Shock

-17-

I've never had a million needles put into my skin at once, but I imagine it feels a little like how I felt when Nathan poured the Bacardi on my hand.
He held my fingers tightly so I wouldn't move or pull away, repeating 'sorry, sorry, sorry' over and over.
As the substance ran down my palm and forearm, I clenched my teeth to keep from screaming.
It felt ice-cold, like touching snow without gloves. But at the same time, it felt like I was burning up from the inside, as if someone had thrown a match into the open wound and left it there to scorch the tissue that was not yet hurt.
Every muscle in my body was tense. My legs tried to kick something that wasn't there, my eyes squeezed shut and my nails dug into Nathan's arm.
I was breathing heavily, and almost growled when a new stream of liquor hit my flesh.
"Sorry," Nathan repeated again. I shook my head, as I couldn't manage a single word to say it was okay.
The freezing fire persisted, and I grunted as my wound burned. Then, suddenly, it was over. The burning feeling remained, simmering at the surface, but it had lessened.
"All done." Nathan announced, putting away the bottle.
I looked at my hand.
"How do you know?"
"I don't. But I'm not torturing you any longer." He said simply.
I looked up at his face, which was partially hidden by the shadows. All I saw were pressed lips, ashen eyes and furrowed eyebrows.
"Don't..." I started, "I can handle it. It needs to be completely clean."
"Well, how do you know it's not?" He fired back.
"How do you know it is?"
"Frizz, we're disinfecting an open flesh wound with Bacardi here. It's never gonna be completely clean!"
He was right, obviously. Plus, no matter how tough I set out to be, I really didn't want to go that hell again.
I relaxed my muscles, and my hand released his arm. His hand still gripped mine though.
I lightly pulled away and he let go. But as I got to my feet, he remained on the ground.
"Are you gonna stay here?" I asked.
"No, I just... Shouldn't we cover it up? If we leave it like this it'll just get infected again."
"Yeah, 'cause that ended well the last time we tried." I muttered sarcastically. He seemed a bit taken aback by the comment and I apologized.
"Tissues are just not sterile. We need something with a closed packaging, something like-" I stopped talking and sprinted towards the place were we'd installed our bags. Reaching into the front pocket of mine, I whispered 'gotcha', as I pulled out two bright pink pads.
When I made my way back to Nathan, he squinted at the items in my hand, trying to figure out what they could be.
"Feminine hygiene products," I quoted the writing on the package, and sat back down.
"Oh."
I tossed him one of the pads and asked him to open it for me. Because, one: it was nearly impossible to do that myself with the injured hand, and two: it was fun seeing him struggle.
When he'd opened the plastic, he handed it back to me and went to fetch yet more duct tape. I put the pad on the wound, making sure to cover it completely, and secured it with a piece of tape.
"Nice," Nathan commented.
"Thanks. They really are more versatile than you'd think."
"Who are?" Paisley asked, walking over to us.
"Pads." I spun and showed her my hand. I gotta admit it looked pretty funny. Pink plastic covered my entire palm and part of my wrist, the cotton was squished in weird places so it could bend to the shape of my hand and the entirety was topped off with a piece of bright orange duct tape.
I waited for her to look away awkwardly or make a savy remark, but she didn't. Instead, she said, "That's actually pretty smart," and smiled.
"So, are you guys ready to leave then?"
When Paisley and I had been searching the place for alcohol earlier, she'd told me more about her situation during the earthquake. Paisley and a bunch kids from school had been planning on going to a party, and had wanted to have a few drinks beforehand. Initially, there had been fifteen of them, but over the course of the night, quite a few of them had left. She couldn't remember why. During the first shock, things had started falling from the ceiling and walls. More people had left out of fear of the building collapsing. When I asked where they'd gone, Paisley shrugged, saying she hadn't bothered to ask. By that point, there'd been four of them left. Paisley, Emmet, Jack and Tara. Tara had left in between the two shocks. To go find the others. To tell them it was safe. Ironically, the second shock had hit about ten minutes after she'd left. In the chaos, Paisley had lost track of Jack, but she had witnessed a boulder swing down and crush Emmet. She'd tried waking him up for hours on end, but it was no use.
I completely understood her eagerness to get out of the place.
I walked over to our supplies, shouldered my pack, and shouted, "Let's go," as I motioned for Nathan to follow my lead.
He did, and within a matter of minutes, we had gathered the kids and were marching out the door.
As the golden rays of sunshine hit my face, I shielded my eyes. I hadn't realized how long we'd been inside. When we'd entered the building, the sun had just risen. Now, light was streaming down from the sky, indicating the wee hours had passed and we were heading for mid-morning. Since we'd taken a detour by following the kids to Paisley, we had to get back on the road, which would make us lose time we didn't have. Between the resting time, the injury and finding Paisley, we'd already wasted too many precious minutes we could have spent looking for our family.
I started walking back the way we'd come earlier. I heard footsteps behind me, and slowed my pace to make it easier for Nathan to catch up. But instead, Peter and Haley passed me by. I furrowed my brows and turned to see what my co-worker was up to. I was surprised to see him deeply concentrated on a conversation he was having with Paisley. He was gesturing wildly. She was twirling her hair, looking at him intently.
Nathan kept talking animatedly, and though I wanted to turn away, somehow I couldn't.
He just seemed so... passionate about the topic. His eyes glowed when he spoke. Why was he telling the girl he'd just met instead of me? Granted, we'd just met the day before, but still. I thought we'd become friends.
Nathan briefly glanced up, and noticed me staring. He stopped talking and his smile faded.
What?
I quickly turned and pretended I hadn't been looking.
Picking up my pace again, I glued my gaze to Peter and Haley. We walked for a few minutes and finally reached the place where our roundabout route had begun.
I was walking on auto-pilot now, focussing all my energy on suppressing the intrusive thoughts that were clouding my brain.
What were Paisley and Nathan talking about? Why were they getting along so well? Why did Nathan act so weird when he saw me?
I guess Paisley just had that gift of instantly making people like her. A gift I obviously lacked.
In an attempt to redirect my thoughts, I started counting my steps. The rhythm of my footsteps synchronized with the numbers I was whispering softly. After a while, I got so into it that I nearly bumped into the kids, who had stopped walking in the middle of the pavement.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
Peter stared at me, tears threatening in his eyes.
"I lost it," he said, "I lost Cam's energy."

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