Surge (62 page)

Then she motions at her new leather gear, I nod to say that I’ve seen it. The jacket’s a different style from her previous one, with a mid-level, fold-over collar that allows her tube to get air when its slightly unzipped, and instead of there being a zipper down the middle; this one’s off to the side and much looser on the bottom half than her last one. The jacket has multiple pockets, a few pieces of studded metal on the collar and shoulders, and a belt across the bottom. Her legs are encased in leather leggings rather than the pants she had, so they’re much more fitted than the previous pair. You can definitely tell that there’s a woman underneath the armor this time around. She looks fucking hot, but I’m guessing that they didn’t carry sizes in Wilson’s Leather with enlarged chest areas and shorter legs, so she made do with what she could.

How I know they were from Wilsons Leather, is because she unhooks another bag from her backpack with their logo on it, which she holds out to me. I take the bag from Olivia and see her biting her lip as if she’s nervous. Not really caring what’s inside, since I’ll love whatever she went through the trouble of getting me in the first place, I’m actually pleasantly surprised when I open the bag and find a men’s sized supple black leather jacket.

It’s wide in the shoulders, so I know that it’ll fit, and has a zipper that goes all the way up to the shorter collar. The collar doesn’t fold over, but it’s high enough to provide a little bit of extra protection without strangling me. There are two pockets on the chest and two zippers on the sleeves so that they could be rolled up. The jacket would have cost her seven hundred dollars easy if we still had to pay for such things, and it shows that she has taste, but keeps safety in mind. Looking up at Olivia I smile and she returns it with one that shows relief that I liked her present.

“I love it, thank you.”

Olivia continues to smile as she waves off the thanks and motions for me to try it on. Sliding my charred sweatshirt off, I pull the jacket all the way out of the bag. Slipping it around my shoulders, I feel that I’m not stuffed in, so mobility won’t be a problem, and I can zip it fully without being squeezed. Therefore, it’s fitted to perfection and I couldn’t have picked a better size even if I’d been there to try it on myself. Standing as much as I can in the front seat, I turn so I can grab her up in a bear hug. Olivia returns it quickly before pulling back and adjusting the collar. Turning it up slightly, she tugs on the whistle’s chain before tucking it away inside.

“So, you like the jacket?” Cory asks in a bored tone.

I look over and see him now leaning back in the chair and wearing a new jacket of his own, that’s unzipped to accommodate for the heat. Since he wasn’t burned as bad as I am, or frightened as bad as Olivia is, he’s truly wearing the coat for protection from wheezer bites, while I’m using it for warmth and Olivia’s using hers as a shield.

“I don’t like it, I love it,” I counter and stick my chin up like a smug toddler.

Cory flips me off half-heartedly. I can tell that it’s only half-heartedly, because he would rather me make a big show of it to please Olivia, than to brush it off as if it were nothing. Truth is, it isn’t a show at all. I truly love the jacket and plan on wearing it as much as possible. Now I just need a motorcycle helmet, and we’ll be a matching set. Actually, we have to get her a replacement helmet first, before finding me my own.

“Where’s mine?” Oscar asks and sticks his bottom lip out in a pout. Olivia laughs silently and points at my ruined scrap of an outer coating. “Oh, I see now, I have to run into a burning building to get a prize?” Olivia points at the whistle she gave him and he smiles. “Okay, I’ll forgive you this one time, mi pequeño nigromante.”

“Good, because I think that we owe Wilsons at least three grand already,” I reply and Olivia nods. My eyes bug out. “Really?”

Olivia points at Cory’s coat and gloves, he even got a new wallet that’s attached with a chain to his jeans, then she points to her new ensemble from leggings, jacket and gloves, to my new coat. I’ve never been so thankful for the Apocalypse in my life. Outfitting Olivia would have cost me a fortune, but then I wouldn’t have met her in the first place, so fuck that. I’d gladly dish out three grand if it made her happy.

“Livs left her aunt’s debit card on the counter, just in case someone comes looking to repo the goods,” Cory says with a smirk. “See, she’s an honest woman.”

I look at Olivia’s innocent expression, her soft grey eyes are wide as saucers as she batts her long black lashes, as if she didn’t commit theft and identity fraud within the last few hours. And it makes me laugh. My girl is a ballsy klepto, and I love it. She steals houses, cars, clothes, and other things that are required for survival. It’s not like she’s looting stores for useless crap like heels, hairspray and other bull shit.

“Hey, Oscar,” Mike calls out. Everyone turns to look at him, before he continues. “You don’t have to find them, but can you help Danny, John and Carlos? They look like they’re about to topple over with their burdens.”

Seven pairs of eyes turn in unison to crane their necks for a better look at the approaching group. Leading the way are Sarah and Whitney running with Danny following closely behind, and he’s loaded down with dozens of bags. Following the trio are John with Chelsea hiked over his shoulder, and Carlos with Marissa over his. Both girls are screaming and kicking to get down. Olivia books it out of the van before I can stop her, so I trail after her with Cory, Oscar and Tommy in tow. Olivia pulls her whistle out and disengages her machete from the strap as she runs.

That’s when I see the pack of wheezers running full speed behind the returning group. I pick up my pace as I pull free my crossbow, and a throwing knife from my thigh. Letting the unarmed members run past, I start by hurling a knife at the faster wheezer that’s sprinting like a cheetah in the front. It goes down sideways and skids to a stop several yards away. Using the crossbow, I feel a few blisters burst as I grip the handle and squeeze. I know it should hurt like hell, but I’m not feeling it through the adrenaline coursing through my veins.

I’m reloading my bow and wondering why the fuck they aren’t stopping when Olivia’s blowing her whistle, but then I remember, she can’t blow any air out of her mouth. Stuffing my hand inside my coat, I rip out the chain attached my whistle, put it in my mouth and blow as hard as I could. Even I can hear it this time, so it doesn’t surprise me when the pack of twenty odd wheezers that are sprinting toward us, come to a screeching halt, and fall over in an attempt to block out the sound.

The six in front get knocked over like dominoes by the ones rear ending them from the back. I keep blowing the whistle as I run forward and switch my crossbow out for my hunting knife. Sinking the eight inch blade into skulls and eyes, I see Oscar and Tommy on my right doing the same with their weapons. Olivia and Cory are breathing heavily, but finishing off the fallen wheezers with their specialty weapons. I keep the whistle going until the pile is no longer screeching or moving, then I spit out the tiny piece of metal that saved our asses, and take a few deep breaths of my own.

Olivia’s leaning most of her weight on her machete and holding her chest, while Cory’s panting out raspy breaths. My breathing’s no better, but I manage to drag my ass over to them and wrap an arm around each, before hobbling back to the van. Helping Cory in first, I give him a shove that has him landing with an
‘oof’
on his side before I turn to Olivia. She’s still holding her chest and it’s making me uneasy, so I grip her chin and make her look at me.

“What’s wrong? Can you breathe?” Olivia nods but rubs her chest with pained tension around her eyes. “Akio, get the fuck out here and take a look at her.”

“Get her in the van, Jared,” Akio orders. “I’ll look at her, but we have to leave
right now
.”

Without bothering to look at what has the Doc panicking, I scoop Olivia up and climb into the nearest seat. Oscar and Tommy dive in the back of the van, Oscar landing on top of Cory, as Tommy slams the door. I hear a couple of hands slap the glass before John books it. John’s shouting about something in the front, but I can’t hear it over the adrenaline and blood rushing through my head.

Akio unbuckles his seat and pushes Cory, Oscar and Tommy out of the way to have some space on the floor. Instructing me to lay Olivia down, he orders for the new kit to be passed up to him. Pulling on his stethoscope, he looks at Olivia.

“What are you feeling?” Akio inquires. “Is it pressure, pain, shortness of breath?” Olivia digs her gloved fingernails into my hand to signal pain, and holds her fingers out to show a little.

“Pain and shortness of breath,” I answer and Akio nods like he expected it already. “What the fuck’s wrong with her?”

Akio ignores me as he unzips her coat, and pulls six layers of shirts up so they’re out of his way. I see some of the scarring on her stomach that I glimpsed at back in the lake, but I look away from it for now as I watch Akio. Placing the chest piece on Olivia’s sternum, the Doc listens for a few seconds and nods again.

“It sounds like pneumothorax,” he replies. “Just like a feared. And I don’t know how bad it is.”

“Okay,
‘pneumo’
has to do with the chest,” I puzzle out and he nods. “So, what the fuck does that have to do with Olivia? She has throat problems.”

“It’s a complication that sometimes occurs with tracheostomies,” Akio says.

“But what is it?” Cory demands. He’s still breathing heavily, but that’s to be expected for a few days, as the Doc claimed earlier.

“Pneumothorax is a collapsing of the lung,” Akio says as if he’s talking about the freaking weather, and not a life threatening situation. Cory bites his knuckles until they start bleeding, and I’m gripping Olivia’s hand so hard that she must be losing circulation.

“Y-you can fix it right?” I ask hopefully.

“Perhaps,” he replies. “It depends on how severe it is. Minor cases can go away on their own, some need a needle inserted to release the air that’s trapped in the chest cavity, and others need a chest tube.”

With the severity increasing, my hope begins to dissipate. If Olivia needs a chest tube, we’re fucked. We couldn’t even do a small procedure that cut through a few inches of skin without fucking it up, what the hell would happen if we had to cut her open? She would die, that’s what. Not only do we not have the equipment to handle such an operation, but we also don’t have a sterile environment to do it in. So even if we were able to MacGyver a way to complete the surgery, there’s still a high risk of an infection that could take her life. Not to mention she could bleed out, and have to go through another procedure without anesthesia.

“How can you tell which one she needs?” Cory asks. His hand is dripping blood from the bite he made on his knuckles, but he either doesn’t notice or care, as he waits with baited breath for the answer.

“I can’t without an x-ray,” Akio responds. “All we can do is wait. If she’s still having chest pain and can’t breathe deeper breaths, I’ll have to try and release the air. From there...” Akio doesn’t need to finish, we already know the severity of the situation without having him spell out the worst case scenario for us.

“So, we’re supposed to just sit here and hope that it’ll magically disappear?” Cory demands in an icy tone. Akio nods and Cory balls his fists. “Would stress have anything to do with this?”

“It could,” the Doc says and gives Olivia a reproachful look. “She did run around a lot today when she should have been
resting
.”

“Believe me, she won’t be moving from the nearest bed for at least a week,” Cory says and his tone brooks no arguments.

Olivia has her eyes closed, but she nods her consent to the forced bed rest. Seeing her easy acquiescence shows how much pain she’s really in. I should have never let her leave the van in the first place. What the fuck were we thinking? She had her throat slit open just this morning, and she’s breathing through a tube, but we allow her to go gallivanting through a mall? Then we let her fight off wheezers like she’s in full working order?

Suffice to say, we absolutely suck when it comes to doctoring patients.

<~~~<~~~
~~~>~~~
>

“Is she alright, Jared?” John asks from the driver’s seat.

“I don’t know,” I say and rub a hand on my forehead to try and release the tension. Olivia’s hand squeezes mine to try and reassure me, but there’s no comfort to be gained from it when the consequences for my neglect vary greatly.

“See what you two did?” John shouts from the front. “Because you had to grab seventeen pairs of stilettos, go to Victoria’s Secret, and then hit up Sephia’s for makeup, you almost killed Olivia. Are you happy?”

“It’s Seph
ora
,” Chelsea corrects with a snap of gum. “How were we supposed to know that she was going to come running?”

“Because she would want to save your stupid asses,” John hisses. “And if that weren’t bad enough, you screamed the whole freaking way back because you didn’t get the right shade of lipstick.”