Concrete grinds against the faded tiles as the massive patio table is dragged back from the door. After about two feet, Izzie feels like her shoulders are going to pop out of their sockets from the exertion. The table stops moving and she glances quickly at Joseph.
“Any further and we won’t be able to get the door reinforced again quickly enough.”
Nodding, she moves around the edge and squeezes her hand tightly around her slightly sharpened plunger handle. Outside, far away, someone screams. She stops hesitating and opens the door.
A figure shrouded in a shiny silver material shoves past her. Another voice calls from not far away. A man and a woman half his age are running toward her, yelling something she can’t make out. Or maybe they are just yelling in fear. Behind them, another figure at the edge of her line of sight is running as well, the same kind of shiny silver material as the first person flapping behind them. Nodding at Joseph, Izzie lets go of the door and switches her weapon hands so her right hand will be free. When the man gets close enough she grabs his shirt and yanks him through. The woman, several feet behind him, lets out a scream.
A shadow has fallen on her. Izzie curses as the woman stops completely and looks up to the top of the shelves next to her. “Move! Run, now!”
The muscles of the thing on the shelves ripple, the rear muscles tensing, and Izzie does something very stupid. She darts out and grabs the woman, yanking her as hard as she can back toward the door. Swinging her around, she sends the woman straight through the crack and dives after her. Something hits the wall behind her, hard, and the creature lets out a pained huff. Izzie darts back inside the breakroom and twists around, short pole in front of her so she can thrust it out while seeing where the last figure is.
A girl runs around the lump shaking itself out as it gets to its feet and Izzie reaches out her hand, grabbing the other and yanking as hard as she can while screaming at Joseph.
“Close the door!”
The girl being pulled along screams, and at once Izzie knows it is not a scream of fear. They land together on a heap on the floor as the door clicks shut. From the other side, a pound and then a scraping noise as the creature tries to get in. The scraping of the table begins, and Izzie shoves the girl off of her so that she can scramble up to help. Together, she and Joseph push the table back against the door with a thud. The sounds outside stop. She steps back and stares at the door, sweaty fingers tightening on her rod. A minute passes, and the only sound she can hear is the screams from behind her.
“Shut her up!” She barks over her shoulder at the man, who crosses over and begins to pat the screaming woman’s back through her long curtain of brown hair. Both are tall, towering over everyone else in the room, but while the man is broad across the shoulders the woman is narrow, willowy almost. The statuesque damsel in distress.
Growling, Izzie marches to the woman, raises her hand, and smacks her across the face. The woman stops abruptly and stares at her in shock. Izzie stands straight and looks up into startled brown eyes. “I’m sorry, but you need to be quiet. It is not in here with us, yet, and screaming doesn’t help anyway.”
“You hit me!”
“Yes, and if you start screaming again I am going to hit you harder, then throw you in the dark bathroom and shut the door. Take a seat and catch your breath.”
As quickly as if Izzie has cut the strings holding her up, the woman bends her knees and sits. Luckily the man is standing close enough to catch her and shove a chair underneath her rear end. She hits it with a whump and stares at Izzie, eyes wide and unblinking. The teenager glances at the man standing next to her chair. There is a strong resemblance between them. They share the same general facial shape, although it is a little hard to see with the woman’s obviously broken nose. “Do you know her?”
“She’s my daughter,” he responds without looking up. His hand has moved up to the top of the woman’s head and is petting it gently.
“Alright, you might want to get her a bottle of water from that fridge, but don’t leave the door open for long. There’s no power and we don’t want things inside of it getting warm in case we need them.”
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With the screaming stopped, the sound of banging from the corner is more obvious. The first figure that shoved her out of the way and made her hit her arm against the door is standing at the outside door, throwing their body against the push bar with what little momentum they can gather in the tiny space. The sheath slips and a familiar face pokes out of the top. Izzie narrows her eyes and groans in disgust before moving her eyes back toward the door.
Joseph is kneeling on the floor next to the last person through. His work polo shirt is off and he has it pressed into the left calf of the girl on the floor. Even wadded up, red is still seeping through and staining his fingers. Izzie jerks into motion, grabbing the toolbox-shaped first aid kit she found in the upper cabinet to the right of the sink. She drops down to her knees next to him and opens it up.
Inside, it is mostly empty. A box of bandaids, an aerosol can of Bactine, some packages of gauze, and a roll of tape. Swearing, she gets back up and steps back to the counter. A stack of white towels joins the meager supplies in the kit.
“How bad is it?” She asks quietly.
“It clawed her leg pretty good. I don’t know how she was running on it.”
“She was running fine when I grabbed her. The one that hit the wall outside must have recovered enough to swipe at her as she ran past.”
Joseph meets her gaze, and her face warms as his eyes travel over her face in concern. “Did it get you? Are you alright?”
“I’m fine. What do you need me to do?” Izzie looks away from him, cursing herself for being nervous around him at a time like this. “This is all the medical supplies we have.”
“I know about sprains and stuff, but I don’t know how to deal with this, Izzie. Isn’t your mom the nurse?”
“She’s a paramedic, and it’s not like that stuff is hereditary.” She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “Let me see how bad it is.”
The ball of fabric is moved away, and she feels her stomach clench. Three ragged lines bisect the lower pants leg, and through them, blood is pouring out. She grabs the shirt from him and presses it back down. “We need to get the pants leg out of the way so we can at least bandage it until help gets here. Can you find me an unopened bottle of water and bring those scissors we found?”
Joseph gets to his feet quickly and quietly, and Izzie finds herself alone on the floor, fingers already painted red, pained whimpers filling her ears. She glances along the body and gasps. “Sasha?”
“It hurts.” Her lips press together again after her brief statement. Tears trail across her nose bridge and drip down to the ground.
“I know, I’m sorry. When Joseph gets back I’ll ask him to find the bottle of aspirin we pulled out of the cupboards. It won’t be much but maybe it will help a little.”
“Yeah,” she sniffles and pulls her arms up to shield her face. “Okay.”
Joseph is back quickly and Izzie sends him off again. “Okay, Sasha? This might hurt a little more. I’m going to cut through your jeans, okay? If it’s your favorite pair then I will go with you to the mall after we get out of here to get another.”
The girl doesn’t respond to her attempt to lighten the air. Izzie doesn’t know how her mom does it, how she makes people feel so calm when they are panicking. She grits her teeth and moves the cloth out of the way with one hand while picking up the scissors with the other. She picks at the jean material around the wounds, pulling the top part up and cutting down toward the ankle as quickly as she can. ‘She is lucky her pants are so baggy,’ she thinks as the scissors make their snipping noise with each squeeze. “If it has been Stacy’s pants this wouldn't -’
Izzie stops, scissors stuck against the thicker material of the hem at the end of the leg. A knot rises up in her throat and she squeezes her eyes shut tightly as she tries to swallow it down.
“Found it.”
Joseph’s deep voice pulls her back and Izzie finishes cutting the fabric. Her eyes focus again and she pulls the jean material out to the side of the leg. “Alright. As soon as we are done rinsing this off can you help her drink down two of those? No, make it three. I doubt liver damage is what she will be concerned with right now.”
The material flops when folded back. The cotton material is heavy with the liquid it has soaked up. Placing the wadded-up shirt on the inside part of the leg to soak up extra water, Izzie opens the fresh bottle and pours it over the wound without giving a warning. A muffled scream comes out from under the raised arm, but Sasha holds still. The blood rinses off enough that Izzie can see clearly for just a second. Flesh parts over muscle in three lines, farther at the outside and getting closer as they go. The cuts look clean, no dirt or debris, and the edges are neat. Blood wells up again as soon as the water flow stops. Izzie reaches for a clean towel from the kit before pouring one more time.
When she presses the clean, folded towel into the wounds, the leg jerks just a little. “I’m sorry, Sasha, I’m so sorry. We need to apply pressure to try and slow the bleeding.”
The towel quickly becomes soaked with blood, and Izzie swaps it for a fresh one. Again and again, she does this, each time taking a little longer before it needs replacing. With only two towels left, she finally feels it is going slow enough to try and wrap. “Joseph? Can you see how much gauze is there? I would need enough to cover at least six by five inches.”
The boy falls to his knees next to her again, but on the side closer to the first aid kit. She can hear him rustling around, pulling out packages. “I don’t think there is enough.”
“Alright, then I will use one of these towels. Can you open the medical tape, please? I’m going to need you to wrap it around the next towel when I push it against her leg. It has to be tight.”
The two work together, and with one more muffled scream, a thick folded towel is taped tightly against Sasha’s leg. Izzie uses the last couple of towels she removed before they were fully soaked and soaks up the water on the floor, then takes all of the material including Joseph’s shirt to the wide sink. Cold water flows over them, turning red quickly as the water swirls down the drain. She makes sure the towels aren’t blocking the drain and then washes her hands and forearms with the little pump bottle of soap on the counter.
Joseph is quietly talking to Sasha as he picks up the first aid kit and other supplies they could still use. Izzie spares the leg a glance to make sure the towel isn’t already turning red, then walks quickly across the room, stepping over Logan, and bends over the bathroom sink right before emptying her stomach.