Free The Eve (The Eden Trilogy) by Keary Taylor Page B

the firing turret, just like a smaller scale version of our actual tanks.  Running alongside the hatch in the raised portion of the roof, were two very tiny, claustrophobic looking beds.  The front passenger seat was a glass encasement.
    No one had to ask what it was for.
    “If you can’t get there and back in this thing, you can’t make it anywhere,” Royce said, pride sounding in his voice.
    “It’s a thing of beauty,” West said, settling into the driver’s seat.
    “Your only problem should be if you get some particularly cloudy days,” Royce said, his excitement falling.  “Since this is such a beast, the batteries powering it get drained fast.  They don’t get to store much.  So if you can’t get access to sun, you may be stuck for a while.”
    “I see now why you called it the solar tank,” I said, stepping back out and admiring it from the outside.  “You did good, Royce.  You did good.”
    Royce laughed, a full-hearted, belly birthed laugh, and clapped a hand on my shoulder.
    Avian met my eye knowingly as we took one last look at the solar tank, and headed back inside.
     
    “You ready?” I hissed.
    Avian seemed to materialize out of the dark, pack slung over his shoulder.  He clicked on his small flashlight and nodded.
    Taking my hand in his, we slipped silently down the hall.
    We descended the stairs, taking our time to make sure our footsteps would not echo on the concrete walls.  Pausing briefly at the door to the hall, we found it empty and slipped out.  Not a soul seemed to be awake as we jogged to the medical wing.
    A few lights had been left on in the medical wing.  We paused around the corner, watching for signs of life.
    “Is there anyone besides Morgan and the kid in there?” I whispered.
    “Just them,” Avian said, looking around the corner again.  “A nurse comes to check on things twice a night, but no one will be around until morning.  We should be good.”
    We darted forward into the harsh light.  Placing my fingers on the handle, I paused, looking up at Avian.
    “I love you for doing this,” I said.
    “Anything,” he breathed, a smile playing on his lips.
    Taking care that the door handle didn’t make any noise, we pushed it open and stepped inside.
    Morgan lay still and silent on her bed.  She had slipped into a coma the morning before and was given less than five days to live.  The baby’s vitals dipped, but not enough for the doctors to pull it from her stomach yet.
    Grabbing the portable bed from the hall outside, Avian wheeled it into the room, right next to her bed.  He opened the cupboard across the room and pulled out the portable oxygen unit.
    “Careful with the tubes,” he said as I helped him switch her oxygen.  Once replaced, we each took hold of the sheet beneath her and lifted her onto the wheeled bed.  “Grab the IV tower.”
    Wrapping my hand around it, I carefully steered it as Avian rolled Morgan and the bed with the portable oxygen unit out into the hall.
    “Hold on,” I said before we entered the main hall.  Avian stopped and I parked the tower next to him.  Slipping to the entrance to the hall, I peered around the corner.
    One of the members of security detail walked across the lobby.  He paused, looking around, sweeping the area, before stepping out the front doors.
    Royce had already started night patrol back up.  I could only hope this was the only man on duty.
    “Let’s go,” I said when he was out of view.  Once again, Avian and I rolled quietly down the hall toward the back entrance.
    The automatic doors opened with a whoosh of cold air.  The faintest hint of light was phasing into the eastern horizon as we rolled across the sidewalk and down to the side of the solar tank.  I opened the doors as wide as they would go and adjusted the pillows and blankets we’d stashed in the back row of seats earlier that day.
    Avian, in the meantime, had unhooked the IV bag from the tower and laid it in her lap.  Shouldering