Unknown (Unknown Series Book 1) (21 page)

“My car ran out of gas at the exit to our neighborhood.”

“I’ll drive,” I told him. I looked up into Rylen’s worried eyes. “It’s okay. You can go back home. Thank you.”

He nodded and took a few steps back, watching me another moment before turning to go home.

I rushed into the house and gave my mom the eggs, quickly explaining what was going on before I ran back out, keys in hand. When we got to the top of the road and turned the corner, I gasped at the sight of the gas station. The glass door was broken and people were pushing in and out with things in their hands.

“Oh, my gosh!” I pointed.

“Keep going,” Mr. Haines warned. “It’s happening all over town. People are dangerous when they’re desperate.” His voice was forlorn, and I felt heavy with grief for our town.

We got to Remy’s parents’ house in record time. The number of cars abandoned on the side of the road, out of gas, was disheartening.

Remy’s house was gorgeous. Her mom, the leading real estate agent for the town, was the breadmaker for their family. I ran in and took the white-carpeted stairs two at a time up to their hall bathroom outside Remy’s bedroom. She was curled up in a tight ball, shivering on the floor just as I had been. Her mom was at her side, face red from crying. I crouched over Remy and brushed the sweaty hair back from her face. Her mom stood and I heard her ask what had taken so long, followed by Mr. Haines telling her that his car had run out of gas. I took all of Remy’s vitals. Low grade fever. Definitely no spots.

“You’re going to be okay, Rem,” I murmured. “I spent last night with this, too. I think it’s from the vaccine, or maybe just a stomach bug, but if it’s what I had, you’ll feel better soon, okay?”

She gave me a weak, “Okay,” and reached her shaking hand for mine, pulling it to her chest with surprising strength.

“Thank the Lord,” her mother said. Her dad closed his eyes, his shoulders drooping.

Remy held my arm like a doll. I stretched out next to her on the cool, pristine tiles and kept stroking her long, blonde waves back from her face. She moaned and curled tighter as a wave of pain contracted her abdomen. I stayed with Remy several hours until her stomach was relaxed enough to take some pain medication, and we got her into bed.

Her parents both hugged me, their eyes red.

“Thank you for coming to get me,” I told Mr. Haines. “How are you guys doing on food and water?”

“Actually,” he said, “we’re just about out of food, but we’ve been using the pool water and boiling it.”

My eyebrows went up. I hadn’t thought about the pool.

“We’d been putting off converting it to salt water, and now I see it was a blessing in disguise,” he told me. “Tastes a little like chlorine, but it’s better than nothing.”

“I’m so glad,” I said.

I left with the promise that I’d be back to check on Remy in the morning on my way to work.

In the car I listened to the news and remembered it was December. This was when Christmas songs usually started on the radio, but there was none of that this year. I doubted there would be any tree stands or festively lit houses either, unless by some miracle we got electricity back.

“. . . one step closer to rooting out the enemy,” Senator Navis was saying. “We have obtained breakthrough intelligence, information about cells of the unknown organization in certain towns across the United States. We are calling these culprits
Outliers
. Your local Disaster Relief Initiative representatives will be in touch in all areas that are in danger. I urge each of you to comply with their instructions. I repeat, it is
essential
that each and every citizen do their part by following instructions and remaining calm. I know you want the perpetrators of these heinous crimes caught just as badly as I do. And I promise you, they will be. We will root out the evils of this society and rebuild. We will be an even stronger nation.”

I turned the car off in the driveway. His words reverberated through me. Each time I listened to him I felt that lively spark of hope, but there was always a feeling of doom, as well. As if we had a whole hell of a lot of bad to overcome before we would reach the good.

T
o be honest, I didn’t feel like going to work the next morning. It was strange not having a set schedule, or a check-in clock. I didn’t know if I’d be paid for any of this work now that the hospital was demolished. Would I contact the state with my hours? It was kind of a ridiculous worry since I wouldn’t be able to access my auto-deposit funds anyhow. Money didn’t seem to be of value anymore.

I knew I would keep working, paid or not, because the guilt would eat me alive if I didn’t. Even yesterday had felt wrong staying home all day. But I felt better today, so I dragged my butt out of bed and ate my egg and salsa breakfast burrito. Then I savored the French press coffee with sugar. The only thing that could have made the morning better was a hot shower. I had to settle for leaning over the sink and letting Mom pour a cup at a time of cool water over my hair as I washed with a tiny amount of shampoo. I didn’t want to make too much foam to have to rinse out. It did the trick, and I felt clean.

I returned the favor and helped her wash her hair in the sink, too. When we finished, I found Rylen and Livia sitting on the couch talking to Dad. The couple sat close, holding hands. When Rylen saw me standing there with a towel on my head, he gave a smile and let go of Livia’s hand, rubbing his palms down his thighs. She gave him a quizzical look and glanced at me. I walked to my bedroom to brush my hair, experiencing that weird residual sadness and awkwardness.

When I came back out, Dad asked in a stern voice, “What’s this about some guy trying to get in the house yesterday, Amber?”

My head flew to Rylen, but his face remained unfazed under my glare.

The traitor. Although, I guess my family should be on the lookout. I sighed and told them the story.

“You didn’t think this was important for us to know?” Dad asked.

I looked down at the rug. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you, but I didn’t want everyone worrying.”

Grandpa Tate stopped rocking. “You shoulda kicked him square in the family jewels, Amby.”

Oh, my gosh. Rylen half grinned and Mom covered her mouth.

“What is this family jewels?” Abuela asked. She was wiping her hands on a rag.

“It’s a man’s . . .” I motioned to my crotch.

She nodded emphatically. “Ah, yes. This is good to . . .” She struggled to find the word “kick,” and instead lifted her flexed foot in the air.

Now everyone laughed. Abuela continued to look serious. She was accustomed to us laughing at her expense now and then. Amidst it all, I could feel Livia watching me, and I avoided eye contact. I didn’t want to examine whatever weirdness was between us.

“How’s your dad this morning?” I asked Rylen.

“Still worn out, but better. Even got up to relieve himself outside. Too stubborn to die.” I heard pride in his voice and I smiled.

“That’s wonderful,” Mom said. She looked over at me. “Rylen brought some gasoline to refill my car so you can get to work.”

“Thank you,” I told him. I definitely didn’t want to end up walking down the highway. “I guess I’d better get going.” I went to my room to finish getting ready. I pulled my hair up in a high ponytail and dug through my clothes. My primary work clothes and scrubs were all dirty, so I put on some comfortable jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. It wasn’t exactly cold, but I was a wimpy desert girl who liked her sunshine. Sixty-five degrees was chilly to me. I dug my medic pin out of my jewelry box and put it on.

Unfamiliar feminine laughter greeted me as I left my room, and I noticed Livia and Abuela working in the kitchen together, both smiling and chatting in Spanish. Livia was really pretty when she was happy. I watched them working together for a moment, boiling water and organizing pots on the counter. They made a good team. I couldn’t bring myself to be jealous of their seeming closeness, because it was nice to see Liv and Ry not clinging to one another. Was Livia close to her own grandmother? Was she missing her? If I weren’t so consumed by bitchiness, those would be the kinds of questions I’d ask. A heavy sigh heaved from my chest.

Time to get to work.

In the living room, I kissed my parents good-bye and gave Rylen a wave. He examined me, as if wondering why I hadn’t come over to hug him, but it felt wrong with the way Livia kept studying me like she knew my thoughts. I quickly looked away. Grandpa must have gone up to his room because his rocker was empty. When I got outside to the car, he was coming down his stairs, using caution with each step. He had something under his arm.

“One sec, Amby.”

Grandpa walked toward me and I noticed the handle of a gun. He motioned for me to get in the car. I slid in and he crouched in the open doorway, knees cracking. Grandpa set the small handgun on my lap. It was a 380 pistol that I’d never seen before. I would have remembered that deep cherry panel on the handle. It was pretty. His eyes darted up to the house before he spoke.

“This was your grandmother’s. I want you to have it.”

“Really?” I ran a finger over the slick handle.

“I wanted to give it to you when you first started your job, but when I asked permission, your mother said no. I understand her feelings, but I’m overriding her now. You need to be protected out there. Let’s just . . . keep this between us.”

Grandpa was afraid of Mom’s wrath, and I couldn’t blame him. She had never been comfortable with the fact that Dad took me and the boys to shoot. I’d handled many guns, and while I wasn’t afraid like Mom was, I had never felt the need to own one. Now, though, I felt very grateful for his offering.

“Thank you, Grandpa.” I kissed his sun-spotted forehead. “It’ll be our secret.”

“Good. This’ll help me sleep at night when you’re gone.”

He took it from the case and showed me how to eject the magazine and turn the safety off, and rack the slide. When he was secure that I understood the workings of it, he patted my hand and stood. He dug a box of bullets from his pocket, and I put everything in my purse. Grandpa watched me pull away and drive down the street. When I got to the end of the drive, I remembered what Mom had said about the local clinic being understaffed yesterday. I was used to driving almost forty-five minutes into the next county to work. But that was taking a lot of gas. On a whim, I turned the opposite direction and headed to our local clinic. I wanted to check on their staffing, just in case.

And it’s a good thing I did. There was a line out the door, and I was horrified to see most of them had Red Virus. Apparently, sixty percent of their nursing staff had stopped coming to work after the earthquake, because they had children and no childcare with the schools being out. At the front desk was a DRI woman who looked like she belonged on one of those super-rich-housewives shows. She let me in after asking who I was and if I’d been vaccinated.

I found Dr. Persus, our ancient family physician, in his stagnant exam room finishing up with a patient. The fevered woman was led out by her non-spotted husband. Dr. Persus gave me a heavy, burdened look when they were gone.

“Can I help you here?” I asked.

“I don’t know how I’ll pay you, Amber.” The man had given me all of my shots growing up. He’d been old then. I was willing to bet he was regretting not retiring years ago when he probably should have.

“Don’t worry about that,” I told him.

He patted my shoulder, a soft touch. “I wish I could have hired you last year when you came to me.”

“It’s okay,” I said. I thought about the two ambulances on the side of the clinic. “Are your EMTs here?”

“No . . .” His eyes fell. “They were in Clark County at that hospital that was bombed.

My insides twisted. “I’m sorry. I was there too, and I’m lucky to have survived. Look, I can do anything you need, okay?”

He leaned against the bed. “I don’t know what to do. I just keep sending them home. Telling them to rest, but we both know what will happen. At this point I just want people to die somewhere other than here.”

I knew he said it out of weariness, not meanness, but ouch.

“I know of one survivor. Lenard Fite. He had it and now he’s healing.”

The doctor chuckled. “Why does that not surprise me?”

I grinned. Yeah. “Have you had anyone show up with severe abdominal pains? Vomiting?”

“Yes. Low fever. Seems to go away after a few hours?”

“Yes! Both my best friend and I experienced that after getting the vaccine.”

He nodded. “Could be a side effect for some. Strange, though. Let me know if you feel anything else unusual.”

“I will. Put me to work, doc. I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?”

I should have thought twice about that offer.

Even with bio boots strapped over my sneakers, heavy duty gloves, and a medical mask, I was not comfortable moving dead bodies, even when they were in body bags. At least I couldn’t see their faces. I was sure to know some of them. I would check out Dr. Persus’s list of deceased later, but for now I was glad not to see. A male nurse and I worked together to haul the bodies into the back of an open ambulance. Thankfully, he was young and strong. He looked like a giant redneck in blue scrubs, all scruffy. We had twenty-three bodies and could only fit ten at a time. We were to take them to the county morgue and retrieve more body bags from them.