UnWholly (Unwind Dystology #2)(48)

“Did anyone call the doctor?” Risa asks.

“Like three times,” says Kiana.

There’s a doctor who comes out to the Graveyard when they have something on their hands they can’t handle. He does it free of charge, no questions asked, since he’s sympathetic to the resistance; however, he takes their calls only when he wants to. Even if they’re able to reach him, however, Risa knows what he’ll say.

“We have to get him to a hospital.”

Once she says it, all the kids there are visibly relieved, because now this boy’s life will not be in their hands. With all the injuries at the Graveyard, only twice before have they had to send a kid to a hospital. Both times the injured kid died. Risa is determined that it will not happen again.

“Hurts bad,” the kid says, between gasps and grimaces.

“Shh,” says Risa, and she sees his eyeballs begin to roll. “Stay focused on me.” She gives him the epinephrine shot, which should slow his bleeding and hopefully keep him from going into shock. “Tell me your name.”

“Dylan,” he says. “Dylan Ward.”

“Really? I was a ward too. Ohio State Home Twenty-Three.”

“Florida Magnolia. Florida state homes don’t got numbers. They’re named after flowers.”

“Figures.”

Dylan Ward is thirteen, maybe fourteen. He has a bad cleft lip, and looking at it makes her angry, because like her, he was a ward of the state—and while parents won’t unwind a kid on his looks alone, the state homes have no problem unwinding kids they don’t want to look at. For Risa, saving him now is a matter of honor. She tells Kiana to get the ambulance.

“It has a flat,” Kiana tells her.

Risa growls in frustration. “Fix it!”

“Don’t leave,” Dylan says, putting all his trust in her.

“I won’t,” she reassures him.

The ADR keeps promising to permanently station a doctor at the Graveyard, but that has yet to happen. She knows the resistance has other priorities, but when a kid is bleeding out, it’s a pretty lame excuse.

“Am I gonna die?” Dylan asks.

“Of course not,” she tells him. In truth, Risa has no idea whether he’ll live or die, but that’s not very comforting to hear, and no one wants the truth when they ask that question.

Risa rolls her way over whatever debris is on the floor and down the plane’s rear ramp, where a bunch of kids have gathered to fret.

One kid comes forward. It’s Starkey. Ever since Connor put him in charge of food service, he thinks his nose belongs in everything. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Not unless you have powers of teleportation and can get us to a hospital.”

“Sorry,” he says, “my tricks are just tricks.”

That’s when Connor runs up.

“I heard about the accident. Is everyone okay?”

Risa shakes her head. “One kid we can take care of, but the other”—again a shiver of memory—“has to go to a hospital.”

Connor’s lips go thin, and his legs start to shake like they did back when he was in the safe houses. He stops his fear response by pounding his fist into his hand, and he nods. “Okay,” he says, “okay, we’ll do what has to be done.” Only then does he seem to notice that Starkey’s there. “Is Starkey helping you?”

“Not really,” says Risa. Then, just to get rid of him, she says, “He can help fix the flat on the ambulance.”

Starkey looks insulted for a moment, then smiles. “Right, no problem.” And he trots off.

The ambulance is a seatless minivan, jury-rigged with medical equipment. Dylan is rushed down the stairs and loaded inside. One of the other medics will drive, and Kiana will tend to Dylan in the back. The boy calls for Risa, but she can’t get in with him. Once more she silently curses her wheels.

Starkey still lingers. He turns to Connor. “You mean you’re not going?” Starkey asks.

“The Admiral never left the Graveyard until he was carried out,” Connor tells him. “I lead by his example.”

Starkey shrugs. “It makes you look like a coward.”

Connor throws a quick glare at him.

“Hey, I’m just saying.”

“I don’t care what it looks like,” Connor says forcefully. “I do what I have to keep this place alive.”

“Sorry, I mean no disrespect, I guess I just have a lot to learn about being in charge.”

Starkey nods respectfully to Risa and leaves, but what he said sticks in her mind like gum on her shoe—or at least how it used to get on her shoe when her feet actually touched the ground. Connor is right, of course. If he went to the hospital, it would be a foolhardy show of bravado—the sign of an arrogant leader, not a responsible one. But Risa, on the other hand, has nothing holding her back but her wheelchair. And when has she ever let that stop her?

“I’m going this time,” she tells Connor.

Connor throws up his hands. “Risa, no one expects you to go. No one is going to think you’re a coward if you don’t.” He looks over at the minivan. “And getting you there, it’s too much—”

“Too much of a burden?” Risa finishes.

“I was going to say too much effort when every second counts for this kid.”