EMP Catastrophe | Book 1 | Erupting Trouble Hamilton, Grace (read book .txt) 📖

began to shut the door behind him. Once it finally closed with a light whoosh, Matthew turned and ran as fast as he could across the parking lot, keeping to the shadows as much as he could. His lungs burned from the frantic sprint, but he had to get as far away from the gas station as possible.

He didn’t stop or look back until he was at the top of the exit and back on the highway, and even then, his heart felt like it might burst.

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As soon as Matthew spotted his father slumped against the guardrail, he knew something was wrong. He held his hand up and waved, letting his father know it was him, but David gave no sign of recognition. Matthew began to jog, picking up his pace until he was at a full-blown run. His heart pounded in his chest. The weight of the heavy backpack made his shoulders ache. His lungs still burned from his mad-dash escape from the gas station. The sun was now cresting into mid-afternoon and Matthew wished he hadn’t taken so long getting back.

Skidding to a stop next to his father, Matthew dropped to his knees. David’s head lolled back. His body was limp with unconsciousness. Matthew shoved his bag off his shoulders. A fine tremor took up in his hands as he put two fingers against his father’s neck, seeking a pulse. For a moment, he felt nothing and then shifted his fingers just enough to finally feel the thready pulse beat against his fingertips. Letting out a breath of relief, he placed the back of his palm against David’s forehead. Blistering hot. David’s eyes fluttered in recognition, but for the most part remained closed. The intensity of the fever caused Matthew to frown in distress. He knew long-lasting high fevers came with a ton of problems. Matthew needed to get him cool, or at least get a handle on the fever as much as he could before it got worse.

“It’s gonna be okay, Dad,” he whispered, as if to reassure them both, even though he didn’t think David could hear him.

Taking the bandana out of the bag, he drenched it in lukewarm water from one of the water bottles sitting next to David and laid it over his father’s forehead. Then he took out the bottles of Vitamin Water and Gatorade from the gas station and placed the still-cold bottles against David’s cheeks and throat. David shuddered in response. The afternoon heat did them no favors, and when a light breeze finally blew past them, Matthew hoped it helped in cooling the bandana over David’s forehead. David began shivering uncontrollably.

The wound had started bleeding again, and a bloom of red stained the bandage Matthew had applied earlier that morning. There were raised scratch marks around the bandage, as if David had tried to pull it off as he fell into unconsciousness.

Once he felt that David had cooled down some, he pulled out all the stolen medical supplies and began unraveling the gauze around the wound. The bad smell had increased. There was more yellow crust coating the wound, which was especially thick around the bright red edges. It looked like a sideways teardrop and Matthew imagined the bullet trajectory that had hit his father’s arm, taking a chunk of meat out and leaving Matthew to deal with this large, open gash. He unscrewed the isopropyl alcohol, soaked a cotton ball in the liquid, and began wiping the wound clean.

David hissed when Matthew first touched him. His arm instinctively jerked back as Matthew continued with his ministrations. Matthew counted that as a good thing. Maybe David wasn’t completely unconscious, and hopefully, he was still conscious enough to feel something. Maybe the pain would bring him around again. He took his time picking out any other gauze wisps that had gotten stuck in the wound’s edges, cleaning it carefully until he felt like the alcohol had done its work. Then, he smeared antibacterial ointment over the wound, particularly applying it thickly over the edges where the yellow crust had built up, and hoped it would do the trick. David let out a soft moan, his head rolling back and forth.

“I’m sorry,” Matthew said to him, feeling as if he was in a daze and nothing existed except the two of them. His head began to ache from the intense concentration he needed to patch the wound up. “I know it hurts, but I have to do this,” he said to David. Maybe David found his voice soothing. Matthew wasn’t sure, but it helped him to talk out loud.

He began to wrap the wound again in new gauze, this third bandage much better than his previous two. Practice makes perfect, he thought as he tucked the gauze edges in and clipped it secure with the metal prong. “Next thing,” Matthew said to David, taking the leftover water from making the wet compress. Just under half remained. He popped open the fever reducer and crushed it as best as he could, slipping the small pieces into the water bottle and swirling them around to dissolve in the water. The bigger pieces he fed to David slowly, using the infused water to help his father swallow the fever reducer. The instructions told him he had to give the medicine to his father every four hours.

Taking out his cell phone, he turned it on. The familiar screen blinked as it booted up. As soon as he saw his app icons and the picture on his screen, he wondered if perhaps the phone was working, and that maybe this was all a terrible dream. He closed his eyes and held the phone tightly in his hand. Maybe, when he opened his eyes, he’d be able to hold the phone up to his ear and suddenly find himself waking up in his bed. This elaborate nightmare would be something he’d tell Kathleen about as they shared their morning coffee. He opened his eyes and looked down