Chapter 23
“How did no one know Elaine is diabetic?” I ask the table.
JJ, Blake, Dad, Uncle Jimmy, and Greg exchange looks with one another, searching for a sign that one of them knew. Someone should have, but it appears no one did.
“She never said anything, ever. You know how Elaine is. She doesn’t complain because she never wants to burden anyone,” Dad says.
He’s not wrong, but still she should have told us, because the situation is far worse now that we’re behind it rather than in front of it. She’s been rationing her insulin more than is medically safe to do, and she’s probably been doing it for a while. Even with the rationing, she’ll be out soon.
“We have to get her insulin. If we don’t, she’ll die,” I say, emphasizing the final two words. It isn’t for dramatic effect but rather to have it sink into people’s minds that if we aren’t willing to put our lives on the line for what Elaine needs, then she’ll lose hers.
“We’ve checked all the pharmacies in the area. They were the first places we hit early on, but there’s nothing left,” Blake says.
“It’s true,” JJ adds. “In fact, most all of the prescription drugs were already picked clean by the time we scavenged them.”
Blake lowers his head and shakes it, appearing disappointed in his inability to protect one of his own.
“What about hospitals?” I ask.
“We haven’t searched those,” JJ says.
“Hospitals keep tons of prescription meds. They have their own pharmacies. That’s our next move,” I say confidently, leaving no room for argument.
But that doesn’t mean one doesn’t come.
My father sighs heavily, and I know he’s about to disagree with me. “Casey, the hospitals are crawling with biters. It’s far too dangerous, and we just can’t take that risk.”
“Dad, did you not hear me? If we don’t get her insulin, she’s going to die.”
“And how many people might end up dying trying to get it for her?”
The room goes silent. My dad’s words hang in the air like a fog too dense to see through.
Everyone’s minds are racing with permutations as to how a hospital run could turn out.
One dead? Two? Three? Four? The worst-case scenario for doing the right thing makes the math uneven, cosmically weighing out whose life is worth more.
“Might,” I say, cutting through everyone’s thoughts, grounding them back on what we need to do.
My dad has a look of confusion on his face from my one-word response. “Might?” he confirms.
“You asked how many people might end up dead. Elaine doesn’t have might.
Elaine has definite, an absolute outcome in her future.
People might get hurt or die trying to get her medicine, sure, but that risk is there on every run anyway.
If we don’t do this, then there’s no chance for her to survive, and you may as well start digging her grave now.
So think about that before you say no.” My eyes are unblinking as I scan the table, waiting for someone to challenge me.
“I hear you, Casey. I really do, and I know you aren’t wrong, but the risk is far too great.
We don’t even know if the hospital will have insulin—and then, let’s say we do find some, how much will we find?
Enough to keep her healthy for a month? Six months?
A year? Elaine wouldn’t want us to take the risk, especially if it could end up costing someone their life.
So the answer is no.” My dad pounds his fist against the table, punctuating the end of his speech.
The room falls silent again as we look around at one another, waiting to see whether anyone will challenge my dad’s declaration.
I just need one person to be on my side.
But as time drags on, it’s clear to me that they’re either too afraid to challenge the man who’s keeping them all safe or too afraid to put their lives on the line for another.
Either way, I have no support, and neither does Elaine. But I don’t need it.
“Fine.” I stand, glaring at each of them. “I’ll go by myself.”
My gaze lingers on Blake because I’m sure he’s about to challenge me, declare that I need more training, that I’m a liability, or that I’ll only get myself killed, but he doesn’t.
Instead, he nods and stands.
“I’ll go with you.”
I’m surprised, but in a good way. My face relaxes, my expression replaced, I suspect, by a look of gratitude, one I share only with Blake as I tune out the rest of the people in the room.
My father rises from his chair, puffing out his chest and lifting his chin. “No! I won’t allow it. Casey, I can’t—”
“Dad! Enough!” I yell. He freezes in place, and the whites of his eyes show.
“I know you want to keep me safe, and I know you’re afraid of losing me, but don’t let that fear cloud your judgment or stop you from doing the right thing.
” I walk over to him, pressing my hand against his chest, feeling his beating heart.
“If Mom were here, what would she do, Dad?”
Looking up into my father’s eyes, I can see a sadness, not in the loss that already happened, and not for fear of losing me, but a sadness with himself, for even suggesting that we don’t try and save Elaine.
He presses his lips firmly together and lets his head fall forward.
“Okay. I’ll go, but I need you to stay here. ”
I shake my head and step back. “No, I’m going.”
“She’s right, Dale.” Blake takes his place beside me. “She’s the only one who knows her way around the hospital, and she knows what we’re looking for. It’ll be quicker and safer if she comes with.”
My dad closes his eyes and exhales, shaking his head as he tries to think of a way to change what needs to be done. But in the end, he knows this is the best chance we have.
“When do we need to go?” Blake asks.
“Tomorrow,” I say. “She only has enough insulin for two more days. If the first hospital is a bust, then at least it gives us another day to search another.”
“Fine, then the six of us will prep to go tomorrow,” Dad says, giving in.
“We shouldn’t all go,” Blake argues. “We need people to stay back in case something like what happened the other day happens again.”
“Well, I’m not staying back,” my dad says.
“Me neither.” Greg stands.
Soon the whole room has declined to stay back, finding the courage that I wish had been there minutes ago.
“Two of us should stay back, so let’s figure out who,” Blake says.
“We can draw straws,” Dad suggests. “That’s the only fair way of deciding.”
Uncle Jimmy gets up from his chair and heads into the kitchen to get them.
“I’m not drawing straws,” I say, making my stance clear.
“Fine. The rest of us will then.” Dad nods, a look of sadness taking over his face.
Uncle Jimmy returns. Five straws stick out of his closed fist, the tops all even while the bottoms are hidden within his hand. “Shortest two stay back.”
“I’ll go first.” Blake steps forward and selects a straw, grabbing it by the tip and slowly pulling it out of the bunch. It’s nearly as big as my uncle’s fist, and it has to be the biggest straw he could hold and still conceal.
One by one everyone else goes. As the straws get smaller and smaller, it becomes harder to tell who is staying back. My uncle pulls the final one, and the three shortest hold theirs out side by side, with the smallest two belonging to my dad and my uncle.
“No, I’m not staying,” Dad says, whipping his straw to the ground.
“Yes, you are. Those were the rules. Plus . . .” I wait for him to look at me so I can make sure my point sinks in.
“You’re the best person to stay back. You know the layout of the property better than anyone.
You know where all the weapons are and how to use every single one of them.
And if it wasn’t for your little Rambo moment the other day, we’d all be dead. ”
I can see his chest swell as he begins to nod, psyching himself up for a fate he didn’t want. “Fine. I’ll hold down the fort.”
JJ, noticing Uncle Jimmy isn’t happy about this arrangement either, steps to his father, placing a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll be good, Dad, and I can make sure Greg comes back in one piece too, if you’d like.”
They both laugh. “Dealer’s choice,” my uncle teases.
“What the hell?” Greg chides, interrupting their brief moment of humor.
“I’m just kidding, son. Besides, zombies like brains, so I don’t need to worry about you out there at all.” Uncle Jimmy splats a hand on his shoulder.
“Aww, thanks, Dad.” Greg smiles, the joke going right over his head.
JJ and I exchange a grin.
Blake steps to my dad like a junior soldier in front of a superior, hands behind his back, at ease, while his shoulders are pinned, and his chin is angled slightly up. “I won’t let anything happen to Casey. You have my word, Dale.”
The display of machismo when I was the only one who was willing to go in the first place forces my eyes to roll in the back of my head.
“I won’t let anything happen to myself, Blake,” I sneer, ending his moment of gallantry.