We’d traveled a long distance in a short period of time. “We could look for a hotel, or house, and try to operate on her,” I said.
Dave sighed. He didn’t say a word. I knew what he was thinking, or thought I did. Three hundred miles. We were so close.
“Or we keep driving,” I said. “We get across the border and let a doctor help Michelle.”
“A doctor?” Andy said. “I don’t think crossing the border is going to just fix everything, Chase. I know this is the plan. I can’t help feeling like going to Mexico is just something to…do. We could just as easily be headed to California or Oregon, but we’re not. We’re going to Mexico. I’m sorry. I am. I just don’t think anywhere is going to be that much different from here, or anywhere else. I mean, I saw the chaos on the news last week. This is global. This outbreak is everywhere. Those things, those zombies are infecting everyone, man. The few who didn’t get vaccinated, or the fewer still that were immune to the vaccination were far and few between. Far and fucking few between. The monsters are fucking spreading the disease. Biting people. Swapping fluids. Who knows how else the virus spreads, but Mexico? Mexico isn’t an answer, or a cure, or a safe haven. It’s a fucking different country with fucking zombies. That’s what it is. That’s all it is. And what is worse is no one is working on a cure. No one is out there trying to find a way to turn this mess around. We’re on our own. A wall at a border isn’t going to mean shit if the apocalypse is raging on the other side, too. And it is. You know it. We all know it. We’re all just either going to fucking die like Gene, or we’re going to become fucking zombies. Those are the choices, Chase. Those are the only two choices we really have.”
Melissa sobbed silently. Her shoulders shook. Charlene reached over the seat back between them and set a hand on her shoulder. I doubt it helped, but at least she was trying, at least she showed empathy and sympathy.
Now it had been said. There was no unsaying it, no unhearing it.
Andy wasn’t wrong.
# # #
While it felt like hours dragging by, the engine had cooled considerably in just fifteen minutes. Dave removed the radiator cap.
“Andy can’t have those outbursts. Not in front of everyone. You want me to say something to him?” He said. “I think we should say something. He’s going to freak everyone out. You know that.”
I held the flashlight in place, and stuck a funnel into the radiator. “We’re all feeling the stress. I know he’s worried about Michelle and Melissa. Those are his people. He wants to take care of them. I respect that. I’m keeping us on the road. He wants to remove the bullet.”
“We should remove the bullet.”
“Do you know how to do that? Because, I don’t know if I can.” I twisted open a plastic jug of water. “I watched them work on Cash, Dave. I watched the bullet get pulled out of my son, and he still died. He fucking died.”
“But Michelle won’t stand a chance if we don’t try. She’ll die for sure if we leave it in her. It’s been in there a long time, man. We’ve got to do something.” Dave took the jug and started pouring water into the radiator. “Hold that light steady.”
“I don’t think I could do it.” I thought of chopping off Alley’s arm. All measures to help people have ended in death. “You think I should give it a shot?”
“I think someone has to,” he said.
“But not you?”
“No way. Not me.”
I almost laughed. The situation was too dire. “Fuck it. Fine. I’ll try it. But we can’t do it on the bus. There’s going to be a lot of blood.”
“I don’t see how. She’s lost so much. She might need a transfusion.”
I spun around. “I mean what the fuck.”
“I need the light.”
“Dave, I don’t know shit about a transfusion.”
“I’m not saying you do. I’m saying she lost a lot of blood. She’s going to need more,” he said.
More blood. It felt like we were planning out a way to feed a suffering vampire. “We cut into her leg, fish around for a slug, she’s going to bleed more. God forbid we nick something and can’t stop the bleeding. Do we just run a line of blood from one person to her? What makes the blood syphon off the right person and flow into her? We need to watch a fucking YouTube video, like Gene did, or something.”
“I really need the light. I can’t see shit.”
I steadied the light on the radiator. Dave finished pouring the first gallon. “That look like enough?”
“Maybe a little more. The water should come to the top, right?”
“I think that is only if the engine is on.”
“Forget the transfusion,” Dave said as he opened the second gallon of water and tossed the blue cap onto the street. “The slug, we’ve got to do something about.”
“She’s going to die,” I said. “We operate on her, she won’t make it.”
“You think we should wait?”
It was a decision I didn’t want the responsibility of making. “I think we wait. We find someone who can help us. Right now, I’m worried more about her infection. And mine.”
“Yours?”
I lifted up my shirt, and shined the light on my side. “This isn’t looking good.”
Dave winced. “Fuck. You have an infection.”
“I just said that.”
“The skin is so red around that cut.”
“It’s more than a fucking cut,” I said. The stitches were all pretty much missing. Gene had done a great job sewing me up, but there just wasn’t the luxury of resting to let it heal properly. “My skin is hot as shit, too.”
Dave put the back of his hand on my forehead. I pulled away. “Stand still, asshole.”
I let him feel my head. “Well?”
“You have a fever. A bad one, friend.”
“I’ve taken aspirin. I don’t want to use up the whole supply.”
“Aspirin isn’t going to cut it. You’re past that. You need antibiotics.”
“Thank you, Dr. Dave.”
Dave laughed, and pushed me. “Go fuck yourself.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Waiting for the radiator to cool and adding water did nothing. The engine still did not start. I turned the key and pressed the gas pedal.
“You’re going to flood it,” Andy said.
I lifted my foot. “I don’t know what else to do.”
“Well, don’t flood it.”
I gritted my teeth. No one knew shit about engines. We all took turns throwing out problems. Transmission. Alternator. Battery. Belts.
Charlene knelt beside me. “What do we do now?”
Finding another bus was not likely. Looking for an SUV made sense. We were in trouble. Michelle was in rough shape. She was still asleep. There was no way she could walk, anyway. Carrying her would be a worse idea. She’d have to wait here. Someone could stay with her. “Charlene, Dave and I are going to look for another vehicle,” I said.
“You’re leaving us?” Melissa said.
“We’re coming back.”
“It’s the middle of the night. Does it make sense to go out this late?” Andy looked from me to my daughter, and over his shoulder at Dave. “You might as well rest. Go in the morning.”
Of course that was a far more attractive offer. At this point, I’d pick procrastination over most any option. I was tired of always being on the go, pro-active, defensive. I didn’t really want to go out looking for another ride. I wanted the bus just to work. “We could go in the morning,” I said, but didn’t want to lose time. We were so close. “Dave?”
“I agree. The morning sounds good,” he said.
I looked at me daughter. She nodded. “First light?”
“First light,” I said, agreeing to wait until the next day. “We should try to get some rest. All of us.”