Page 24 of Starve
I’m going to die here.
The realization hurts.
“Fern!”
My heart sinks, acceptance hitting painfully even as my body and mind roar with dissent. I don’twantto die here, when I was so fucking close to getting out of Bluebone Ridge.
“Fern!”
I barely register the voice, but that’s probably because at the same moment, the creature pulls me off the ground, only to slam me back hard enough that I see stars. The force makes my grip falter, and I hear Moro yelp as she’s kicked away. My gaze manages to focus on fangs and a nasty, gory grin as the monster rears up over me, reminding me of a predator about to take the killing bite.
There’s no way I’ll make it through this.
I know it’s true, but I can’t watch it happen. My eyes slip closed just as something knocks the monster away. Then there’s a new snarl in the mix, this one filled with rage and hatred, and a few shrill yowls before the sound of footsteps echoes on the pavement and Moro barks encouragingly for the monster to leave.
My head spins, and opening my eyes is hard, though I force them to stare up at the swirling night sky that’s suddenly obscured by something.
“Fern…” Something touches my face, and I hear a sigh I can’t place. “You really don’t know?—”
I can’t understand what the rest of the words are, or who in the world is talking to me. Nausea and the pain in my head team up to fight against me, and when I close my eyes again, darknessrushes up to pull me out of this horrible nightmare once and for all.
Chapter 11
I joltupright with the sensation of claws reaching for me, of snarling lips peeled back from bleeding teeth that want to sink into my throat. My scream comes next, and my eyes aren’t even open as I reach out, blindly fighting what I assume is there.
“Fern, Fern!” an unfamiliar voice calls. Arms grapple for mine, gently pushing me down, not against hard asphalt, but a soft bed. “Fern, it’s okay! You’re okay!”
My eyes finally snap open, and I don’t see the dark sky full of stars over Bluebone Ridge, but the white fluorescent lights of a hospital room that nearly blind me. My scream dies to a whimper at the realization of where I am, and I let the nurse slowly push my arms back down to either side of me, though her hands remain on my wrists.
“I’m sorry,” I breathe, my voice hoarse. Now that I’m awake, the ache in my head becomes less easy to ignore, as does the sharp pain in my shoulder. I realize belatedly it’s where I got bit by the…thethingfrom Bluebone Ridge; I have the urge to look at it, though when I roll my shoulders I can feel that it’s covered by bandages.
“Where’s Moro?” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them, and way before I realize the nurse beside me has noidea who in the world I’m talking about. “The…the dog,” I add, feeling a little stupid.
“The dog?” The nurse shakes her head. “Sorry, but it was just you. I don’t know anything about a dog.” And by the tone of her voice, she doesn’t really care all that much about her.
“She saved me.” My chest tightens, the worry for Moro is heavy and weighing me down. I can feel the sting of tears already, but I push them back with the hope that maybe, somehow, Moro spooked and ran away, off into the woods of the mountain. Though I refuse to dwell on how slim the chances of her making it out alive are.
After all, there’s really nothing I can do about it now.
“Can you tell me what happened?” I make myself ask, looking around the small, private room again. “What did the others say they remember?”
When the nurse doesn’t answer right away, I glance back at her, watching her face go from doubt to concern, then finally to reluctant acceptance. It gives me the chance to study her, to note that she’s probably only a few years older than me. She’s pretty, and gives off a very comforting vibe, instead of my anxiously chaotic one, considering how I usually vibrate off the walls in my worry.
“There are no others,” she admits finally, her voice quiet and unsure. “But that doesn’t mean anything yet,” she adds quickly, looking back up at my face to study my reaction. “Not all the patients are accounted for, and half of the staff leaves for the night, so they were already gone. The police are thinking some of the other patients spooked and?—”
But I don’t need to hear her explanation or lack thereof.
There are no others.
Because everyone else is dead.
The thought is horrifying, and a coldness creeps through me, allowing me to hear my speeding heart on the monitor beside the bed, which doesn’t exactly help me calm down.
“Fern—”
The door opens before she can finish her thought. But I don’t need the empty comfort, and we both turn to look at the door as it bangs back on its hinges to reveal my mother, pale and worried.
And definitely here just to make my day worse.
