Raised by Wolves

Chapter 43

CHAPTER 43

NOTHING HAPPENS. DAMN it, damn it!

I yank it out and stab it back in again. Turn. Nothing.

I’ve watched Chester start a car before—I can do this. Can’t I?

“We’re going to get help, don’t worry,” Holo tells Lacey. “It’s going to be okay.”

It’s not going to be okay if I can’t get us out of here.

I can see my brother’s terrified eyes in the rearview mirror. “Make sure her arm’s hanging down off the seat! Keep the bite below heart level—the venom moves slower that way!”

“I’ve got it! Just start the car!” Holo yells.

“I’m trying!” I start pressing pedals with my feet while turning the key at the same time. The car still doesn’t start.

I have to twist around to check on Lacey. Her arm’s going purple—a sign of internal hemorrhaging. “Lift up her head!”

“Drive the fucking car!” Holo screams.

I have to focus. I have to figure this out. Panic makes my fingers shake. I’m overdosing on adrenaline.

Just calm down for one second, Kai. Which is the gas? Stomp on it!

Nothing happens.

Brake. Try that . Press. Turn.

The engine roars to life.

“D stands for drive, right?” I yell. “Wait, why am I asking you—you don’t even know how to work a phone.”

“It was dead ,” Holo yells back.

I hear the awful terror in his voice.

I’m sorry, Holo.

I have to calm down.

I push the stick to D and press what I think is the gas. We go shooting forward. Reflex makes me stomp on the other pedal. Holo yelps as he crashes into the back of my seat. But Lacey’s dead silent.

“Sorry, it’s just going to take me a minute—”

I press the gas again, more gently this time, and we start to move forward. When I press it harder, we go faster.

Okay, this is totally fine, I can do this.

“You’re about to hit a tree,” Holo cries.

I have to learn how to steer, too.

By the time I get to the end of the chief’s long driveway, I’m getting the hang of it. I pull out onto the road. My hands are white and shaking, but I’m driving.

“Which way is the hospital?” Holo says.

I don’t know.

“Holo, is she breathing?”

“Yes,” Holo says. “Barely.”

I press the gas harder. The trees go whipping by. Nausea fills my stomach, my chest. I’m freaking carsick! And I’m going seventy miles an hour. Lacey’s old VW shudders as I give it more gas. I pass a truck. Another truck. I keep my hand on the horn. Get the hell out of my way! I swallow down vomit. Tears stream from my eyes.

“Faster!” Holo cries. “Her skin’s cold!”

I unclench my jaw. Bile rises up. I snap it shut again. We’re almost there.

When we pull up to the police station I’m out of the car almost before it stops, screaming, “Chester! Chester!” And then I throw up on the sidewalk.

The chief bursts out, saying “What the hell?” His face is dark with anger.

“Lacey,” I gasp, pointing to the back seat. “Snakebite.”

The chief looks at me wiping barf from my face and then sees his partner lying in the back seat, looking dead already. He dives into the driver’s seat and I take the passenger side, and he peels out. He keeps his hand on the horn the whole time, too, and I’m halfway out the window, screaming “Get out of the way!”

Twenty minutes later, we’re screeching to a halt in front of the emergency room doors. The chief’s still honking the horn and shouting like crazy, and people come pouring out of the hospital. They swarm around Lacey, and they get her onto a stretcher. When they rush her inside, the chief goes running after them.

And then, just like that, everything is quiet. Holo and I stand on the sidewalk, alone.

Just the two of us.

Like always.

All the adrenaline drains away. It aches . My vision goes dim, and my legs give out.