Chapter 148
- Evan -
Duke didn't need to be told twice. The truck fishtailed on the broken pavement before roaring down the desolate road towards the hospital outside the dome's ruins.
Baby pressed the back of her hand to Kaysi's forehead. Her brows pinched.
"Her fever's climbing," she whispered. "Her skin's cold because her body is shutting down; we're losing circulation.
My heart felt as if it had been ripped in two by her words.
"Septic shock!?" I whispered, questioning.
Baby didn't look up. "If it isn't yours, it will be soon.
My stomach twisted hard.
Kaysi's breathing was shallow—barely there. Her chest rose in these tiny, uneven breaths, like her lungs couldn't keep up. The infection from the wounds...the days trapped in the dome...the fighting...the energy she burned.
She had nothing left to really give.
Baby rechecked her pulse. "Thready. Too fast now. She swallowed. "Evan...she's crashing."
My hands clenched around the metal railing until the cold bit into my palms. "Tell me what to do."
Baby's eye flicked up—soft but firm. "Mostly? Don't let her slip under. Talk to her; keep her anchored. If she stops responding altogether—"
She cut herself off. She didn't need to finish.
I shifted closer, cradling Kaysi's face gently. "Hey... hey, stay with me, okay? We're almost there."
Her eyelids fluttered—barely a ghost of movement.
I don't know if she heard me. I don't know if anything could reach her now.
But I kept talking anyway. I had to.
Behind me, Josh's voice cracked mid-count, but he forced the rhythm again.
Baby called toward the front, "Duke! How much farther?!"
"Almost there in two minutes! He shouted back.
"Make it one!" I agreed.
The truck hit a pothole so hard that the whole back end bounced. I threw an arm over Kaysi to keep her from rolling.
Baby steadied Becky's stretched arm at the same time. "Careful!"
Josh nearly dropped the bag valve but caught it again, pushing breath after breath into the mask. His tears splashed onto Becky's gown and ran down the plastic tubing.
"Come on... One more breath, keep going." He whispered as though encouraging her.
The hospital came into view—front lights flickering, machines humming, staff already running toward the entrance from other civilians that had started to come in from the dome as well.
A few nurses turned their heads when they heard the truck roaring in.
Baby yells forward, "Duke—straight to the bay!"
The truck skidded to a stop in front of the emergency doors so hard my teeth clacked together.
The moment the brakes screeched, people rushed out.
Baby yelled back to the nurses with a gurney.
"WE HAVE A SEPTIC PATIENT—UNRESPONSIVE AND IN RESPIRATORY FAILURE—MANUAL VENTILATION!"
The nurse yelled to the other group of nurses.
"I NEED TWO TEAMS, NOW!"
Hands pulled Becky out first—Josh stumbling after her, refusing to let go of the bag until a respiratory nurse physically took it from him.
Sir! We've got her—go with her, go!"
He nearly collapsed, but they grabbed him, rushing him inside.
Another team rushed toward Baby and me.
"What's her status?" A doctor barked.
"Another overseeing her in the dome suspects sepsis. She still has unhealed burn wounds. High fever, organ failure starting maybe," Baby answered rapidly. "She's not waking up to anyone anymore. Pulse is deteriorating."
She looked over at Becky. "She had glass all within her body; there is a chance for it to be in her lungs, which they were unable to get to."
"Get this girl to the O.R.!" And take the other to trade 7."
They slid Kaysi onto another gurney so fast the world blurred.
"I need someone to run a septic panel! Prepare broad-spectrum antibiotics! Get a crash room ready just in case!"
My heart nearly stopped at that last part.
I tried to follow, but a nurse caught my chest with one hand. "We'll take her from here. You stay behind for now and rest."
"Like hell I will—"
"Evan." Baby's hand landed on my arm. "Let them work."
The doors slammed shut as the team wheeled Kaysi away.
I froze.
Empty. Cold. Helpless.
Just like before.
James and Micah stood beside me, both breathing hard, both staring at the sealed doors.
No one spoke for a long time.
Finally, Micah walked over to me and hugged me, and James put a hand on my shoulder.
Micah whispered, voice trembling:
"They're both fighting for their lives."
James nodded slowly. "We did all we could... Now we pray and wait."
I pressed my fist to my forehead, eyes burning, breath shaking. Waiting suddenly felt more complex than any battle we'd fought inside that dome.
The automatic doors thudded shut behind the gurneys, and the hallway fell into a heavy, suffocating silence—one that felt more like a chokehold than a pause.
Micah and James eased down into one of the plastic waiting chairs next to me. Wincing as her newly stitched arm tugged. James steadied her and continued to guard us. His jaw had not lost its set, nor had his attention to detail, as his eyes went across every door there. He was tense, as if he might punch anyone who came next.
Baby paced.
Not fast nor frantic. Just deliberate measuring and trying to ease her worry.
Duke finally jogged in from parking the truck, shaking out his hands, still half covered in soot. "They get 'em back there?"
"They'll—" Baby's voice cracked. She cleared it and tried again. "They'll do everything they can."
That wasn't comfort. It was a verdict.
I dropped farther into my chair, elbows on my knees, head in my hands. The adrenaline had burned off, leaving something hollow and shaking in its place.
Two of our friends live on the edge of a cliff, and we were unable to reach them, only hoping they can make it on their own.
Micah's voice broke the quiet. "Josh looked like he was about to collapse."
"He was," Baby muttered. "He just didn't allow us to see it."
Duke shrugged off his jacket, tossing it across a chair. "The man held that bag for nearly half an hour. That's not strength—that's desperation."
James folded his arms. "It's love."
Baby stopped pacing at that. Something in her expression flickered—she almost wanted to say something, but didn't.
Before any of us could speak, the double doors slammed open again.
Two surgeons strode—one peeling off bloody gloves, the other tugging down his face shield. Their scrubs were streaked with red.
Becky's blood.