’Til the World Ends Read Free

with an alcohol wipe. He didn’t flinch, though the lacerations were quite deep, and I knew the alcohol stung. “Did you hear me, Mr. Archer?”
    “Ben. Just Ben.”
    “All right, Ben.” I wiped the last of the blood away and reached for the needle and thread. “You still haven’t answered my question. Those bite wounds on your friend, they aren’t normal. What happened?”
    I felt him hesitate. My voice grew a little harder. “Don’t lie to me, Mr. Archer. If I’m going to help him, I need to know exactly what happened. Any information you withhold could end up killing him, or my other patients. Now—last time—tell me what happened.”
    “We...” Ben paused, as if fighting himself, struggling to get the words out. “Nathan and I...we were attacked,” he finally admitted.
    “Yes, that I gathered,” I said, gently touching his shoulder. His skin was warm, and he finally flinched at my touch. “I’m going to start stitching now, so brace yourself.”
    He nodded.
    “So, something attacked you,” I continued, sinking the needle into the smooth, tanned skin, talking quickly to keep him distracted. “What was it?”
    “I...I don’t know.”
    “What do you mean, you don’t know?” I frowned as I pulled a stitch closed, seeing him grit his teeth. “Something obviously savaged your friend and tore the hell out of your shoulder. What was it?”
    “I didn’t see it very clearly,” Ben muttered. “It was dark, and the thing moved so fast.” He shrugged, then grunted in pain as the motion pulled at the stitches. “I thought it was human, but...” He trailed off again, and I frowned over his shoulder.
    “Ben, your friend was bitten by something with canines at least an inch long. Humans don’t have teeth like that.”
    He raised his head just as I looked up at him, and for a second, our faces were inches apart. Guilt, horror and fear lay open on his face; he had the look of a soldier who had seen far too much and would be eternally haunted by it.
    “You should leave,” he whispered once more, his voice like a ragged, open wound. And my stomach flip-flopped at the look in his eyes. “Don’t ask questions, Kylie, just trust me. Get out of here as soon as you can. Go home, leave this place, and don’t look back.”
    I took a deep, steadying breath.
    “I can’t leave,” I told him firmly. “I won’t leave my patients, so that’s out of the question. Besides, I don’t have a home to go back to.” He looked away, and I wished I could turn his head back, force him to meet my gaze. “You’re not telling me everything,” I said, and his face shut down into a blank mask. My eyes narrowed. “What are you hiding?”

    “Miss Kylie?”
    Maggie appeared in the door. Seeing Ben, she blushed and looked down at her feet. “Ms. Sawyer was complaining that it hurt to breathe. I gave her a shot of morphine for the pain and a sedative to help her sleep.”
    “Good girl,” I said, feeling a lump rise to my throat. The final stages of Red Lung, before the victim began coughing uncontrollably and drowning in their own blood, was difficult, painful breathing.
    I felt Ben’s eyes on me, sympathetic and knowing. Suddenly self-conscious, I drew away. I didn’t need his pity or his advice to leave—as if I could just walk out. And it was clear I wouldn’t be getting anything further out of him, at least not now. “I have to get back to my patients,” I told him, beckoning Maggie into the room. “I’m sorry. Maggie, would you mind taking care of Mr. Archer, please?”
    “Sure.” Maggie smiled at Ben, and he gave her a tired nod. I left them together and wandered back to the main room, checking the rows of patients along the makeshift walls. For now, everyone seemed okay; comfortable and in no pain, at least. Except for Ms. Sawyer’s raspy breathing and the occasional bloody cough that I couldn’t do anything about, the clinic was quiet. An event that occurred less and less, as Red Lung continued