grew a little harder. “Don’t lie to me, Mr. Archer. If I’m going to help him, I need to know exactly what happened. Any information you withhold could end up killing him, or my other patients. Now—last time—tell me what happened.”
“We...” Ben paused, as if fighting himself, struggling to get the words out. “Nathan and I...we were attacked,” he finally admitted.
“Yes, that I gathered,” I said, gently touching his shoulder. His skin was warm, and he finally flinched at my touch. “I’m going to start stitching now, so brace yourself.”
He nodded.
“So, something attacked you,” I continued, sinking the needle into the smooth, tanned skin, talking quickly to keep him distracted. “What was it?”
“I...I don’t know.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know?” I frowned as I pulled a stitch closed, seeing him grit his teeth. “Something obviously savaged your friend and tore the hell out of your shoulder. What was it?”
“I didn’t see it very clearly,” Ben muttered. “It was dark, and the thing moved so fast.” He shrugged, then grunted in pain as the motion pulled at the stitches. “I thought it was human, but...” He trailed off again, and I frowned over his shoulder.
“Ben, your friend was bitten by something with canines at least an inch long. Humans don’t have teeth like that.”
He raised his head just as I looked up at him, and for a second, our faces were inches apart. Guilt, horror and fear lay open on his face; he had the look of a soldier who had seen far too much and would be eternally haunted by it.
“You should leave,” he whispered once more, his voice like a ragged, open wound. And my stomach flip-flopped at the look in his eyes. “Don’t ask questions, Kylie, just trust me. Get out of here as soon as you can. Go home, leave this place, and don’t look back.”
I took a deep, steadying breath.
“I can’t leave,” I told him firmly. “I won’t leave my patients, so that’s out of the question. Besides, I don’t have a home to go back to.” He looked away, and I wished I could turn his head back, force him to meet my gaze. “You’re not telling me everything,” I said, and his face shut down into a blank mask. My eyes narrowed. “What are you hiding?”
“Miss Kylie?”
Maggie appeared in the door. Seeing Ben, she blushed and looked down at her feet. “Ms. Sawyer was complaining that it hurt to breathe. I gave her a shot of morphine for the pain and a sedative to help her sleep.”
“Good girl,” I said, feeling a lump rise to my throat. The final stages of Red Lung, before the victim began coughing uncontrollably and drowning in their own blood, was difficult, painful breathing.
I felt Ben’s eyes on me, sympathetic and knowing. Suddenly self-conscious, I drew away. I didn’t need his pity or his advice to leave—as if I could just walk out. And it was clear I wouldn’t be getting anything further out of him, at least not now. “I have to get back to my patients,” I told him, beckoning Maggie into the room. “I’m sorry. Maggie, would you mind taking care of Mr. Archer, please?”
“Sure.” Maggie smiled at Ben, and he gave her a tired nod. I left them together and wandered back to the main room, checking the rows of patients along the makeshift walls. For now, everyone seemed okay; comfortable and in no pain, at least. Except for Ms. Sawyer’s raspy breathing and the occasional bloody cough that I couldn’t do anything about, the clinic was quiet. An event that occurred less and less, as Red Lung continued its war on the human body and continued to win.
I pondered what Ben had told me. He and his friend had been attacked, there was no mistaking that. It wasn’t uncommon, sadly. With the breakdown of normal society, human beings reverted to their base instincts and started preying on each other. In the early days of the plague, not a day had gone by that I hadn’t heard gunshots, screams or other sounds of distant chaos. I didn’t doubt they’d been attacked, but the wounds on Nathan’s arm and Ben’s shoulder didn’t look like anything I’d seen before.
What was Ben Archer hiding? What wasn’t he telling me?
“Kylie.” Jenna appeared as I made another circle through the rows of cots. The intern had been training to be a nurse and was older than me by several years, but always took my instructions without fail or complaint. Her gaze was sympathetic as she pulled me aside. “You’re exhausted,” she stated, blue eyes appraising, and I didn’t argue with her. “How long since you slept last?”
I shrugged, and she patted my arm. “Go lie down. Maggie and I can take care of things for a few hours.”
“I don’t know. Ms. Sawyer—”
“You’ve done everything you could for her,” Jenna said in a low voice. “Seriously, Kylie, get some sleep. While you still can. You’re going to fall over if you don’t rest soon, and no one can afford that. I promise, we’ll come get you if anything happens.”
I nodded. It was getting close to eighteen hours with no sleep, and I was tired. But before I left the room, I made a note to check on my newest patients, make sure Nathan was comfortable at least. And maybe, I could get the last of that story out of Ben Archer.
I didn’t quite get that far. Instead, I went to Doc Adams’s old office and collapsed on the cot against the far wall, pulling the sheet over my face. I thought I wouldn’t sleep with all the dark thoughts swirling through my head, but I was out almost before I touched the pillow.
Chapter Two
It seemed only a few minutes had passed before someone touched my shoulder, jostling me awake. Blearily, I opened my eyes and glanced up at Maggie, who stood over me with a half-worried, half-reluctant expression.
“Yeah?” I mumbled, struggling to sit up.
“Sorry, Miss Kylie.” Maggie bit her lip. “But, I wanted to let you know, Mr. Johnson just passed away.”
I sighed, scrubbing a hand over my eyes, grief and anger and disappointment flaring up momentarily. “All right, I’ll be right out. Thank you, Maggie.”
She nodded and scurried away. Standing, I put my fingers to my temples, massaging the headache pounding behind my eyes.
Dammit. Another one lost. Another life taken by the plague, and I couldn’t do anything about it. Eric had been right; this was futile. Those people out there, coughing and gagging and fighting to breathe, they wouldn’t survive. Not at this stage of the virus. But I couldn’t abandon them. I’d promised my patients I would fight to the end, and that was what I was going to do.
Grabbing my coat, which I’d tossed on the desk before falling into unconsciousness, I walked out of the office.
And ran smack into a large, solid chest as I emerged, yawning and rubbing my face. With a yelp, I stumbled back, looking up into Ben Archer’s worried brown eyes.
“Sorry.” His deep voice held traces of alarm, and I gave him a wary look. “I need to talk to you. Something is wrong with Nate, and I don’t know what to do for him.”
My head pounded. The stress, disappointment, and looming sense of pointlessness
