I drop myself to my knees on the floor, shuffling over to their side of the RV. I look down at Luke, whose head is perfectly set in the center of Abigail’s crossed legs. His skin isso blue.It reminds me of those babies who enter the world with a cord wrapped around their neck. Their lives almost cut too short.Please don’t cut Luke’s life short.I pray, even though I’ve never believed.
My hands push their way underneath his head, raising it enough to allow Abby to maneuver her legs. Once we have Luke propped up, I stay frozen in front of them, feeling like I can’t move unless ordered to do something else. Instead I watch the shallow breaths that inflate his chest. Each one seemingly more shallow than the previous.
“He just moved!” Jackson yells from the couch. His fingers point towards Luke, shaking unbearably. “I saw his jaw move!”
I glance up at Luke’s face right as it begins. His body begins to convulse in Abigail’s hold. More spit and blood pouring out of him, staining the old fabric.
“No! No! No!” Abigail screams, holding onto his body tight to keep him from falling to the floor.
“What’s going on?” Saint hollers over the noise.
“He’s seizing,” I whisper with wide eyes.
The red and blue of an emergency vehicle's lights filter in through the back window, pausing the conversation that was being held. They light up the area, dancing off of everyone’s nowpale skin. Saint slams on his breaks, immediately hopping out of the front seat.
“Please, my friend!” He screams before getting cut off.
“Hands on your head!” The officer shouts back, raising his gun so it’s directly aimed at Saint.
Saint does as he’s told but doesn’t stop yelling. “You’re not listening!”
Another cop exits the vehicle, keeping his gun trained on Saint. My heartbeat hammers against my ear drums.
“He’s going to die!” Saint tries one more time, his cries falling on deaf ears.
“Get on the ground!”
Play SAN MARCOS by BROCKHAMPTON
Luke’s body finally slows down, the seizure subsiding. More liquids pour from his mouth. The smell is rancid, and it takes everything in me to hold back a gag.
The door is yanked open, the hinges creaking under the painful movement. “Hands up!” The officer screams as he enters. Jackson and I both immediately listen, and my life flashes before my eyes as the gun swings my way. “We have what looks like an OD,” The cop calls out into his radio, his thumb pressing one of the buttons on the side.
“Help him,” Abby sobs, unable to follow orders as her hands stay glued around Luke’s chest.
The cops harsh demeanor evaporates as he takes in the bloodied body splayed out over the small woman. His gun drops as he steps closer to the pair. “What did he take?”
Abigail and Jackson share a glance, coming up completely empty.
“Fentanyl.” I croak out, the word feeling like venom on my tastebuds.
The two of the stare at me like I had just spoken Latin. The minimal color from Abigail’s cheeks fade as the reality sets in.
“What?” Jackson questions, completely blind sided by my answer.
I scrunch my eyes shut, wishing the world away. “Fentanyl.” I say again with more conviction this time. “They’ve been using and dealing Fentynal.”
The truth feels like a betrayal to the two guys who have stolen my heart. I’m letting go of their secret.
“We need Narcan in here!” The cop screams out of the door. He keeps his head poked out until his partner comes rushing up. I can see the exhaustion laced through his features through the window. Even with the clouded pane of glass between us, his dread is evident. Those feelings match my own as I watch the officer spray the medicine from the device up Luke’s nose. It does nothing but drizzle back out, carrying snot with it. There’s no sound, no movement,no sign of life.
The officer curses under his breath before beginning compressions. Abby falls to the floor next to me, reaching out for me like she’s unsure of where else to find comfort. I pull her into me, letting her bawl into me as we listen to the sounds of Luke’s ribs snapping under the pressure.
“Stop!” Jackson screams out, jumping up from the couch. “You’re hurting him!”
The cop ignores him, quickly checking for a pulse before starting up again. The scream of new sirens enters the vicinity. They’re so loud it feels like they could shatter the windows around us.
More men in uniforms come rushing in, shoving the three of us out onto the highway. Bright orange cones surround the RV, each one placed with the precision to redirect the incoming traffic.
