The Vines Shelley Nolden (best way to read books txt) 📖

Grunting out each number, he reached thirty and put his ear to her face. Nothing.

He pinched her nose, twice infused her mouth with air, and resumed the compressions. “Come on, Lil. Come back to me.”

Abruptly, the downpour began to abate.

An eerie, cobalt glow permeated the gray sky, and the wind had weakened to an angry whisper.

Yelling for help, he started another round.

“Finn, come here,” Kristian called from the side of the morgue where Finn had exited.

His heart pounding with renewed hope, he straightened but kept the compressions going. “I can’t. Doing CPR. I need you!”

“Come help me, and Dad will go to Lily.”

Help with what?

The thought of leaving Lily alone chilled his cold, wet skin. What if Rollie didn’t reach her in time?

“Now!” Kristian demanded.

With no alternative, Finn gave Lily two final mouthfuls of air and raced around the corner of the building.

From behind her, Kristian was bear-hugging Cora.

In response to Finn’s calls for help, Kristian must have carried her this far, Finn surmised.

“We thought it was a trick,” Kristian grunted as Cora thrashed. “Hold still,” he hissed and shook her hard.

“She lies all the time,” he said to Finn. “We didn’t believe she’d give herself up. Certainly not to help one of ours.”

Twenty feet from the struggling pair, Rollie was stripping off his hazmat suit. “I’m going to Lily.” He tossed a syringe case near Finn’s feet.

Rollie sprinted past them, giving Cora a wide berth.

Longing to join his dad, Finn swayed. There, he would merely be watching, praying, as Rollie tried to resuscitate her. Whereas if he stayed here, he could try to compel Kristian—through reason or force—to free the woman who’d selflessly attempted to help his girlfriend.

“Let her go!” Finn commanded.

“Not till you inject her with that.” Kristian jerked his chin toward the ground.

In the mud near the case, Finn spotted his flashlight. He scooped up both objects and clipped the flashlight to his belt loop. With the bottom of his soaked T-shirt, he swiped clean the thin plastic container to read its label: BBSCV-112.

“What is this?” Finn asked.

“Borrelia burgdorferi.” Kristian tightened his grip, and Cora gasped for air.

“That can’t be all,” Finn said, just as Cora raised both legs and drove her boots backward, kicking Kristian’s shins.

He yelped in pain but didn’t loosen his hold.

Twisting, she jabbed her elbow into his collarbone, and her wet braid smacked the shield in his hood.

“I can’t hold her much longer,” Kristian said, attempting to wipe the visor. “Do it now, so I can help Dad.”

“This is wrong.” Still gripping the syringe case, Finn put his hands to his hips, and his free hand brushed against his flashlight. His biceps fired, and he felt a sudden urge to clock his brother with the military-grade tool. “I won’t let you hurt her,” he warned through clenched teeth, his fingers squeezing open the hook.

Cora stopped struggling, and her body slackened against Kristian’s chest.

“This is Mom’s only hope,” Kristian pleaded.

Suddenly Finn saw the brother who often sat beside their mom’s wheelchair for hours, simply holding her hand, and he wavered. He knew that each time Kristian lost a pediatric patient in his neurology clinic, he closed his office door and bawled—once, Finn had arrived early to join him for lunch and caught him in the act.

That same man stood before Finn now, plainly desperate to save their mother, and convinced that this was their best shot at doing so.

“If we can eradicate the drug-resistant bacteria,” Kristian said firmly, “it’ll be easier to reverse the nerve and arthritic damage.”

He’d made it sound so easy, so plausible for their mother to be once again pain free.

Torn, Finn shifted his focus to Cora’s face and took in her sheer terror.

It can’t happen this way, he knew, and certainly not along with whatever else that serum contained. Shaking his head, Finn released the flashlight’s clip from his belt loop. “Let her go.”

Cora pitched her head and shoulders forward, clearly preparing to bolt if given a chance.

Kristian clutched his forearms to strengthen his viselike hold and stepped toward Finn, bringing Cora with him. “Give me the needle.”

Raising the flashlight in his right hand, Finn shifted the case in his other hand to behind his back. Any blow he could land would disable his brother long enough for Cora to flee.

Kristian exhaled loudly through his respirator. “What do you think you’re gonna do with that? Hit me?” He jolted Cora upward—a human shield.

He couldn’t risk striking her, Finn decided. But one of the tranquilizer darts wouldn’t require the same accuracy-reducing windup. A puncture, however, would potentially expose his brother to Cora’s germs. Finn sucked in his breath. With a woman at Kristian’s mercy, did he even have a choice?

He dropped the flashlight and syringe case, his body shielding their fall from Kristian’s view. Subtly he reached into the side pocket of his pants for the dart container.

Certain that from ten yards away his brother wouldn’t be able to distinguish the two cases, he removed a dart. Holding it up, with just the tip exposed, he approached the struggling pair. “Hold her steady.”

“How dare you?!” Cora screeched. “I trusted you!”

“What did you expect?” Kristian jerked her hard, stilling her. “We’re family.”

Finn kept walking, his hand with the dart trembling with rage.

Visibly devastated, Cora remained inert.

“Silly me,” Kristian continued. “You can’t be expected to understand. It’s been more than a century since you’ve known that kind of love.”

Unleashing a piercing, primal grunt, she slammed the heel of her work boot into his rubber overshoe. He grunted and shook her. “Hold still, mutt, it’s almost over.” He pivoted so her shoulder faced Finn. “Do it now.”

Finn raised the needle, and the look of terror and hatred in her turbulent eyes almost froze him.

“Run,” he said with a hiss before bringing the dart down into the Teflon of his brother’s suit.

“Ahhh,” Kristian roared and flailed his arm.

Cora sprang free.

“You .