Chapter 13 #2
“We need trauma care, and none of us qualify,” Patrick chimed in, playing with the cross on his chest. “We think we’re close to finding the cache.”
“We don’t know that,” Ingrid countered heavily.
“Why else set traps if not to protect the supplies? It’s the most logical conclusion,” Patrick said, dropping his necklace. “I wish we knew why though.”
“I still believe they left them so we could start over and get it right this time,” Isla said.
“They wanted to control who got them. Ensure they didn’t fall into the wrong hands. Whoever conforms to their game and survives their traps first gets them,” Rumi muttered. “It’s not about right or wrong. It’s about power and control.”
Ingrid shook her head. “That’s morbid.”
“I refuse to look at it that way. That would mean whoever did all this planned for the war to end like it did,” Isla exclaimed. “What kind of person would do that?”
“Please. I can’t handle another moral Armageddon debate this hungover,” Damien said, sinking into his chair. “Carry on, Hayes.”
Tristian explained the map, tracing the territory above they had already searched and the ten outposts scattered throughout the land. He pointed at the numerous X’s across the map, where their searches had come up empty. He outlined the territory where we would have access to our technology.
“These dots are Units Five”—he pointed at the seven dots clustered at Outpost Three—“and Twelve.” Eight dots were at Outpost One.
“We’ll take this route,” Tristian said, tracing the path.
“At a normal pace it’s a three-day trek to Outpost Three.
When we reach Three”—the others shifted around me, coming to attention—“we’ll venture into the Abyss as a unit before breaking into pairs.
Henderson confirmed that he registered a significant radiation drop a few miles’ trek from the borderline before the last incoming storm caused him to abandon the mission. ”
“Abyss?” I asked.
“Any area outside of this map is referred to as the Abyss,” Levi said. “We have little to no technology or information of the landscape postwar the moment we cross that border. We’ll be going in blind.”
“I like to call it the land of the booby traps, personally. I got outvoted,” Damien added, attempting levity.
“Kaleo is supposed to send someone to check if he can get the same read as Henderson,” Tristian told the group. “We should pass them in the field. Hopefully, he can confirm.”
Damien snorted. “Like he’s going to give us that information. He’s still treating it like a game.”
“We don’t have long before pandemonium is at our doorstep,” Ingrid said. “There are rumblings in the Kitchens about supplies. Those on stock duty are starting to talk. The Kitchens leader is trying to keep it under wraps, but Bretta said there are rumors of theft.”
Tristian exhaled loudly. “The Kitchens and the Ward were bound to be the first to catch on. Dr. Kumar informed me that doctors are becoming aware, denying care and providing more severe health scores to preserve medication.”
My chest twisted with something ugly and vicious at the injustice.
Levi pulled in his chair, the noise filling the room until he faced me. “Any questions, partner?”
The helplessness that had plagued me as I fought to keep my siblings alive lurked like a disease. I had a hundred questions, none of which they could answer.
Levi held my gaze. He had given me the same look when he offered me that first coffee. I had already destroyed my soul getting to this moment. Whatever was left I could give to this, to them, to Haven.
You have to survive now, little flower.
“So we succeed or we die?” I asked the room, my heart finding a steady rhythm.
“We succeed or everyone dies,” Tristian said.
“No pressure,” Patrick shot dryly.
Damien smiled widely. “Oh, that’s definitely the mission name. Mission Succeed, Or Everyone Dies.”
“I thought we agreed we aren’t naming missions anymore,” Patrick retorted, crossing his arms.
“No, you tried to do that because you’re horrible at naming them. Meaningless numbers don’t do it for me. Missions should have names,” Damien responded.
Tristian shook his head, smiling despite the imminent doom.
“Name it whatever you want, Buddy. We have two days. The twenty-four bells leading up to the mission you have off. Rest up, eat, see the people you need to see. No bars, no booze, no fighting. We’ll depart at the seventh bell,” Tristian finished, dismissing everyone.
“Oh, and after this mission, Cadell gets a call sign,” Damien said. Ingrid strode to the door, gone before some of the unit even stood up. Perhaps she was running back to the Kitchens.
Patrick and Isla began talking, a formality to their bodies as if their exchange this morning had never happened. Damien stretched, heading to the door.
“Where you off to?” Levi asked, lingering next to me.
“In search of something to ease the impending extinction,” Damien said before heading out.
Rumi was not far behind him, having not uttered a word. I stared at the map where eight dots now clustered by the edge. Her gaze had been fixed on those dots, I realized. Unit Five.
Patrick and Isla drew close, their conversation drifting over to me.
“Right, I have double-checked supplies,” Isla said, a seriousness to her I hadn’t seen before. “Everything is ready. Henderson left notes of the provision items. He upped the oxygen tanks and food for his restock. What’s the read on the weather?”
As they exited, Patrick responded, “There’s nothing on the radar as of now. I’m heading to get a full report. We should have clear…” His words trailed away.
“Cadell, can I have a word?” Tristian asked.
“Sure,” I muttered.
“I’ll wait in the Gym,” Levi said on his way out. The door shut behind his retreating back.
I was alone with Tristian, the air heavy between us. My mind instantly skipped off to the feel of his hand on my neck. I flushed.
“How’s your cheek?” he asked, leaning against the table as he crossed his boots.
It was swollen and painful. “It’s fine, just a bruise,” I told him, brushing away his concern. “Did you ask me to stay to see if my cheek was okay?”
“No. I also wanted to confirm you had no other injuries you needed checked out before we depart. It’ll be strenuous above; if something else is injured, I need to know.”
“Only body soreness and the bruise. Do you need something else?”
His eyes snagged on the base of my throat. I was suddenly too warm. “Two things. About last night.”
“You were drunk,” I interrupted quickly, my pulse fluttering. I didn’t want to discuss this.
“I wasn’t drunk enough to excuse—”
“The other thing?” I asked, my face hot.
He didn’t allow me to shut him out. “I am sorry for my actions last night. It was unprofessional. As your commander I shouldn’t have. With us about to go above, I don’t want to”—Tristian shifted his weight—“I wanted to apologize and confirm I hadn’t offended you.”
“It was nothing. Consider it forgotten,” I lied, unable to meet the eyes that sought mine.
“Right, nothing.” Tristian cleared his throat and pushed off the table, where a medical bag lay open.
“This is the medical aid bag we usually carry. Dr. Kumar assessed it and made the necessary changes. I wanted you to look it over and confirm you’re happy with it.
I can arrange for other items you deem necessary. ”
I walked over hesitantly. The bag was stuffed with aid that other patients wouldn’t get. But if the unit failed, then countless more would suffer. I shuffled through the supplies.
“There are more doses of antibiotics in this bag for seven people than I was given access to the entire time I was in the Ward,” I muttered.
I sifted through the varying gauzes and bandages.
There were multiple tourniquets, rip shears, wraps.
Precious items in the Hospital Ward. I could hear my father running through his stock in our basement as he drilled MARCH into me, quizzing me until I could recite it in my sleep: massive hemorrhage, airway, respiration, circulation, and hypothermia prevention.
I had never needed them until Eli had been stabbed, and then the knowledge had been fucking worthless.
In the time it took me to eliminate the man, Eli had ripped the knife out unknowingly.
Even if he hadn’t, there had been no saving him.
It had taken seconds to know the knife had severed an artery, seconds to understand that nothing I knew could stop him from bleeding out.
Medically, I knew. Emotionally…I was still waiting for the acceptance.
“Dr. Kumar said he was thorough and put in the suture needles you preferred, but advised stabilizing and returning over infield wound care. He is expecting you tomorrow morning to go over a few refreshers. He’s cleared his schedule.
You have two twelve-bell sessions. Also, you need to memorize the bag. I’ve pulled you from all other duties.”
I took out a sheet with everyone’s names and blood types.
“You need to memorize that as well,” Tristian said.
I was at the top of the list. It felt fitting with my O negative that I could give to everyone, but I could receive from no one in the unit.
“Great to know blood types but I don’t see a warmer for blood,” I said.
I reread the list. Isla, Tristian, Levi, and Rumi were A positive.
Patrick was O positive. Ingrid was AB positive.
Damien was B negative, making me the only suitable donor for him.
I worked through scenarios, understanding that if Damien or I were to need blood far from Haven, there was only so much that could be done.
“The Ward doesn’t have warmers to lend, but Kumar is going to show you how to execute a walking blood bank.”
We stood in an uncomfortable silence, pressing in on my skin.
“Do you want help going through it?” Tristian asked.
“No, thanks.”
“All right. The bag is yours. Most of us are well acquainted with it, but we will need to refresh as well. You can go through it here or bring it back to our living quarters. Ask Levi to lock the room up when you finish.”
Tristian took something out of his bag. “Dr. Kumar gave this to me. Told me he thought you would want it back.”
My brows pulled in as Tristian placed a wrapped bundle gently in my hand.
“It’s sharp,” Tristian warned. My heart beat harder as I carefully unwrapped my father’s knife; it was freshly cleaned. “He pulled it from a patient’s thigh. He recognized it immediately.”
I swallowed thickly, too many emotions tumbling beneath.
“It’s a military knife,” Tristian stated.
My thumb ran over the EC engraved on the handle. “It is.” I couldn’t elaborate—couldn’t discuss it.
“Right. See you tomorrow.” Tristian paused at the exit. “And Sasha…thank you.”
“For what? I haven’t done anything yet.”
“You have.”
I shook my head. “It’s nothing, Hayes.”
“It’s never been nothing.”