Page 28 of You Weren’t Meant to Be Human

They can’t tell Tammy. Tammy’s pretty much proved she’s more loyal to the hive than her people, and who knows what she’ll tell the worms if they ask.

Can’t call 911, either—even if they pick up, which they might not, Crane has heard the townsfolk talk.

It’ll take the ambulance an hour to get here on a good day.

“It feels bad,” she says. “Is it bad?”

Crane doesn’t know how to respond to that. The only honest answer is nodding. He nods.

In response, Jess tries to smile. He’s glad that his honesty is appreciated—it usually isn’t.

The way he sees it, it’s good to be told the truth.

He’s spent so much time freaking out over things people considered minuscule that it’d be a blessing to be told yes, it’s just as bad as you think it is. You’re not overreacting.

She says, “Okay.”

Stagger takes a handful of toilet paper and dabs Jess’s throat, then wipes the spittle from the corners of her mouth. Crane watches. There’s a flicker of something alive in Stagger’s lopsided eyes, worry pinching his pallid forehead.

“It’s cold,” she says.

Crane nods again. Yep, blood loss makes you cold.

He’s already working through what he’ll write out for her once this stops.

Drink lots of water, eat iron-rich foods, don’t push yourself too hard.

It’s his responsibility. Levi did this, this is Levi’s fault, so Crane has to clean up the mess.

When Jess’s eyes droop, he shakes his head, pats her cheek, snaps in front of her face. Nope. Awake.

Jess mumbles, “I don’t think it’s stopping.”

It has to clot eventually , doesn’t it? Crane glances up to Stagger as if for reassurance, but Stagger looks as lost as Crane is.

Shit. Crane is good at packing bullet wounds and stitching up lacerations, not fixing, what is this, uterine hemorrhage?

And, right, Jess was drinking. That makes the blood thin.

Dumps it full of alcohol, stops it from coagulating.

Waiting will kill her as quick as anything else.

Jess pulls out the towel, and so much comes out with it…

And that’s it. She is not going to bleed to death on his watch.

Crane dives into her pocket for her phone.

Pushes it into her hands for the passcode.

Her hands tremble as she punches it in and he opens the GPS, searches hospital , tries not to despair at the reality of living in a rural area.

Closest ER is forty minutes out. Better than an hour waiting for an ambulance.

He types in the Notes, HOSPITAL. GIVE KEYS.

Jess says numbly, “Can we afford that?”

No, they can’t. But if you give the ER a false name, they can’t pin you for the charges, and they’re still legally required to stabilize you.

Instead of taking the time to explain, he nods one more time. He receives the keys from her back pocket.

Crane nabs a handful of washcloths from under the sink, packs her underwear to keep all the blood in one place, gets Stagger to pull up her pants no matter how much it hurts. Jess holds Stagger’s hand tight.

He’s not supposed to leave, but Levi gave him one slipup. Seems like a good time to use it.

Together, they help Jess to her feet and lead her across the apartment.

Jess whimpers. He knows, he knows it sucks.

Just a drive and it’ll be fine. Stagger opens the door for them, ushers them through, snatches his neck gaiter, and yanks it on before following them into the dim light of the apartment hallway.

Nobody’s out at this hour. There’s barely anyone left in this building anyway. The upstairs neighbor who plays music too loud. An old woman on the third floor who needs her son to help her down the stairs since there aren’t elevators. That’s it.

Through the glass front of the entryway, Crane spots Tammy’s car, the ugly gray Accord on the other side of the lot. It’s about time to wake up and get ready for work. Tammy’s going to notice something’s wrong, soon. Fine. Crane will take the consequences.

Seven stairs down to the landing.

If you actually wanted that thing out of you , Jess said.

Come on, easy now, that’s it.

If you actually wanted to die, you would’ve done it by now.

He tries not to imagine Jess dragging herself up the steps only a few minutes ago. How much pain she was in. How much pain she’s in now.

You want it.

That’s not right. He doesn’t want this. He wants—no, he needs the hive.

He needs somebody to pull his leash, point him in a direction, tell him what to do.

He can’t make his own decisions. When he thinks for himself, all it does is hurt him.

Of course he can’t do anything without the hive. Without the hive, he’s nothing.

It’s just that the hive wasn’t supposed to do this to him, and he can’t stop them. He can’t stop any of it. He doesn’t know how.

On the last step, Crane freezes.

Stagger goes still.

Jess whispers, “No.”

Flanked by Irene, Levi opens the door to the landing—ten square feet of tile covered in muddy boot-marks and dirt and cast-off beer-bottle caps—and leans against the threshold.

This son of a bitch. With his dog tags and the angry tic in his jaw.

Fuck him. Fuck him.

“Would you look at that,” Levi says. He pulls a cigarette out of his shirt pocket and shoots a glance to Irene, whose expression is so smug it almost sends Crane reeling. “Even came out to meet us.”

Levi is smiling.