Hunted (A Sinners Series Book 2) (32 page)

“Did everyone with you choose to get vaccinated?”

“Why wouldn’t they? Who wants to die from that?”

“And you didn’t know they’d force you to go get the shot either way?”

“No, why would I assume that?” she asks, her voice incredulous.

“Was there anything else they had you do?”

“No.”

“How about your information—did they write your name down?”

“Yes.” I release her wrists, and she flops back down to her pillow. “This is ridiculous.”

The door opens, and Cole stands there, pinching his nose. “You get everything you need out of her?”

I nod in his direction and then turn back to her and say, “I’ll be back to get you cleaned up.”

“No, wait! You know something don’t you?” Her voice dances on the edge of panic, and she speaks quickly, trying to grab my arm as I move back.

“I have to go.”

“Bitch. I answered your questions.” She narrows her eyes at me.

I leave the room and bolt the door, and Cole pulls me into his arms.

“Until we know everything about this virus, I’m not comfortable with you being around her.”

“She’s not contagious anymore; you heard Roméo.”

“Still. She’s evil.”

“Evil or not, she’s dying. And I’m not like Wilson. I won’t leave her in there to rot away in her own filth.”

“So let someone else take care of her.”

“Yeah, like who? Bill?”

“Why not?”

“You’re joking, right?” By the look on his face, I know he’s not.

Back in his room, Roméo is writing with his right leg crossed over his left, tapping his right foot in the air.

“They were told it was a vaccine, one that would keep them from getting the virus that’s going around the Hole,” I say, winded from my encounter with Amber. Roméo looks up at me as if I’m a distraction from important work. “They made them feel lucky, almost honored, that they were chosen.”

All eyes rest on me.

“Wilson’s a sick son of a bitch,” Bruno says. His tucks his hands into his pockets. Grace sits at his feet with her head leaning against his legs.

“So now what?” I ask Roméo.

“We document everything: her symptoms, how long they last. We count the hours or days that she lives. And we need to find out where in the hospital Sutton’s records are hidden. My guess is that Sutton could be the key to blowing this wide open.”

“His office,” I say with a shrug. “It’s the only place he charted. But wouldn’t Sutton have told us if he had anything to do with these experiments? If anything, he was trying to stop them.”

“He’s smarter than Wilson.” Cole says. “I imagine he hid any records well.”

I turn and rest my forehead against Cole’s chest; the softness of his cotton shirt feels good against my skin. He encloses me with his arms and kisses the top of my head. Then he pushes me away for a second.

“Roméo, is it safe to be around Amber?” Cole asks what we’re all thinking.

Roméo takes a second to consider the question before responding, “I don’t think she is contagious any longer. Otherwise, I wouldn’t risk your lives or mine.”

Zeus snores loudly from his spot in the far left corner of the room, and it draws our attention until Bruno speaks again.

“She may not be contagious anymore, but I’m pretty sure she’s dying. That’s not news anyone wants to hear.”

“Should we tell her?” Grace asks.

“Not yet,” Roméo says.

Cole shoves his hands into his pockets and shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

“Okay, Bill, you got nominated to help me clean up Amber. Shall we do this?” I look at Bill, whose bushy eyebrows raise up on his forehead. They almost blend in with his wild hair.

“Why do I always get stuck cleaning up bodily fluids?” He looks genuinely offended. I shoot him a “because-you’re-crazy-as-hell” look, and he acquiesces. “I’ve got gloves, some bleach, and a few scrub brushes.”

“All right.”

Bill and I walk in unison, step for step. He fiddles with his fingers and counts quietly. He’s strange. But for some reason, I like being around him. Maybe because as annoying as he is, he makes me laugh at times.

“Lusty?”

“Bill?”

“What?”

“I’m not sure, you said my name first.”

“Oh right; I did. I hate to say it, but … I think this country’s going down the poop shoot.”

“I’m afraid you might be right.”

“I need another drink.”

“You’re still drinking?”

“Yup, just not as often as I would like.”

“How can you function, drinking all the time?”

“I don’t get drunk. I drink just enough to calm my nerves.”

He scratches the back of his head before picking a scab off his neck, and I smack his arm with the back of my hand. “Don’t do that. The last thing you want are any open wounds around Amber. Not to mention that’s completely gross.”

“It’s nice to know you care so much.”

In the supply room, we grab everything we can. I carry towels, linens, clothes, and a bottle of bleach that I’m holding in place with my chin. Bill grabs buckets, trash bags, gloves, and face masks.

Standing outside her door, I hear nothing but our breathing, and I hope she’s passed out. We place our things on the floor. Bill hands me my mask so I put it on, noticing the spearmint smell immediately.

“It helps with the smell.” He points to the mask.

“Yeah, some of the nurses I worked with did the same thing. They claimed it worked.”

“It does. Hot damn these gloves are tight.” Bill puts on two pair of rubber gloves, and I decide double-gloving is a great idea.

“All right, you ready?” He nods. “Let’s get this over with.”

Bill crosses his eyes at me, and I smile under my mask. He unlocks the door, turns the knob, peeks in, and pops back out.

“Asleep,” he says in a whisper.

“Good; let’s hope she stays that way.”

“If not, can’t you punch her and knock her out again?”

“Believe me, it’s crossed my mind.”

The mask dulls the smell just enough that I don’t have to crinkle my nose as we approach Amber. Her clothes and sheets are caked in vomit. The floor seems clean at least. Her bucket sits next to her bed. When I glance inside, it’s almost half full. I didn’t know someone could produce that much at one time. I pick it up, carry it out the door, and place it on the floor. When I come back in, Bill’s untucking the sheets at the corners of her bed.

“How are we going to do this?” he asks.

“Let’s try rolling her onto her side, and I’ll shove the old sheets underneath her, followed by the clean ones. Hold her until I have the clean sheets in place. When I say okay, roll her over the lump of sheets toward me, and I’ll hold her while you grab the nasty ones out from under her and then pull the clean ones out and tuck them in.”

“Good idea; I thought you were going to tell me to hold her.”

“Oh no, that’d be a bad idea.”

Amber groans now and then as we clean her bed. Her eyes stay closed, but her lips move, almost like she’s trying to talk but nothing comes out.

“Did you grab clothes?” I ask.

“Oops.” He runs out of the room, tears everything off, and then comes back, putting on new gloves. This time he holds a t-shirt and pants.

“I’ll do it while you step out,” I say.

“Won’t you need help?”

“No, I’ll be fine.” I fight nausea just looking at her barf-stained clothes. Bills nods his head and clears the room, leaving me to dress Amber.

“Bill, I’m done.”

He re-enters the room.

“Okay, what about the bleach?” I ask.

“To clean her?”

“No.” I laugh at him and shake my head. “To help with the smell. And kill the germs.”

“Right.”

I see Amber stir out of the corner of my eye. I wave to Bill, and he looks in her direction.

“Maybe later?” Bill asks.

“I agree.”

“Ahhhhhhhh!” she screams.

Amber bolts up to a sitting position in her bed. Her eyes practically bulge out of her head. Her hands and fingers tremble, and she doesn’t even look at us. She stares at the opposite corner. “Get away from me!” she screams at the top of her lungs. “Get away!”

She picks up her pillow and hurls it across the room toward the empty corner and sweat drips from her forehead.

“Amber,” I say. She doesn’t respond to my voice so I try again. “Amber.”

Nothing.

I move slowly toward her and feel my pulse quicken.

“Don’t you dare come any closer.” Her voice is deep with rage, but she almost chokes on her words. Bill steps back, scrunching up his face.

“What’s she doing?” he asks.

“I’m not sure. Maybe she’s having a nightmare. We have to wake her up.”

“Wake up, Amber,” Bill screams.

“Why are you here?” Amber asks. “You promised to leave me alone. You promised.” Her eyes still fixate on the empty corner, and her nostrils flare.

“Slap her,” Bill says.

“No, she thinks someone’s here to hurt her.”

Amber screams some more. She’s incoherent. No matter what Bill and I say to her, she doesn’t acknowledge us. I place my hands on her shoulders and shake her. She jumps out of bed and retreats to a fetal position on the floor
. Great.
Then her head snaps up, and she starts swinging her arms.

“Maybe a bucket of cold water?” I ask Bill.

“Be right back.”

When he’s gone, I climb over her bed and stand between her and the imaginary person.

“Amber, it’s Lexi.”

She clutches her chest, and then her throat, choking herself.

“Don’t do it,” she begs through her tears. “Let go.”

“Do what?”

Bill comes running in with a bucket of water that spills as he makes his way toward me.

“Allow me,” he says. He stands above her and turns the bucket over, and the water pours onto Amber’s head
.

So much for the new clothing I worked so hard to get on her.

No response. Not even a shiver. Her eyes remain fixed on whatever she’s seeing.

Damn, that’s creepy.

I catch a glimpse of Bill’s face as his eyes widen. Then he shrugs, still holding the empty bucket. “Well, that didn’t go as planned,” he says. “Now what?”

“Go get Roméo.”

I feel so helpless, trying to come up with something that can snap her out of her hallucination.

Just then, Amber stands up and charges the wall opposite her bed. I leap toward her and wrap my arms around her waist, but she fights me with all her strength.

“Amber, wake up.”

She doesn’t hear me or respond to me. I don’t exist to her at all. An eerie feeling comes over me, like when Zeus barks at something that isn’t there. Her eyes are so intense; I wonder what or who she sees.

“Leave her alone,” I yell at whoever she’s seeing. “Get out of here, before I shoot.” But nothing happens.

“Who are you talking to?” Cole yells over the noise as he and Zeus enter the room.

“I think she’s hallucinating; I’m trying to snap her out of it.”

“So, you just threatened to shoot … what, exactly?”

“Come hold her,” I say.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

Zeus spots the pillow in the corner; he pounces on it and tears it to shreds.

“Why did you come for me?” Amber asks. “I no longer belong to you, don’t you get it? We aren’t married anymore. I left you.”

She attempts to wrench away from me, so I quickly tighten my grip.

“She was married?” Cole asks. He takes her in his arms, and I start yelling at her ex-husband. I’m not a superstitious person, but at this point, I’ll give anything a try.

“Leave her alone,” I say to her husband.

“Lexi, have you lost your mind?” Cole looks concerned.

“No, I’m trying to make him go away.”

“There’s no one there.”

“I know that.”

“She can’t hear or see any of us,” Roméo says, appearing at the foot of the bed. “She only sees what she imagines in her mind. It’s a hallucination.”

“Somebody help me!” Amber screams so loud my ears ring. “Help me, please!”

“So what do we do?” I ask.

“Unfortunately, we can’t do anything. The virus is attacking her brain and waking up her fears.”

Amber stops screaming for a moment, and we all stop to stare. Cole releases her slowly. He comes up behind me and rubs my shoulders, but I remain tight as a drum.

Amber looks around the room, a glazed look in her eyes. I’m guessing she still doesn’t see us.

“She looks a bit nuts,” Bill says.

“Do you hear that?” Amber asks. Her voice comes out raspy and hoarse. Her entire body shakes nonstop. I find myself stepping back, bumping into Cole.

Something’s happening again. I can feel it.

“Let’s play a game,” Bill says. “Who can guess what’s coming next?” I give Bill a dirty look. Now isn’t the time to play games.

“Oh shit, it’s getting louder,” Amber says. She shuts her eyes and covers her ears while rocking in the corner. “No, please, no. They’re coming in through the holes.”

Amber’s legs begin kicking, her arms swinging, and she shakes, sending chills down my spine. Her piercing screams rattle me. I clap my hands to my ears and cringe.

Roméo’s eyes meet mine.

“Isn’t there anything you can give her? Roméo, I can’t watch her suffer like this.”

“Then leave.” His eyes are stone-cold.

His reaction shocks me and makes me remember how badly I wanted to choke him earlier.

Amber alternates between screaming, crying, and blubbering. She jumps to her feet and starts running but slams into the wall and falls backward, landing on her back. She gets back up and spins around while flailing her arms everywhere. Then she collapses.

It doesn’t end there. She continues to yell, “Get these bats off of me!”

I make my way over to her, cautiously, and throw my body on top of hers to keep her from thrashing and banging her head on the floor. She fights me, scratching and clawing at my arms and hands. She bites the meaty flesh of my thumb, and I cry out, but don’t give up. When I look at it, the skin’s not punctured. I try to pin her down, anything to make it stop. She writhes below me though.

“Lexi, what the hell are you doing?” Cole asks.

I wrap my arms around her and hold her while she fights the demons in her head.