Chapter 99
Tristan
Unconsciousness threatens to pull me into its dark, soft embrace, but I fight against it.
Pain and exhaustion cloud my mind, making my thoughts hazy and confused, but a fierce line of clarity pierces through:
I will not die here.
I have spent the last year trying to save others—my patients, victims of disasters and emergencies, my father.
Maybe my compulsive need to save others stems from the fact that I couldn’t save Warren.
Maybe it’s from my parents’ divorce when I was a kid, when I wanted to make sure everyone was okay.
Maybe it’s just who I am.
I have dedicated my life to saving others, and now, when it comes time to save myself, my body and mind want to give up on me?
I think the fuck not.
I will not die here, I think again, slowly pushing myself into a crouch.
My muscles burn and stretch, threatening to cramp, and my ankle is practically useless.
“I will not die here,” I whisper, my voice a hoarse gasp.
Without any light, I have to feel my way forward. It’s rough, dark, and dangerous, but I will not stop.
My ankle is too weak for me to stand, but I can crawl.
And so I crawl.
I crawl all the way to the mound of rubble that was once the road beneath the ambulance.
“I will not die here,” I hiss, dragging myself up the rubble. Pain shoots through my hand as I cut my palm on a jagged piece of concrete.
I keep going.
“I will not die here!” I scream, defying the universe that would tell me otherwise.
The pain in my ankle and in my head is almost unbearable, and waves of nausea hit me as I continue my climb, but I fight through.
I will not die here.
I will not die here.
I will not die here.
The rhythm of the refrain keeps me going as I claw my way over rubble until I reach the slabs that block the way out into the open air.
I have no way of knowing how thick they are, how close freedom is.
Either I’m completely sealed in here, or night has fallen outside, because I see no light coming through any cracks.
I raise a weak hand and hit the concrete above me.
“I’m here!” I shout as loudly as I can with my raw, broken voice. “I’m here!”
My arm falls, my muscles burning, and I position myself so that I’m on my back, lying on the rubble, and I kick at it with my good foot.
“I’m here!”
Kick.
“I’m here!”
Kick.
“I’M HERE!”
Kick.
And then….
The debris starts to move.