Hardwired by Trisha Leaver Read Free Book Online

didn’t answer, and I tugged at the seat belt digging into my shoulder, desperate to get free so I could see if he was alive.
    A thin streak of blood trailed down the left side of his face, his hair was covered in pine needles and chunks of glass, and his shirt was soaked with what looked like vomit. “Chris, answer me!” I yelled as I wrapped my hands around his upper arms and began shaking him. There was no way he could be dead. There was no way I would allow him to be dead.
    His breath came out in a hard gasp, his entire body shuddering with the effort. He opened his eyes, his gaze locking on some point in the distance. I let him sit like that until the haze lifted and the realization of what had happened finally set in.
    â€œLucas?” My name was choked, cut off by what I thought was fear.
    I swiped my eyes, embarrassed by my tears, and smiled. “Yep, it’s me. You okay?”
    â€œHell no,” Chris said as he struggled to find the latch of his seat belt. I went to help, but he shoved my hands aside, determined to do it himself. “Do I look okay?”
    I looked around the van, horror quickly replacing my relief. No one was in the seat they’d started in. Their bodies had been tossed around, landing in grotesque, unnatural positions. We’d all been told to buckle up when we first left the facility, but an hour into the trip, even the security guard had taken his seat belt off in an effort get more comfortable. Whatever had possessed Chris and me to leave ours on was beyond me.
    A soft groan caught my attention, and I looked back at Chis. He was staggering to his feet, one hand firmly planted over the gash on his side of his head. “I need to get out of here.” The hand he was pressing to his wound moved to cover his mouth. “I’m gonna puke.”
    Miraculously, our van had landed upright, but the doors were caved in. The only way out was over several limp bodies and through the shattered windshield. “That way,” I said, pointing toward the front.
    No matter where I put my foot or my hand, it always seemed to land on a person. Or some part of a person. Eventually I gave up being careful and purposefully started planting my palms on their bloodied chests, hoping to get them to scream, to cough, to give me some indication that they were alive. I would’ve pulled every one of them out. I swear I would’ve, had any of them so much as moaned.
    â€œWe can’t leave them,” Chris said as he placed two fingers on the side of someone’s neck. “Some of them might still be alive.”
    â€œThey’re not,” I said, slamming my foot into the windshield and kicking out the remains of the shattered glass. I needed to get out this van, away from the dead bodies lying around me and the overwhelming fear threatening to paralyze me in place.
    I stumbled out into the snow and fell to my knees. Chris crawled out behind me, then collapsed to the ground beside me. I lay there for a second watching the blood drip from his head, staining the snow in an odd polka-dot pattern.
    â€œYou messed up your head,” I finally said, pointing to the cut above his right eye. It was still bleeding and caked with dirt, probably deep enough to need stitches.
    He swiped his hand across his forehead, wincing. “Wouldn’t be the first time,” he replied as he stared down at his blood-coated fingers. “What do we do now?”
    â€œNothing,” I said, completely content to lie there and let the snow numb my entire body.
    â€œWe’re alive,” Chris choked out a few minutes later. “We’re actually alive.”
    I mumbled a weak “yes” and continued watching his blood trickle onto the snow. The bleeding had slowed enough that I could count to ten before the next drop fell. A speck of gray dropped into the pool of blood, and I stared at it for a minute, trying to figure out what it was. A second, marble-sized rock