Chapter 18 Emery
EMERY
Everyone reconvenes in the valley where the countdown took place. The bodies have been moved, as is evident by the thick blood trails streaking the snow that lead down into the bunker. The carnage of what happened here still remains—bodies or no bodies.
My nostrils flare at the metallic sting in the air. It’s fresh from the snow, preserved with the cold.
Drill Sergeant Adams stands where he did the day prior, hands clasped behind his back.
His eyes are so callous and indifferent to the harrowing fact that there are only half of us left.
He congratulates those of us who made it as we wearily walk by, following the soldiers’ orders to head into the underground barracks.
Many of the cadets who’ve made it are bleeding in one way or another.
A group of three can hardly walk; their boots are frozen and ice covers halfway up their pant legs.
They must’ve crossed the stream like the other two did.
I’m glad we didn’t enter the icy grave. Who’s to say how long they’ll last in whatever trial waits for us next.
Bree and Damian are walking a few people ahead of us. She glances back once or twice, curiosity glinting in her eyes. I wonder if she’s considering teaming up with us. I wouldn’t be opposed to working with her and Damian, though I’m too tired to think too much about it at the moment.
We’re marched down a long hallway that descends gradually until I’m sure we’re twenty feet below the surface.
My lungs fill with the warm air, and comfort seeps into my bones as we pass by the barracks.
It’s identical to the Under—every bed placement, the layout of the room, and the communal bathroom in the back.
Everything down to the flickering luminescent lights that I’ve already grown accustomed to.
Cameron and I head to the infirmary, where there are already a handful of people who are trying to patch themselves up and aren’t succeeding.
I’m not sure what disgusts me more, the savagery of the trials, or the way the friendships and alliances have been severed, leaving the wounded to fend for themselves.
Cameron must see my desire to offer help because he mutters, “Tend to them first, I’ll wait. I’m not in pain.”
“Are you sure?” I ask, letting my eyes search for the worst wounded first. Cameron grins and nods as he leans against the wall.
I’m able to quickly help those that need it the most. It only takes a matter of fifteen minutes, but it feels like an hour has passed before I get the last person patched and sent to the barracks to rest.
Cameron finally pushes off the wall and sits down on the edge of the table.
“Thanks for waiting,” I mumble wearily, grabbing a roll of gauze and disinfectant. Sutures are already prepped in the tray.
Cameron sets his hand on my shoulder, urging my eyes up to his.
“You’re a kind person,” he murmurs.
I force my eyes away and walk behind him to remove the knife. “I’m here for a reason, remember? I’m not a saint,” I remind him. His vest is just an inch away from the puncture, so I’m able to get by with just cutting the fabric of his undershirt.
“Besides the fact that you’re a monster like me, you at least show kindness to others when they need it.
It’s more than I can credit to anyone else down here,” he says softly.
My hands pause at his words before I resume cutting his shirt and prepping the wound.
I grab the disinfectant in one hand and fist the hilt of the blade in the other.
He claims that he can’t feel the pain, but it doesn’t make this any less distressing for me knowing what his body is going through.
“Ready?” I ask anyway.
He nods.
I use all my strength and tear out the knife. His body convulses—involuntarily I’m assuming—and he grips the side of the table to steady himself. Blood gushes out and soaks his entire side down to the table where his hand is braced.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, knowing he took this injury so I didn’t have to. My stomach twists as I pour the disinfectant over the gash. His muscles flex, encouraging another wave of blood before I gather the handful of gauze on the tray and press it down as hard as I can.
I wish there was more I could do for him, but I’m not trained in medical procedures. All I know are quick fixes. He’s lucky this was far enough to the side that it avoided all major organs and only went through muscle.
“Will they check our wounds professionally after the trials?” I ask, removing the blood-soaked gauze and pressing another thick bundle of it to the wound.
“Yeah, they give us a few weeks to recover too. You’d be surprised at how different things are on the other side.”
His breaths are uneven, proving that his body is responding correctly to the pain, but his mind is disconnected from it.
I have to admit, it’s a clever study. Medication that can do this could potentially create an unbeatable army.
The soldiers’ minds would be harder to break, that’s for certain—especially in torture situations.
But that’s only if they can stop the pills from killing their soldiers.
What would something like this do if it got out into the world? I’m sullen at the thought.
Cameron lets his head drop to steady his breathing. I smooth a hand over the back of his neck to check if he’s clammy from the blood loss. He recoils at my touch and stiffens.
“Sorry, I was just—”
“No. It was…nice.” He sounds tired.
I remove the gauze and am relieved to see that the bleeding has slowed.
It’s impossible to tell if there’s irrevocable interior damage since he can’t feel it.
I finish patching him up to the best of my ability and place a waterproof bandage over the gauze so he can shower.
God knows we both could use one. I’m hoping since we were in the infirmary for so long that the showers will be vacant by now.
It has to be pushing past two a.m. already.
“All done,” I say, shifting off the table and walking to his front. He lifts his head and wipes his sleeve under his nose. Maroonish-black liquid smears there. It’s even darker than it was before.
The worry on my face must be obvious. Cameron offers a small grin.
“I’m fine. It’ll take a lot more than being stabbed to kill me,” he murmurs, eyes flicking back to my sliced ear.
It’s such a small injury compared to his.
I don’t know why he keeps looking at it like it’s the worst thing he’s ever seen.
A few sutures and it’ll be fine until we can get out of here.
I rinse my hands in the sink, staring down at the red-stained skin and nails.
“You’re always fine, Cameron,” I whisper somberly, and it breaks my heart that he believes it.
I almost melt into a puddle of happiness when warm water comes out of the showerhead. It’s been weeks since I’ve known what a hot shower feels like. It’s a luxury I wasn’t expecting after the cruelties of the Under.
A breath escapes my lips as I rinse the dirt and blood from my skin. Dirty water coils into the drains as I scrub every inch of my body from head to toe. It’s quiet for the most part, only soft weeping and the sound of water splashing against the tiles from the few others that are still in here.
Most of the cadets are already in their beds, tucked away and snoring, sleeping off pain meds and preparing for the next trial that starts tomorrow at sundown.
The only thing I want right now is a hot meal and sleep.
I finish my shower and walk across the room to the benches to gather my fresh set of clothes. The clothing and uniforms from the first trial were collected in a bin and are currently burning outside.
Cameron sits on the wooden bench, leaning his back against the wall. His eyes flick to mine.
“You should be sleeping,” I whisper. He finished rinsing off ten minutes ago, so why didn’t he just go to our cot? Well, I suppose there are enough beds now so we don’t exactly need to share one anymore, but I’m secretly hoping that we still will.
He doesn’t respond. Cameron just closes his eyes and rests his head back.
I swallow the knot in my throat and ignore his presence as I braid my hair and brush my teeth.
I refuse to look at myself in the full wall mirror at the end of the bathroom.
I don’t want to know how badly I’m bruised and injured.
Fingertips glide down the side of my neck, startling me and pulling my gaze up from the sink. Cameron tucks a stray strand of hair into one of the loops in my braid.
“Pink suits you. Have I told you that?” he murmurs as his eyes trace my features.
I take a deep breath. I’m weak to his gravity, this close, we’re sure to collide. I notice his arm hanging limply on his wounded side. Worry trickles through me. “Cameron…your arm.”
He forces a tight smile. “Nothing we can do about it right now, love. It will probably be better in the morning, so let’s get some sleep while we can.”
I try not to let the invading thoughts of his wounded shoulder cloud my mind as I follow him to the cots.
We share an uncertain look, then he nods his head for me to come to his bed.
I do, quickly and with little thought, wanting to be close to him.
I curl up shamelessly into his chest. His warmth spreads through me, enticing me to shut my eyes.
I must fall asleep at some point because I wake to him quickly getting out of the bed and running to the bathroom.
I slip chasing after him, not feeling the pain of the cement on my knee because of the adrenaline furiously pumping through my veins.
When I reach the edge of the bathroom, the sound of Cameron vomiting his guts out hits me.
My legs tremble as I glance down at the ground.
In the dim lighting, there’s a small trail of blood that leads to where he is now, bent over a toilet like an ill child.
Proof that he’s suffering.
Proof that he’s a person.
My knees softly hit the ground beside him. “Cameron, what’s happening?” My voice is weak and twisted with fear.
His body shudders as he expels more dark liquid before toppling to his side.
“Cameron!” I gather him in my arms. His body is heavy, and fear surges through me at the thought of having to try to carry him out of here.
Cameron’s eyes are barely open but he grins, teeth stained a dark, pomegranate red. My heart dashes over a beat. I look at the toilet and see same dark liquid is all over the bowl.
Tears form in my eyes. “Where are your pills, Cam? Will they help?” I smooth his hair back and try to keep him awake. His head drops into my arms, and he is unresponsive.
I swallow the dread and negative thoughts that are screaming that he’s going to die and drag him across the tiles until he’s under a showerhead. I turn it on and let the hot water crash over his body.
Please be okay. Please.
His eyes fly open and he takes a few erratic breaths.
“Emery?” he croaks.
Tears race down my cheeks, hidden by the shower. “I thought you were going to die,” I say with a whimper. His eyes soften before he lets them close.
“This has never happened to me before,” he whispers so quietly I almost don’t catch it. His expression twists and a groan vibrates deep in his chest.
“Are you okay? Tell me what to do and I’ll do it.” I stand to go retrieve his pills.
He catches my arm and guides me back down into the stream of water. We stare at each other. “It’s part of the stimulants. General Nolan warned me that this could happen.”
Anger wells up within me. “And you readily agreed to it?” I’m aware of how upset I sound, because I am upset. Though I don’t know why. It’s not my business what he does with his body, but the idea of him hurting like this… I grit my teeth and force my eyes away. I stand and take a few steps back.
“Emery, wait.” He groans as he sits up.
“I can’t watch this, Cameron.”
“Watch what? I told you I’m not in pain—”
“Just stop!” I shout, throwing my hands in the air. “I can’t watch a human being go through what you’re doing to your body. It’s…painful for me to see. It hurts to watch you not hurt.” I force my eyes away and start walking again.
He catches me by the wrist before I reach the doors. I stop but don’t turn to look at him. His wheezy breaths make me clench my jaw. We stand here for many moments, frozen as we wait for words to find us in the dark.
“Why does it hurt you?” he asks, his voice so genuinely curious that it stings. It’s as if he thinks it’s so odd that someone could actually be concerned for him.
“Because I care about you.” The words fall from my mouth and taste like salt.
His grip tightens on my wrist before he lets go. My hand falls to my side, but I don’t move. I listen as he closes the distance between us. He’s so close that I can feel his body heat radiating like hot coals on my back.
“Don’t ever say that again.” His cold tone makes me flinch. “I’ll tear you apart if you do.” He traces a finger down my spine, chills erupting down the path of his finger. “Do. You. Understand?”
My jaw trembles. He’s so unpredictable and self-destructive. “I don’t. I don’t understand, Cameron. Why can’t you—”
He shoves me forward, nearly sending me to the ground. I catch myself and straighten, whirling to look at him. His hand is around my throat in a heartbeat, backing me against the cold wall.
I struggle, but it’s futile. His grip is stone. His eyes are lifeless.
“I am incapable of it,” he says dangerously, slowly, a breath away from my lips. Incapable of feeling? Emotions? Of believing others can spare sympathy for him?
My throat burns as if I’ve consumed acid. “Liar.”
His face contorts with rage, and he shakes his head as if chasing away wicked thoughts. “I won’t tell you again.” His voice quivers with emotion, making his accent heavier. Cameron stares into my eyes for a beat before he loosens his grip and walks out of the shower room.
I crumble to the ground and fist my hands against the hard tiles.
Fuck you too, Mori.