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“Kaye…” I gasp, trying to keep my eyes open.
Brady stares at me, concern filling his eyes.
“Trouble,” I croak, my voice barely a whisper. “Scott—and…” My vision blacks out and I slump into Brady’s arms.
Brady’s grip tightens, and he helps me into the car. Booker climbs into the driver’s seat, and the rest pile in.
The engine roars to life and we race down the road. My vision comes and goes as I fade in and out of consciousness. Booker takes corners at high speed as the SUV careens around each bend. Brady remains quiet, his eyes constantly checking in on me. Izzy is on the phone with Skye, giving updates on my condition.
“Thready and fast.” Angie cradles my head in her lap and checks my pulse. “He lost a lot of blood.”
Angie’s a doc like Doc Summers, but she’s an eye doc, not a trauma doc. Right now, I need Doc Summers.
Whatever Booker put in my chest tugs with the weirdest sensation. It doesn’t belong there. I try to take it out, but Izzy bats my hand away.
I drift in and out of consciousness, but we finally come to a stop outsideInsanity.
I’m dimly aware of a flurry of activity around me.
Doc Summers is there, waiting. She oversees Brady and Booker as they carry me inside.
“Put him here.” She’s got one of those soft voices, but when she’s in doctor mode, it carries absolute authority.
Brady and Booker lay me out on a table.
Doc Summers examines me and mutters something about infection, before quickly setting about cleaning and dressing my wound as best she can with limited supplies.
“It was either that or he’d be dead.” Booker defends his actions, making me wonder what he shoved inside my chest.
“It’ll do for now.” She moves quickly, taking out whatever Booker put in me, then inserts something that feels like a goddamn garden hose. I practically levitate off the table, it hurts so damn much.
The pain is unbearable, but I’m so far gone, I can only watch as my life slips away. People shout all around me. Then there’s a beep, and another beep. Sounds like a heart rate monitor, but I’m too far gone to make sense of it.
The room spins as I continue to drift in and out of consciousness. Every now and then, snippets of conversation reach my ears, but it feels like it’s coming from a thousand miles away.
Brady tells Booker he did a great job.
Doc Summers mutters about infection.
Booker defends his decision.
Others are there, but their voices are too indistinct to make out.
I have to tell them about Kaye, about the danger she’s in, but each time I try to speak, they tell me to be quiet and save my strength.
A strange calm comes over me. My vision fades as I slip into a deep sleep.
* * *
I’m dimlyaware of a bright light and the sound of machines beeping away. My eyes flutter open, and I find myself in a bright white room, lying in a hospital bed. I blink a few times and take in my surroundings.
“Zeb, you’re awake.” Doc Summers stands over me, taking notes on her tablet as she inspects my chest tube.
“Welcome back to the land of the living.” Her soft eyes are gentle and kind. “You had us all worried.” She pats me lightly on the hand before continuing with her examination.
I try to speak, but my throat is too dry, so I nod in acknowledgment.
“Your vitals are better.” She steps closer and checks the monitors. “Stable.”
