Page 3 of Dating After the End of the World
“That’s right. He’ll be crying down at the road begging me to save him, and I’ll be like, ‘You should have been nice to me, Blake, because now you’re going to die.’” I put on a huge smile.
A look of concern flashes across Dad’s face.
“What?” I shrug. “He’s a rotten, terrible, stupid boy.”
“I know, but just because he’s terrible doesn’t mean you need to be.”
I let out a heavy sigh and nod. Dad gets to his feet and reaches his hand out for mine. In one fell swoop, he yanks me up into a standing position.
“Let’s finish up here. I’ve got ice cream Drumsticks in the freezer with our names on them.” He smiles.
“Deal,” I say. The sun set high in the sky illuminates his head, making it look as though he’s wearing a crown. We shake on it and get back to work.
I grip the handle with two hands and raise the shovel, glowering at the partially dug hole while picturing Blake’s stupid face in the dirt. If I squint, I can even see his bright-green irises. The other girls at school think he’s hot because his eyes are the color of summertime grass, but I think they look more like vomit. I plunge the blade down, spiking it as hard as I can into the soil, and then I smile.
Chapter 2
Sixteen years later
The toe of my shoe taps quickly against the tiled floor while I wait for a pot of coffee to finish brewing. I only have a few minutes before a nurse or an attending physician comes looking for me, abruptly ending my reprieve. As a doctor in residency, my breaks are short and few and far between.Come on, come on,I silently plead, willing the process to speed up. A news bulletin flashes across the television screen hanging in the corner of the break room, snapping me out of my daze.
“Tonight’s top story, a mysterious illness that popped up seemingly overnight is sending people to area hospitals in droves. Patients are reporting flu-like symptoms, such as nausea, brain fog, and debilitating headaches. Top health officials are unsure as to what caused the sudden outbreak, but their top priorities are to treat the symptoms and slow the spread.”
Every year, we go through something like this. A new illness. A new outbreak. The news hypes it up for ratings. Crowds of fearful people show up at their local hospitals, complaining of sniffles and runny noses. And those prepping for the end of the world sit back, thinking this is it, this is the end. It never is, though. Modern medicine always prevails.
The door swings open and I sigh, realizing my break is finished before it even started. I glance over my shoulder, ready to addresswhoever is about to request my time and energy, but instead, I find Nate strolling in with no urgency whatsoever. He’s got it all—looks, height, brains, a great job, and a full head of hair—so I’m not exactly sure what it is he sees in me.
“Nate,” I say with a small smile.
His hand cups the back of my head, pulling me into him. Nate presses his lips hard into mine, and my cheeks immediately feel warm.
“It’s Dr. Warner,” he teases. “I’d hate to have to report you to HR.”
“I’d hate that too, Doctor,” I say before kissing him again. We both work long hours, our shifts overlapping here and there, so the moments we have together are fleeting. We try to make the most of them.
“Dr. Warner?” a voice calls out, interrupting us.
We quickly pull apart. Turning away from him, I wipe my mouth, straighten my top, and try to look as nonchalant as possible. Nurse Garcia stands in the doorway, a clipboard in hand. She saw what we were doing, but she pretends not to have noticed.
“Yes, Nurse Garcia, what is it?” Nate says, brushing his white coat flat and running a hand through his perfectly coiffed blond hair. Even though he’s my fiancé, I still don’t know how he maintains the shine and volume throughout a full fourteen-hour shift.
“Emergency waiting room is backed up due to that virus outbreak, and we’re out of room, so we can’t check any more people in. I contacted other area hospitals, and they’re in the same boat as we are, so what do you suggest we do?”
“Start discharging patients, then,” Nate says.
“No can do.” She shakes her head. “There aren’t any to discharge.”
Nate sighs heavily, scratching his brow. “Do we have more beds?”
Nurse Garcia nods.
I pour myself a cup of coffee and impatiently take a small sip, burning my tongue and upper lip in the process. I need the caffeine to get through the rest of my shift. I should be halfway done at this point, but given the state of the hospital, it’s most likely just starting.
“Have a few orderlies start lining the hallway closest to the emergency room with beds on either side. Space them six feet apart from one another, check in any patients reporting symptoms related to that unknown illness, and assign them to a hallway bed. Just mark them with numbers if you need to keep track. Bed one, bed two, et cetera ... Dr. Pearson and I”—he throws me a quick, flirty smile—“will process all the ‘flu,’ or whatever it is, patients and hopefully get them in and out quickly. Most of them are just looking for medication to manage their symptoms, right?”
“For the most part, yes, but we’re starting to see repeat patients, ones that came in yesterday. I recognized at least eight when I did a quick scan of the waiting room,” she says.
Nate furrows his brow for a moment but then relaxes it. “Get the repeat patients checked in first. Hopefully, it’ll give us an idea of what’s not working. That way we can make adjustments for any new ones coming in with similar symptoms.”
