Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 128812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 515(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 515(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
The ride to the hospital takes forever, and I don't mean in an urgent, get-us-there-quickly sort of way.
The ambulance, even running lights and sirens, can only go so fast and still make sure we're all alive when we get there.
The turns and hairpin curves are gorgeous and fun on a bike, but they absolutely suck when you're in an urgent situation.
"Zayne?" I snap when his eyes flutter closed.
I squeeze his hand, getting no response.
"Fuck," I say, looking up at the paramedic. "Fucking do something! Another dose of Narcan?"
The paramedic shakes his head. "His respirations are fine."
"He won't wake up," I argue. "Zayne!"
"His O2 sats are fine," the paramedic assures me.
"Give him another dose," I demand. "Now!"
"It's not medically necessary," he argues, but he looks a little terrified to even refuse my demand.
"And it won't do any fucking harm if he doesn't need it," I say, knowing enough about the shit to know it's considered a medical non-event if given when not needed.
"You want me to do it to make you feel better," he says, a calmness in his voice I can't seem to grasp myself. "You're not my patient."
"If you don't—"
I glance down at Zayne's squeeze of my hand.
"Let the man do his fucking job."
"You motherfucker," I growl, but I don't follow it up with a threat.
The man has been through enough, and treating him like shit when all of this is my fault seems like an added punishment he doesn't deserve.
"Weird friendship," the paramedic mutters.
I chuckle when Zayne gives me a weak smile. The cut on his lip looks painful, and the swelling is enough to make the skin around the injury turn pale.
He winces again, his face scrunching up.
"Can you give him something for the pain?" I ask.
"Not yet."
I glare up at the man, this time ignoring the squeeze of my hand.
"So he just has to suffer? What about morphine?"
The guy blinks at me, and I can tell that he wants to remind me that my presence is a gift of sorts. I have no doubt that the way this is all playing out is exactly why people aren't allowed to take this ride with them, but I don't give a shit about any of that. Zayne has been through enough. He shouldn't have to keep suffering.
"He's had two doses of Narcan," he says as if I didn't bear witness to both traumatizing events. "Morphine is also an opioid. It could push him back into respiratory depression."
"Rather feel pain," Zayne whispers, his eyes still closed. "Than to stop breathing."
"But," he says, reaching into a drawer with different vials in it. "This won't hurt."
"What the fuck is that?" I ask, watching him pull a dose into a syringe before adding it to the IV line they put in the second he was in the ambulance.
"Ketamine," he says, and within seconds, Zayne's latch on my hand softens.
"I understand now," Zayne says after a long pause, a calming release of breath leaving his lungs.
"Understand what?" I ask, just glad the guy is still talking.
It's not that I don't want him to rest, but the first time I thought he was resting or had passed out from shock, it was actually an overdose, so I can't trust the silence right now.
"Why they use drugs," he whispers.
"ETA two minutes," the guy driving says.
I look up at him. "What?"
I know it has seemed like we've been in the back of this fucking rig for a really long time, but I know it hasn't been close to an hour, and I know that's what it would take to get us to the University of Tennessee Medical Center.
"Where the fuck are you taking him?" I snap.
I swear, if these motherfuckers don't believe he isn't one of those pieces of shit guys from the compound, and they're out for some form of vigilante justice disguised as medical professionals, my actions will give Nyx's a run for their money.
"LeConte," the guy driving responds.
"UT is better," I say. "Take us there."
The guy pulls the ambulance into the emergency room receiving bay, before giving me his full attention.
"Listen, man," he begins, but the look in his eyes tells me he isn't going to take the same level of shit from me that the guy in the back has.
It's not that I plan to use fear or intimidation to get my way, but the lack of cowardice makes me pause for a second.
"He's fucking stable," he says, pointing at Zayne. "Have him transferred out if you want, but he doesn't need a higher level of care."
"I don't give a shit if he needs it or not," I snap. "Take us to UT."
"Sure," he says, but he doesn't move a muscle. "Let's tie up this rig for another two plus hours, so the others back at that hellhole can wait and suffer so your friend here can get the same level of care he can get right here."