The awakening, p.73
The Awakening, page 73
part #1 of Eve Series
speeding backward through the intersection. The sounds of horns blaring and
brakes screeching sounded through the car, but Percy continued, keeping his
foot on the pedal and wildly spinning the steering wheel as he tried to evade the
obstacles in his path. Jason clung to Eve’s body, Sancho gripped at his
armrests, and JJ kept her eyes on the map in front of her.
“STOP!” she shouted.
The car skidded to an abrupt halt. Sancho let out a long, relieved sigh.
“Balls, that made my butt cheeks pucker up,” he muttered.
Percy’s shoulders hunched. They were sitting in the center of a busy street,
surrounded by honking cars and angry drivers with their middle fingers in the
air. JJ cocked her head at a side street.
“Sharp left, now.”
Percy obeyed, veering down the narrow road as quickly as he could manage.
The atmosphere in the SUV had become tense and frantic: Sancho was
anxiously bouncing in his seat, Jason continued to shove at Eve’s chest, and Percy tightly gripped his steering wheel, but JJ was blind to the ensuing anxiety
and kept her eyes focused on her hologram.
“Left again,” she ordered.
Percy swerved the SUV around the corner and growled under his breath.
“Jesus, JJ, a little warning would be nice.”
“Turn right, and punch it,” she added, ignoring his complaint.
Percy sighed and spun the car down the side street, rolling his eyes at the echo
of car horns and curse words that faded into the distance. A trail of sweat
lined his forehead; he glanced at his speedometer—he was going triple the
speed limit—and then he looked back at Eve, whose bloody arm was dangling
over the side of the bench seat. With his brow furrowed, he faced the road and
put all of his weight on the gas pedal.
JJ nodded at an upcoming intersection. “Left,” she commanded.
“Left?” Percy asked, shooting her a perplexed stare. “It’s a one-way street.”
“I told you I’d find a shortcut.”
“A shortcut that will get us all killed?” he snapped.
JJ bit her lip with annoyance. “Turn left, Percy.”
“JJ—”
“TURN LEFT!”
At the last possible second, Percy yanked at the steering wheel, sharply
spinning into oncoming traffic. Jason toppled across the floor, and Sancho and
JJ awkwardly lurched back and forth in their seats, but still Percy plowed ahead, staring in horror at the line of vehicles in front of them. Some dodged
him with ease, while others swerved into neighboring lanes and barreled onto
the sidewalk, and Percy jerked his steering wheel from left to right, desperately trying to maneuver his way through the chaos.
“OH MY GOD!” he cried.
Sancho clutched at his armrests. “Oh shit oh shit oh shit OH SHIT—”
“Jesus Christ, calm down!” JJ shouted.
“Calm down?” Percy barked. “There are cars HURTLING toward us, and
you want us to CALM DOWN?”
“Need I remind you that you just got through battling aliens, and yet you’re scared of a little oncoming traffic?” JJ hissed.
Without another word, JJ grabbed at the steering wheel and spun it to the side,
quickly veering the car down one of the main city roads.
Percy relaxed into his seat, but only for a moment—a chorus of sirens
sounded in the distance, and he turned to see a line of police cars following behind him.
“Shit,” he groused. “We’ve got pigs on our ass.”
JJ peered around her seat, first taking note of the fast-approaching police and
then staring down at Eve. Jason was breathing into her mouth, his
movements frenzied, and she could see that, beneath the streaks of blood, Eve’s
skin was completely white. JJ turned to Percy once more.
“Don’t stop,” she ordered, firmly.
“Guys,” Jason added, finally ending his silence, “her pulse is getting
weaker.”
“Keep going.” JJ’s voice was strong and assured, but her scratchpad was now shaking in her hands. She pointed at a nearby junction. “Percy, LEFT.”
“It’s not working.” Jason shoved at Eve’s chest, this time more aggressively,
and pressed his fingers against her neck. “God dammit, it’s not working!”
JJ’s heart began to race; she eyed her map and glanced at Percy. “Turn
right.”
“It’s another one way street, JJ!” he cried.
“For Christ’s sake, Percy, do what she says!” Jason snapped.
Percy swerved down the neighboring street, once again launching the car
directly into the mayhem. The street was packed with cars, all headed in their
direction. The blaring of horns and the screeching of brakes rang through the
SUV so loudly that he could hardly hear the police sirens.
A crash sounded behind them; Percy ignored it, instead slamming on the gas
and plowing even faster into the thick of oncoming traffic, veering to the right
around a sports car and to the left around a minivan. And just when he thought
the worst was over, a semi truck suddenly appeared before him.
“TRUCK!” JJ screamed.
“WE’RE GONNA DIE!” Sancho wailed.
“OH MY GOD!” Percy shouted.
He swung his steering wheel in a circle, spinning his SUV into the opposite
lane with so much force and speed that it skidded out of control. Time froze—
the smell of smoke and rubber pervaded the car, as did the sound of squealing tires and shrill screams. JJ and Sancho whipped to the side, their bodies
slapping against their seatbelts, and Eve’s limp figure came to life, jerking forward and then collapsing against the bench seat. Jason was thrown from the
floor and smashed against the car door, but Percy remained steady, clinging to
his steering wheel with his eyes shut and mouth open, producing a long,
infinite howl that harmonized perfectly with the sheer pandemonium of the
moment.
The car screeched to a stop, and an unfamiliar silence filled the space.
Percy’s breathing was labored, his eyes bulging as he stared at the somewhat open road in front of him. JJ sat at his side, her cool demeanor stripped away,
replaced by an obvious state of shock.
She shimmied her shoulders, as if to shake off the experience, and peered
through the rear window. The semi truck was long gone, and instead a sea of
smoke, tar, and metal scraps sat behind them. The police cars were now strewn
wildly about the road, most in minor fender benders, and the officers
congregated in the street, examining the damage. JJ turned to Percy and forced
a shrug.
“See?” she said. “No more pigs. Happy?”
Percy leaned on the gas, still trying to calm his breathing. He pulled onto the
highway and glanced back at the other passengers.
“Is everyone okay?” He turned to Jason. “Jason, are you okay?”
Jason was already hovering over Eve’s body, once again pounding at her chest. “Just keep driving,” he spat.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Percy glanced at the back row. “Sancho?”
Sancho didn’t respond. He sat completely still, his lips slightly parted and eyes
vacant.
“I think he needs a minute,” JJ muttered.
The group continued down the road, the interior of the car finally quiet aside
from Jason’s grunting. Soon the remnants of the Billington gates were visible
in the distance, surrounded by a cloud of thinning smoke. A sense of relief flooded over JJ, though it was quickly accompanied by something else—an
unsettling dread.
“Jason, just so we’re clear,” she began, “when we show up at the ward, we’re
going to be arrested. You know this.”
Jason didn’t bother to meet JJ’s gaze. Instead, he glanced at the speedometer.
“Faster,” he commanded.
JJ nodded. “That’s what I thought.”
“It’s fine,” Percy interjected. “We survived Billington, we’ll survive prison.”
“I like orange,” Sancho croaked, finally ending his silence.
Percy peeled onto the Billington grounds and pulled alongside the medical
ward entrance. The entire campus was still in a state of disarray—debris
littered the pathways, and entire landmarks had been reduced to rubble—but the
foursome paid no attention as they charged into the ward. Immediately they
were immersed in a new chaos—injured students and medical personnel scrambled through the lobby—but Jason barreled through the crowds with Eve
hanging in his arms.
“WE NEED A DOCTOR, NOW!”
The noise of the lobby lowered to a hum as everyone turned to stare at the
two blood-soaked chimeras. A trio of nurses ran toward them—a man with
sable skin and grey scrubs, and two women, one short with black hair and the
other tall with freckles—gaping with shock.
“Oh my Lord— ” the short woman gasped.
“SOMEONE GET A GURNEY!” the man ordered.
“Did this happen on campus?” the freckled nurse asked. “Were you involved
in the attack?”
Jason ignored their questions and lowered Eve onto the newly arrived
stretcher. “Look, none of that matters—”
“Sir, you’re bleeding.” The man examined his chest and leg and nodded at
the corridor behind him. “We need to get you to the Emergency Room.”
“Get your hands off of me,” Jason growled.
“Sir, your wounds are serious—”
Jason grabbed at the man’s shirt and pushed him away. “I said, get your hands OFF ME!”
The man stared wide-eyed at Jason and tugged his scrubs from his grasp.
We’re just trying to help you,” he muttered.
Jason pointed at Eve. “You can help me by helping her.”
“Where is all this blood coming from?” the shorter woman asked, pressing
her stethoscope against Eve’s chest.
“She exhausted her gift.”
“Her gift?” The freckled woman paused and gazed at Jason, perplexed.
“She’s a chimera?”
“Look, her gift is dying, and she’s dying,” Jason cut in. “She doesn’t have a lot of time. She needs a humanovus doctor. Get Dr. Dzarnoski, and get him now.”
The man in the grey scrubs shook his head. “I can’t do that, sir.”
“What do you mean you can’t do that? ” Jason spat. “She needs Dr.
Dzarnoski. He’s the best humanovus surgeon in the country—”
“Dr. Dzarnoski isn’t in the hospital.”
“Well call him up and tell him to get his ass over here!”
The man hesitated. “He’s on vacation.”
“He’s on vacation?” Jason barked.
“Your friend is in good hands.” The man grabbed hold of the gurney. “We’ll
take care of her.”
“Are you a humanovus doctor?”
“There are no other humanovus doctors on staff—”
“Jesus Christ!” Jason groaned.
The man pushed at the gurney with one arm and raised the other toward
Jason. “You need to stand back, sir.”
“I’m not leaving her.”
“Sir, stand back.”
“She’s dying! Do you hear me?” Jason charged forward, his face red with frustration. “Now get her a goddamn CHIMERA DOCTOR!”
“SIR—”
“Patient’s exsanguinating,” the freckled girl interrupted, fastening a
breathing mask over Eve’s face. “Call the blood bank. We need to initiate a massive blood transfusion protocol. Let’s get her to the ICU.”
The man nodded and turned to Jason, scowling with annoyance. “Stay here.”
“I said I’m not leaving her.”
“Stay here and let us do our job .”
Without another word, the threesome shoved Eve’s gurney through the
lobby and down the ICU corridor. Jason followed stubbornly behind with JJ,
Percy, and Sancho on his heels. The nurses wheeled Eve into a secure room, and though Jason tried to jostle his way inside, the door promptly slammed in
his face.
Jason peered between the window blinds, desperate for a view of Eve, but
she was surrounded by a swarm of doctors and nurses. He turned from the
window, anxiously running his fingers through his hair, and just as he felt himself succumb to despair, a familiar figure scuttled down the hallway,
clumsily juggling a large stack of documents.
“Armaan!”
Armaan jumped, instantly dropping his papers and sighing as they floated to
the ground. He turned to Jason, gaping at the sight of his bloodied, beaten body.
“Jason? What—how—”
“Armaan, where the hell have you been?” Jason asked. “I was looking all over for you a few hours ago.”
Armaan wrinkled his nose. “What are you talking about? I was here—I’m
always here.”
The sound of muffled shouting interrupted them. Armaan’s eyes darted
toward the noise, and through the window he could just make out Eve’s body.
“Is that—” he stuttered, “is that Eve? ”
Jason sighed. “Armaan—”
“What happened to her?”
“It’s her gift.” Jason faltered, struggling to get the words out. “She’s
bleeding out. She’s dying.”
“Shit,” Armaan hissed. He blushed. “Pardon my French.”
Jason lowered his voice. “Look, you’re Dr. Dzarnoski’s assistant, right?”
“DON’T MOVE!”
Armaan and Jason spun in place, watching with chagrin as a bevy of
patrolmen headed their way. Sancho, Percy, and JJ were clumped together in
the distance, their jaws dropped and expressions bleak.
“PUT YOUR HANDS ON YOUR HEAD!” a patrolman shouted.
“Wait,” Jason began, extending his arms as if to keep them at bay. He
glanced at Armaan. “Wait, I need to talk to him—”
“PUT YOUR HANDS ON YOUR HEAD!” the patrolman repeated.
“Look, I’ll cooperate, just please let me talk to him for a second—”
The patrolman pointed his rifle at Jason. “YOUR HANDS, NOW!”
“DAMMIT, YOU’RE NOT EVEN LISTENING TO ME!” Jason shouted.
Sancho glanced nervously between the patrolmen, Armaan, and Jason, who
was slowly resting his palms behind his head, his panicked face compelling
Sancho to act. He inched out of the patrolmen’s line of vision, situating himself
beside an artificial plant and a set of low-hanging curtains, and with as much subtlety as he could muster, he pointed his flamethrower at the plant and
delicately tapped at the control panel. A sharp burst of fire spread across the faux leaves and up the drapery, and Sancho scurried toward the line of
patrolmen and cleared his throat.
“Um, guys?” he croaked. “Hey guys!” He nodded at the flickering flames
and shrugged. “The building is sort of on fire.”
The patrolmen froze. “Ah, Christ,” one of them groaned, and together they raced toward the fire, scrambling to put out the flames.
Sancho took one last look at the bumbling soldiers and turned to Jason.
“What are you waiting for?” He pointed to Armaan. “Talk to him!”
Jason nodded at Sancho and hurried to Armaan’s side once more. “Dr.
Dzarnoski—you work with him,” he began.
Armaan bobbed his head. “Yes. Almost every day.”
“So you know his practices. You’ve learned his procedures, read his
research.”
“Yeah, I guess. I mean, I tried to, when I could.”
“Then how do we stop it?” Jason asked. “How do we stop her from shutting
down?”
Armaan sighed. “We can’t, Jason.”
“There has to be something, Armaan.”
“There isn’t.”
“There is. ”
“Jason—”
“Think, Armaan!” Jason spat. He grabbed at the boy’s shoulders. “There has to be a way to keep her alive. There has to be a way to save her—to save her
gift.”
Armaan opened his mouth to speak, but stopped himself. His eyes flitted
from Jason to Eve’s room, and immediately his face turned pale and clammy.
“What?” Jason said. “What is it?”
Armaan hesitated. “There’s been research,” he explained, “about a treatment.
Dzarnoski’s been conducting case studies on it for months now.”
“A treatment?” Jason’s eyes brightened. “What, like a cure?”
“Research suggests that the gift is controlled by the pairing of the
cerebellum and the temporal lobe, and thus triggering these areas may in turn
galvanize the gift.” Armaan lifted his hands, waving them as he spoke. “This stimulus, in theory, will energize the coordination associated with the
cerebellum as well as the visual memory of the temporal lobe, and if we focus
our impetus specifically on the right side of the brain—”
“Armaan, time isn’t exactly on our side right now,” Jason cut in.
“It’s an electroconvulsive treatment. It sends an electric current to the brain,
which stimulates the relevant lobes and supposedly activates the gift.”
“All right, so we need to get in there and tell her doctors to do this
treatment.”
