Chapter 2
Ashia
The moment we come down the mountain, the chaos becomes all too real.
The streets are lined with bumper-to-bumper cars—some are heading out of town, but most are heading towards the hospitals.
The Community hospital is much smaller than the one Ser works at, and from the sounds of the emergency broadcast over the radio, they're already directing people to the Memorial emergency department.
We're trying our best to get there, but the traffic is making it really hard.
Damien's swerving through alleyways and side streets, even going down roads in the wrong direction just to get us there.
Serena hasn't been able to answer since she sent that last message, and I'm really starting to worry. Carter and I have both tried to call Zeke, but his phone is going straight to voicemail. He mentioned hacking into the hospital again to check on Tay’s chart, but with them being so busy, it could potentially stall out their system.
And for days like today? It could mean costing someone their life.
So, we quickly threw that idea out the window.
The town's water is now shut off, thankfully. Between that and all of the emergency broadcasts warning people not to drink the water, hopefully no one else will be affected. We're feeling extra grateful for our partnership with Adrien right now, because he reached more people in the first twenty minutes than the news stations did in two hours. He and his family are safe, thankfully, and he’s going to put his podcast on a continuous loop until he can get his dad and sister to the Attic. I may not know that kid very well yet, but I’ve got to say, he’s really stepping up today.
He’s been a little kiss-ass towards Damien, but I think it’s safe to say he’s earned some major brownie points with his work today.
Even though we're only going fifteen miles an hour, and I have my seatbelt on, Damien's hand is plastered to my stomach.
His grip is gentle, but protective nonetheless, and even though he could really use that hand on the steering wheel, he's refusing to move it.
I lay one hand on top of his and I grip his arm softly with the other, running my thumb along his tense muscles as we drive.
His paranoia has been through the roof since I was taken and we found out that I’m pregnant, and while he may have physically rested this past month, there was no break for his mind.
Anytime I wanted to even walk around our yard, he searched outside until he knew it was safe.
He did so much tweaking to the security at the house, and now that it was so easily taken down, I’m sure that’s one of the first things on his brain.
It took weeks to convince him to let me go back to work, and now that this has happened, I’m sure he’s afraid to even let me out of the house.
On top of that, we don't know how Tay or Zeke are doing, and there are still a few of his men that we haven't heard from.
The sound of a smack jerks me from my thoughts, and I look over in Damien’s direction. He lowers his hand from the steering wheel that he obviously just hit, and rubs his palm against his jeans—clearly getting frustrated.
“Fuck it,” Damien finally mutters and swerves into an alleyway, parking a couple of blocks away from the hospital.
His head snaps in my direction the moment he cuts the car off, and the hardness of his eyes could cut glass.
“Stay there,” he demands just before he gets out of the car, and I can't help but look back at Carter.
His face looks just as worried as mine with his slightly-furrowed brows, and he shakes his head as he gets out himself.
Damien then flings my door open and leans in, unbuckling the seatbelt for me and helping me out.
I can feel the slight tremors in his hands as he leads me down the alleyway and onto the sidewalk, keeping me so close that I’m afraid I'll step on him. The closer we get, the louder sirens and screams ring out, completing the chaotic environment.
“Call Tony and Dean, let whoever is here know we're coming,” Damien demands.
“I already texted Tony. He's waiting for us at the ER entrance,” Carter replies, and Damien just nods, pulling me into his side and wrapping his arm around me like he could fend off any threat just by holding me.
We see some people standing just outside of the ambulance bay, towards the street, and as we get closer and closer, more appear.
We finally reach what's supposed to be the emergency room dock, but I’m amazed that any ambulances can get through.
People are crowded over the entire lot, reaching as far back as the building next to it.
There are hundreds of people trying to get through.
None of them seem affected, thankfully; they’re all just yelling questions that get lost in the mix of the crowd.
There are news stations crowding around as well, only adding to the chaos.
Their microphones, spotlights, and cameras are reaching overhead, and they’re easy to make out above the group.
I’m not shocked that the media is treating this like a circus instead of helping control the mania, but at some point, one would think that they’d give it up.
I wonder for a moment what it’s like to be as tall as Damien and Carter, to be able to see over most of these people—how it would feel to stand tall against the masses.
I don’t have to wait to find out.
Damien turns to me with a determined stare and drapes my own arm over my belly, making sure I cradle the small bloat in my hand.
“Hold on tight,” he warns before he bends down and picks me up by both legs, wrapping them around his waist before snaking an arm under my ass.
“What are you doing?” I ask as I circle my free arm around his neck to grip his shoulder, keeping myself steady.
“We’re getting in that fucking building. Carter?” Damien nudges his head, and Carter starts to push through the crowd of people—with us immediately following. I let out a small, unbelievable chuckle that comes out sounding more like a nervous hiccup.
“You’re carrying me like a kid?”
“Well, you’re carrying precious cargo. I can’t have people knocking into you.
” I know he means that in a playful way, but his tone is anything but lively.
He only looks down at me briefly, and then focuses forward again, weaving in and out through the people.
He cradles the back of my head with his other hand, and I just stay buried in the space between his neck and shoulder, not wanting to see the commotion around us.
A few people nudge into us as we make our way, but thankfully, it seems pretty easy to navigate.
At least, he makes it seem simple. The deeper into the mob we get, the hotter it becomes, and I seem to develop spontaneous claustrophobia.
Suddenly everyone is too close, and I can smell the different body odors from everyone standing out in the heat, which is not helping the already-humid air.
There are a few ‘hey’s and ‘what are they doing’s that get thrown around by the crowd, but Damien doesn’t let it faze him.
It’s only once we duck under the yellow police ‘do not cross’ tape that he sets me down and instantly drags me forward.
Tony quickly comes into view, looking more nervous and stressed than I’ve ever seen him.
“Everyone, please! We need to clear the bay area!” he yells through a megaphone, but people are so upset that they’re not paying a bit of attention.
Everyone is screaming at him and throwing their fists in the air, demanding answers.
Which, I completely understand. That’s what we’re here to get, too.
But blocking the ambulance entrance to a hospital is not going to get them anything but more lives lost.
“What the fuck is all of this, Tony?” Damien asks, gesturing towards the horde. I can tell by his annoyance that he’s not happy with how the police are handling the situation, and Damien isn't one to keep his opinions to himself.
“Immediate families of the victims have been brought inside, but we obviously couldn’t get everyone.
We had too many in the waiting rooms, and some were starting fights.
So, we set up an area at the front of the hospital instead.
There’s more space, and it’s set up to make it easier to find families when we need to give news or lead them to rooms once the patients are situated, but it’s clearly gotten out of hand.
People are refusing to move until they get answers, but the nurses and doctors can’t fucking find anyone like this. ”
Tony is clearly anxious, sweat permeating his shirt.
The city has never dealt with something of this magnitude.
So, while I’m sure there’s a protocol in place, I’m assuming it’s never been utilized as anything more than a question on their tests.
He was supposed to be sworn in as the Chief of Police this evening, but with how today is turning out? The ceremony is not going to happen.
“You need help?” Damien asks with a half-sincere, half ‘I’m tired of this shit’ tone. Tony lowers the megaphone in defeat and shrugs his shoulders.
“Depends on the help,” he says with an attitude, and Damien scoffs before stepping up to the crowd.
He then pulls his gun from the back of his pants and aims it towards the sky, not wasting a moment to fire it.
The crowd makes various noises, some screams, gasps, and murmurs, but for the most part, silence falls over the space.
He then puts his gun back down and addresses the mob.