Dead Over Heels (13 page)

Chapter Fifteen

Truth is—I’m still keyed up from holding Ava. How she dropped into my arms. The way she reacted when I crushed her close to me. I expected her to push me away. Maybe even shove me again. Instead, she buried her face in my chest. Did she like being there as much as I liked having her there?

Damn. Why’d I set her down so fast? Why didn’t I think up some excuse to keep holding her?

And now she’s calling me back from the cliff edge. Saying she needs me? Blood throbs in my veins as I take the few steps back to where she’s sitting. She’s smiling at me, a beautiful, broad smile. I didn’t realize how much I’ve wanted her to look at me this way. I’ve never had a girl look at me this way. So trusting and open. Her lips part, and I hold my breath. She’s so beautiful. What’s she going to tell me? My heart thuds with possibilities.

“Wasp,” she whispers.

“Wasp?” I ask.

In reply, she topples backward, her head slamming the ground behind her.

Oh hell.
Oh hell, oh hell, oh hell.

This is the allergy thing, right? Oh hell.

Wasp? What had she said? Venom that wouldn’t bother other people, something about her throat closing up.

Holy crap!
If her throat closes up, she can’t breathe.

Pen. I need that pen thing.

“Where’s the goddam pen?” I shout into the forest.

I grab for her purse. Her fingers clutch something inside. I yank the object from her fingers. It’s about five inches long—a clear plastic case with a yellow cap and orange tip.

“Ava!” I shout, “Ava can you hear me? I don’t know how to work this thing.” Her lips have already swollen to twice their normal size.

“Ava!”

I don’t care if every zombie in the county hears me. If only she’d open her eyes. But she doesn’t. And I know I’m alone in this.

Fingers shaking, I pop open the yellow cap and remove the EpiPen from the plastic. Pictures cover the outside of the tube. Pictures and words. They jumble in my head. The girl can’t breathe and I’m supposed to read a crapload of directions?

Calm. I must be calm or she will die.

There are numbers.
One, pull off blue safety release.
My fingers fumble, but the lid slides away easily.

Two, swing and firmly push orange tip against upper thigh so it clicks.
Upper thigh? The picture shows the needle entering a spot between the hip and knee.

Her pants. Will the needle go through her yoga pants?

No, I have to take them off. There ain’t time for modesty. I drag the stretchy material down her legs, leaving her thighs exposed. She appears so delicate and vulnerable, for a few long seconds, I’m sure there’s no way I can slam that needle in her pale thigh. And then I glance at her face. It’s speckled now. Bright red dots against white skin.

“Ava, Ava.” Lord God, is she breathing? I don’t know if she’s still breathing. “Ava!”

She’s beyond hearing. If I don’t do this fast, she’ll die.

“Swing and push firmly,” I repeat, trying to steel my nerves.

Inhaling sharply through my nose, I raise the pen above my shoulder. “Aaaagh!” I scream, stabbing the orange tip into her thigh. For three long heartbeats, nothing. And then a sharp click as the needle enters her leg muscle.

Step three. Hold on thigh approximately ten seconds to deliver drug.

One Mississippi, two.

“Come on, Ava! Wake up.”

Three, four, five.

“Ava, Ava.”

Six, seven, eight.

“Ava?” Nothing.

Nine, ten.
I grab the directions.

Step four, seek medical attention.

A crazed, half laugh, half scream bursts from my mouth. “Seek medical attention?”

There is nowhere in this freaking forest to seek medical attention. Probably nowhere in the entire state of North Carolina to seek medical attention. The whole world has gone to hell, and if this girl is going to live, I’m the only hope she’s got.

And I’ve obviously failed. My head falls forward with a strangled sob.

I should remove the needle. I should check that she’s breathing, even though I know she ain’t. Her chest doesn’t rise and fall.

But I’m frozen. Did I screw up and let her die?

I wasn’t fast enough. Her throat closed. That’s what’s happened, I’m sure of it. She couldn’t get air, and now she’s dead.

I screwed it up. I screwed up bad.

“Oh, Ava,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

A small voice answers. “You can take that needle out of my leg now. I’d like to pull up my pants.”

…

I pop open my compact and grimace at my bloated, speckled skin. It’s dumb to worry about how I look. Right now, I should be glad I’m alive and breathing. But I can’t help it—I pat my face, feeling my swollen lips, my extra chin. The flesh around my eyes is so puffy I can actually see it in my peripheral vision.

Cole stands over me. “Here, eat the rest of these.” He tries to pass me the peanut-butter cups.

I hold up a spotted hand. “I’m not hungry. Honest.”

He pulls a disbelieving face while I shake my head and try to seem convincing. I don’t want to tell him I can’t eat for a few hours after an attack. That my throat tightens and I have to work at swallowing. His cheeks are still white with panic. I don’t want him freaking out any more than he already is. I especially don’t want to mention my one in five chance of a repeat attack in the next few hours.

I find the welt on the inside of my left wrist, a small raised area more white than red. No stinger. “I must’ve brushed against something,” I tell Cole. “Maybe in the fire tower where it was warmer. And I just didn’t notice.”

“How could you not notice getting stung?”

I gesture at the gorge. “Uh, I’ve been a little busy.” I’d be a little pissed by his questions, but his eyes are still wild with shock and genuine concern.

He runs a hand through his hair. “God, what are the odds?”

I snort-chuckle. “Let’s hope they’re low because a repeat episode would be a bad thing. A very bad thing.”

Fishing around in my purse, I find my Benadryl and choke a couple down. I lie back on the rocks, using my purse as a pillow and try to take deep, calming breaths.

What would’ve happened if my throat had gotten tighter? Tight enough to cut off the oxygen?

“It’s weird,” Cole says in a strangled tone. He’s still standing above me, staring at the Reese’s cup in his hand. “I thought tons of people were allergic to peanuts. But you eat these.”

“Thank God there’s one allergy I missed.” I attempt a laugh.

“I’m sorry about your pants.”

“My pants?”

He analyzes his knees. “The directions said to give you the shot in your thigh and I didn’t know if I should remove clothing that um…”

Ohmygod. He actually wants to talk about pulling down my pants!

My face flames with embarrassment, but I’m too flushed with allergy spots for Cole to notice.

“It’s fine,” I cut him off. “You did everything exactly right. I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t.”

“You need them shots pretty often?” He finally lowers the candy and kneels beside me.

“No, avoidance is the best treatment for allergies. So I don’t go outside. And we get the house sprayed for bugs.”

I wish Cole hadn’t mentioned my pants. Now, for some reason, I can’t stop thinking about the fact he saw me in my underwear. At least I was wearing decent ones.

“Do you always pass out?” he asks.

I shake my head. “Not every time. It’s something to do with how low my blood pressure drops. I’m supposed to get checked after I have an episode. When we get home, I’ll make an appointment with my allergist and—”

I break off.
What the heck am I talking about?
Obviously my brain has the consistency of mashed potatoes. There won’t be any allergy appointment. It’s a long way between here and Florida. Roads probably choked with infected and refugees.

At that moment, I realize something important. For the past two days, I’d been hoping this was a random isolated flu outbreak in the national forest. Or something contained to North Carolina. But the radio announcement changed everything. The virus is everywhere. A full-blown outbreak. And that means I can’t go back to Florida. Ever.

I can’t go home.

Sudden, hot tears rim my eyes. My friends. My school. My bedroom. All gone.

Hell, if I’m being honest, the situation is worse than losing all that. Forget going home, I might
never
make it out of this flipping forest. If I don’t find more EpiPens soon, I’m a goner.

“Are you in pain?” Cole asks, noticing my pinched expression.

I shake my head. I will not cry. I will not cry.

Cole waits silently for an explanation.

“Oh, Cole. How the hell am I gonna survive in a world without allergists and EpiPen factories and pharmacies?” I choke back a sob. “If the zombies don’t kill me, Mother Nature will.”

Cole watches me carefully, his gaze fixed on my inflated face. “You’ll find a place with your allergy stuff. The pharmacy in Glenview. Or the hospital.”

I swipe at my eyes. I will not cry.

“I’m serious. We’ll find a place with those pens,” Cole repeats.

Smashing my lips together, I force myself to breathe deeply through my nose.

Cole sets his jaw. “I’ll help you search. When we get to Glenview.”

The sudden offer catches me off guard. I exhale. “Seriously? I figured you’d drop me as soon as we hit the city limits.”

“No,” he answers simply. “I won’t. We’re friends, right?”

I pause, a little stunned.

An offer of friendship extending beyond this journey is unexpected.
And not unwelcome
, I realize as the familiar glow spreads through my chest.

I nod at him, regaining some control of my emotions. I’ve got to be tough. Strong. I will not turn into a sniveling mess. That won’t help us get to Glenview.

He holds out the water bottle to me. I reach for it and take a tentative sip.

He smiles. I smile back.

Friends.

A sudden vision rushes through my brain: the two of us, clad in black, darting through hospital corridors, killing zombies. Not just finding EpiPens, but bringing back medical supplies to a group at the reserve center. If I was with Cole, I wouldn’t be afraid to go out in the world. Especially if I was armed with a crossbow and EpiPen. I’ve learned there are things worse than wasp stings.

His eyes meet mine, and I’m surprised to find them full of silent sympathy. “I’m so sorry,” he says.

I give a halfhearted shrug. “Why should you be sorry? I’m the one who’s sorry my body is so freakishly weird.”

“Your body ain’t weird, and you shouldn’t be sorry either. I’m guessing you didn’t ask for this gift of puffiness.”

We both laugh a little.

“So, for now,” he says, in that soft drawl of his, “how many more of those Epi-things you got left?”

Damn. He ransacked my purse—he didn’t notice I only carry one? “Uh, none,” I answer.

“What?”

So much for trying to keep him from freaking out.

“Why would you only bring one?” he shouts.

“Uh, because
someone
was rushing me out of my house. I barely had time to grab the pen you just used.” I lift my eyebrows. “I have a ton at home. If
someone
hadn’t been bitching about me getting my pocketbook.”

Cole swipes a hand through his hair again. “I’m such a dumbass,” he says with a groan. “Just like you told me, a Mr. Know-It-All.”

“Oh, you’re not that bad.”

Our eyes lock and for a fleeting instant, I get this crazy rush like I’ve just run a mile. Adrenaline that has nothing to do with the shot I just took and more to do with the way he’s staring at me. And then I remember my blowfish face.

Embarrassed, I turn away. Of course, he’s not looking at me like
that
.

“We have to be careful,” Cole says. “Until we get to Glenview.”

The vision of us as zombie-killing badasses disappears in a poof of smoke. Once again I’m the weak one. Someone to be taken care of. Rescued. “What? We weren’t being careful before?”

“About you. No walking through brush. No sleeping in trees with bugs you might be allergic to. We gotta take this serious—your life depends on it.”

Tell me something I don’t know.

A tough, unhappy knot forms behind my rib cage, and it’s got nothing to do with my parents or zombies or how scared I am, and everything to do with this boy who I am coming to admire so much—a boy who
still
sees me as an annoying tagalong.

Sighing, I run my hands along the undersides of my arms, where red hives crisscross my skin. I could use a round of steroids, but out here, the best I can do is not scratch my skin raw. I take a deep, stabilizing breath and stand.

Cole lifts his head, surprised. “Not yet,” he says. “You can’t be ready to move yet.”

“We worked too hard for this lead to give it up. Let’s get going. Besides,” I say, forcing a smile, “my butt’s going numb on these rocks.”

Cole matches my weak smile.

My feet throb and my head aches, but I force my body into motion.

Together, Cole and I hop off the platform and turn once again into the woods, deliberately avoiding the paved road leading down the mountain from Zip Line Adventures. We walk in silence for a few minutes, the only sound our feet crunching in the leaves. And then Cole turns—so abruptly I think he’s seen a zombie or a bear or something totally terrifying.

“What?” I almost shriek.

“I need to apologize.”

I’m too confused to say anything.