Fault

Part 51

Fallon Connelly 11:12 a.m.

The rain is now just a drizzle that feels like a simple annoyance compared to earlier. The skies are still dark, but for the moment we're in a break from the storm. We've gathered under the awning of an apartment building, two streets north of Peterson's drugstore. None of us could have foreseen what would happen when Marc and Cal agreed to help break into the store. It took no time at all for the groups of people moving quietly through the streets to turn into a full scale mob.

The minute all of us got out of the store safely we knew we couldn't stay there. Despite the noble actions of the businessman, I wasn't convinced everyone would act as kindly when they saw we had food so we tried to remove ourselves from the mob. I gave a sleeve of saltines to Ry-Ann to share with Justin.

I thought I had lost her in the store when I turned to see if she was still behind me after the saltine altercation, and saw only strangers sweeping bags of junk food off the shelf. I tried not to panic and told myself she couldn't get far and that we'd made a plan, but then the thought that she might get trampled sent a trickle of terror down my back. With my arms full I turned the corner in search of her just in time to see her coming back from the register area with plastic grocery bags in her hands. In all the pandemonium, Ry-Ann was clear-headed. If she hadn't thought of the bags we never would have gotten as much food as we did.

I hand the bag of food to Marc, who sorts through for something to eat. He managed to get his hands on a twenty-four pack of water bottles and immediately exited the store before anyone could challenge him for it. It was a smart move and I'm grateful he thought to do it. Cal was the last to return to the alley and he had grabbed one of those reusable bags off the shelf, filling it. With what I don't know yet.

I sit against the ledge, waiting for Marc to hand the bag back to me, when Cal takes my right hand in his. At first I think he's forgiving me for earlier, until I realize he's turning my palm up and examining my ripped and wet bandages like a doctor. He pulls the tape free, which isn't hard to do in its current state, and the redness around my cuts doesn't look good. I'm about to ask why he removed the only protection I had against the elements when he reaches into his bag and pulls out an assortment of bandages and antibacterial products. It's like he swept the entire first aid section into his bag.

My throat closes up at the realization of what he's done. When he entered that store, his first thought was of me and my hands. He rips open a package of antibacterial wipes and rests my hand palm up on his knee.

"This is probably going to hurt," he says, unfolding a single wipe.

Before I can respond he presses it to my hand and the sting makes me want to tear my arm away from him in response. Cal has a secure grip on my wrist though and I have no choice but to grind my teeth. The pain is so sharp that I can imagine being an animal caught in a trap who gnaws their limb off to get away. I'm sure the pain means that my hand is infected, but I refuse to think about what that leads to. We just have to get to the shelter, that's all that matters now.

Cal wraps my hands carefully, following the pattern he saw when he unraveled them. I feel a tingle in both hands from the antiseptic and I hope that means the infection is being killed off like an old west shootout.

"Thank you," I say, hoping it conveys how thankful I actually am. He nods as he gathers the supplies.

"Chip?" Marc asks from the other side of me, tilting an open bag in my direction. I take it gratefully. Being careful of my fresh bandages I pinch a few chips out of the bag and force myself to eat them delicately and not stuff them into my mouth like an animal.