Page 141 of Into the Mist (Into the Mist 1)

Gemma turned back to Mercury and yanked the wadded-up shirt from the wound. Mercury gasped as pain engulfed her, and her vision went from gray to red.

Gemma moved quickly. She pressed both of her hands onto the wound, bowed her head, and closed her eyes. “Mercury, I want you to heal. I want the wound to stop bleeding. I want your lung to inflate. And then I want your flesh to knit together. I want to you live, Mercury. Live!”

Nearby, Karen’s plea mixed with Gemma’s. “Please, Lord Jesus, please help Gemma save our Mercury.”

Together, Gemma and Mercury gasped. The teenager’s body stiffened and her head snapped up and back. Gemma’s mouth opened as a scream filled with unimagined pain tore through the girl. Her body trembled, but she kept her hands pressed against Mercury’s wound.

Heat engulfed Mercury. It began under Gemma’s hands and expanded until it felt as if her veins pumped lava, and she would explode into a ball of fire and blood and agony. Mercury sucked in a huge breath and released a scream that echoed Gemma’s and seemed to go on and on and on forever.

And then as quickly as the inferno of pain had begun, it was gone. Mercury looked up to meet Gemma’s gaze—shocked to see that her eyes glowed with the same neon emerald as the toxic fog. There was blood at the corners of her lips, which lifted as she smiled at Mercury. With a spasm-like motion, Gemma’s hands twitched off Mercury’s body, and the teenager’s smile widened to show her bloody teeth.

“I did it.” Gemma said before her jeweled eyes rolled and she slumped to the concrete beside Mercury.

“Good job, Gemma,” Mercury managed to whisper before unconsciousness pulled her under as well.

The bouncing of the old truck woke Mercury. For a moment she was completely disorientated and wondered why the hell she’d fallen asleep in the back of her dad’s hay bailing truck. Her eyes blinked open, and at first she didn’t understand why there were a bunch of people in the back of Dad’s truck with her.

Then Imani leaned over and smiled at her, and reality rushed back.

There’s been an apocalypse.

She’d been shot.

She’d been dying.

Gemma had healed her.

Mercury turned her head to glance at the warm spot pressed against her left side, which she realized was Gemma—looking pale as she slept.

“Is she okay?” Mercury’s voice croaked.

“Gemma’s fine,” Imani assured her. “She woke a little while ago, drank two bottles of water, ate an apple and some trail mix, and then went right back to sleep. How do you feel?”

Mercury cleared her throat, which felt like it was lined with sand. “Thirsty,” she whispered roughly. “And hungry.”

“I’m not surprised. You lost a lot of blood. Gemma said you’d need to eat and drink when you woke. I have water for you, and some bread and cheese. Hang on a sec, though. I need to let everyone know you’re okay.”

Behind Mercury, Imani crawled to the window of the camper shell that lined up with the rear window of the cab and knocked on it. “She’s awake!”

Mercury propped herself up on her elbow so that she could turn and maybe give a cheery thumbs-up to Stella, but was trapped by three wide-eyed stares.

Mercury cleared her throat again. “Hi. Good to see y’all.”

“Are you really alive?” Georgie said.

“Absolutely,” said Mercury. Her gaze shifted to the little boy, whose eyes overflowed with tears. “I missed you Cayden.”

The boy hiccupped a sob and nodded several times.

Mercury held her arms open. “I could use a hug.”

Cayden started forward and then cringed back, crying harder.

“Hey, it’s okay. I really do feel fine.”

“I, uh, think all the blood scares him,” Georgie said, and Cayden nodded vigorously again.

Mercury looked down at herself. Her “Notorious RBG” sweatshirt had been ripped open to expose her right shoulder. Just below her clavicle was an ugly pink scar, puckered in the middle. It looked like someone had tried to clean the blood off her arm and shoulder, but dried rust still streaked her skin, and the rest of her sweatshirt was stiff with blood.