Chapter 7 #2
I took a step, then another, trying to tread lightly. I didn’t want to set him off again. Was he…infected? Was he turning right now? The smart thing to do would be to—
I shook my head. No. He couldn’t be infected. He’d been down here with me for a month now. If he was bitten before falling into the pit, he would’ve turned already.
Something dark was smeared along the edges of the opening. When I was close enough, a spark of dread flashed through me.
Blood. It was blood, he was really bleeding, how much was he bleeding? Was he—
I dropped to my knees and peered into the crawlspace. “Three.”
In the dim red light, he was just a small lump in the far left corner, his chest moving rapidly as he panted. The chain on his collar trailed to the opening of the crawlspace, and while I had the opportunity to grab it and pull him out, I would never do that to him.
I was so torn between leaving him there—he obviously wanted to be in a small, dark space—and dragging him out so I could tend to his wounds.
My decision was made for me when a soft whimper drifted from the corner.
I got on my stomach and inched my way into the space. The noises he was making were filled with despair, slicing into my heart and driving me forward. I didn’t care if he attacked me again, he needed my help.
When I was a few inches from his foot, I paused. “Hey. Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable, yeah?”
I didn’t expect an answer, and I didn’t get one.
“I’m gonna take you out of here, okay? You’ll be a lot more comfortable on the bed.”
He jumped when I slid my hand around his ankle—the good one—but that was the only reaction I got.
“Will you come out?”
I didn’t want to drag him out, but I would if I had to.
His eyes glinted in the red light as he turned his head toward me. He threw something down between us, and it clattered noisily on the concrete.
The piece of glass he’d cut me with.
Was he…submitting? Surrendering? Was this his way of asking for help?
I snatched the glass before he could change his mind and flung it behind me out into the storage room. I’d find it later.
I let go of his ankle and held my hand out to him, not knowing if he’d bite it or hold it.
To my surprise, he set his shaking hand in mine. It was wet with sweat or blood, and I clasped it gently. Warmth bloomed in my chest, something tender and powerful that spread through my veins.
I carefully tugged him toward me. “Come on.”
He made a strangled, pained sound in the back of his throat, then crawled with me as I backed out of the tiny space, fingers clinging to mine.
When we were out and on our feet, he trembled violently, so unsteady that when he swayed, I caught him before he hit the ground.
He was crying, and now his face held nothing but anguish, those pretty eyes staring into mine, like he was trying to communicate something.
He wasn’t struggling anymore, wasn’t thrashing around, just trembling as I held him.
“What’s happening to you?” I whispered, deeply unsettled and aching in places I’d never felt before. “What do you need right now?” My arm was throbbing, still bleeding, but it wasn’t a mortal wound. That could wait.
He didn’t answer me, just kept his eyes locked on mine as more tears spilled from the corners. He’d gone mostly quiet, like the worst of it had passed, like it had sapped all his energy.
I walked us out of the storage room and brought him back to the bedroom.
“Alright, that’s okay. You don’t need to tell me anything.
I’m going to put you on the bed, okay? So you’re comfortable.
” I wasn’t expecting him to answer, and he didn’t—not unless those infrequent noises of exertion and discomfort were some kind of answer—so I just walked to the bed and gently laid him on top of the covers.
When I started to lean back, something stopped me.
I looked down and saw his small fist clenched around the hem of my shirt, clinging to it so hard his knuckles were white.
I covered his hand with mine, trying to reassure him, to chase away even just the smallest amount of his hurt. “I’m only going to get some water and a cloth, I have to look at your shoulder.”
“Don’t…” He squeezed his eyes shut and grimaced.
Don’t what? Don’t go? Don’t leave him there? Don’t look at his shoulder?
I clasped his hand in both of mine. “I’ll only be gone for a minute. I promise.”
His eyes were shining when he opened them, but he gave me the barest of nods. I gently rested his hand on his stomach, not wanting to leave him at all. But he’d reopened his wound and that needed to be tended to immediately.
I quickly dashed from the room and down the hall to get what I needed. When I returned to the room, he was still lying on the bed right where I’d left him. I hadn’t realized I’d been so tense until my muscles relaxed and I let out a heavy breath of relief.
I set all the things down next to him, near his hip. “I’m gonna lift your shirt to look at the wound. Okay?”
He grunted. He’d closed his eyes and turned his head away, but he was still conscious, still here with me.
I slowly drew his shirt up, pulling it off his arm so I could get the material high enough to see the wound.
There wasn’t a lot of blood, which was good, but the sight of it still made my stomach turn. I got the little medical scissors from the kit and very carefully cut into the gauze until I could peel it away from him.
I dipped the cloth in water and gently dabbed around the edges until the fresh blood was cleared away.
The scabbing had broken open, just a small, thin crack beneath the bright crimson of fresh blood. His skin was flushed, his chest moving rapidly with his shallow breaths.
The sound of his voice, so faint, made me pause. My gaze flew to his face, which was turned away, his eyes still closed. I wasn’t sure if he’d really spoken at all or if I’d just imagined it.
I went back to cleaning the area. When I heard him speak again, I knew I hadn’t imagined it.
I paused. “Am I hurting you? Are you in a lot of pain?”
I had some ginger stored away that I’d managed to grow over the summer. That might help him.
Before I could get up to get it, he whispered, “…sorry.”
“What?”
“Rain,” he rasped weakly. When he didn’t move or speak again, I thought maybe he’d passed out.
The rain? What about the rain?
And then the pieces of this jagged puzzle slipped together, knocking free a memory.
Something Dad had told me a long time ago.
That there were some people out there who carried the virus, but didn’t fully turn.
That whenever the red rains came, they would go into some kind of frenzy, like the nearness of the virus was agitating their own infection, augmenting it somehow.
Was this…was he one of those? Was he carrying the virus and this happened because it was raining?
Sorrow for him enveloped me in a cold, heavy shroud. He’d been through so much, was still going through it. I didn’t know where he’d come from or what, exactly, he’d experienced, but it was obvious that it wasn’t good.
He hadn’t had a life like mine, but…but he could have it. The strongest desire to give him that hummed through my veins, and I made a promise to his sleeping form that I would take care of him. I would give him everything he’d never had.
After I finished bandaging his shoulder, I quickly cleaned my forearm and wrapped it up.
He looked so small right now. So vulnerable. The need to protect him—even from himself—had me climbing up on the bed and lying beside him.
When his breathing evened out, I set my hand on his chest. I rested my head above his, feeling his heart beat and his chest rise and fall as he slept.
The terror in his eyes had made me feel so helpless. I wanted to protect him, to help him through whatever this was, to make him feel like he wasn’t alone. I didn’t want him to be afraid, would never forget the fear in his eyes as he tried to fight against whatever was consuming him.
I couldn’t even begin to understand what it was like to have that virus running through my veins, to be subjected to those awful symptoms every time it rained.
My fingers brushed against the metal of the chain attached to his collar, and an unfamiliar emotion swelled in my chest, something sharp and visceral that blazed through me. I’d never let the ones who did this to him near him again, and if they ever came here, I’d kill them.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, unsettled by the strength of these extreme emotions roiling inside me.
It was clear he didn’t want to be the way he was. That he was sorry for hurting me. It saddened me that he had to go through this at all.
I nudged my nose into his hair, unable to smell the soap I’d used to wash him that first day. He could use another bath, especially after that.
Maybe he’d enjoy a trip to the waterfall?
I pressed a kiss to his head. We’d go tomorrow then.
I’d let him sleep as long as he needed, and then we’d go to the river. But before that, I’d travel to the nearest town and pray I could find some copper wire.
I closed my eyes and let myself be soothed by the steady rhythm of his breathing.
I was so grateful he’d found his way here.
It finally felt like I had some kind of purpose, like I could do something that actually meant something—and that was a feeling I never wanted to lose.