Jenny

JENNY had never been so happy to see Randall. She had so much she wanted to say to him. But her training took precedent over her emotions, and she immediately went into nurse mode.

"We need to wash out your mouth," Jenny said. "Right now."

"I said motherhugger, not motherfu--"

"Now, Randall! The infection is bloodborne. We don't know..."

Her voice caught in her throat. She needed something antiseptic. Hydrogen peroxide, or something that could kill germs.

"Gargle with gas," she said, pointing at his saw.

Randall stared at her as if she were nuts, but he uncapped the tank on his saw and lifted it to his mouth. When he titled it back, his eyes bugged out.

"Kids, stay by me," she told the boys. "Now swish it around, Randall. Keep it in there as long as you can stand it."

Randall's cheeks bulged side to side. Jenny returned to the storage room for two compression bandages, and bent down, wrapping up Randall's old chainsaw wound, and his new chainsaw wound. Neither was pretty, but he'd live.

"Mmmm-mmm-bbmbmb," Randall said.

"Yeah, you can spit."

He turned his head, ejecting a stream of pink liquid.

"Rubbing alcohol," he said, after clearing his throat. "What kind of person would put rubbing alcohol in a man's chainsaw?" He quickly looked down at Jenny. "But I didn't swallow any. I've been dry--"

"For ninety-seven days," Jenny said. "I know. And when we get out of here, I think we should go somewhere to celebrate your sobriety."

Randall's face brightened. "You mean, like a date?"

"I promised the boys here I'd take them to Camp Kookyfoot, and that you'd come with us. But I was thinking of someplace more immediate."

"Like where?"

Jenny wound tape around the bandage. "I was thinking as soon as we get out of here, we go straight to my place."

"Your place?"

Jenny nodded, feeling her whole body grow warm. "Randall Bolton, this is one lady who knows how to show appreciation for a man who comes to her rescue." She lowered her voice. "I'm going to do things to you that will make your toes curl."

"Jenny," he said, "Don't talk to me like that in front of the kids."

Jenny stood up, locking eyes with her husband. "This is the part in all your movies where the hero kisses the girl."

Randall hacked spit once more over his shoulder, wiped his mouth on the back of his arm, and planted one on Jenny that was so passionate it made her toes curl.

When they both came up for air, Jenny knew the moment was right to tell him that she still loved the big lug, and she wanted to give their relationship another shot. But Randall seemed to suddenly realize that they were still in grave danger. He looked away from her and at the kids.

"Everybody stay close," he told the four boys. "I don't have any fancy hand grenades, but none of those boogeymen are going to get past my saw, okay?"

The boys all nodded, their eyes wide and terrified.

"Everyone put your hands on the waist of the person next to you. We're not going to lose anybody. I'll take the lead, and Jenny will be squished up right behind you. Is everybody okay with that? Good."

Jenny knew they had to get moving, but she didn't want to lose this moment. "Randall, I--"

An explosion rocked the hallway.

"Get behind me," Randall said, stepping in front of Jenny and urging his chainsaw to life with a quick pull of the cord.