happy, to not struggle. It had been so long since I had felt that way about anyone else other than my comrades.
Ian shrugged. "I don't know. I think part of it was shock. Maybe even just her emotions running high from the insanity of the day. It's just one person. I'm sure she's killed more than that through malpractice. I think she can get over it." His gun clattered on the floor as Ian pushed himself to his feet. "I need to do another sweep. With the glass doors shattered, we have to be careful that no infected are sneaking in. I'll be back in a flash."
As soon as Ian left the room, Elizabeth popped her head up. Jesus, I didn't even know that she had woken up. My bigger concern was how much of that conversation she'd heard.
She wiped a tear from her cheek, her motions almost imperceptible in the darkness. "You're awake," she said, standing up and stretching. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm fine, darlin'. More worried about you." I shifted on the exam bed, trying to get a better look at her face.
She picked up her fallen hair tie, using it to pull her hair out of her face. "I'm fine," she echoed. I read her face like a picture book. She wasn't fine. "I want to check on your wound. Change the dressing. See if the bleeding has stopped and make sure that everything is doing okay."
She fumbled for a flashlight, the soft glow illuminating her face as she hurried about the room. Her footsteps were quiet in an attempt to not wake Warner. A snap of her blue gloves and the ripping of packages made us wince, casting cautious glances at Warner. Still fast asleep.
"Ian told me what happened. If you want to talk about it, I'm here." It was all that I could offer, the bare minimum. I was in a similar place once and having that opportunity is one of the only things that saved me.
She took a deep breath, focusing on my shoulder. After peeling back my old bandage, she released it. "The sutures look good, no signs of any infection. It'll scar, though. I'm no plastic surgeon." She had a strange look on her face, her eyes watering again. "I expect you to make a full recovery." Her voice was shaky as she applied a new bandage and crumpled up the trash.
With my good arm, I caught one of her gloved hands and pulled her closer. "Elizabeth, please. You don't have to pretend with me. I get it."
She ripped off her gloves, tearing the nitrile as she pulled. "How do you live with it? How can I live with myself?" She sobbed, tossing aside her ruined gloves. "All I've done is destroy."
I squeezed her hand tightly, her fingers curling around mine. "You just helped me. Is that destruction?" She shook her head, her breaths erratic and shaking. "You are a doctor. You help people every day. You save their lives, not destroy them."
Another wave of tears rolled down her face, the rising light from outside highlighting their path. "But I killed someone today. Took away their life. Took them from their family and all that they were meant to do." She used her free hand to swipe away a new tear. "How can I live with that?"
"One step at a time. One minute after the other. Taking a life is never good. It can be excused, but it is never what you want. I'm not going to tell you that it's going to be okay. That somehow those magic words will change everything. They won't." She finally met my eyes, her tears shining in her blue eyes. "But it will get better, easier. I can promise you that."
"How? I can't imagine this ever going away." She collapsed onto the chair next to my cot, resting her forehead against our interlaced fingers. "I don't know if I can forgive myself for this."
I strained my injured arm to run a gentle hand over the back of her head. "It won't ever go away. You will always remember their face. Each day, you remind yourself that you are the reason that they are dead. It hurts." I sighed, giving her hand another squeeze.
Elizabeth sat up, sniffling slightly. "Do you have a point to that statement?" She said with a forced laugh. "Because right now that is just echoing my dark thoughts."
"I do." I made her look at me, holding her gaze for a moment before I spoke. "We can't change what happened. Only promise to be better. If you don't want to kill, then you try your very hardest not to. Every single day. It's not easy, but it's a start. We have to forgive ourselves, too. If we can't forgive ourselves, we can never be better because we don't give ourselves the option." I sat forward, leaning closer to her, our breaths mingling in the air. "What you did saved lives, Elizabeth. You saved Warner, Ian, and me. Don't apologize for protecting those that you love."
"Love." She said the word like she was examining the taste of it, her lips forming the word as she leaned closer to me.
"Love," I repeated. "It comes when you least expect it, right?"
My breathing increased ever so slightly, her proximity driving my heart rate up. My shoulder pounded, the echo of my heart.
She pressed two fingers to my throat, her head almost resting on my chest. "Your heart...it's racing." She trailed her fingers across my collarbone, dragging them to my chest. "Your respirations, quick and shallow." Her voice was a velvet whisper in the darkness, her closeness a snare.
She closed her eyes as my breath hit her cheeks. "What do you make of that?"
A breathless laugh, a subtle sliver of her true peals. "One of two things." She rapped a finger on my chest, drawing lazy circles with the pad of her fingertip. "Either you're dying or..." She leaned closer, trailing her finger to the swell of my lips. "Or..."
"Or what?" I said against her finger, the callused skin still stained with blood.
"Or you want this."
Her eyes, full of longing and desire, asked me a silent question. One I had waited my entire life to answer. She leaned in, her lips fraction away from mine.
Hesitation etched her features, but she held my gaze.
"Well?" Her skin prickled as my breath mingled with hers. "What's my diagnosis?" Her brows furrowed slightly, but she didn't pull away. "Am I dying? Or..."
I made the move. She put the ball in my court after all. "Do I want this?"
I lifted my head, pressing my lips to hers. A mere moment of passion, not long enough for me to even touch her face before Ian burst into the room.
"We've got a problem." Elizabeth and I burst apart, breaths labored. He glanced from Elizabeth to me, examining our close proximities.
Elizabeth wiped her face one last time and stood up. "What kind of problem?"
"Like on a scale of one to ten?" Ian asked, raising an eyebrow at us.
Elizabeth looked like she wanted to murder him and I did too. She shook Warner awake before speaking. "Just tell us what's going on."
"There's people. Like non-infected people. They're scouting around and they stole our stuff. I recognized Elizabeth's extra jacket." Ian looked lost. "What should we do? They're getting closer to the hospital by the second."
"Shit," Warner said. "Who the hell goes for runs this early?" He shook his head, muttering curses. "There's no guarantee that they're friendlies. We either need to get the hell out of here or make a stand."
"What's our status on ammo?" I asked, calculating our odds.
"A full round in two of the hand guns, only a few in the others," Warner said, checking the magazines.
"It's not enough. We need more if we have a chance at fighting." I grit my teeth and swung my legs over the edge of the table. My body was stiff and sore, but moveable. I could tough out the shoulder injury. "Where are the exits to this place?"
"Only the glass doors," Ian said, checking his gun again as if it would magically conjure more bullets. "Unless you cut through the hospital."
"Bad idea," Elizabeth cut in before I could shoot down the idea. "Hospitals are confusing when you work in them. There's no way that we could navigate it, especially in the dark."
We all looked to the windows. The sun has barely crest the skyline, a small ring of gold cutting into the indigo landscape.
"What if we lost them in the hospital? Found a hiding place?" Ian offered.
"Too risky." Warner ran a hand through his hair. "There's no guarantee that we would be able to find our way back out again."
"Besides," Elizabeth said as she gathered up our basic supplies. "They may know the hospital layout. Who's to say this isn't some elaborate ambush?"
"Holy shit," Warner exclaimed. "What if it's those SOBs that were shooting at us earlier?"
"They're the Colonel's lackeys." Elizabeth shook her head. "We didn't have a chance to tell you yesterday with all of the insanity, but this run is a coverup for your assassinations. The Colonel wants you guys out of the picture."
"God, another thing to deal with." I accepted the outstretched gun from Warner. He offered one to Elizabeth, but she shook her head. I gave Warner a subtle shake of my head, a warning not to push the issue. "Doesn't matter. Right now we need to get the hell out of here."
"Too late," a taunting feminine voice teased from the doorway. All of us whirled, gun raised. Elizabeth even grabbed a scalpel. "Why would you leave when we are all just getting to know each other?"
A woman with vibrant red hair stepped from the shadows, a gun clutched in her hand. "Who exactly might you lovely people be?" Her voice rolled with a posh British accent, a soft lilt of her words. A disarming facade of innocence.
I kept my gun trained on her forehead. "The better question is who you are."
She smiled, all glistening white teeth and red lips. "I am a sucker for introductions. So if I may, I must request your name after I divulge my own." She sighed dramatically with a flip of her red waves. Elizabeth scoffed, not fooled by her performance. "If you fail to comply with my request, I have my lovely compatriots waiting in the wings. They are certainly not as polite as I am."
Outside our window, I caught a glimpse of a man with an automatic rifle. Two more flanking the woman. In a shootout, we were doomed. Diplomacy was the only option here. And scheming, of course.
"My name is Lindsay. I politely request that all weapons be lowered." She tucked her own into the back of her jeans, holding up her empty hands in surrender. "I think we all need to have a little chat, yeah? I need names."
"Luke," I offered, keeping my gun raised high. The other grudgingly said their names, no one dropping their weapons.
Lindsay pursed her lips. "Well, it seems you all don't take me seriously. A fault of my own I'm sure." She pressed a finger to her ear. "Carter."
A singular bullet whipped past Elizabeth's head, lodging in the cabinet behind her. "You bit-" Elizabeth started.
Lindsay cut her off. "Ta, ta, dear. None of that here." She sighed, refreshing her smile. "I'll ask again. Lower your weapons."
She had us by the balls. We had no choice but to comply. Unless we wanted bullets in our heads. After Lindsay's little demonstration, I had a feeling they weren't the kind of people to miss.
I held up my gun, showing it to her before holstering it. The others did the same, Elizabeth returning her scalpel to the tray. Red stains still crusted the silver metal. My stomach turned as I realized it was my own blood.
"Lovely. Now we can begin." She surveyed us carefully. "Military?"
It was an easy guess. Warner and I were both dressed in fatigues. I inclined my head, not offering up any other pieces of intel.
"But, you." She focused on Elizabeth. "You aren't military. You're too...how shall I say this? Too...skinny. Military women have more muscle."
Elizabeth scoffed, crossing her arms. "Do you have a point or are you here simply to threaten us and insult us?"
Elizabeth was brave, I'll give her that. Taunting the women in charge was probably not the best tactical decision, but I understood how Lindsay was riling up her emotions.
"Insult you?" Lindsay's mouth formed a perfect 'o'. She placed a hand over her heart. "I would never. You don't think that skinny is a compliment? Would you prefer something about your hair or face?"
I grabbed Elizabeth's arm before she could deck the woman. "She's taunting you. It's a game to her," I hissed. "Calm down."
Elizabeth straightened. I understood her as easily as if she said it. Two can play at that game. "My apologies. I just didn't think that women with poor dye jobs would be in charge of crime organizations. My bad." Elizabeth put a hand over her heart, a mirror image of the other women. "I would never want to insult you with my manners."
Dear God. This was not going to end well.
Lindsay's mouth pulled into a wicked smile. "I think we just might get along well after all." She jerked her gun towards the door. "If you'd be so kind."
After a few hopeless exchanges of eye contact, it was settled. No one had a plan. We were completely at her mercy.