15. Helena
Helena
Helena heard someone let out a large, wailing shriek.
She was surprised when she realized that it was her.
“Her—her—” Helena stuttered as tears streamed down her face. “Her egg. If she has an egg . . .”
Bertram nodded curtly. He knelt next to Jennie and pressed all around on V-1’s massive abdomen. At a certain spot on her lower midsection, Bertram stopped. He brought both hands around, squeezing. Then he sat back on his heels.
“Don’t look,” Bertram muttered to Helena.
“I’m a medical doctor; I’m not squeamish, B-Bertram.”
“It’s not about being squeamish,” Bertram muttered. “It’s about me.”
“What?” Helena asked.
Bertram blushed a darker green. “My . . . teeth . . .”
“What are you t-talking about?” Helena asked.
Bertram glowered. “Never mind. We don’t have time for this.”
“No, we d-don’t,” Helena stuttered out. She wasn’t squeamish, but she was increasingly cold. The snow coat could only do so much as the blizzard picked up. “Do whatever you need t-to.”
Bertram glowered but nodded curtly. He opened his mouth and sank his vampiric upper fangs deep into V-1’s abdomen with full force, ripping it open.
Helena didn’t flinch.
Bertram stuck his hand into V-1. This also did not make Helena flinch, despite how weak Bertram apparently thought she was. He added a second hand inside the owl-bear and then, after a moment, withdrew them both, cradling a large egg against his chest.
Even Dr. J gasped at the sight.
Bertram was covered in owl-bear blood now, his hands, his arms, his coat. But he held the egg tenderly and fiercely, as if he would stand between that delicate orb and the rest of the world, no matter what it threw at them.
“There was an impressive layer of fat around it,” Bertram said. “I think—I think it’s still intact. But we have to keep it warm.”
“How?” Helena asked. She glanced over to the body of V-1. “Should we . . . ?”
“No,” Dr. J said. “There’s no way we could lift her without equipment. And we don’t have time to wait to move her. Take the egg back to camp; keep it in the lab. Bundle it up there.”
Helena nodded and swallowed thickly.
“I’m going to make some calls, see who can come collect her,” said Dr. J. “The least we can do is learn what we can from her. I’ll stay with her until someone arrives—I don’t want the body damaged any further. Get the egg to safety.”
“Got it,” said Bertram.
Helena was vaguely aware that he was moving now, that he was turning from the dead owl-bear and starting across the road.
But Helena couldn’t quite make out his features; everything seemed blurry and in slow-motion.
Part of it was the tears in her eyes against the lantern lights, making everything hazy.
But there was something more than that.
It felt like she had slipped into a strange sort of unreality.
None of this felt like it could be happening, not really, and so she couldn’t quite make her eyes focus on any of it.
She had a distant knowledge that she should be turning away from V-1, looking anywhere but at the owl-bear’s unseeing amber eyes, that she should be walking away. But her feet refused to move.
“Come on, Hel,” Bertram said. “We need to take the egg to basecamp, alright? There’s nothing you can do for her. But the egg is still here. The egg needs you.”
Helena nodded. Bertram was right.
Her body just didn’t want to do anything about that fact.
“I’d take your hand, but my arms are full,” Bertram said, gently. “So, here’s what I need you to do. Just reach out and grab the back of my coat, okay?”
Helena nodded. Bertram was standing right in front of her. She wasn’t sure when he had come back for her, or why. But he had.
“Do it now,” Bertram said.
Helena thought she had already done so, but apparently not. She put all her energy into reaching out and getting a grip on Bertram’s coat.
Bertram started up the hill and Helena held on tightly, putting one foot in front of the other to keep pace with him, never letting go.
“It’s going to be okay, Hel,” Bertram’s voice came through the snow, gruff and insistent. “Just keep holding on to me.”