Whimper (26 page)

Zoe gagged as we passed one, I knew the moment she realized what she was seeing. We moved faster towards the alley, headed for the back door of the bar. Zoe pulled out her keys, letting us inside the nondescript gray metal door as the sun streaked the sky pink on the horizon.

Being inside the bar changed Zoe almost immediately. Even though she was carrying so much, physically and emotionally, she moved like she was lighter. “Finally,” she breathed in relief.

“Where can I put her?” I asked. If I put Amie down now, I might not be able to pick her back up again.

“Does she need anything special?” Zoe asked, her voice sounding more irritated than concerned.

“It would help if we could keep her cool for a while, until we know if the injection is working properly,” I explained.

“We’ll stick her in the beer cooler then. It has a lock. I assume if the injection doesn’t work, then we’ll be grateful for the lock, right?” she asked, leading the way to a walk in cooler near the locker room.

“What do you need?” Zoe asked, and this time I could hear genuine worry in her voice. At least her grief hadn’t numbed her completely.

I took off the light jacket I was wearing and slid it under Amie’s head as I placed her in the cooler. Her pulse was thready, her respirations rapid, but consistent. If I could, I’d put her on IV fluids and oxygen, but the best I could do now was let her rest and wait. Her clothes were drenched, but the cold could only help her now.

I closed the door, feeling guilty for leaving her alone, but I had to deal with my own issues first.

“Hey, what do you need?” Zoe asked again. “You’re practically dead on your feet, come on.” She pulled my arm over her shoulders, guiding me into a small office with a black leather couch. I sat down heavily while Zoe grabbed my bag and started pulling stuff out. All I wanted to do was hold her and go to sleep for a little while. My eyelids fluttered, but I forced them back open. If I slept now, I might never wake up.

“I’ll get ice,” Zoe called, starting to sound panicky. “Stay here!”

I could have told her not to bother, but it gave her something she could do to help and I knew that would be important to keep her calm. With shaking hands, I lined up my injections and meds, debating on what order I should take them to give me the most time.

I dry swallowed my pills, chewing the last one so it would feed into my system more quickly. I had moved onto the injections when Zoe came back into the room carrying a gallon bucket of ice.

“How do you want to do this” she asked, looking around the room.

“I’m not going to ruin your couch. Maybe I should go into the cooler with Amie. I could monitor her that way too,” I suggested.

“No!” Zoe snapped. “She could hurt you. Besides, I couldn’t take care of you if you’re locked in there.”

“Really, it will be okay. I can handle—” I started to argue.

“Please. Please don’t leave me alone. Not now,” Zoe whispered, her sapphire eyes brimming with tears.

I dropped the syringe in my hand back into my bag and gathered her up into my arms, kissing her temple and hair. “It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere. It’s okay.”

I felt the drugs working their way through my bloodstream, slowing down my heart rate and gradually lowering my body temperature. I was running out of time. These meds simply weren’t working as well any longer. My tolerance was building and soon I would run out of the supply I had on hand. But I could give Zoe an hour or two of comfort before I worried her even more. She didn’t need to know yet.

“Why don’t we get cleaned up a little? You’ll feel better after a shower and some rest,” I suggested. We were both wearing soggy clothes and shoes, and her hair was a damp, tangled mess.

“You don’t have any clean clothes to put on,” she sniffled. “I could throw them in the washer and dryer. We have an old set in the basement for bar towels and such.”

“Sure. That sounds great. Let’s just pretend to be normal for a little while, okay?” I pulled her back into a hug, committing the feel of her curves in my arms to memory.

She relaxed into me, molding herself against my chest, some of the tension slipping from her shoulders. “I could go for a cold shower,” she murmured against my arm.

“I would think you’d want to take a long, hot shower, not a cold one,” I said stupidly.

“I do love a long, hot shower,” Zoe admitted, “but
you
need to take a cold one so I think that settles the debate.”

I blinked slowly, not certain I was following her correctly.

“Are you…” I trailed off, unsure what to say.

She smiled and nodded. “I don’t want to think, don’t want to feel broken, even if it’s only for a little while. We need each other, and we may never get another chance.” Her smile fell as she said the last part, the reality of the statement sinking in.

We might never get another chance.
I
might never have another chance to do all kinds of things.

“I don’t want to think for a while either, but I wouldn’t want to lose myself in anyone but you,” I whispered as I pulled her closer and kissed from her collarbone up to her earlobe, taking my time.

Zoe threw her arms around my neck, dragging me down to the couch with her. I wouldn’t have picked an old couch in a bar for our first time, but I wasn’t so picky that I couldn’t roll with it either. I caught my breath when Zoe drug her t-shirt over her head, exposing her black lacy bra. That’d work for a perfect distraction.

I laid my head against Elliott’s bare chest, listening to his heartbeat. For the first time in what felt like forever, I was relaxed. If I let my mind wander, it’d go back to the dark places I didn’t want to visit so I concentrated on Elliott instead. I traced lazy circles around his belly button with my fingernail, watching the muscles there tighten and relax.

“You okay?” I asked lazily.

Elliott made a satisfied growling noise, moving his head so that his lips brushed mine softly. “Better than I’ve been in months. I should probably go check on Amie soon though,” he said with a sigh.

“Ugh. No talking about anyone else until we at least have clothes on!” I protested, poking my nail into his sternum and burying my face against his neck. I breathed in the smell of him. My eyes closed tight against the thought of moving from this spot. “Just hold me for a few more minutes, okay? I like being here.”

He chuckled, rumbling against my cheek. “I like having you here.” If only this warmth could last. Something niggled at the back of my mind. Warmth.

I sat up, snagging my t-shirt off the floor. “Elliott, you’re really warm. Why are you so warm?” My hand flew to his forehead, still dotted with sweat. Shit. He didn’t feel hot, but he wasn’t as cool as he usually felt. I should have insisted that he use the ice and everything first. I hadn’t been thinking clearly. “We need to get you cooled down, don’t we?” I asked, panicky.

Elliott sat up slowly, pulling his underwear off the back of the couch with a grin. “Calm down, it’s okay. I was going to talk to you about it, but you distracted me.”

“What’s going on?” I demanded, searching for my own underwear. I found them caught up on the corner of my desk, dangling. I unrolled them, jabbing my legs through the openings and struggling not to fall over in the process.

“My meds aren’t working as well anymore. Plus I’ve been so much more, ahem, active lately I’m burning through them faster than ever. I’m having a harder time keeping my core temp lowered. The virus is going to start replicating faster than my immune system can suppress it soon.”

I couldn’t believe my moment of peace was shattering like a cracked bar glass. “How soon?” I forced myself to ask.

Elliott shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Is there anything we can do to stop it, or at least slow it down?” I pleaded.

Elliott shrugged, “There are a few things I’m willing to try. The injection that’s most likely to help the most will knock me out of commission for at least twelve hours though, total comatose state. I can’t do that and leave you alone to deal with Amie and the CDC. Who knows how long we have until they find us. It’s too much for you to do alone.”

I wanted to choke him. My hands involuntarily curled into fists. “Whatever you
can
do, you
will
do and you’ll do it now!” I barked. “I’m tired of this argument! Your responsibility is to keep yourself alive, as healthy as possible for as long as possible. I’ll deal with all of the fallout I can. You can’t predict the future and neither can I.” My voice cracked. “Just do it.”

Elliott, for once, didn’t argue or complain. “Okay, I’ll check on Amie and then we’ll get it set up.”

We got dressed in silence, our comfortable bliss irrevocably shattered.

I trailed behind him as he headed for the cooler, looking for any of the symptoms I’d obviously missed earlier. Why hadn’t I known he was getting worse?

Elliott stopped at the cooler door, leaning against it and listening. When he didn’t hear anything, he cautiously slid the lock open and peered inside. When no one came rushing out, he opened the door fully and went inside.

I leaned in the doorway, watching as he checked Amie’s vital signs again. Her chest rose and fell, so I knew she was still alive. She looked like she was sleeping to me. “Any improvement?” I asked.

“Maybe,” Elliott answered slowly. “Her heart rate and respirations are evening out. She’s basically in a coma right now. I have no way of knowing how long it’ll take for her to come out of it, or if she will. She’d be comatose at this point if she was succumbing to the virus as well.”

I brought some clean, dry towels to wrap her in and make her a little more comfortable. I wouldn’t want to lay on a cold metal floor, even if I was totally unconscious. Once she was situated, Elliott relocked the door. The slide lock was supposed to be secured with a padlock to keep people out of the beer. I never dreamt it’d be used to lock someone in. My inner business owner was pissed that I was risking the destruction of thousands of dollars worth of beer bottles, but I tried to keep her quiet.

“Where are we cooling you down?” I nagged Elliott, eager to get him on ice whether it cost me merchandise or not. I didn’t have a walk in freezer here, there was a big upright fridge for the few food items we served.

“Any chance you have a bathtub or something similar in the building?” Elliott asked, furrowing his brow. I racked my brain trying to think of something that would be big enough to hold Elliott’s ice covered body, but I couldn’t think of a thing.

“We might have some luck in the basement, but you can rest up here if that’d be better?” I asked, watching Elliott too closely.

“I’m not dying in the next fifteen minutes, Zoe. Let’s see what we can find.” He smiled reassuringly.

I wasn’t reassured. The basement held mostly keg storage, the chilled tap lines, and the room we’d always referred to as “the lab,” my uncle’s small micro-brewery. I went through the storage area, searching for anything that might work while Elliott almost seemed like he was on a tour.

He whistled over the sparklingly beautiful still, all gleaming copper and dashed dreams. I hadn’t had the heart to start brewing anything since we lost Rick. Now that Zack was gone too, maybe I never would. Maybe there wouldn’t be anyone left alive to drink beer regardless.

“That might work,” Elliott suggested sheepishly. He’d discovered the corner where we stashed all the holiday decorations, and was moving a big Santa mannequin who clutched a foamy mug of beer in his hand. It wasn’t Santa he was after though.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I mumbled, pinching the bridge of my nose. It was so stupid it hurt, but it might actually be big enough. Elliott grasped the black foam coffin and hoisted it out of the clutter over his head.

“It’s basically a big foam cooler!” he pointed out as he inspected it. “There aren’t even any holes that I can see.”

The idea of putting him on ice in a cheesy Dracula coffin was almost insulting, but I didn’t have any better options either. If he went in with Amie, she might pop out of her coma all raged out while he was too out of it to defend himself.

“Are we dragging it upstairs or setting you up down here?” I asked, my voice filled with disgusted skepticism. I know it’s ridiculous to get upset over the choice of container. It is ridiculous. But should someone on the brink of death really choose a fucking coffin to take a nap in? “Isn’t this like tempting fate?” I said out loud.

Elliott was hauling the thing towards my uncle’s microbrew room. “Is there a lock on this room? Or is there someplace upstairs that locks?” he asked, his voice hollow from inside the foam box. He completely ignored my question about fate.

“There are locks on the locker room and the office upstairs, plus it’ll be easier to haul ice there and avoid the stairs,” I replied. I also didn’t want to taint the memories I had of working in the brew room with my uncle. If this all went bad, I couldn’t go in there again.

I helped guide the foam box upstairs, carrying the bottom end of it so we could make the corners more easily. I refused to call it what it was; my brain sort of wanted to curl into itself and take a nap in the fetal position every time I went there. It’s a cooler. A Halloween themed cooler. Right.