Shoshanna Evers: The Pulse

He moved slowly, quietly, looking under and behind hospital beds. There, huddled in the corner, was a girl, hiding her eyes as if he wouldn’t be able to see her if she couldn’t see him.

Mason stood over her. “What’s your name?”

The girl looked up at him with tearstained brown eyes. No, she wasn’t a girl; he could see that now. A young woman.

“Please,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“What’s your name?” he repeated. “I’m—Tell me who you are.” He had almost slipped, almost told her his name, but he couldn’t risk it.

“Please don’t hurt me,” she whimpered.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Mason said, trying to make his voice soothing.

“I’m Emily Rosen. I can’t go back. Please don’t make me go back.”

“Go back where, Emily?” He held his pounding head in his hands. Emily seemed to flinch when he moved his arms.

“To Grand Central. I can’t go back to Grand Central.” She seemed panicked now, and she stood up, apparently in some sort of shock.

She cried out like a caged beast when he didn’t move out of her way. “Emily, I won’t make you go back. I don’t give a fuck what you do,” Mason said, dropping to the nearest cot. That wasn’t quite true.

This girl was terrified, and terrified people did crazy things. If he passed out she might steal his gun and shoot him to make sure he didn’t take her back to the camp.

Then he remembered his gun was already gone. He couldn’t even think straight anymore and the pain was getting worse. Moaning, he touched his head.

“What—what’s wrong with you?” she whispered. “Are you injured?”

“The fucking scavengers left me for dead. Took my—” Mason stopped, interrupting himself. He didn’t want to tell her he had no gun, didn’t want her to think he… The pain washed over him again and he couldn’t think straight. “I feel like my skull is fractured or something. I need pain medicine.”

“You shouldn’t really have anything for pain yet, if you have a head injury,” Emily said softly.

“What are you, a doctor?” he asked wryly, his head throbbing.

“No. But I’m a nurse. I used to work here. Before.” Her sobs had quieted, and she was looking at him thoughtfully.

“I just need—” Mason broke off in a strangled cry.

“I can help you,” the girl said, her voice shaky, “but you have to promise to help me.”

“Okay, yes,” Mason said. He didn’t care what he was promising; he’d say anything to stop the pain. “But I need medicine. I don’t care if I shouldn’t, I need it.”

She started to walk away. Mason grabbed her forearm and she cried out, struggling to pull away from his grasp.

“No!” she cried.

“Where are you going?” he demanded, even as he had to shut his eyes against the pain building in his head.

“I know where they keep an extra stash of pills. The army never knew about them, so they didn’t take them.”

“You’re trying to get away,” Mason growled, but he knew it shouldn’t matter. He wanted her to leave, actually.

As long as she didn’t kill him.

“I swear, there’s a locked emergency box of narcotics, enough so if the pharmacy couldn’t get us a med in time there would be extra.” She gingerly took the keys from where he’d dropped them on the cot. “I’ll come back with some. And then I’ll clean up your wound.”

Mason released his grip on her and lay back on the cot. “Hurry.”

She scrambled away from him, the terror written all over her face making him wonder if she’d really return.

Emily took adeep breath and walked down the hall toward the supervisor’s office, holding the keys in her hand. Now was her chance. She could escape, and never see the terrifying man again.

But she couldn’t leave a man in pain like that. All of her years of nursing couldn’t be dissolved so easily. The skin on her back was killing her from the caning, and she slowed her pace. She was stupid to come back here, knowing Roosevelt was shut down.

But when she’d run from the camp, her legs had acted on instinct. They’d taken her on a familiar route, even though the city streets had never felt so sinister and frightening.

Fleeing Grand Central hadn’t been easy, but when everyone had been rounded up for evening rations she’d found the door to the room with the radio unguarded. Maybe if they fed the people more than starvation rations, the guard wouldn’t have had to leave his post to grab his food before it was gone. From what she heard, no one saved uneaten rations when their fellow soldiers missed getting them—instead they stole the food and used it to barter for sex on the Tracks.

She imagined the soldier who was supposed to be guarding the door would be punished for her actions, but if he was anything like the soldiers who visited the Tracks at night, then he deserved whatever he got.

The radio, a tiny, hand-cranked thing, sat on a table in the abandoned room. That was her chance.

The pain from the caning had motivated her into moving, suppressing her fear. At that point she just didn’t even care anymore. Didn’t care if they caught her and killed her.

Once she had the radio hidden in her bag, though, the fear came back. Running was the only option if she wanted to live to see another day. And for five stress-filled minutes during change of shift, the side exit was open. It had taken her three of those five minutes to work up the courage to escape. And then she just ran, ran blindly.

To the hospital.

Emily looked at the keys in her hand. She’d have to make a go of it on her own. It was the only way.

Unless… Her thoughts flew to the large man on the hospital cot. He said he wouldn’t make her go back to Grand Central.

Could she trust him?

Don’t trust anyone , she thought. Never again.

She reached the supervisor’s office and went into the locked cabinet to get the pills. Ten Percocet, which Emily shoved into the pocket of her jeans. She’d give the man two to take the edge off, even though she was worried about his head wound. If he was going to die at least this way he would die comfortably.

It still felt strange to her to take what she needed and not sign it out. Or pay for it. Scavenging whatever was left from a store shelf or a dead man’s house would never feel right.

It’s not like they need it anymore. She refused to let herself feel guilty about it. She turned back around and started walking toward the man. Why hadn’t he told her his name?

Oh God, he’s from the camp. He had to be. They had tracked her down; she knew they would. Looking longingly at the exit, Emily stopped walking.

Escape, now? Or help the man?

Damn it.

She kept walking down the hall, back to the man. She hoped it wasn’t the last thing she’d ever do.

Mason opened hiseyes when he felt a cool hand touching his forehead. The Percocet had knocked him out, giving him some blessed relief.

Mason touched his head and breathed in sharply. It was still tender to the touch. Maybe the pain pills had worn off. The room swam in front of him and he moaned.

He felt something cool and wet on his forehead and he closed his eyes again. That felt nice, better at least.

“Oh good,” the woman’s voice said. Emily. “You’re awake. I was worried about you.”

Mason opened his eyes again and looked at her face, peering into his, her brow furrowed in concentration.

It was her . The woman he had seen that day, being carted off. “You—” he started, but then he blacked out again.

She shouldn’t havegiven him the narcotics. How could she evaluate him properly?

Oh, stop thinking like a nurse , she chided herself. There’s nothing you can do for him but keep him comfortable anyway, so stop acting like you’re prepping him for a CAT scan.