Page 63 of Redemption
“Medical?” the guy with the newborn asks over his shoulder.
“Critical care nurse,” I respond quickly, aiming for the sanitizing solution he points to. Every second counts as I yank off my shirt and cover my hands and arms in the liquid before going back over to him. “Give me the baby. I’ll work on stabilizing her while you handle Mom.” He knows where everything is in here and what he has at his disposal more than I would. By the looks of it, I’ll need far less to get this little one going.
Thankfully, he doesn’t question me and switches places, handing me a bulb syringe to continue clearing the baby’s airways. I finish with that, noting no secretions or blockages,and begin rubbing her back vigorously. A moment later, the best, most reassuring sound fills the room.
The baby cries in my arms, squirming and screaming her little head off. I’m so relieved at the sound, I feel my eyes dampen, the adrenaline flooding my system to save this little person overflowing. It’s the best feeling in the world.
But on the other side of the room...
The worst.
“She’s gone,” the man indicates with a sigh, throwing a blood-soaked towel on the ground as he stands over her while all the rest of the people in the room turn somber and mournful at the sudden loss. Silence consumes the space. Grief and sorrow palpable in the air.
But then...
“She has done her sacred duty, as is right by all of us.” David looks at her limp form for only a second, the callous bastard not even giving the woman the modicum of respect she deserves. Without any remorse for the life just lost, he turns his gaze towards the child screaming for her in my arms. “Thank you, Lily, for delivering this child unto us and into our care. In your memory, she will be named after you.” He looks at me next. “Casey, very good work, son. By saving the very reason for why we exist, you have earned your place here at Phoenix Rising and amongst those in the Infirmary. It is time to cast away your former name and join the cause. From this day forth, you will be referred to as Lazarus.”
I stifle a wince at the title, but I need to go along with it and seem gracious at his acceptance if I’m going to keep up this charade. “Yes, sir,” is all I can manage as a response.
The man who delivered the child comes over, his chest covered in blood from the poor woman. David raises his hand with an introduction. “Allow me to formally introduce you to Stitch. He’s also a medical professional and will now be your associate. Stitch, after what we just witnessed, I expect you’ll be eager to show him the ropes.”
“Yes, sir,” Stitch says through a clenched mouth in return, barely reigning in his frustration and anger before leaving the room in haste.
David turns around to the other two, slumped over the bed. They’re trying to remain stoic, but I can see they’re only seconds away from erupting. Their grief is practically overflowing behind their gazes, but David doesn’t seem to care. “You two. Clean this mess up. I’ll be sure to send over a wet nurse to feed the infant presently.”
Fucking cold-hearted bastard. I make a vow, right then and there, that for not only the sake of my friends and the love of my life but for Lily and her child as well, that even if it’s the last thing I do, David will feel my wrath.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Aly
Dare’s annoyingly perfect butt is front and center, pushing me past my breaking point to get to our pit stop just as the sun begins to set. After the atom bomb he just dropped, he’s the last person I want to be leading me anywhere, but, at this point, I have no choice. While I’m not exactly vulnerable, seeing as I have my trusty Daisy to help me ward off any potential lurkers who want to try their luck for a nibble from the walking, talking Aly buffet, two are better than one. And, although Darius decided to withhold vital information until the very last second, I know for a fact he doesn’t want to see me end up dead out here.
I don’t remember the hours having passed by, wandering through the woods and over various roads like fucking Little Red Riding Hood, but here we are. It’s the end of the day and we’re still running for cover.
Or, in my case, shuffling.
To stem the incessant flow Mother Nature graciously gifted me today of all days, I’ve since bunched up my balaclava and shoved it into my panties. It’s uncomfortable as hell, but at least it’s doing the trick... for now. I’m not sure for how much longer, though. I’m going to need to find some provisions soon. You’d think that after walking for so long we’d have come across a house by now, but so far, we’ve been shit out of luck.
On our trip to Tryon Palace, Hawk, Cole, Jax, and I stayed on the main roads. There weren’t many homes to be seen between Beaufort and the other towns, but at least there were some if we needed them. While taking woodland trails and hopping over freeways to avoid detection is a safer bet, it also provides little in the way of supply refreshment, forcing me to resort to less than savory methods for menstruation management. At this point, however, I’d do just about anything to avoid another run-in with the deadhead nation.
Including waddling around like a baby with an overstuffed diaper.
The fading sun is just above the horizon as we finally enter the next town. Thankfully, the very first house we enter offers exactly what I need to combat Mother Nature’s merciless wrath. After a few minutes—and a quick sponge bath by way of baby wipes to not look like a murder suspect—I step out of the bedroom suite with a brand-new set of clothes, a backpack filled to the brim with 2-ply toilet paper, pads, and tampons, and a fuck-ton of determination in my gait.
My outfit of choice—or rather theonlychoice I had, being items straight out of a 1990s JC Penney’s catalog—isn’t helping me look like the big, bad bitch I wish I resembled, but without stopping or reassessing my impending outburst, I stomp through the living room and march right up into Darius’ stupidly attractive face. Despite the fact that my multicolored windbreaker swishes with each step I take, he must see the overwhelming amount of fire and brimstone propelling my ass across hardwood floors because he doesn’t move; rather, his eyes widen with concern, and he seems to shrink down as I close the distance between us.
Good. His six-foot-two-inch height versus my five-foot-barely-anything means absolutely diddly to me as I pull himdown by his shirt collar and force him to look at all his regrets face-to-face. I lift my hand, two digits poised and ready to go in for the kill. He looks at them, confused for a second before I send the tensed fingers flying, stabbing them right into the area just below his shoulder—the sweet spot that instantly has him clutching his newly injured joint upon impact.
“Fuck yeah! We know pressure points, too, now, bitch!”
“What in the fuck was that for?!” he yells with a lifted eyebrow, leaning his injured shoulder away from me.
Me-two is off in the corner, sitting cross-legged with a bag of popcorn, and looks about as excited as a kid in a candy store. She, apparently, also wanted to change her appearance. Keeping in solidarity with my unintentional ode to the days of TRL, she’s given herself an updo that’s been teased to within an inch of its life and is covered in butterfly clips. She notices me staring at her newly applied glittery hot pink makeup and lifts a giant poster board that says, in giant bubble font,“Get him, girl! Tubthump his ass!”
I shake my head at her sidelined cheerleading antics and get back to the matter at hand, turning my gaze back to the fuckwit in front of me. “You have about four-point-five seconds to start talking, Darius, or I’m gonna start throwing hands, and these bitches do not miss!”
“Alright, you little honey badger. Alright.” He lifts his hands in surrender, but I’m certainly not done yet.
