What is happening to Remy is that she’s not in the ladies’ room. She is in the alley behind the Lamplighter turning into a zombie. Either that, or she is having some sort of overdose. She is turning blue, lying there on the ground, with what appears to be very little breath coming in and out of her lungs. Like she’s in a deep blue sleep. In the alley. Next to the trash.
Zeb and I rush over to grab her, and the owner comes running out, too. He doesn’t seem too pleased to have this zombie transformation and/or overdose happening at his establishment, no matter who Zeb’s dad is.
Zeb gets down beside Remy, puts his ear next to her mouth.
“She’s breathing.”
“Somebody call an ambulance!” I scream.
“No! Look, she can’t be here.” That’s the now-not-so-friendly owner.
But now there’s a huge breath, a gasp, and Remy is breathing again. Zeb leans back on his heels with relief.
There are five zillion things running through my mind to ask, but the thing that comes out is “What do we do? What do we do?”
“I don’t know. I think . . . I think she might be okay. She’s breathing, at least. That’s the thing.”
I can’t stop staring at Remy.
“Vinnie!” calls the owner.
And with that the aforementioned Vinnie appears looking exactly like an extra from Zeb’s dad’s movie. He’s kind of tall and thin everywhere but his belly. And there’s a lot of cologne involved.
He takes in the scene, nods at the boss, and with that, the undead Remy, Zeb, and I are ushered, practically flung, into a pitch-black SUV with Vinnie at the wheel.
“Where to?”
“Please! The nearest emergency room! Hurry!” I screech.
Remy leans, head lolling, on Zeb. Vinnie does not seem too excited about this errand. Zeb’s eyes are glued to Remy’s face, monitoring for . . . I don’t even know what.
“It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay. You’re okay, Remy.” I’m holding her hand.
Her eyes are rolled back in her head, but there is a faint nod, a dispatch back from the netherworld.
I’m afraid to ask, and I think I already might know . . .
“Zeb? What is this? What was it?”
Zeb looks at me, pauses. It’s like he doesn’t want to be the one to cast Eve out of the Garden of Eden.
We both know what happened, though. An overdose. Yes, definitely that. I didn’t pay close enough attention. I should have realized she was gone too long. And now . . .
I glance at Remy. Sleep has taken over, but she’s less blue, and her chest is moving up and down.
Her eyes open briefly, just a peek, and then back to sleep.
Our ride is smooth. I can only assume Vinnie is too busy trying to dump us off as quickly as possible to freak out about his undead passenger.
“Where do you think she got it? Whatever it was.”
“Some guy.”
Now Vinnie from the front. “Some guy here? At the bar?”
There’s a threat to it. Woe to he who deals at the Lamplighter.
Zeb shakes his head. “No, probably back home.”
I’m assuming “home” means New York. And the questions are again cascading through my brain, but right now let’s just concentrate on the blue-skinned zombie, okay?
Thank God, Vinnie pulls up to the ER. Awkward silence. We’re just about to get out of the car and lead Remy into the hospital.
“No . . .” Remy shakes her head.
She’s alive, suddenly.
“Remy, we have to make sure you’re okay.”
“No . . . they’ll call my parents.” It’s slurring, but it is a sentence.
“Maybe they should call your parents.”
“No, no. I’m fine. I’m fiiiiine.”
Zeb and I look at each other.
“Remy, I really think you should see a doctor. Right, Willa?”
“Yes. Remy. Seriously.”
“No. I’m fine. I’m okay now. I swear.”
And the truth is, her breathing is stronger every second. She’s coming back to the land of the living.
“You guys want me to drop you at the end of the block or something?”
Vinnie clearly wants us out of his SUV one way or the other. I don’t blame him.
“Yeah, um. Just maybe right down there. Thanks.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
We get out at the end of the block. Find a bench. Sit.
Zeb and I look at each other, puzzled, as Remy leans on Zeb.
“What do we do now?”
“Well, we can’t exactly go back to Pembroke. Maybe we could just . . . get a couple of rooms at Rittenhouse Square or something? She should be all right by the morning, I think.”
So that’s it. It will be a room in a fancy hotel, then. It will not be a night in the alley. It will not be a night in the hospital.
It will not be a night in the morgue.
Not this time.