Everson at the infirmary’s entrance where he stood, blocking the guards from going through the doors. “At least let the doctor take the bullet out of his leg,” he said to them.
“Listen to him, guys, please. Just take me to Dr. Solis. And I’ve got to call my wife. You know she’s pregnant. Let me call her. I’ve got to call her!”
The glass door opened behind Everson. “Move aside, Cruz.”
Everson glanced over his shoulder, took in the balding, middle-aged man, and stepped out of the way. From the insignia on his jacket, I guessed that he was an officer or something.
The guards carrying Bangor pushed past Everson, who followed right behind.
“Captain Hyrax, sir, if he’s going to have a chance of surviving in the zone, he can’t go in with an open wound.”
“I hear Solis is whiffed out,” the captain said, sounding disdainful. “Two guards tried to wake him. I’m not keeping an infected man around while we wait for the good doctor to rejoin the conscious.” Under the floodlights, the captain’s face seemed abnormally pale. Only his eyes burned dark.
“Then let me take the bullet out,” Everson offered. “You know I can.”
“So you get your hands wet with infected blood?” he snapped. “That’s sure to go over with corporate.” With a jerk of his chin, he ordered the guards to take off with Bangor.
“At least let me give him some supplies. Hold up!” Everson hurried after the guards, the white cloth sack in hand. I ran after him, hoping the captain didn’t notice me. Was I supposed to salute or something?
“There are some bandages in here and some hydrogen peroxide,” Everson said, bending to look into Bangor’s yellow eyes. “If the bullet is close to the surface, try to pull it out with the surgical tweezers I put in there. Get to the quarantine compound in Moline if you can. You know where it is?”
Bangor turned his head away, and Everson tucked the bag down his shirt.
Captain Hyrax watched this coldly. “Cruz, if you want to protect the population, you gotta stop seeing the people. There’s a greater good at stake here.”
I couldn’t believe that they were going to force a sick, wounded man into the Feral Zone. Everson followed them, his fists clenched, while I trailed behind like a zombie until they reached the bridge. There was no one on the other side of the gate now, and as far as I could tell, the bridge was empty. I could barely make out its eerie silhouette through the cold morning fog.
As the huge gate rolled open, the captain stepped in front of Bangor, who had begun to sob. “Please let me talk to my wife. Our baby is due next month. I need to tell her —”
“I’m sorry about this, son,” the captain said. “Truly, I am. But you’ll have to find another way to live now. I’ll see that your compensation check gets to your wife.”
He moved aside and nodded to the guards, who then cut Bangor’s bindings and heaved him through the open gate. I clapped a hand over my mouth to keep from screaming at them. I’d never seen anything so deliberately cruel in my life.
Bangor hit the bridge hard and lay there, moaning. Here was my chance, and yet I didn’t move. I couldn’t just step over Bangor, who looked like he’d gone crazy again, rolling side to side and howling his despair to the sky. The sound made me want to claw out my ears. Then without warning, Bangor shot to his feet and threw himself at the diminishing gap in the mechanized gate, but as hard as he yanked, he couldn’t stop it from clanging shut. Skin glistening, he leapt onto the gate. He had a bullet in his thigh, his pants were soaked with blood, and yet he started climbing the fence effortlessly.
“Get down, Bangor,” Captain Hyrax yelled, pushing back his jacket to draw a gun from his shoulder holster.
I shoved my hands into my pockets and my fingers brushed the Lull inhaler that Everson had tucked there the night before. Great. If things got any uglier, I could always knock
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