ESCAPE #2
Rythar collapses, hands and knees in the mud.
Footsteps are coming behind me, but I don’t look.
I drop beside Rythar and rip open the medkit, hands already moving.
I cinch a strip of fabric tight around his arm, just above the wound, just firm enough to slow lymphatic spread.
“Don’t move,” I warn, already reaching for the antivenom.
I inject two of the tiny vials fast, giving him a double dose because of his size.
I press hard afterward, counting under my breath as the serum disappears into his system.
Broad-spectrum antivenom. It doesn’t cure.
It buys time. A real counteragent has to be built against the exact venom, and that takes a lab.
“Get your Xythean medicine,” I order.
Rythar groans. His bared teeth show white in the night. He grabs my wrist with his good hand, squeezing until I gasp. Beads of sweat are already forming in large droplets all across his forehead.
“There is no cure,” he rasps. “Too late. Shouldn’t have let you get beyond the shield.” His jaw locks in fury. His skin darkens beneath my hands. The black lines spread.
"You knew I ran," I say. I was never going to get away. They let me do this. Let me think I was free. My hands shake as I squeeze the wound to drain the venom. “You knew.”
He jerks, the muscles in his neck standing out. His breathing slows.
I hold on, desperate, clutching his bleeding arm and praying the antivenom from the kit is compatible with his alien biology. The wound keeps bubbling, black and yellow, and Rythar shakes through his whole frame, but his eyes stay on me.
The guards circle us at a careful distance, weapons drawn and pointed toward the jungle. They let me go. They let him come after me. They let this happen.
“Water,” I shout at Drenz. My voice cracks, but Drenz tosses a canteen from ten yards. I catch it and rinse Rythar’s wound, washing away the worst of the blood and venom.
“Don’t touch it,” Rythar rasps. But he doesn’t pull away. His whole body is trembling, damp with sweat.
“You should lie down,” I tell him, pushing him back.
“No. Not dead yet,” he grunts. He sits.
I climb into his lap, straddling him so I can brace his arm against my chest and keep pressure on the wound. The moment my body settles against his, he exhales like the world has narrowed to this.
He drops his head to my shoulder. His lips find the curve of my neck.
I feel his breath shudder over my skin. It’s desperate, a drowning man clutching something solid.
My antivenom should have worked better than this already, but Rythar is not human, and this venom may not be exactly the same as Hushbite.
It shouldn’t be the same at all.
“Get your healing tech. Rythar has been envenomed,” I call to Drenz. “He needs help. Now.”
No one moves.
One guard shifts, looking to Drenz. Another tightens his grip on his weapon.
They are waiting for Rythar’s command. Even dying, he still terrifies them.
And I’ve been pissing him off since he pulled me off that platform. And now I’m saving his life.
I gave him the antivenom on reflex. I'd do it again on purpose. That doesn't change what he is. He’s still the alien who says he'll never let me go.
“Tell them to get your healing tech,” I order him.
“No,” Rythar pants. “Should die… in the jungle.” His hand tightens in the mud.
“I won’t leave you. If you won’t get healed, more of those things will come, and they’ll get me,” I say, trying to convince him.
"Leave," Rythar rasps. "Finally… obey… something."
Drenz stands there, grim and waiting. “If there are more, we won’t let them reach you. There shouldn’t have been any. They’re not wild on Xytheos. Blood will be drawn for this attack. Someone released this one into the Reach. Probably someone envious of Rythar’s mate match.”
Someone I could end up with next. Someone even worse than Rythar. “Rythar isn’t dead yet,” I snarl. “Get your best healers and your best medical equipment.”
Drenz gives a small shake of his head. “We have no cure for serpent-panther venom.”
“Why not?” I shout. “You can cure everything else! I saw you do it! Just try!”
He looks away. “Our cures make the venom kill more quickly. Rythar would die instantly if we used the device. It is in the design.”
Years of biowarfare experience help me put it together fast. It’s a clever venom, designed with a trap to kill faster if the victim is treated with Xythean cures. We put together a cure on New Terra, and here Xytheos sits with their advanced tech and allows people to die needlessly?
No.
Fury chokes my voice as I yell at Drenz.
“Listen. I’ve seen this before. We fought it on New Terra.
I already gave him a general antivenom. But I need to synthesize the exact counteragent.
Something that will work with your alien genetics.
Bring him back to the fortress and give me the equipment. And bring samples of the venom.”
“Rythar will die in the jungle from this wound,” Drenz says solemnly.
“Then why isn’t he dead already?” I hiss. “Because my medicine bought him time. He needs the real counteragent. I have to make it for him. Now. Get us to where I can help him instead of watching him die!”
They look to each other, but no one speaks against me. Finally, they look to Drenz.
The Ex O doesn’t even argue. He looks to Rythar first. Rythar cannot lift his head.
I check his pulse. Thready. His hand finds my thigh, grips it hard. He can’t speak, but he tries.
"Move him," I order. "Take him into the fortress before something else attacks us." I don't abandon the dying. Not even him.
The Ex O gives a sharp hand signal. Three guards approach cautiously and help Rythar to his feet.
I’m on my way back to the fortress. Back to the life I never chose. My escape attempt is over, and the warlord who locked me in may die before we reach it.