Nurse Kore is blocking the doorway as I pass, but I can see well enough over her head that Dunn is throwing open cabinets and drawers. He fires off a series of questions. “What did you give her last? When did the symptoms begin? Shit—she’s wheezing—we need epinephrine. Where is it? Can you look next door?”
It’s only then, when Kore brushes past me to burst through the door of the next examination room, that I see the kid on the table.
Pieces of the room start to disappear. The wires. The bandages. The beeping machines. The IV drips. The adults. What I see is a pale face, tense with pain, dirty, limp blond hair fanned out around it. Something wet tracks down her cheeks, but I can’t tell if it’s sweat or tears.
No. The word pierces through me like a flaming bullet.
It’s just too damn bad you weren’t there this time.
What the hell—what the hell is wrong with this world? The temperature under my skin rises like the desert sun. This girl apparently can’t suffer enough. There’s no limit to what she’ll be subjected to here. Sammy is good and this happens. This.
And what? We’re supposed to take comfort in the fact that one day she’ll be rewarded for her struggle? I can still hear her father preaching eternal life, how the meek will inherit. The singsong Sunday school lessons. He’s got the whole world in His hands...
My feet carry me into the room as Dunn leans over her, adjusting an oxygen mask. I see the leg they’ve pulled over the thin blanket for the first time. It’s swollen to twice the size of the other and there’s a bubble of purple and black skin right around her ankle. My gag reflex makes me choke on the next breath.
People die from snakebites. How long was it before anyone found her? How long was she alone in the darkness?
I should have gone. I should have figured out a way. I shouldn’t have left.
What choice did I have? What choice do any of us have?
Kore jostles me as she comes in, holding out a syringe to Dunn. “Was it the antivenom we tried? The only other thing I gave her was morphine for the pain.”
I jerk out of my daze. “She’s allergic to morphine.”
They give her the shot. I’m not sure either of them heard me. So I repeat myself. I have to. They cannot give her morphine. The last time they tried was when she broke her arm and she was stuck in the hospital for an extra two days, she had such a bad reaction.
Dunn and Kore finally look up, turning first toward each other, then toward me.
“It’s the morphine,” I say again. I’ve already damned us both, haven’t I? But they have to know so they don’t make the mistake again. They have to help her.
“Lucas...”
My vision tunnels. For a second, I think I heard her voice in my head, but Nurse Kore is talking now, she’s telling Dunn, “She’s been saying the name all day. I’ve only been able to get a few other words out of her.”
“Samantha,” Dunn says. “Samantha, can you hear me? I need you to open your eyes. It’s Nurse Dunn. I need to check to make sure you’re all right.”
She’s not all right. Sammy is not all right. She’s never going to be, not ever again. I can’t—I can’t—
“...door is...Lucas...the door...dark...Lucas...”
My armor doesn’t crack. It shatters. It falls to ash. My vision blurs and fear wrings every bit of caution and worry out of my head. The last thing I see is Nurse Dunn turning toward me, saying something. Static pours into my ears. I press my hands over my face to try to hide it, but it’s too late. I’m crying.
I’m weeping like the kid who was pelted with rocks walking home every day from school by older kids. I’m weeping like the kid told he has to leave his best and only friend behind. I’m weeping like the kid who watched both parents bleed out in front of him, who watched the men in uniforms break his sister’s hand because she wouldn’t let go of his.
I sink against the wall until I feel the cold tile under me. I’m breathing so hard I can’t catch my breath. I understand now. I can’t help anyone. I can’t even help myself.
“What’s—?”
“Get the door,” Nurse Dunn says sharply. There’s movement at my left as the door clicks shut.
“You—” I can barely get the words out. “You have to sing to her. She’ll wake up if you sing, she loves music—she can’t—she can’t die like this—the silence—”
“Lucas. Do you know Samantha?” Dunn’s voice has a strained quality to it. I force myself to look up, eyes and throat aching. Dunn is kneeling in front of me now. Kore is pressed flat against the door, looking up at the ceiling, shaking her head.
“Sam,” I say, correcting him. “Best friend. Sammy.”
The curse that follows blisters my ears. I breathe deep, trying to suck enough air into my chest to keep the crushing feeling out.
“How is he...?” Kore starts to ask, then actually looks at me. “You remember things? They said you all wouldn’t. They made us think—”
“It doesn’t matter,” Dunn says, cutting her off. “Her condition is very, very serious, but she’s alive. Do you remember what I was saying before, though, about how things work here?”
I nod.
“I don’t think it was a timber rattlesnake, otherwise she wouldn’t still be here...maybe a copperhead. The problem is, we have no stock of antivenom left, and the camp controllers won’t grant my request to leave camp premises to acquire more. They think it’s a security breach. But by the time it’s ordered and delivered through the military transport...”