Page 58 of Chaos

I step out of the truck, and the change in posture causes my head to spin and my knees to buckle. Rey shoves a shoulder under my armpit and forces me up the steps and into the lobby.

Kelly shouts out, “Call a medic. Someone call a medic.”

Misty hops out of a chair by the fire. “I’m on duty. Sheila was falling over on her feet, and Alice is with her baby.” Her fluffy ponytail sways as she jogs toward us, staring agog at my blood-drenched shoulder. “Oh my god! What happened?”

“Nothing.” I wince. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.” Misty pushes a purse over her shoulder, slides her hand around my waist, and together, they drag me deeper into the lobby.

I twist toward the elevator. “Want to be in my bed. Not … there.” There where that dead fucker’s lying on a bed, waiting to be found, and when he is I want to be as far away as I can get.

“The infirmary’s full anyway. All bed’s taken, we’re going to need to expand. Just help me get him to the elevator,” Misty tells Rey. “I’ll get him stitched up in his room.”

Everything fogs up then.

Rey’s sharp-jawed face recedes, along with Jacquetta’s objections and Kelly’s voice, as I stagger into the elevator, that much closer to my home and my bed.”

I press six for my floor, six for Frankie, six for home.

But Misty presses three. “I have everything we need in my room.”

I pull away, but she keeps pressing back against me. Her breasts touch against my ribs through our clothes.

The door opens at her floor.

“Just come with me,” she says. “You can sleep in my room.”

The carpet of the elevator seems so far away, the stars and suns swirling together, as I pull my arm out of her grip. “No.”

The doors close, finally, and we surge up toward six. She argues the whole way, pushed up close no matter how I try to get away.

Finally, we hit six, and I stagger from the elevator, down the hall, my feet moving drunkenly.

It’s dark in the hallway, almost pitch black, but I know my way, even though Misty’s dragging at me, pulling me back.

I get there anyway, sag against the door, my door. This has been the longest night, the weirdest night.

All I want is—

My forehead hits against the door with a heavythunk.

Once.

“Yorke, this is silly,” Misty says. “Come on. I can stitch you up in my room.”

Twice.

It shakes me awake.

People are on the stairs, then in the hall, Jacquetta is one of them. They must have followed us.

“Just wanted to be sure you got home.” Jacquetta stares down Misty, and I tune out their exchange.

“Frankie.” I shout it, then again, “FRANKIE!”

Beast barks frantically inside.

Misty grabs at my wrist, sticky as an octopus, her purse thumping against my back.

---