Chapter 17 #2
A flash of color shot by in front of her and she reached out to touch it.
A butterfly. That was it; they were chasing butterflies that flitted from flower to flower in the grass.
Clary was laughing so hard she got the hiccups, which of course set Evelyn into raucous guffaws.
When she turned to see her folks on the porch, she was astounded to find that it wasn’t her parents.
It was her and Thomas. He had his arms around her, and they were laughing, watching their two little girls playing in the yard.
It was such a beautiful, bright summer day. Clary never wanted to leave it.
Clary woke with a start. The sound of the gun going off next to her had her sitting up, ready to run.
She pawed at her right ear and found that she could hear the rustling of her hair as she moved.
So she hadn’t been deafened. Praise God.
But there was something around her neck.
What was that? She touched it. Fabric. Soft. A bandage?
Looking around she noticed that she was somewhere strange. She was lying on a cot with a window behind her. Two curtained stands, one on either side of her, blocked her view of the rest of the room. Across from her was another cot with the same stands, but that cot wasn’t occupied.
“You’re in the clinic in Unity,” a voice said. Diane stepped into view around the curtain. “You’ve been here for a week.”
Diane walked over and gave her a glass of something. It turned out to be cold, sweet herbal tea.
“You’re very lucky, Clary,” she said as she took a seat on a stool beside the bed. “A quarter of an inch to the left and you would have been dead. The bullet that grazed you was that close to severing your carotid artery.”
Clary didn’t know what to say. She didn’t feel terribly lucky at this moment, but maybe she really was. Confused was about the only thing she could reliably admit to. “How?” she began.
“Sip the tea,” Diane said. “It’s going to help with the fog and the pain and everything else.”
Clary did as she was told.
“I’m not entirely sure how you got shot, but you’ll be happy to know that your team rescued Luke’s family. They are here in Unity and apart from some bruises, scratches, and some terrible memories, they are fine.”
Clary sighed. Yes, that was good news.
“Thomas and the others are also fine, although your sister needed several stitches in a gash on her left leg. She also needed some sedation when she arrived here, being quite hysterical over your condition.”
Clary started to sit up in consternation, but Diane pushed her back down.
“She’s fine now,” Diane continued. “She’s with Mildred continuing her … treatment, I guess we should call it.”
That was a relief. “Good,” Clary croaked out. She finished the tea. It was odd, but she was starting to feel a lot better.
A woman poked her head around the curtain and smiled. “Marylin,” Diane said. “Have you got Clary’s lunch?”
“Yes, it’s here,” Marylin said. Tall, blonde, and friendly, Marylin lived on one of the farms and took the coach regularly.
Clary smiled at the familiar woman.
“It’s good to see you up,” Marylin said as she delivered a bowl of clear broth to Clary. Smelling the food, she found that she was ravenous. Broth wasn’t going to be enough.
Eagerly she picked up the spoon and began to eat. Diane placed a hand on her wrist, slowing her down.
“Take it easy; it’s been days since you ate,” Diane said.
A couple of spoons into the meal, Clary realized why the nurse had cautioned her.
She felt sick to her stomach. However, she was determined not to lose the food and stopped eating, waiting for it to stay down.
When she continued, after a few minutes, she found it easier and the rest of the broth went down.
Diane gave her more medicine, then checked her wound and left her to rest.
It was much later when Clary woke to find Thomas sitting at her bedside. He looked terrible. He had bags under his eyes and seemed to have lost at least five pounds, which, on his lanky frame, made him seem sick and underfed.
“I’m so glad you’re awake now,” Thomas said, taking her hand in his. “I was so afraid that you would … that …”
“That I would die?” she asked with a smile.
He nodded. “I can’t take that. You’re not allowed to die.”
She chuckled. “Everyone dies, Thomas.”
“Yes, but not now. We just found each other. I have such plans and high hopes. You have to stick around for at least seventy to eighty years.”
“Planning to break a few longevity records, are we?” Clary asked.
Thomas was adamant that they should try and, considering how she didn’t want to lose him either, Clary agreed.
“How is your family?” Clary asked.
“Grateful to be here,” Thomas said. “The attack on Still Fountain went off well. They set fire to a few buildings, destroyed a few things, and then left. It was just enough to make El Aguila think we were exacting revenge or something.”
“Any retaliation on his part?” she asked.