“Get her to the hospital,” I told Stone, but he wasn’t listening. He limped past me—well, limped isn’t the right word. He struggled, but he moved fast. As his jacket brushed against mine, I reached for him, saying, “Wait, what are you—”
He might have been partially crippled, but he knew the importance of stopping this before it got further out of hand, same way I did. If these crazies got inside…I didn’t want to think of that.
One of the Scavs yelled out in pain. “I’ve been hit!” The deep, gravelly voice belonged to Ayden Peck. “Oh shit, man!”His body thudded into the snow about not far from where I stood.
I grabbed the woman’s shoulders and looked into her eyes. “Listen,” I said, “go straight for about fifty feet, and then turn right. You’ll see a painting of a rose on the wall. When you do, turn left, and the hub is right there. Get inside with the others.”
The woman shook violently.
I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out a penlight. I shoved it into her palm. “Go! I’ll be right behind you!”
Reluctantly, she took it, and then she disappeared into the shadows.
Turning back into the snow, I saw Stone near Ayden. I shined my bigger flashlight at the scene. Ayden was clutching his stomach. The snow around him drank up the pulsing red leaking from his body. Then he no longer writhed. He went stiff. I thought he was dead.
“Grady!” Stone shouted. “Help me get him in!”
I lurched forward and just as I did, more shots flew in my direction. I dove into the nearest mound of snow, waiting, my heart beating wildly in my chest.
It took another moment before I felt safe enough to make my move toward Stone and Ayden. Stone was up and dragging him through the trench. Somehow. I stumbled their way, more shots and screams on the air.
Fifteen feet away from me, Stone suddenly cried out in pain. It was as if an invisible hand had slugged him in the chest. He spun and collapsed in slow motion.
“No!” I shouted, no longer caring about my lack of cover as I advanced.
“Stone, Stone, Stone,” I started saying, kneeling down in the snow and ice next to him. Hot tears stung my eyes. My throat began constricting. Each one of my heartbeats threatened to break my ribs.
I reached out to touch him. My gloves were gone, but I didn’t remember taking them off. They couldn’t have been off for long because my fingers still had feeling. Fleeting feeling, yes, but feeling nonetheless.
I almost wished they had gone numb, because when I reached down to grab Stone's arm and help him up, I felt the warm blood leaking down his upper chest.
For what felt like an eternity, I stared down at my best friend, seeing his eyes glaze over in the blue-white glow from the flashlight and hearing him mumble in pain. All of our memories played out before me in a blur, all the good times. I had already lost Jonas, one of the original Musketeers, and now I feared I was losing another.
“Stone…” I croaked. I doubted he heard me over the skirmish happening around us, but a smile that was more like a grimace stretched his lips.
“I’m—I’m okay, man. I’m okay.”
But even in the low light I could see his dark skin draining of color, becoming the shade of a weathered gravestone. He wasn’t okay. He was the furthest thing from okay.
Still, Stone would never give up on me, and I wasn’t about to give up on him. I crawled through the snow, dimly aware of the burning sensation of the cold against my flesh, of aggravating old, healing injuries. I found the flashlight only a few feet from Ayden’s body. He stared up at me with lifeless eyes.
A pang of sadness stabbed at my heart, but I didn’t let it linger. I could mourn him later. Right now I needed to get Stone inside, out of the weather and away from the fighting.
Gunfire continued nearby. Each passing bullet felt closer and closer. I took the flashlight and swung it around in an arc, trying to map our journey back. The door was only thirty or so feet away. It seemed much farther, however.
Kneeling by Stone, I removed my skull cap and pressed it against the spot he’d been shot. He screamed and convulsed.
“C’mon, man,” I said. “Stay with me.”
I shined the light down on his face. His eyes fluttered open and then closed, the sign of a person not staying with me. There weren’t too many positives to look for in this situation, but I tried my damndest. One thing we had going for us was the fact we were already in the City, a place with medicine and a doctor and nurses. The journey wasn’t as long as before, and if we had made the one from Prism Lake to just past the Kentucky state line, we could definitely make this one. I scooped Stone into my arms, grunting with his weight, and I moved forward, never looking behind.
I know I say things don’t go right for me, more so than others—and I know things almost always eventually tend to work out—but it is hard to be an optimist while living in a supernatural winter wasteland. So, when I held the keycard up to the reader, I fully expected nothing, and that was what I got. No light glowed, not violent red or dim or green. The power in this section of the City had died completely. It was both a gift and a curse. No power obviously meant no lights, but it also meant no locking mechanism on the door. I pulled it open, barely hanging on to Stone in the process.
“Hold on, buddy,” I mumbled.
Through the tunnels I sprinted. I sprinted until I found a sliver of light in the distance.
The hospital.
This new brightness lent me a burst of energy. I moved faster than I thought
