14. Bertram
Bertram
Bertram didn’t know why he was so worried about Helena.
He hated that he was. He supposed it could simply be compassion for a fellow Person, one more delicate and vulnerable than he was.
But the searing protectiveness seemed like more than that.
Bertram assuaged himself by chalking it up to old habits.
He had spent so many years as Helena’s protector.
It made sense that instinct would kick in in moments like these.
Whatever he wanted to blame the feeling on, it was there. As Bertram and Jennie tore through the woods, his discomfort increased the further he got from Helena. He slowed his movements until he was within earshot of Helena’s frantic footsteps as she raced down the mountain.
“Slow down,” Bertram yelled. “Don’t hurt yourself.”
“I’m fine!” Helena screamed back. “Keep going!”
He did, but not so fast as to keep him from tracking Helena’s position. No way was he going to lose a small (mostly) human in a snowstorm in the dark of night.
When he saw Helena at the crest of the hill, nodding her encouragement, Bertram sprinted the rest of the way down, emerging from the forest and onto the 394.
Beyond the flurry of snow, he could just make out Jennie standing in the road over a massive, dark figure on the ground.
“Fuck,” Bertram said softly.
Part of him wanted to run to his mother’s side, to get whatever horrible sight awaited him over with. Part of him wanted to freeze, to stay in this moment where there was some chance, some slim hope that the worst didn’t occur.
Bertram split the difference, walking slowly toward where his mother now crouched in the road. Jennie set her lantern down, illuminating the pool of dark blood around her.
Before her was the owl-bear, V-1.
Even at first glance, it was clear that V-1 had a broken wing, at a much more severe angle than an old injury, and at least one broken leg.
Worse was her ragged breathing and utter, horrible stillness, except for the clenching and unclenching of her back talons.
Her eyes were narrowed and her beak open, as though gasping for air.
“What is it? Is it her? Is it her?” Helena’s voice was high and strained as she burst through the trees.
Bertram nodded, unable to muster the words.
“No. No!” Helena shrieked and ran ahead of Bertram to Jennie’s side.
Part of him wanted to stop her, to shield her from whatever horrible sight lay ahead. But he knew that would only be delaying the inevitable. They would all have to face the truth of the situation—whatever that may be.
If there was any hope of things turning out well, Helena’s training as a doctor might be more beneficial than Bertram’s field experience.
So instead of stopping Helena, Bertram followed her.
“It must have been a magically enhanced cargo truck,” Jennie said, “to barrel into an owl-bear like this and keep going.”
“Who the fuck hits an owl-bear and just drives away?” Bertram asks.
Helena knelt beside Jennie, assessing the owl-bear with a frenzied mix of clinical efficacy and gut-wrenching emotion.
“If her beak functions like a bird’s, it’s a really bad sign that she’s breathing through her open mouth like that.” Helena’s voice was tight with panic. “She has a lot of broken bones. But she—she can’t breathe; I can tell she can’t breathe!”
Bertram’s heart broke as Helena began gasping as if she, too, could not breathe.
“I don’t think—I don’t think she can be fixed.” Helena’s eyes filled with tears.
“I don’t think so either,” Jennie said quietly.
“I—should I go back to basecamp?” Helena asked.
“I think—I think I have some drugs in my med kit that could—I could put her out of her pain now and justify myself to the Ethics Committee later. I don’t care.
They can arrest me, even; I just don’t want her to be hurting.
” Tears streamed freely down Helena’s face.
“I just don’t know how much would be required—what if I don’t give her enough and she reacts badly and I put her through more pain? ”
Helena got to her feet and grabbed her hair in her hands, tugging.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Helena cried. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do!”
“I don’t think there’s anything we can do,” Bertram said, quietly. He stepped closer to Helena, putting his hand on her lower back.
Helena automatically leaned into him and rested her head against his side.
Bertram’s heart lurched in his chest.
In that moment, he would give anything to take her heartache away. But he knew it was a heartache that needed to be felt—by all of them.
“I don’t mind dead animals,” Helena said. “Once they’re dead, I’m fine. I just can’t handle when animals are dying. I can’t handle when they’re in pain and I can’t help them.”
“I think she’s beyond pain now,” Jennie said. She put her hand on the owl-bear’s side, searching for the rise and fall of her great chest.
There was nothing.
Jennie stroked the owl-bear’s head, letting her hand linger in front of her beak.
Bertram felt Helena hold her breath.
Then Jennie nodded, solemnly. “She’s gone.”