Page 42 of We’re All Going to Die Tonight!

I nod at one of the kitchen chairs, where she left the backpack from the van. Caulder digs into it and pulls out a white bag with a red cross on the front.

“Right,” Caulder says. “So I’ll—”

“No, I’ll do it,” Emerson says, walking over and snatching it out of Caulder’s hand. “I’m the one with the medical training, anyway.”

Both Caulder and I stare at him.

“You…have medical training?” Caulder asks.

Emerson smirks. “Surprised? I volunteer every summer at the local hospital.”

Caulder and I exchange a look, and Caulder turns back to him. “Do you really?” Caulder asks. “Because we’re not fucking around, man. Lucas’s life is on the line here.”

Now Emerson’s glare hardens, turning steely and dangerous. Caulder’s gone for his pride. And when you’re someone like Emerson—someone who is all pride and zero substance—it’s a cutting blow.

“He’ll be fine,” Emerson says, then turns his eyes on me. “Better with me than with the actual killer.”

“I warned you earlier,” Caulder says, leaving his perch by the door to stand closer to Emerson. “Cut it out.”

“Maybe you should watch your step, Grant.” Emerson smirks. “Machado’s not here to beat someone up for you, is he?”

Caulder’s fists clench at his sides. “I can fight my own battles, Emerson. Remember that.”

Emerson just laughs. Then, he turns around and heaves Lucas up from the couch and over his shoulder. He struggles more than Javi or Caulder would have—even grunts a little—but he does his best to make the motion look easy.

“I’ll use the downstairs bathroom to clean him up, and then Caulder can help me put him in one of the rooms,” Emerson says. “No need for us to look at him all night. And then I’m taking care of myself, all right?”

Caulder moves like he’s going to follow Emerson, but he stops. I see the hesitation: go with Emerson and keep an eye on Lucas, or stay here and watch the door. In the end, he stays in the kitchen, and we hear Emerson disappear down the hall. There’s also the sound of a sink being turned on, telling us he made it to the bathroom.

“You can go,” I tell him. “If you need to.”

Caulder shakes his head. “Emerson won’t do anything to Lucas. He’s too much of a coward. And besides, if he does, we’ll know he was responsible. No one else is in the house.”

I nod, turning back to my task at hand.

“What’re you doing?” Caulder asks me, eyeing my growing pile of items.

“I’m looking for anything that can be used as a weapon,” I say. “Like a skillet or something.”

Caulder snorts. “You’re going to fend off a murderer with a frying pan?”

I scowl at him. So much for civil. “I’m sorry we’re not all six foot six and made of muscle. Some of us have to rely on frying pans.”

“Six foot four,” he says. “Though I appreciate the compliment about my rippling muscles.”

“I never said ‘rippling,’ ” I say. “And it wasn’t a compliment. It was just a fact.”

He shrugs, then rolls out his shoulders. “So, any luck finding something?”

I shake my head. “This wok’s in my maybe pile, though. Or perhaps…”

I extract an old, battered orange teakettle, some kind of vintage style.

“I guess this is kind of heavy,” I say, frowning. “But I’m not sure. Could be useful if I can swing hard enough.”

Which I definitely cannot.

Caulder raises his eyebrows at me. “You’re kidding.”