Chapter 16 #2
“Fenwick.” He knocks on the truck’s glass.
It lowers, and an extra-wide man appears, his eyebrows pulled together.
“Drive this poor girl to the medical unit.” The other man pulls at my door, and I flinch.
“Come on, dear, we need to get you some help. You shouldn’t be driving. Fenwick will take you.”
I nod. “Oh, um, if you could just tell me what way to go, I can get home.”
“Not happening. These woods aren’t safe. You’re lucky you made it this way.”
“Th-thank you.” I unlock the door, and the man looks down at my legs, never dropping the hold on his gun.
The safety of the vehicle gone, I limp over to the side of the truck and brace my hand on the cool metal. The chill is a small relief against the heat of the magic, enough that I almost sigh.
I climb in while they talk through the window for a moment before Fenwick starts driving us down the road.
I groan and lean back in the passenger seat, turning my head away from my escort. The trees part, and we pass a few more trucks—men perched along the rims of the beds, boots dangling over the sides. They’re all carrying guns of different sizes.
Further into camp, a few large, rectangular buildings are up on wheels, set up in rows. We pull up in front of a large one on the right side with a few lights on inside.
Fenwick doesn’t talk, but he grunts when we stop, and I take it as a note to follow him.
We climb up the stairs.
This isn’t my war.
But it’s his, and I’m not letting them take him too.
I pause on the second to last grated stair, and Fenwick turns.
“Sorry.” I grip the icy metal-tubed railing for added measure.
“Hmph.” Fenwick opens the door, and we step inside to a long space filled with medical beds, half of them filled. One man is missing a leg. I stiffen under my layers. There are long rifles next to the door, pointed up. I plant my feet to keep from running. I must hold strong.
An older woman, smaller than me, with bright blue streaks in her gray hair, comes up to Fenwick, bending around him to look at me.
I scrunch my face in pain and touch my fingers to the side of my forehead to sell it.
She gives me a look I haven’t seen since my mom, full of concern she waves at me to come forward.
“Hi, there. What’s your name?”
“Aly.”
“I’m Beatrice. If you come over to the bed, I’ll take a look at you.”
I nod and follow her over to the white cotton bed between two curtains. The man missing the leg is on the next bed to the left and I avert my eyes.
“Now, dear, you have quite the head wound.”
I look up at Beatrice as she pulls my hat out of the way. She steps away and comes back with a pack of ice wrapped in a cloth. Resting it in my hands, I hold it to my forehead.
“Put it down for just a moment. Let’s get you out of these clothes.”
I groan as she helps pull my jacket off my shoulders. It’s nothing major, but all I can feel are the flames flickering, trying to heal me. My bicep has some deep cuts, and my legs are covered with smaller gashes. She helps me lift my shirt over my head, and I cry out in agony.
“You must have had quite the fall.”
“Yeah.”
She drapes the shirt at the end of the bed. “Well, we’ll bandage you up, and you can rest here for the day.”
“You don’t need to do that. I can just get back home.” I wince.
“Nonsense.” She smiles, and I give the smallest one back.
She bandages my superficial cuts, layering them with thick gauze pads and endless wraps.
For the large cut on my arm, she pulls it together with stick-on stitches.
For the first time in my life, I’m going to have a scar.
The ice pack is now a warm liquid, but I keep it held up against the swelling on my forehead.
“I’m going to give you some anti-inflammatories, since your body is working overtime. Would you like something to eat?”
“Just a water, if you don’t mind,” I say.
Once Beatrice brings me a water, she gets busy with her other patients. I try to listen to the conversations; one has a broken arm, the other got a stick in the eye while running in the dark, and the last is the one next to me.
“How’s it going today?”
The legless man scoffs. “Be better when I can go out there to kill that beast.”
I choke, spitting my water back into the cup.
“Soon enough,” she says.
I guess even the med unit has to know what’s bringing in injured humans.
I lean back in the bed and stare at the row of guns by the door. Knowing they’re what give them the power to kill my own makes them even more intimidating. I don’t know much about them—just enough to hate the way they rest there.
Beatrice continues to check in and do her rounds.
“What is this place? A military base?” I ask.
“Somewhat. We’re here to solve a problem.”
My eyebrows raise. “What problem is that?”
“You know what, I think it’s best for one of our leaders to explain dear. Just relax and we’ll get you sorted.” Beatrice continues to be stubborn no matter how much I try to learn from her throughout the day and no one else comes in for care.
At dark, a man comes in to take over. He’s tall for a human, and lean, with an incredibly friendly face. One you’d trust to ask for help if you got lost.
“I’m Brodie,” he says.
“Aly.”
“They’re delivering dinner soon. I’m sure you’re starving.”
“Oh, thanks.” I grin back at him, and his eyes give off the smallest sparkle.
When dinner arrives, I try to eat a few things off the tray to be respectful. Brodie brings me another ice pack, and I’m grateful.
The door slams open and a woman limps in, cursing. Brodie runs over and lifts her arm over his shoulder, helping her hop over to the bed beside me.
“What happened, Gretch?”
She shakes her head. “I saw one, it spooked me, and I ran back toward camp. I tripped over a fallen tree. Think I twisted my ankle.”
Who did she see? What color were they?
“We’ll get it wrapped up.” He bends down and takes her boot off. I wish he’d ask more questions.
She looks over at me and tilts her head. “Who’s that?”
Brodie glances at me and gives a warm look.
“I’m Aly. I . . . sort of arrived this morning? I’m not exactly sure.” I shrug.
She grins. “Oh, well, I’m Gretch. It’s nice to have another girl around here.”
“I don’t know if I’m, like, sticking around here. More like passing through.”
“Not if I have anything to do with it,” she says with a wince. “Ouch. Could you go easy on me?”
“Sorry.” Brodie undoes the wrap job he started.
I need to get answers. “If you don’t mind me asking, what were you running from?”
Brodie and Gretch share a look.
“A killer beast,” says the man with a missing leg behind the curtain.
I drop my mouth open in shock. “He has to be joking. Right?” I glance at Gretch.
“No, he, um, isn’t.” She looks away from me at Brodie and bites her cheek.
I close my eyes and sink into the mattress. A killer beast didn’t kill my brother. They did.
“How banged up are you?” Gretch asks.
“Just some cuts and my head.” I remove the ice pack to show the swelling on the side of my forehead.
“Good. Come with me.” She hops up and tests her ankle, now wrapped in a bright-orange bandage.
I don’t move as I eye Brodie.
“You want to listen to her, or she’ll be dragging you along with her ankle.” He gives a small chuckle.
“Come on. You can walk, can’t ya? You can be my crutch, and I’ll give you a tour.”
“All right.” I slide my legs off the side of the bed and sit up. “If we can just make one stop for clothes . . .” I run my hand over my ripped pants and jacket that are tossed over the side chair on the opposite side of bed, bloodstains lining the arms.
“Of course. You can change in my bunk.” The curls on her shoulders bounce.
We stop at my SUV parked along the side of the building.
Someone must’ve bought it over to the med unit, and I pick up the new scuffed-up backpack with a few pine needles stuck to it.
Gretch hobbles along using my less-scathed arm for balance.
It’s damp and dark, but the place is well lit.
Lights shine down at the door of each building, creating a pooling glow below their grated metal stairs.
We pass a few rows, and I start to count.
There’s at least twenty of them, all in various sizes.
“This is the one.” She stops at the bottom of a set of stairs illuminated in the glow of a small light by the door.
“Want help to get up?”
“I got it.” She uses the gray railing as a guide, letting her left leg touch each step for only a split second.
Right inside the door is a small couch along the wall, and a low table in front of it. To the left, she leads me down a mini hallway to a door at the end. “This is me. I get my own unit since there’s only so many of us girls out here.” She pushes her door open and moves aside so I can see.
“It’s cute.” The space contains a small bunk bed tucked into the corner, a large pile of clothes stacked on the chair, and a collection of small woodsy trinkets on the nightstand. The white walls are bare and rough textured. Nothing about this is cute. It’s a war camp, and it lacks any emotion.
“It’s all I got. You change, then we’ll go meet a few people. I need to go report what happened still.”
The door clicks shut behind her, and I unzip my bag. I grab my new fleece pants to pull over the thick bandages, then add a loose long-sleeve T-shirt before topping it with my sliced-up winter coat. I roll my shoulders back, thankful I never need to wear layers. It’s like I’m drowning in fabric.
Before I go back out there, I take a deep breath and prepare to play my role again. Gretch is just the thing I needed.
Gretch stands there, leaning against the wall with a gun strapped over her torso. I freeze where I am and watch her. She can’t suspect, can she?
“Aly?” she asks.
I force my lungs to take air and answer, “Yeah?”
“We should go.”
I tip my head and take her open arm, avoiding any contact with the gun.