I tell him to drink more juice then pick up the pen which administers his insulin. It looks different to the ones we issue at the clinic.
Jesse has his medication sent to him by us, loaded up with the correct dosage. I don’t recognize this brand at all. The pen seems older. My mind scrambles to think of who I dispensed prescriptions for in the last couple of weeks. I don’t think I did any for Jesse because he didn't need them yet.
“Where did you get this insulin?” I ask. He leans forward on the counter, sweating even more. I’m on the verge of going into panic mode and getting him to the hospital.
“It came yesterday.”
“Yesterday? Jesse, I didn’t issue this. Where is the pack you get from the clinic?”
He’s not answering. There is no time to do another test and I don't need to. There is no way of knowing how much insulin he's injectedwithout doing proper tests, but if what I suspect is right, he's taken way more than he should have. He needs medical intervention, right now.
Jesse has a car seat for Oscar. I’m too worried to wait for an ambulance. As I move around the counter, I stop in my tracks.
There is a man in the back yard. He’s dressed all in black and when he turns, he is wearing a mask. And he has a gun in his hand.
“Jesus,” I almost knock everything off the counter.
Jesse looks up and sees the man, he tries to get up. “Oscar,” he groans.
I’m caught between the two of them but the man is coming up to the window and there is another one behind him.
“Get Oscar, we have to get to the basement,” Jesse stumbles off the chair, holding the counter to keep himself upright. “Go, Taylor. I am okay.”
I run across the room as the man starts banging on the door. I can’t see him but he is hitting it with some force.
“Hey buddy, we’re gonna go downstairs, get Oscar Two okay?” I smile, trying not to show the terror ripping through me.
Thank God he does as he’s told. I scoop him up and put a hand over the side of his face to stop him looking at the back door as the man slams against it again. Then another sound come from the front.
Oscar pouts out his lips and looks at me. “Bang.”
“Yeah bang. Jesse,” I grab his arm to keep him upright.
“Huh,” he groans.
“Do you remember how much insulin was in the pen?”
He is really disorientated now and doesn't answer, he lowers his arm and almost drops his phone. I didn’t realize he was using it till I see Noah’s name on the screen. Jesse keeps mumbling about the basement, but I don’t know where that is. I can’t trust him to hold Oscar in the state he is in.
We should be getting out of here but I run to the far side of the kitchen.
A bang comes from the front of the house, different to the one from before. My heart practically stops. It was a gunshot.
Dragging a drawer open, I find the glucose tablets and pull them out, spilling other stuff all over the floor. Oscar starts to cry but I don’t have time to console him, dragging open a cupboard and pulling out a bag of chips. I hurry back to Jesse and hook my arm under his. He leads usto a door I’ve never paid attention to before and we go through to a set of stairs.
“Please don’t fall,” I whisper.
“I’ll try,” Jesse says, as Noah picks up the call.
“Hey what’s up. Why is Oscar crying? Jesse?”
There is a heavy duty bolt on the door which I slam across as a loud bang echoes out in the hallway. They’re in the house.
We stumble our way down and Jesse leans against the wall and starts sliding down it. My head swivels around as I try to figure out what we’ve come down here for.
Jesse raises the phone and I grab it, setting Oscar down trying to calm him. He is feeding off our fear.
“Noah.”
