Chapter 7 #3
The tears came faster and I let them, let them fall for this male who'd given everything, let them fall for the injustice of what had been done to him, let them fall because if there was ever a time to break my own rules and let the carefully constructed walls crumble, it was here. It was now. It was for him.
His eyes started to close, but there was something on his face that might have been peace.
"Hold on," I whispered, my other hand finding his, gripping tight, my fingers slippery with his blood. "Just hold on. I've got you. You saved me. Now let me save you."
The ship accelerated, breaking atmosphere, leaving Merisalle behind.
"Binwee!" The scream tore from my throat, raw and desperate, my voice cracking on her name. "I need help. Now."
The ship lurched as the autopilot engaged. Footsteps pounded through the corridor, faster than I'd ever heard Binwee move. She burst through the doorway, eyes widening at the sight of Enslak's massive form sprawled across the floor, blood spreading in that terrible, widening pool.
In her hands she held something that looked like an oversized cell phone, sleek and glowing with soft blue light.
"Move back," she said, dropping to her knees beside him. Her voice was steady. Professional. The voice of someone who'd seen this kind of hell and knew exactly what to do.
I shifted but didn't let go of his hand.
Binwee ran the device over his chest, over the bolt wounds that still smoked and bled.
The blue light flared brighter as she worked, scanning methodically across his chest, down his abdomen, over his shoulders.
Soft chirps and beeps emanated from the device, a language I didn't speak but desperately needed to understand.
She moved with practiced efficiency, and I watched the bleeding slow.
Not stop completely, but enough that the pool wasn't spreading quite so fast anymore.
The wounds still looked catastrophic, still raw and smoking, but something in the rhythm of her movements told me she knew what she was doing.
"What is that?" I asked, my voice hoarse from screaming.
"Medi-unit. Emergency grade." She continued scanning, her movements precise and sure. "It won't heal him, not injuries like this, but it'll keep him stable. Keep him alive."
"Until when?"
"Until we reach the Bardaga." She glanced up at me, and something in her expression softened. "They have proper medical facilities. A Garoot Healer. Everything he needs."
I looked down at Enslak's face. His eyes were closed now. His breathing was shallow but steady. The medi-unit hummed softly as Binwee made another pass over his wounds.
"How long?" I whispered.
"Six hours. Maybe seven." Binwee sat back on her heels, studying the readouts on her device. "He'll make it. He's strong. Stronger than anyone I've ever seen."
The tears kept falling, but something loosened in my chest.
Six hours. Seven hours. He could survive that. He would survive that.
Binwee reached out and squeezed my shoulder.
"You did good, Niki. You got him out."
I shook my head. "He saved me. He—"
"You saved each other." Her voice was firm. "That's what matters."
She stood, checking the medi-unit's readings one last time.
"I'm heading back to the cockpit. The unit will monitor him automatically. If anything changes, it'll alert me. You stay with him."
I nodded, unable to speak past the lump in my throat.
Binwee paused at the doorway. "For what it's worth? I think he knew exactly what he was doing."
Then she was gone, and it was just me and Enslak again.
I sat beside him, holding his hand, watching the medi-unit's soft glow pulse against his skin. His breathing stayed steady. The pool of blood had stopped spreading, finally, mercifully stopped.
And suddenly I wasn't on a ship anymore.
I was in an alley in Chinatown, nineteen years old, kneeling on wet pavement that reeked of garbage and rain and copper.
Danny's blood had pooled just like this, spreading in the same slow, inexorable way, like it had all the time in the world, like it didn't matter that every drop meant he was dying.
I'd held his hand then too. I'd begged him to hold on, promised him help was coming, that he'd be okay, that everything would be fine.
I'd lied.
He'd known I was lying. I could see it in his eyes, the way they'd gone distant and glassy, the way his grip had weakened until his fingers slipped through mine.
No.
I squeezed Enslak's hand harder, felt the warmth of his skin and the faint pulse at his wrist.
This wasn't the same.
But the blood looked the same. The smell was the same. And the cold, creeping terror that wrapped around my lungs and squeezed was exactly the same.
"You're going to be okay," I told him, even though I wasn't sure I believed it, even though the sheer amount of blood was terrifying. "You're going to be okay because I won't let you die. You hear me? I won't let you die. You're going to be okay. You're going to see your family again."
His hand tightened slightly around mine, just a fraction, just enough to let me know he heard me, just enough to let me know he was still fighting.
I squeezed back, wanting him to know I was still here.