The 52nd (The 52nd Saga Book 1) (42 page)

“Give me another IV,” I demanded. Wetness glazed my eyes as she screamed
again.

Marifer handed me a needle. “Hold her arm down,” I said, directing the needle into a vein on Zara’s free
wrist.

“Morphine,” I ordered next, holding my hand out. “Hurry, before she knocks out the blood line.” Marifer handed me a small vial. I injected it into Zara’s thrashing body, and we both stood back and waited. Her body went limp for half a second before the convulsions restarted.

“Ah!” I cried, frustrated.

I pulled out the line and started over. Another vial of morphine, and nothing. Her body was shaking uncontrollably, and her jaw was locking. I pulled the line and poked her two more times. Finally, after the last vial of a smaller dosage of morphine, her body steadied, though her legs remained restless. A small whimper hummed out of her
mouth.

Zara was definitely in pain—that much I knew. But any more morphine would kill her, again. What mattered was that her heartbeat was coming back, steady, stronger.

“Fifteen minutes until I check vitals and any signs of a reaction,” I said, wiping blood off my
face.

I glanced at the silk sheets. It was like someone had poured a bucket of blood on Zara, and it splashed like spray paint around her. I looked back up to Zara’s purpled chest.
How long have I wanted to see her naked, and this is what I get?
Battered, bruised, a small trail of blood oozing out of the uncovered wound? It made my stomach turn. I reached for the needle again and began sewing the chest
cut.

At last I tied the knot at the end and looked to Marifer. “Get the others in here and take care of this mess. But watch her right clavicle when you clean her up, I’m afraid it’s broken, and her rib below—I just broke that too. I’m going to shower. I’ll be back to check her
vitals.”

I should have known better than to go out the door. I should have hopped over the balcony. I’d thought I had taken enough precautions. And yet Max was coming straight at me when I opened the door, Nicolás at his
heels.

“Lucas!” Max
yelled.

I froze, my eyes wide with guilt. I forced myself not to check the amount of blood on my clothes. Luckily it had drowned out most the white paint. Max had stopped cold seeing it, and then his vengeful eyes locked on
me.

“What have you done with my sister?!” he shouted.

I angled my head enough to see Marifer and other Aluxes cleaning like busy little ants. Half of the bed was changed; the other half was waiting for Zara, who was sprawled on it with her drip while the ladies gave her a sponge bath worthy of the best hospital. Someone even had her hair swirling in a bucket while another shampooed her hair. I glanced back to
Max.

“Zara is fine, Max,” I said. “I called a doctor. He’ll be here
soon.”

“Whose blood is that on you?” he snarled.

“A little of both.”
Think, Lucas, think.
“I went for a jog this morning, and on my way back, I saw Zara stuck in a rip tide. She must have decided to swim alone. I swam out and got her. It was rough out there. We both got scraped up pretty bad. Marifer is with her now, getting her cleaned up. She’s going to be okay, I promise.”
He can’t go in; he’ll see the transfusion line.
I stepped closer to Max, blocking his view, and judged his face. He didn’t flinch, so I started closing it slowly behind me. “They’re going to be undressing her now.” I looked down at myself. “And I need to get cleaned up too. Meet me here in fifteen minutes, and she’ll be ready for visitors.”

“Visitors?” he spat. “I’m her brother. I ain’t no visitor. Zara! ZARA!” He stepped toward the door, but I blocked
him.

“She can’t hear you, Max.”

“How
come?”

Lie, Lucas.
“She’s a little out of it. She keeps repeating the same thing over and over.” My hand tightened on the knob, ready to slam it in his face should he move one more step, but maybe . . . I moved clear of the door and raised my hands, defenseless. “But help yourself then . . . if you’re the kind of person who likes to see his sister
naked.”

He sidestepped to me. “What did you just
say?”

I took a chance by stepping farther from him and closer to my door. “Fifteen minutes,” I bargained, and then I darted for my
room.

He stomped to the wall, leaned against it, and sat down. “You’re not wet,” he hollered at my back. I stopped midway through my
door.

“What?”

“You said you saved her in the ocean. The only drop of wetness your clothes have is with blood. I know you’re
lying.”

I broke my shock with a laugh. I glared at him with months of suppressed revulsion.
It was me, Max, who saved your sister from something so horrifying you’d piss your pants if you could only see
.
It was me, Max, who saved her from having her living heart ripped out of her chest.
“Your sister is safer now than she has been the last three
months.”

He looked as if he didn’t care—or didn’t believe me. He kept bumping the back of his head against the wall as if he were bored. It was weird. Then he laughed cynically. I didn’t like it. “Zara will tell me the
truth.”

I shook my head. “I suppose she
will.”

When I returned in fresh clothes, Max wasn’t there anymore; Zara’s door was wide open. I ran inside it. Max was standing by Zara, who was tucked underneath sparkling clean sheets with no sign of an IV. Max was still, though his eyes flicked incessantly back and forth from Marifer to
Zara.

Zara’s eyes were still closed and she looked peaceful, but there was a startling paleness about her. She needed to have more blood. Max had to
leave.

“See, Max,” I said as he turned to me. “Zara is
okay.”

“Why is she asleep? Did you knock her out with some drugs or something?”

I ignored him momentarily, even when his nostrils flared. He was such an idiot. “Marifer, please go tell the Mosses that Zara got hurt and that she is up here . . . and safe.” I turned to Max to satisfy him for now. “Marifer must have given her painkillers. She’s a nurse; she always has that sort of stuff lying
around.”

“How come you’re not hurt?” Max asked suspiciously as Marifer
left.

“Because
I
know how to swim in a
tide.”

He looked out the windows down to the beach. The corners of his mouth drooped into a frown. “That is not anything like what you’re describing.”

Zara’s stomach started convulsing as if she were going to cough. I was worried it’d be blood. “Despite how you feel about me, Zara knows I would never do anything to hurt her. What I am telling you is the truth.” I glanced at my clock. Vital time. I snagged Lupe, the Alux cleaning the bathroom, and asked her in our native tongue to perform the check. Me doing it would be too suspicious—as far as Max knew, I was only an undergrad. Max watched Lupe grab the clipboard on the nightstand and assess Zara’s blood pressure and heart
rate.

“What’s she
doing?”

“Checking her
vitals.”

“Is everyone a nurse around
here?”

“They went to school together.”

“I don’t
like—”

“Look! If you’re going to be in here, could you please not talk? You’re not helping the situation.”

Max ground his teeth and stormed out the door. I shot up and dragged the medical equipment from the closet back to Zara. I uncovered her arm underneath the sheet, plugged in the tubes, and started the drip. Afterwards I pictured what other things could have gone wrong as I watched her chest rise with its low pulse.
You were dead,
muñeca
, and still you are here with me, still fighting.

The fight in her made me realize that Zara was made for me, and I loved her more for not leaving
me.

I left the beautiful thought and tried calling
Andrés.

“Lupe, has anyone been in contact with my family?” I asked as my cell beeped out of service. I flipped the TV on and turned to the news. It was exploding with coverage of Tajin.
Huitzilihuitl will definitely hear about this.
Fear hollowed my core—
Huitzilihuitl will pay us a visit
soon.

“They arrive in five minutes.”

“Thank you, Lupe.” I sat next to Zara on the edge of the bed, lifted up the sheets and blankets, and peeked underneath. Her belly was covered again by a short satin nightgown. A gauzy bandage over the cut showed under the shoulder strap. It was turning pink in the
center.

“
Todo bien
,” Lupe
said.

I held Zara’s hand. “
Gracias
.”

The images on the channel were disturbing to the locals but heart pleasing to me. I stared at the damage my family did until they returned home. The Pyramid of the Niches was collapsed and burning, the surrounding buildings were tattered, the stones we’d torn out of them littered throughout the park, but the Tlatchi courts where the executioners had swarmed us were deserted.

Zara’s door swung
open.

“Lucas!” Valentina rushed over and threw her arms around me as I
stood.

“Mama.”

“Zara?” Gabriella asked, walking in with Dylan and
Andrés.

My eyes swelled. I put my hand in my pocket and spun my citla. “She will be okay once the transfusion is
done.”

“Why isn’t she
awake?”

“Because she is in a coma. She will wake up when she is
ready.”

“How long can that
be?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know.” I spun around to Father. “Are we safe? Is Zara
safe?”

“Xavier went with his mother, and the portal is demolished,” he said. He turned to the television. “We should expect a visit from Huitzilihuitl.”

Chairs scraped across the floor downstairs, and the muffled sounds loudened into clear sentences. Zara’s family moved toward us in a
panic.

“Esteban, we need you,” I called. The Alux appeared next to me in a second, wearing black slacks and a polo
shirt.

“Everyone come with me downstairs. We’ll sneak out the back and wait outside for Huitzilihuitl to show up,” Andrés directed. “Esteban, come downstairs and go through the front door like a normal doctor would. Lucas, stay here with Zara. Her parents are going to want answers—which you have already, I presume?”

I shrugged. “I saved Zara from a riptide.”

Dylan laughed and pointed his fingers outside. “From those baby waves? Seriously, you couldn’t think of anything
better?”

“I didn’t have time, Dylan. Max was waiting for me when I got
home.”

“Dylan, shh. It will work,” Valentina said. The noises were moving up the first flight of stairs. “Let’s
move.”

As they hurried out, I checked the transfusion. Zara had taken nearly the entire bag. Color was returning in her cheeks. I unhooked the blood bag and stored it in the cooler, which had been hidden in the bathroom shower.
I’ll give her more later tonight.

I ran over and sat next to Zara on the bed just as her family walked in. Her mom gasped and ran
over.

“Zara!” she
cried.

“I was jogging, and I saw her in the ocean by herself. I could see she couldn’t get out, so I ran in there and got her,” I
lied.

“Why would she go out in a storm alone?” Mitch asked.
Storm? Good, my story should work
out.

“I don’t know.” I lowered my head. “I’m so sorry. This is my fault. I shouldn’t have left her on her
own.”

Mitch placed a hand on my shoulder. “You did fine, son.”

I could hear Max behind me, his heart rate picking up. “Dad, you believe
him?”

“Why wouldn’t
I?”

I peeked over at Max behind my shoulder. His face was red with anger. Casey stood next to him, confusion arching his eyebrows. “What’s wrong with you, Max?” he
asked.

Max glared at me two whole seconds before he huffed and stormed out of the room
again.

“Did I do something wrong?” I
asked.

“No, no, honey,” Mrs. Moss said, sitting on the other side of the bed. Her eyes never left Zara. “Does Zara need to go to the hospital?”

Just then the doorbell rang. A minute later Esteban walked in, and I felt the stress in the room dissipating.

“This is Doctor Esteban,” I said. “He’s an old friend who works in the ER in Merida. I called him to come over and take a look at
Zara.”

“Oh, thank you,” Mrs. Moss said, moving over so Esteban could do his “job
.
”

Esteban did a few assessments, checked her vitals, and asked me questions in Spanish. He turned to her parents and explained in English, “Zara is in a coma, but she will most likely be out of it in a few days. I wouldn’t recommend moving her, as long as you have a nurse watching her around the clock and giving me updated vital stats. She has some cuts and bruises, and her collarbone is broken. Unfortunately, for those kinds of breaks, there really is nothing I can do. The break isn’t bad enough to need surgery, so she just needs to keep her arm in a sling for eight weeks. She will need to rest quietly while she heals, and I will send some painkillers for when she wakes
up.”

He did his job with comforting them, but he lied. We didn’t know
when
Zara would wake up. And he didn’t comfort me.
I
was the one who broke her
bone.

The Mosses were asking more questions, and I was looking at the new bump on her chest, half covered by the sheets, when my ears caught the sound of Tez and Huitzilihuitl’s arrival. It was dulled by distance, maybe a quarter mile away on the beach. I looked around for Marifer, and she appeared as if from thin air by the long dresser behind the
Mosses.

“Mr. and Mrs. Moss, you’ve met Marifer.” I lifted my chin to point her out. “She is an RN. She will look after Zara so that she can rest here in our home.” I pulled the sheets up to Zara’s neck and patted the side lightly, and then I
stood.

“I will give you some time alone,” I said. Marifer and Esteban silently asked what I wanted them to do. I switched to their Mayan language to tell them, “Don’t let the sheets come down. Don’t let them see her wounds.” Marifer bowed her chin and stood against the bed with the Mosses while Esteban busied himself with Zara’s bandaged wrist, conveniently keeping her family at a distance.