Catalyst - Casey L. Bond Page 0,1

toward him. But when I reached him, the damage had been done. The only thing left to do was tend to his break as best as I could and pray.

I carried his broken body out of the swamp, sloshing through the water to hurry, but trying not to get that nastiness in his wound. I was fighting a losing battle.

I’d set the bone as best I could, but the flesh was streaked with red. That was a bad sign. I covered him up and ran upstairs. I hated going in their room, but I needed Mom’s medical reference book. Throwing the door open and making my way past her overflowing bookshelf to the desk that was covered in piles of papers, magazines and books, I found it quickly. It sported the thickest spine among the ones she’d salvaged. And I’d memorized the section on compound fractures last week, having read over the information so many times.

The pages were slick, glossy with pictures and diagrams. The infections section was almost one-third of the book. Thank goodness, she’d taken the time to teach us to read. It took twenty minutes to find the diagnosis, or what I thought Griff had. But, in the end, I was no doctor. And the words in this book would be filled with more than ink and paper. They were a warning, Griffin’s plea for help when he was unable to ask for it himself.

“Sepsis, or septicemia, is a dangerous bacterial infection… Sepsis may accompany infection of the bone, called osteomyelitis… People who have recently been hospitalized and/or had invasive medical procedures… Symptoms include fever or decreased body temperature, diarrhea, vomiting, organ failure, red streaking near a wound… The only treatment is a strong antibiotic cocktail to fight the bacterial infection… Failure to treat sepsis will lead to the patient’s organ failure and ultimately, death.”

I wished I had a way to reach someone—someone who could stay with him, keep an eye on him, but I had to get medicine. He would die without it. And there was only one place that had antibiotics that would help him. It was dangerous, but it was a risk I’d have to take. It was Griffin’s only chance.

The whole thing was my fault. I shouldn’t have let him go or agreed to let him climb the tree. I should’ve taken better care of him. So getting the meds he needed was something I had to do.

Lacing up my boots, I glanced at his flushed skin, his dark hair and dry, parted lips. The sun had risen and moved above the house. Peaceful, yellow light bathed the room and Griffin as he lay on the couch. I shook my head and stood up, tucking my hunting knife in my pocket.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can, Griff. I’m going to get you some medicine that’ll make you better, buddy.” Can’t let him die. Not like Mom and Dad.

He groaned again, quieter this time. I squeezed my eyes tight and sent up a prayer that my brother would be okay when I got back, that I would be faster than I’d ever been, that I wouldn’t get caught.

I crossed the room quickly. My body weight made each wooden plank beneath creak and groan. I closed the door behind me, stepped off the porch.

And ran.

I didn’t stop.

Ter·min·al

/ˈtərmənl/

adjective

of, forming, or situated at the end or extremity of something. Synonyms: final, last, concluding, closing, end

(of a disease) predicted to lead to death, especially slowly; incurable. Synonyms: incurable, untreatable, inoperable

CONCRETE AND BRICK blurred as I pushed harder, pumping my arms, willing my quivering legs to carry me just a little bit farther. There must be a shop still open, a back door left ajar or some crevice I could squeeze myself into. I just needed to hide. If I could just lay low for a bit, the soldiers would pass me by, and I would be able to stop.

Then, I would breathe in the oxygen I needed so badly. My lungs were screaming.

I could hear the two sets of footsteps pounding behind me. They were getting louder, closer. The men were strong and relentless. The dog snarled, gnashing its teeth in anticipation. The militia starved them just for this purpose. Hunger drove an animal to desperation, and the soldiers needed the animals to be on the brink of just that, for times such as these.

I stumbled when my stamina waivered. It always did. That afternoon, I found out why but it wasn’t something that I would