Free Web NovelChapter 98: Chapter 98 - Hypothermia
The sedan held the lead, headlights cutting a narrow tunnel through the dark. Behind it, the truck followed close, steady and heavy, towing the damaged pickup that rattled and groaned with every bump in the road.
Iyisha’s shaking worsened again, sharp enough that it pulled a soft sound from her throat. Malcolm felt it immediately and leaned forward from the back seat of the sedan.
"She needs medical," he said to the driver. "Now."
The driver glanced at him in the mirror, jaw tight. "I know. But I can’t speed up."
"We don’t have time," Malcolm said.
The driver shook his head. "If I pull ahead, I’m alone. That’s how hijacks happen out here. We stay with the truck."
Malcolm’s jaw flexed as he looked back down at Iyisha, frustration burning beneath his control.
She felt it through the haze. With effort, she lifted her hand and touched his arm, fingers trembling, barely strong enough to keep contact.
"Don’t," she whispered. "Stay together."
Malcolm went still. He covered her hand with his own, grip warm and steady, then nodded once.
"Alright," he said quietly.
The sedan held its pace, the convoy staying tight as the road carried them through the night, headlights lined like a promise that no one would be left alone.
Time stretched thin and soon the sedan turned onto familiar roads.
The lights clicked off one by one and the vehicles slipped into the tree line, dark and careful, while some of the men peeled away to stay back and cover their tracks.
Every bump in the road sent a dull ache through Iyisha’s head. It felt like her thoughts lagged behind the motion now, like everything arrived a second too late. She focused on the sound of Malcolm’s breathing beside her, on the steady pressure of his arm, on anything that kept her anchored.
The road narrowed.
Then the trees opened just enough and the gate loomed ahead, dark and solid and real.
They slowed. Stopped.
"We’re here," Malcolm said quietly, close to her ear.
She nodded, though it took effort to make her body respond. Her eyelids fluttered, heavy and insistent, and she forced them open again, breath shallow, chest tight. Staying awake felt like lifting something far heavier than her own weight.
She clung to the moment, to his voice, to the fact that the community was right there, because everything inside her knew that if she let go now, if she gave in to the softness pulling her under, she might not come back up again.
As soon as the car stopped, Malcolm was already out, the door swinging wide as he lifted Iyisha up and broke into a run. Her weight sagged against him, head tipped forward, breath shallow and uneven as he carried her straight toward the hospital, boots pounding hard against the ground.
"Get Mary," someone shouted behind them.
They did not need to call her.
Mary was already running toward them, coat half on, hair pulled back with one hand as her eyes locked onto Iyisha’s shaking form.
"What happened?" she demanded, moving in step with Malcolm.
"She fell into the creek," Malcolm said without slowing. "Cold exposure. Bite on the hand."
Mary’s expression tightened. "How long ago?" freewebnσvel.cѳm
"Over two hours," he replied.
"Inside," she said sharply. "Now."
They burst through the doors and the heat inside hit Iyisha like a wall, wrong and overwhelming, her body reacting violently as the cold fought it. Her shaking turned harsh and erratic, muscles seizing, teeth chattering so hard it sounded like bone on bone.
Mary moved fast. "Bed. Now."
Malcolm laid her down and stepped back only because Mary forced him to, hands already working, coat stripped away, blankets yanked on and then off again just as quickly.
"Core temp first," Mary snapped. "Slow warming. No hot packs yet."
Iyisha tried to speak and failed. Her lips barely moved. Her eyes rolled unfocused as the room spun.
A nurse rushed in from the side and froze when she saw Iyisha’s hand.
"Oh God," she said, voice pitching high. "She’s been bitten."
Malcolm’s head snapped up. His stare cut through her so hard she stopped mid step.
"Shut up," he said flatly.
The room went still for half a beat.
Mary did not look up. "What bit her?"
"Coyotes," Malcolm answered.
The word landed heavy.
The nurse swallowed hard and moved again, this time quieter, gloves snapping on as she reached for antiseptic and gauze. "We need rabies protocol."
"I know," Mary said. "After we stabilize her."
Iyisha’s vision tunneled. The lights above blurred into white halos. Her body shook harder, then suddenly weaker, the tremors slowing in a way that made Mary curse under her breath.
"No," Mary said sharply, pressing hands to Iyisha’s shoulders. "Stay with me. Iyisha. Look at me."
Malcolm leaned in close, his hand wrapping around Iyisha’s uninjured one, squeezing hard enough that it hurt just a little.
Mary’s hands stayed firm as Iyisha’s body began to fail in quieter ways, the violent shaking giving way to something worse, something deceptively calm. Her limbs felt heavy now, distant, as if they no longer belonged to her, and her breaths came shallow and uneven, each one an effort she had to remember to make.
"No no no," Mary muttered, fingers pressing at her neck, then her wrist. "Pulse is weak."
The room tightened instantly.
Another nurse moved in fast, IV already primed. Someone pulled more blankets away instead of adding them, hands brisk and controlled, voices clipped and urgent.
"She’s dropping," Mary said. "Do not let her sleep. Do not let her close her eyes."
Iyisha heard it like it was coming from underwater.
Her vision dimmed at the edges, the ceiling lights blurring into soft white smears. The cold inside her felt endless now, deeper than before, as if it had hollowed her out and left nothing but ache behind. The warmth around her no longer registered. She felt tired. So tired.
Malcolm leaned closer, his face the only thing that stayed sharp.
"Iyisha," he said, voice low and steady. "Look at me."
Her eyes fluttered. She tried to focus and failed, her lashes sticking together as they slid shut again.
"Stay with me," he said, firmer now, his hand tightening around hers. "You hear me. You stay."
A sound slipped from her throat, barely a breath, barely a word. "Cold."
"I know," he answered. "I’ve got you."
Mary pressed a palm hard against Iyisha’s sternum. "Pain response," she ordered. "We need her awake."
The sting came sudden and sharp as fingers dug into pressure points along her shoulder and collarbone. Iyisha cried out weakly, her body jerking, eyes snapping open for half a second before rolling again.
"That’s it," Mary said. "Good. Stay angry. Stay awake."
Another nurse cursed softly as the IV finally took. "Core temp is still dropping."
Mary’s jaw clenched. "She’s on the brink."
The word hung heavy in the air.
Iyisha felt herself slipping anyway, the world narrowing to Malcolm’s voice and the pounding of her own heart, each beat slower than the last, as if even that was tiring.
It would be easy to let go.
So easy.
Her fingers twitched in Malcolm’s grip, weak but real.
She forced in a breath that burned all the way down, chest stuttering, eyes opening again as pain and cold and will tangled together.
Around her, the hospital moved fast and relentless, hands working, voices calling numbers and steps, but Iyisha stayed balanced on that thin edge between falling and holding on, anchored by the pressure of his hand and the command in his voice, fighting to stay alive one breath at a time.
