The car slowed. Charity looked up to see they’d reached one of the automatic gates. Across the parking lot, a dozen officers hurried, focused and armed, toward the building. The authorities were still searching for them inside. She caught sight of Milo’s truck still sitting in the visitor’s parking. They’d have to abandon it.
The gates slid open, and the car slipped through.
Her father’s blood had already soaked through her shirt. She put her hands on the wound. If she applied enough pressure, the bleeding should slow. “We need a doctor,” she repeated. “A surgeon. Do either of you know anyone in the city who’d helpus?” Her voice came out high pitched, sounded hysterical even to her own ears.
Enzo didn’t even glance back. “We have to get out of sight and take the tracker off this car. As soon as they find Schmitt, they’ll look for us.”
That wasn’t an answer. Although, Enzo probably only knew the law-abiding type of doctors.
“Blue,” Charity asked. “Do you know a doctor we can trust?”
Blue’s lips twitched. “Now you’re asking for my contacts? I still don’t know whether you’re real or whether this is an elaborate production to see if I’m a telekinetic.”
“Look,” Charity snapped. “The government put you in jail because they think you’re a telekinetic. They don’t need more proof than that. Do you know anyone? My father needs a surgeon to remove the bullet and sew him up.”
Her father shook his head. His skin was ashen, and his breaths came too fast. “We don’t have time for that. Even with the tracker off, they’ll hunt for the car. We need to leave the city immediately and be on the road ahead of them.”
“He has a point,” Enzo said.
The Federal building and its walls shrank in the distance behind them. Enzo turned a corner, and they disappeared altogether. A few pedestrians strolled down the sidewalks, unhurried, presenting a deceptively peaceful scene.
“My dad needs medical help.” Charity didn’t want to say out loud what she feared—that the bullet had nicked his femoral artery, and he’d be dead within an hour, maybe half that time.
“That could be fake blood.” Blue, for the first time, sounded more worried than skeptical.
“I used to bring in Empowereds,” Enzo said. “You’re giving us a lot more credit for sting operations than we deserve.” He pulled onto a side street alleyway, a narrow, dingy place with bitsof garbage strewn around. Graffiti swooped and slashed against the walls.
Enzo parked the car, opened the hood, and disappeared behind it. Hopefully, he could get the tracker off quickly.
Blue checked a console between the seats. “I found the first aid kit.” She held out a large plastic box to Charity.
Charity didn’t want to take her hands off the wound. “Open it and tell me what’s inside.” She’d heard of a new medicine that helped large wound sites. Soldiers used it. Someone as important as Schmitt might have some in his first aid kit.
Blue rummaged through the box. “Small bandages, antacids, anti-nausea medicine, EpiPen…”
Charity’s father lifted his head and looked at Blue with glassy eyes. “If you’re going to leave, this is the time to do it. Otherwise, we’ll…” his voice drifted off either in pain or confusion.
Blue glanced around the alleyway, gulped, and climbed over the seat to bring Charity the first aid kit. “I want to see his wound and make sure it’s real.”
Charity huffed. She didn’t have time for the girl’s doubts. “I’m not taking off the bandage to satisfy your curiosity. I’ve got to apply pressure. What else is in the first aid kit?”
Blue shrugged. “I don’t know what half this stuff is. I’ll apply pressure. You look through it.”
That would be faster. “Ok. Lean into the wound. All the blood seeping from his leg ought to convince you it’s real.”
They switched places. Her father shut his eyes. He was slipping away from her, and she couldn’t stop it from happening.
“Talk to him,” Charity said. “Don’t let him lose consciousness.” She sifted through the kit. Hydrocortisone cream, tweezers, and antiseptic wipes.
“Tell me about yourself,” Blue said. “What’s it like to be a psychic?”
“Right now, not so great.”
Charity found a bottle of painkiller and pulled it out. If he stayed conscious, she could give some to him.
Blue hesitated. “Do you wish you were normal?”
His voice was slow and taut. “I’ve used my power to help people. How could I wish things were different?”