Page 28 of Into the Mist

The two women struggled with the thick, wooden double restaurant doors that hung off-kilter, but managed to close them before they continued down the hallway. The farther they got from the foyer, the more debris cluttered the floor. They stayed close together as they picked their way quickly around fallen timbers and broken drywall.

“This is it,” said Imani. “I forgot my toothbrush and had to buy one here the first night.” She paused and wiped a hand across her face. “It seems like forever ago.” Shoulders bowed, Imani led the way into the little convenience store.

“Hey, here are some baskets and more pots of candles.” Mercury headed to a stack of red and white checkered baskets that had been stacked beside the opening to the store but had spilled across the wooden floor. “Can you see if there are any lighters by the register?”

“Got ’em,” said Imani as she grabbed a handful and brought them to Mercury. They each lit one and put the rest in a basket. Then, working quickly, Imani and Mercury piled everything they thought could be of use in the baskets.

“It’s like we’re in one of those zombie movies,” said Mercury. “You know, where the people go into empty stores and just take whatever they want. I’d imagined it to be a lot more satisfying than it is.”

“Probably would be if this was a jewelry store,” said Imani.

“Or a lovely, chic little clothing boutique.”

Imani swept a whole row of Advil bottles into a basket. “Girl, please. Did you see those clothes in that store that they call a boutique down the hall?”

“I think it’s called lumberjack chic.” Mercury tiptoed carefully around the shattered glass door of a dark cooler and loaded a basket full of bottled water and Gatorade.

Imani snorted. “Ithink it’s called ugly.”

Mercury barked a little laugh. Imani met her eyes, a smile perched on the corners of her full lips—and then her smile collapsed. “How can I be making jokes? My babies could be dead!”

Mercury went to her and pulled her into a tight hug. “You made a joke because you’re alive. That’s it. That’s the only answer I have. I don’t fucking know what else to say—or do—except that we have to keep on going. Keep on living. And there’s no point to that if we can’t joke or smile or eventually find some semblance of happiness.”

“But how?” Imani asked brokenly.

“I don’t know, but I’m going to try, and if I figure it out, you’ll be the first person I tell.”

CHAPTER

9

IMANI ANDMERCURYhalf dragged, half carried six laden baskets each back to the foyer. Karen was standing beside the willow-like woman Gemma had called Doctor Hilary. She held a candle for light as the doc bandaged a woman’s bloody arm with long strips of torn sheets that Karen handed to her. The doctor looked up at the sound the baskets made, and nodded in relief.

“Yes, good. Ladies, light those candles and put them around the mattresses, then pull out all the bottles of analgesics you found and start administrating them to the patients. When you do give the patients the medicine, note on the paper I’ve tucked under the head of each mattress the time, what you’ve given them, and the amount—which should be double the dosage on the bottle. Be sure you ask each person if they have any known allergies first. If they do, let me know.”

“How do we know which people should get the pills?” asked Mercury.

“If they’re conscious and not hooked up to an IV, that means I haven’t given them morphine and they need pain relief. Gemma can help you if you need it. Oh, I’m Dr. Hilary, and you are?”

“Mercury Rhodes.”

“Imani Andrews.”

“Do either of you have medical training or experience?”

“We’re high school biology and science teachers,” said Imani.

“That’s better than nothing. Oh, bring me any antibiotic salve you found—like Neosporin. Did you come across any rubbing alcohol or hydrogen peroxide?” Dr. Hilary asked.

“No peroxide, but there were a few bottles of rubbing alcohol and some tubes of Neosporin,” said Mercury.

“Excellent, bring those to me, please,” the doctor asked before she returned focus to her patient. Karen smiled nervously at Mercury and Imani but followed Dr. Hilary closely and continued handing her strips of cloth for bandages.

“Here are a couple pens I got from that gift shop.” Gemma seemed to materialize beside them. “Come on. I’ll help you guys.” She was already squatting beside the baskets filled with a hodgepodge of items from the convenience store. The teenager had no trouble finding the bottles of analgesics. She lifted one and called across the room to Dr. Hilary. “Hey, Doc, we should start with acetaminophen before ibuprofen, right?”

Dr. Hilary didn’t look up from the woman’s head she was bandaging, but nodded and said, “Yes, of course.”

“Okay, that means we need to find all the bottles of Tylenol,” said Gemma as she uncovered the bottles of alcohol they’d loaded into the baskets.