Riley Park Read Free Page B

what she means, when she holds up a package. Inside the package is a length of clear tube.
    Officer Rex grimaces.
    The nurse nods at the paramedics. One moves to each side of the gurney. The nurse opens the package and fits an end on the tube.Then she squirts on a blob of clear gel. “If you don’t fight this, it won’t be so bad.”
    She pries open my mouth and jams the tube to the back of my throat.
    My eyes fly open and I gag, but I can’t clear the tube. I can’t breathe. I reach for the nurse, but the paramedics clamp my arms. I gag again, and the tube slithers into me. I can feel it, actually feel it moving in my gut. I start to puke.
    Officer Rex steps back from the gurney.
    The nurse vacuums the spew out of my mouth. “We’re in.” She eyes the orange liquid coming up the tube. “Looks like hot dogs.”
    I puke again, and the puke tastes like tube and the gel crap, which tastes worse than puke, if that’s possible.
    The back of my throat is on fire.
    I retch, wishing I could expel the tube, wishing I could reach in and yank it out, wishing I could get the paramedics off my arms and I’d rip that tube out and I don’t care if my entire stomach comes with it.
    The nurse puts her hand on my chest. “Easy.”
    Does she know I can’t breathe?
    My eyes fill and I taste snot streaming from my nose.
    Get this thing.
    Out.
    Of.
    Me.
    One of the paramedics has broken into a sweat. The other is practically sitting on me. The nurse adjusts the tube. I retch again.
    â€œThat’s going to feel better,” she says.
    For who? The tube is red hot, nuking my puke, searing my throat.
    She clicks off the pump. She looks at me with warning in her eyes. “Do not move.”
    And the tube is out. Even the paramedics seem relieved. She hands me a paper tray and I spit the last of it. My throat feels like I just drank gasoline. I suck air until my lungs hurt.
    On the other side of the curtained partition, a monitor starts to beep. I hear someone yell, “Crash cart!”
    The nurse swears softly, peels off her gloves and disappears around the curtain.
    Officer Rex moves next to me.
    I hear the sound of running feet and a cart.
    â€œClear!”
    Officer Rex is watching me.
    Again I hear it. “Clear!”
    Officer Rex speaks quietly. “He’s going to be all right.”
    Who?
    From behind the curtain, I hear, “Stay with us, Darius!”
    Darius.
    I look at Officer Rex. His eyes flick from the curtain to me, back to the curtain.
    â€œI need to see my friend.”
    â€œNot now.”
    â€œNo. I really need to see my friend.” I wrestle one arm free of the straps.
    One of the paramedics calls out, “We’re going to need some help in here!”
    I’ve got the other arm free, and I’m just about off the gurney when the nurse appears. Her hair has come loose from the ponytail and hangs damp on one side of her face. She sets a syringe against the inside of my arm.
    Maybe it’s in my head. Maybe it’s Darius, but I hear the drone of a heart monitor flatlining.
    My veins are cold steel. Officer Rex swims in front of my face. And then there is nothing.

Chapter Five
    The nurse is adjusting a bag of fluid that hangs over my bed. My eyelids feel like lead. I struggle to open my eyes wide enough that I can see her. The nurse looks down at me and then glances at the clock. She moves to the end of the bed, opens a clipboard and makes a note. “Nice to see you awake, Corbin.”
    I blink, trying to clear my vision. It’s not the nurse from the er, the one who pumped my stomach. This nurse is small with dark hair.
    â€œWhere am I?”
    She looks at me and smiles. “What did you say?”
    I try to clear my throat. It feels like the sides of my throat are stuck together. I’m in the hospital. That much is clear. Around me, machines beep and blink. I can’t see another bed—I must have my own