15. 15 #2
Elias and I pushed against the ground, forcing ourselves to stand as Novikov struggled against his flesh, both human and mutant disintegrated beneath the harsh liquid.
Elias’s axe had been tossed to the side, and he had to step away to grab it.
With firm resolve, confident that I could do damage against Novikov’s compromised skin, I raised my weapon a second time.
My hands had never been more steady. I turned my foot, my finger on the trigger.
But I wasn’t able to shoot.
While Misha was dousing the doctor, others had joined us, the clamor of the door opening and slamming into the wall not having drawn my attention quickly enough.
A handful of men, dressed in all black tactical gear stormed the room, automatic rifles raised and ready.
Heavy boots led them forward, surrounding Dr. Novikov.
Elias shouted at them, demanding that they not shoot.
They had no way of knowing where on Novikov’s body their bullets would be effective and where they would be a danger to us all.
Whether they understood him or not, I wasn’t sure, but they opened fire, emptying their weapons into the monster they saw before them.
Novikov had stumbled ahead, toward them, unable to see.
Bits of him, bits of the flesh he had left, hit the floor and the walls, but the men aimed for his torso, and the bullets flew back at them, at us.
I stepped out of the way, but my right leg was stuck.
Like I’d been caught in a bear trap, I could not will my leg to free itself.
Elias ran, axe in hand, safe from the spray of copper and steel behind Novikov, and he brought the red handled axe directly into a boiling piece of Novikov’s neck.
It sank into him, having made it past the tough exterior thanks to Misha, and he swung it again, chipping away at Novikov like firewood.
I hit the ground, falling to my back. I searched for what or who was holding onto my leg.
My foot was free, so I tried to stand, but I had barely moved my leg when I gave up.
It burned like I’d landed in the acid Misha had treated Novikov to.
My hands patted at my floor, feeling for the liquid, and I rolled away to minimize the damage, but I was dry.
The bullets had stopped flying almost as soon as they started, the soldiers realizing that their projectiles were being returned to them. They held their hands in front of their faces for protection.
Hacking away at Novikov’s neck, Elias did not stop until he had partially separated the doctor’s head from his body. I could see the moment that Novikov’s spinal cord was severed. Everything stopped.
My thigh had grown hot, and I gritted my teeth as I reached toward it.
Unbelievably sharp pain cut through me until I had lost my breath, unable to scream at the stabbing, the tearing, the heat.
Tension filled my body as I struggled to understand what had happened, my muscles pulling together so tight I could have snapped.
Novikov fell to the side. He slumped against the ground, the metal pieces of him sending a racket out into the bare walls, and the sound came back around and around like the echo of bullets before it.
Elias stared down at him before setting his foot on the doctor’s skull, holding it still while he pulled the axe free.
My eyes traveled from him to my leg, and I gaped in horror as the steady flow of my blood had soaked through my pants and was covering the hand I’d reached down to feel around with.
“Eli.” I was hardly able to make noise above a whisper. My voice shook as I said his name.
His eyes met mine, and I held up my blood covered hands to him.
He was by my side. “Where?” he probed, his hands searching my body, looking for the source of my blood.
“Leg.”
Pulling his knife from his belt, he cut my pant leg, ripping it open to get a better look at the wound. I didn’t want to know how bad it was. I didn’t want to see it. If it had hit my femoral artery I’d be dead in minutes.
I waited for the flashbacks, for the happy memories to flood my brain and send me off free from pain. But I didn’t stop feeling. I didn’t stop seeing, or hearing, and I didn’t stop smelling the metallic tint to the air.
Elias lifted my leg, touching the back of my thigh, examining the skin there.
“Fuck.” His wet hands squeezed me hard. I was falling apart and he was trying to hold me together.
“Oh, fuck.” He inhaled slowly, righting himself.
I stared at his face and watched as he pushed the panic away, hiding it from me.
He wasn’t fast enough. I’d already seen it.
My heart was thudding impossibly fast in my chest. Afraid that my heart beat was only pushing the blood out of my body faster, I tried to force it into submission and slow itself. I failed, miserably. It hammered away in my neck, my ears, and my thigh.
“Misha, get me whatever first aid you can find.” He was so calm.
It was clearly a tactic to prevent me from panicking, but it didn’t help.
My breathing quickened, and I reached out to Elias.
If I only had a few minutes, I wanted to spend them holding him, feeling him.
I gripped his arm as hard as I could, but I really wanted to hold his hand.
His hands were busy.
Misha must not have moved because Elias repeated his order.
“I told them not to shoot,” he said to me. “Fucking idiots.” He didn’t meet my eyes, his gaze fixated on his hands wrapped around my thigh. I’d been hit by one of the ricochets.
“How bad?” I choked. The pain was so severe that I couldn’t feel him holding me.
He grimaced, deciding how honest he wanted to be with me. “It could be worse.”
I panted, words coming between breaths. “If it was through my skull, maybe.”
“Artery’s intact.”
Writhing on the floor beneath him, I asked, “How can you tell?”
“Not enough blood.” His words were clipped. No emotion, just empty words from a blank face. I’d never seen him further away from me. “The way it’s flowing. If it hit your artery it would be coming out in bursts with your heartbeat. It’s not.”
Misha was on his knees next to Elias with a metal first aid kit.
Letting my head fall back against the cool floor, I prayed.
I hadn’t believed in God for a long time, but I hoped he was listening.
I hoped he was merciful. I had too many regrets to die.
If I saw the light, if I felt myself slipping away, I’d tell Elias that I’d never really loved before I met him.
If I had to die here on the floor, I wouldn’t let him live the rest of his life without knowing. It wasn’t fair.
“Tell them to get out of here. They can help the survivors, I don’t care, but if I can see them when I’m done I’m going to kill them.” Elias carried on in his gentle demeanor, and the threat was that much more terrifying.
I doubted that Misha repeated what Elias said verbatim, but the soldiers ran past me, leaving just the three of us and Novikov’s dead body.
Elias directed Misha where to find the field dressing on his belt, and where to hold while he wrapped it around me.
I opened my eyes. Misha held my leg up, bent at the knee, and Elias packed my wound.Elias kept spouting instructions to Misha, but I couldn’t hear anything over the sound of my teeth chattering.
My body trembled beneath their hands, the cold of the concrete floor sneaking through my clothing.
The outpost had never been particularly warm, but with the power turned off and people coming in and out of the building, the temperature inside had dropped more than I expected.
Misha ran off again, and in a blink he was back, like I had stopped existing for a minute, like he had teleported.
Elias was talking on the satellite phone, then he was next to me on the ground. Misha stayed at my leg, holding it tightly over the bandaging, elevating it.
A blanket was over Elias and I. I recognized it. It was a blanket from our bunk.
He laid on his side next to me, his warm arm draped over my stomach pulling me tight to him. “You’ll be okay.”
“Is that for you or me?” I asked.
“I know that you will be alright.” He kissed my cheek. “I just need you to know that.”
Tears flowed freely, and I squeezed my eyes shut to stop them. They escaped through my eyelids anyway. “I’m surprised you’re letting Misha help.”
“Either he holds your leg or keeps you warm, and I’d rather be the one lying with you like this.” I could hear the smile in his voice.
“It’s cold.”
He was silent a beat too long. “Sure is,” he said. “Talk to me, tell me something interesting, something I don’t know.”
“Trying to steal my secrets before I die?” He’d say something like that, wouldn’t he, if it were really the end? Back in October, we'd been in a similar situation. If there had been no vaccine, if there was no way out, he would have tried to make me laugh.
He shook his head. “No, baby, I just want to hear your voice.”
“I try out for jeopardy every year,” I said. I felt a little warmer, but I didn’t stop shivering. “I’ve been trying since I was a kid.”
“How does one try out for jeopardy?”
“You take a quiz on their website. If you do well, they might email you that you can try out.”
“Huh,” he mused. “Why haven’t you ever told me about this dream of yours?”
“I don’t know.” My mind was slowing down, and I didn’t want to keep talking. “I’m so tired.”
The warmth of his body was right there, pressing into me, but it still felt so far away. A fog separated us. I could see him through it, but it was hazy in the space between us, and that space was only growing.
“You have to stay awake.”