A compartment at the bottom of the kit held more serious medicine. A nitroglycerin shot, a cardiac belt to simulate CPR, an oxygen pump. The words written on a shot stilled her fingers. Ephedrioxygenium. The packaging said it controlled excessive bleeding. Was that the stuff used to treat battle wounds?
Only the briefest of instructions were included. The directions merely said that trained emergency personnel should administer the shot for cases of severe bleeding. After that disclaimer, it said to inject the shot into the vein above the wound site and seek immediate medical help.
How far above? Right above? Two inches above? She only had one dose. She had to make sure she did it right.
Blue said, “If you’ve actually been shot, there’ll be a bullet in your leg.”
“Yes,” her father said, “that’s how it works.”
Charity understood what Blue was really saying a second too late. Blue had stopped applying pressure and moved the bandage aside. She used her telekinesis to pluck out the bullet.
“What are you doing?” Charity yanked her away. “You might have just done more damage!”
The bleeding flowed across his skin, still profuse. Charity returned the shirt to the wound and tied it around his leg tightly.
Blue dropped the bullet on the seat like it might bite her. “I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I didn’t know removing it could make things worse.” She scooted to the far end of the seat by the door and wrapped her arms around herself. “This is all real, isn’t it?”
Charity’s father let out a short laugh. “Have you decided … are you staying with us?”
“Where are you going?” Blue asked.
“New Salem,” he said.
“I don’t know where that is,” Blue said.
“Neither does the government,” he said. “That’s why we’re going.”
She chewed on her bottom lip and didn’t answer.
“We don’t force people to go,” he said, words slurring. “You can stay here. Your parents, they’ll help you.”
She folded her arms. “Doubtful. I guess I’m going with you.”
Two quick gunshots sounded in front of the car. Charity’s gaze flew to the window. The raised hood blocked out everything. Enzo—had he just been shot?
“Actually,” Blue said, “now I’m having second thoughts.”
Charity’s gun lay on the front seat. She was about to catapult over the seat to retrieve it, when the hood slammed shut. Enzo stepped to the driver’s side, unmaimed, and got in. No one else roamed the alleyway.
He put his gun in his pocket, took off his jacket, and handed it to Charity. “To keep your father warm,” he said and started the car.
“What did you shoot?” she asked.
“I couldn’t get the tracker out. I had to destroy it and the entire navigation system. But I know ways out of the city.”
Charity lay the jacket across her father’s chest. Her shirt and his pants were entirely blood-soaked. Pressure alone wasn’t working. She’d try the shot. With shaking hands, she ripped off the packaging and injected it an inch below the wound.
Nothing happened. The bleeding didn’t even seem to lessen. Had she given the shot the wrong way? They couldn’t head off on a three-hour drive while he was bleeding like this. “If we don’t get him help soon, he might die.”
Her father’s breathing was fast and shallow—a sign of pain or of shock. “Two Empowereds just escaped,” he rasped, “andyou shot the special ops director. If we stay anywhere in the city, we’realldead.”
Charity shook her head, trying to shake away his words. “Your visions will show us how to be safe.”
Her father’s eyes went to hers, and they seemed older than usual, heavier. “I haven’t had any visions about leaving the city.”
“What does that mean?” she asked.
“There isn’t…” He took a long breath. “There isn’t always a safe option. That’s why we go. It’s what we planned. Don’t deviate.” His voice grew louder, calling to Enzo. “Promise not to stop until she’s safe.”