Chapter 97
Chapter 97
Midway through the night, things were relatively quiet in her ward. She checked in at the nurse’s station, got the okay from her
supervisor, and ducked out for her meal break. At two in the
morning, there wasn’t a lot of choice for hot meals. But there was a
24/7 corner shop a few blocks down from the hospice that sold cups of soup from the neighboring Ukrainian deli.
The walk was well lit and well–trafficked. It had never made Chloe
nervous before. But as soon as she stepped out of the hospice, that tense, watched feeling hit her again. If she hadn’t been feeling weekend, she’d have chalked this particular moment up to w intuition and dipped right back inside the safety of the hospice building. But she was tired of her life, she hadn’t been able to get her vampire fix in three days, and she just really wanted some fucking
borscht.
She reached the corner store without incident. Ivan, the owner’s college–aged nephew was sitting at the counter, staring at his phone, ear pods in. He raised his eyes briefly to acknowledge Chloe’s entrance, then went right back to his phone. She went to the cooler where the deli soups were stocked. There was only one cup of borscht left, and she snapped it up with a delighted sigh. It was tragic that the high point of her day was soup, but she’d take her dopamine hits wherever she could find them.
On the walk back to work, excitement for her lunch overshadowed the anxiety that had been plaguing her all weekend. She forgot about the feeling of eyes on her back, instead caught up in a repetitive thought loop where she envisioned herself microwaving the borscht and then sitting down to eat it in a perfectly empty break room where she could quietly read on her phone instead of being pestered by extroverted coworkers.
She was only two blocks from the hospice, crossing in front of a
Chapter 97
parking garage that served the nearby hospital when she noticed a dark shape huddled against the base of the shadowed structure. Her first thought was that someone had dumped a bag of garbage. But as she got closer, vague lumpeness resolved into more detail–bare white feet sticking out of tattered pants. Matted, long hair tangled around a pale, hollow face. Thin, raw–knuckled fingers clutched a ragged shirt close to his throat. He had nothing even close to reasonable outerwear. The early Spring weather was way too brutal for that kind of exposure. If he wasn’t dead already, he would be
soon.
Chloe approached the slumped body cautiously. Her born–and–raised–in–South–Chicago instincts were telling her to walk away–call an ambulance and let the trained first–responders de with it. But her life’s work had programmed her to respond differently. She stopped beside the prone figure, just out of arm
reach.
The man’s thin, bony chest moved faintly up and down in rapid, shallow, almost imperceptible pants. Alive.
“Hello?” she said clearly, loudly. “Are you okay p>
No response.
She sank down to a crouch beside the body, setting her borscht aside. “I’m going to check you for injury,” she explained.
Careful not to shift his head or neck, she examined his ears and nose for any leaking fluid. She pressed her fingers to his carotid artery, checking his pulse. It fluttered faintly, far too rapid. She lifted one eyelid, using the light on her phone. His pupils were so dilated, his iris was just a thin ring around huge black circles.
Shit. She opened up her keypad to dial 9-1-1, but before she even tapped the first number, a cold, bony hand closed around her wrist. She gasped, caught by surprise, dropping her phone.
Chapter 97
“Hello?” she said loudly. “Sir? Can you hear me p>
He winced, eyes squeezing shut. A raspy groan rattled in his chest.
“Sir, you need medical attention,” she said in her no–nonsense, professional voice. “I’m going to call for an ambulance, okay?” She didn’t wait for approval, picking her phone back up.
“No,” the man said hoarsely.
Drugs, Chloe figured. It could have been anything from psychosis to severe dehydration, but in her experience, it was usually drugs–and in this guy’s case, his pulse, respiration, and pupil dilation all indicated amphetamine use. Over–doses could be hard to convi seek medical attention, out of fear of criminal charges. Chloe he pretty fucking strong feelings about the criminalization of addiction, but regardless, she had to get him medical help. The legal issues could be dealt with later. Life and death weren’t so negotiable.
She started dialing, but only managed to get the first digit before the phone was snatched out of her hands.
“Hey,” she said gently, using her de–escalating Nurse Voice. “That’s my phone. I need you to give it back to me.” She reached for it, but he jerked it out of her reach, his movements twitchy, almost inhumanly fast. He stared at her, his eyes like black holes.
Trying to keep him calm, Chloe said even more gently, “Will you tell me your name p>
He continued to stare at her. “Who are you?” he rasped in a dazed
tone.
“My name’s Chloe. I’m a nurse. I’m going to help you, okay? But you have to give me my phone.” She reached for it, gently, cautiously.
A vicious, inhuman snarl of outrage tore through the night, coming
Chapter 97
from a few blocks away. Chloe startled, looking in the direction of the sound. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just as she looked back at the stranger, he lunged at her.
In emergencies, Chloe had always found that the fear–center in her brain seemed to shut off. When she’d been an ICU nurse, she’d always been praised for how coolly and efficiently she responded to coding patients, belligerent patients, violent patients, and the equally aggressive, belligerent family members of patients. She’d never quite thought she deserved the praise because it wasn’t like she was struggling through her own emotional turbulence to do what needed to be done. She just felt… nothing. She acted on autopilot.
The same thing happened to her as the stranger tackled her to the ground. Stupidly, her first thought was for her borscht.
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