Chapter 24
Things were all fucked without Levi.
That thought followed me as I pretended to run an extended version of a medical check on Damien, buying time until the bell tolled and the Force were sent to their next activities.
His broken, rapid breaths racked him as his panic flooded the entire Gym.
Only when everyone had moved on, Isla having told Ingrid to get Jaxon away, did I attempt to move Damien.
He assured us he could walk. He crumpled on his first attempt.
Isla and I were left to carry him between us back to our living quarters.
I assessed Damien, but I couldn’t give him any answers without access to an X-ray.
Best case, he rolled it. The joint was loose, the ligaments were unsteady, and the mobility limited compared to his good ankle.
I tested it as much as possible, causing Damien to devolve into rant-swearing.
I wish that had lasted, but Damien’s words shifted as I wrapped the ankle tightly. Dread took root.
“It’s fine. It’s fine. I just stepped wrong. I just need some meds and I’ll be fine.”
“Damien, what happened to your ankle before?” I asked. “I need to know how you injured it, how it healed.”
Damien looked to Isla, who sat beside him on the sofa, his hands in hers. “You have to tell her,” Isla said. “She should know.”
His levity and jokes were nowhere to be seen.
Something brittle and miserable huddled on the sofa.
I barely recognized him. His gaze finally met mine, eyes teeming with ancient suffering.
“We were making our way to Haven, myself and five of my cousins. We had been traveling for a month. It had been seven of us in the beginning. It was becoming harder to find resources. We had been sleeping in an abandoned barn. We always inspected the places we stayed in case there was anything we might be able to use. While I was looking, some equipment fell on my leg.” Damien took a breath, refusing to look at me.
His knuckles blanched from how tightly he held Isla’s hand.
If it hurt her she didn’t flinch. “My ankle took the brunt of the damage. It was too heavy for me to lift it on my own. I yelled for help. My cousins decided I would slow them down. One less mouth to feed, they said. They left me.”
Isla’s knuckles had gone white too as she held her partner. Anger raged through me. How could they leave him behind? How did Damien have the courage to laugh at anything? If he didn’t use humor would he always be the broken man before me? Was it all a facade to hide his pain—physical and mental?
Damien was fiercely loyal. I had always respected it.
Now I understood it. Loyal to his unit, his new family, who never left anyone behind.
Who came back as one. I wanted to ask if his cousins ever made it here.
I assumed the people they loved had all died, but perhaps he carried the weight of being estranged from someone he loved. It was a different type of grief.
“I tried to lift it, but I couldn’t. I waited, hoping someone would come by.
No one did, so…” Damien sucked in a shaky breath.
“I twisted and pulled until my ankle slipped out. I found some wooden boards. I ripped my shirt into pieces and used my belt to brace it. It’s all I had.
They took my stuff. It took me another month to get to Haven.
I went to the Ward when I first got here.
I heard about the health score so I hid my ankle.
I told them I had simply tripped getting into Haven.
I haven’t told you about what happened to it because I don’t know.
It swelled up like crazy, and I just kept going.
” Damien wiped his eyes. “Look, I’m fine, Sasha.
I just need to elevate it. Jaxon just caught it funny as he took me down.
I’m fine. I walked alone for a month to get to Haven. I can walk on it above. I’m fine.”
Maybe if he had said it enough, it would have been true. The joint was already swelling. His hands broke from Isla’s hold, grabbing mine. “Tell me I’ll be fine, please.”
All I saw was how he pushed himself to give in every way he could above when he couldn’t donate blood for Levi. Making sure he wasn’t left behind…but I couldn’t lie to him.
So Isla did. “Of course, Buddy; when aren’t you fine? You just wanted out of the House.” Isla bumped into him, supplying the humor Damien couldn’t. Her eyes met mine. There was fear of her own there. The smile painted on her beautiful face was just for show.
“I’ll go to the Ward. I’ll get some medication for the pain,” I told them, standing. I darted into our bunk room, grabbing my blanket and pack. Rumi roused, following me out. I placed the pack on the table, throwing the blanket over it before placing Damien’s ankle on it. “Keep it elevated.”
I tried to come up with something funny but couldn’t find it in me. How did Damien do it? How was he able to find humor in the mess of it all?
Rumi beckoned me away. The lingering traces of sleep disappeared.
“How bad is it this time?” she asked quietly.
“I don’t know yet. I’m going to the Ward to get medication. I’ll look for the names.” Behind her, Isla said something. Damien laughed. It sounded hollow.
“Don’t ask or share the names with anyone,” Rumi reminded me.
“Okay. If you can locate ice for Damien’s ankle, it’d be helpful.” I turned to Isla and Damien as Rumi left. “I’ll be back. Don’t move, Damien. I mean it.”
He saluted me, a grin there. It was a different kind of courage—to smile for the sake of others. Isla smiled as well. Would they drop them the moment I left? Were they partners because they didn’t have to pretend when it was just them? I yanked the door open; I didn’t look back to find out.
I entered the Ward, the movement busier than my last visit.
The guy at the front desk didn’t stop me as I moved past the queue and headed toward the charts, slipping into the stockroom for medication.
I grabbed several bottles and tucked them into my pockets before heading to where charts of the deceased were kept.
My pulse raged beneath my skin as I closed the distance.
I hadn’t been to this room since I placed Lily’s file in it.
I hesitated, my hand darting to the list of names in my pocket.
I didn’t recognize any of them. What if they weren’t dead?
What were some of the survivors up to? I could understand why someone might want to disappear from what was left of our world. I opened the door.
Files crammed every inch of the long narrow room.
Some piles reached the ceiling. Countless files—lives.
Gone. Yet they were but a fraction of what we had seen waste to in the war.
The noises of the Ward faded away as I stood paralyzed.
How many files had I placed here? How many had loved ones walking these tunnels without them?
How many more would join the masses if we failed to find the supplies?
My hand shook as I took out the piece of paper.
The names were written in block letters.
I read them three times before replacing the sheet and began my search.
I dug through the paper graves. Certain names jumped off the files, faces flashing before my eyes.
Secrets they had whispered. Many names I didn’t recognize.
I hadn’t known them—I never would. There were too many files to search through.
I would have to spend hours down here. I sifted through another pile.
I realized Rumi’s task would be impossible.
“You always loved poring over charts—usually those of the living, Death’s Angel.” A male voice spoke behind me, a man who had never used that name for me. I dropped the file I held to find Owen standing in the doorway.
Though it had only been six months, he looked older—his jaw more pronounced, his hair longer, his brown eyes more serious. Before I left the Ward, we had merely coexisted after I had successfully ripped the thing between us to shreds.
“They’re less personal,” I said, gesturing to the charts around us.
“We both know you don’t like personal.” I waited for the comment to sting, but it didn’t. He was right. He had tried to form something between us—hadn’t hid the feelings he had developed. He had been a boy then, lanky and thin. He wasn’t anymore.
“You grew up,” I said.
“As did you. You look different.” Owen placed another file into the paper cemetery. His white coat shifted.
“You’re a doctor.”
“By Haven standards, yes. Kumar gave me this soon after you left,” Owen said, fixing his coat.
“Congratulations.” His mouth pulled up, lost between a smile and a smirk, as he regarded me. “What?”
“You look well,” Owen said simply. “Maybe the Force was a good thing for you.”
I rolled my eyes, unable to stop myself.
“I heard about your walking blood bank,” Owen said venerably. I glanced at the open door behind him. “That must have been difficult for you and your unit.”
Owen was the first to acknowledge that, and I couldn’t agree with him. “We managed.”
He shook his head but didn’t move. “I never understood Kumar’s interest in training you. Especially not after how things…ended. I told him medicine needed people who cared. That you didn’t.”
I didn’t say anything. I had nothing to counter his statement. I stepped forward, ready to be done with this interaction. I didn’t need Owen to breathe more life into the things I knew about myself.
“I was wrong. You just care in a way I didn’t understand,” Owen said quietly.
“I get why he was deeply affected when you left for Expansion. Why he was so excited when you ended up in the Force as a medic. He understood you. You should hear the way he talks about your work above, even without the coat. You have always been his favorite.”
“I doubt that,” I muttered.