I dont know. The voice behind me was husky, evasive, but I wasnt really listening. I studied the arm further, trying to match the bite patterns with what Id seen before: dogs, cats, even a horse, once. Nothing fit.
Except...
These...almost look like human bite marks. But that wasnt right, either, not with this type of deep puncture wound. The thing that had left these marks had long canines like a predator. Human teeth were not capable of this.
The strangers voice was stiff, uncomfortable. Can you save him?
Ill try. Turning, I fixed the stranger with a firm stare. He gazed back, eyes hooded. What is your relation to this man, Mr....?
Archer. Ben Archer. And were not related. He nodded to the body on the table. Nathan and I... I worked for him. Hes a friend.
All right, Mr. Archer. Not to be rude, but you can either help me or get out. I cant be tripping over you every time I turn around. If you think you can take direction and do exactly as I tell you, youre welcome to stay.
He nodded. I pointed to the counter behind us. Get some gloves on, then. This is going to be messy.
He turned, and I blinked. Blood covered one side of his shirt, and the fabric was torn, sticking to the skin. Several deep gashes were raked across his shoulder blade, still raw and bloody, though he didnt seem to notice them.
What happened to your back, Mr. Archer?
He jerked up, wincing. Ah, he muttered, not meeting my gaze. Nathan was attacked and...I got it when I went to help. Its nothing, not that deep. Please, help him first.
I intend to, but as soon as were done here, you need to let me take care of that. And you are going to tell me what happened when were done, Mr. Archer.
He nodded, and we worked in tense, determined silence, broken only by me barking orders, directing my helper to hold this or fetch that. I didnt mince words or attempt civility; my focus was on saving this mans life. But my impromptu assistant took all direction without comment until the task was complete.
There. I pulled the final stitch shut, tying it off with a short jerk. The man lay on the table, disinfected, bandaged and sewn up the best I could manage with such limited supplies. Thats it. Well just have to keep an eye on him, now.
Ben Archer stood behind me. I could feel his hooded gaze on the table in front of us. Will he make it?
Hes lost a lot of blood, I said, turning around. He needs a transfusion, but theres no way we can do that now. The wounds havent gone septic, but Im mostly worried about his fever. The mans face fell, and I offered a kind lie out of habit. Well have to wait and see if he survives the night, but I think he has a chance of pulling through.
Thank you, he murmured. He seemed relieved but shifted restlessly at the edge of the counter, as if he expected something to come lunging through the operating room doors any second. I didnt get your name, Doctor...?
Just call me Kylie. I really looked at him for the first time, seeing the stubble on his chin, the haunted look in his dark brown eyes. His shoulders were broad, his arms muscular under his shirt, as if he was used to hard labor.
Miss Kylie. He shot a glance at the tiny window, at the late-afternoon sun slanting in through the glass. Im grateful for your help. But we have to go. Now.
Excuse me?
We have to leave, he repeated to my astonishment. We cant stay here. Im sorry, but we have to go.
I scowled at him. Youre not going anywhere, Mr. Archer. Your friend is still badly hurt, and you dont look so good yourself. What youre going to do is sit down, let me take care of those lacerations on your back, and tell me what the hell happened to your friend.
He flinched, one hand going to his shoulder, but shook his head. No, he whispered, and the guilt on his face was overwhelming. We cant stay here, he protested in a stronger voice. We have to leave the city. His gaze flicked to mine, intense. You should come with us. Everyone shouldeveryone who can still walk needs to go. It...isnt safe out there anymore.
When was it ever safe? I murmured. He took a breath to argue again, but my voice grew sharp. Move him now, and your friend will die, I stated bluntly. With that fever and those wounds, hell be dead by morning. You leave, you kill him. Its as simple as that.
He slumped, the fight going out of him. I gestured to the stool, and he sank down, his posture defeated. If you would take your shirt off, Mr. Archer, I urged, trying to remain businesslike as I fished a needle and thread from my coat pockets. He blinked, pulling back a little, and I sighed. I dont have the time or patience for modesty, Mr. Archer. And we ran out of hospital gowns the first week we were here. So, please. I gestured with the needle. Take off your shirt.
Wearily, he complied, pulling the garment over his head without so much as a wince. I kept my expression professional, but my gaze roamed over the tanned, powerful shoulders and sculpted chest as he dropped his shirt to the floor. Things were bleak, but I wasnt blind. Ben Archer was gorgeous; you didnt need a Ph.D. to see that.
He didnt move as I walked up behind him, examining the five deep lacerations that ran from his shoulder nearly to the center of his back. They looked like...claw marks. I shivered. Something was very wrong here.
What happened to you and your friend? I began, dabbing the wounds gently with an alcohol wipe. He didnt flinch, though the lacerations were quite deep, and I knew the alcohol stung. Did you hear me, Mr. Archer?
Ben. Just Ben.
All right, Ben. I wiped the last of the blood away and reached for the needle and thread. You still havent answered my question. Those bite wounds on your friend, they arent normal. What happened?
I felt him hesitate. My voice grew a little harder. Dont lie to me, Mr. Archer. If Im going to help him, I need to know exactly what happened. Any information you withhold could end up killing him, or my other patients. Nowlast timetell me what happened.
We... Ben paused, as if fighting himself, struggling to get the words out. Nathan and I...we were attacked, he finally admitted.
Yes, that I gathered, I said, gently touching his shoulder. His skin was warm, and he finally flinched at my touch. Im going to start stitching now, so brace yourself.
He nodded.
So, something attacked you, I continued, sinking the needle into the smooth, tanned skin, talking quickly to keep him distracted. What was it?
I...I dont know.
What do you mean, you dont know? I frowned as I pulled a stitch closed, seeing him grit his teeth. Something obviously savaged your friend and tore the hell out of your shoulder. What was it?
I didnt see it very clearly, Ben muttered. It was dark, and the thing moved so fast. He shrugged, then grunted in pain as the motion pulled at the stitches. I thought it was human, but... He trailed off again, and I frowned over his shoulder.
Ben, your friend was bitten by something with canines at least an inch long. Humans dont have teeth like that.
He raised his head just as I looked up at him, and for a second, our faces were inches apart. Guilt, horror and fear lay open on his face; he had the look of a soldier who had seen far too much and would be eternally haunted by it.
You should leave, he whispered once more, his voice like a ragged, open wound. And my stomach flip-flopped at the look in his eyes. Dont ask questions, Kylie, just trust me. Get out of here as soon as you can. Go home, leave this place, and dont look back.
I took a deep, steadying breath.
I cant leave, I told him firmly. I wont leave my patients, so thats out of the question. Besides, I dont have a home to go back to. He looked away, and I wished I could turn his head back, force him to meet my gaze. Youre not telling me everything, I said, and his face shut down into a blank mask. My eyes narrowed. What are you hiding?
Miss Kylie?
Maggie appeared in the door. Seeing Ben, she blushed and looked down at her feet. Ms. Sawyer was complaining that it hurt to breathe. I gave her a shot of morphine for the pain and a sedative to help her sleep.
Good girl, I said, feeling a lump rise to my throat. The final stages of Red Lung, before the victim began coughing uncontrollably and drowning in their own blood, was difficult, painful breathing.
I felt Bens eyes on me, sympathetic and knowing. Suddenly self-conscious, I drew away. I didnt need his pity or his advice to leaveas if I could just walk out. And it was clear I wouldnt be getting anything further out of him, at least not now. I have to get back to my patients, I told him, beckoning Maggie into the room. Im sorry. Maggie, would you mind taking care of Mr. Archer, please?
Sure. Maggie smiled at Ben, and he gave her a tired nod. I left them together and wandered back to the main room, checking the rows of patients along the makeshift walls. For now, everyone seemed okay; comfortable and in no pain, at least. Except for Ms. Sawyers raspy breathing and the occasional bloody cough that I couldnt do anything about, the clinic was quiet. An event that occurred less and less, as Red Lung continued its war on the human body and continued to win.
I pondered what Ben had told me. He and his friend had been attacked, there was no mistaking that. It wasnt uncommon, sadly. With the breakdown of normal society, human beings reverted to their base instincts and started preying on each other. In the early days of the plague, not a day had gone by that I hadnt heard gunshots, screams or other sounds of distant chaos. I didnt doubt theyd been attacked, but the wounds on Nathans arm and Bens shoulder didnt look like anything Id seen before.
What was Ben Archer hiding? What wasnt he telling me?
Kylie. Jenna appeared as I made another circle through the rows of cots. The intern had been training to be a nurse and was older than me by several years, but always took my instructions without fail or complaint. Her gaze was sympathetic as she pulled me aside. Youre exhausted, she stated, blue eyes appraising, and I didnt argue with her. How long since you slept last?
I shrugged, and she patted my arm. Go lie down. Maggie and I can take care of things for a few hours.
I dont know. Ms. Sawyer
Youve done everything you could for her, Jenna said in a low voice. Seriously, Kylie, get some sleep. While you still can. Youre going to fall over if you dont rest soon, and no one can afford that. I promise, well come get you if anything happens.
I nodded. It was getting close to eighteen hours with no sleep, and I was tired. But before I left the room, I made a note to check on my newest patients, make sure Nathan was comfortable at least. And maybe, I could get the last of that story out of Ben Archer.
I didnt quite get that far. Instead, I went to Doc Adamss old office and collapsed on the cot against the far wall, pulling the sheet over my face. I thought I wouldnt sleep with all the dark thoughts swirling through my head, but I was out almost before I touched the pillow.
Chapter Two
It seemed only a few minutes had passed before someone touched my shoulder, jostling me awake. Blearily, I opened my eyes and glanced up at Maggie, who stood over me with a half-worried, half-reluctant expression.
Yeah? I mumbled, struggling to sit up.
Sorry, Miss Kylie. Maggie bit her lip. But, I wanted to let you know, Mr. Johnson just passed away.
I sighed, scrubbing a hand over my eyes, grief and anger and disappointment flaring up momentarily. All right, Ill be right out. Thank you, Maggie.
She nodded and scurried away. Standing, I put my fingers to my temples, massaging the headache pounding behind my eyes.
Dammit. Another one lost. Another life taken by the plague, and I couldnt do anything about it. Eric had been right; this was futile. Those people out there, coughing and gagging and fighting to breathe, they wouldnt survive. Not at this stage of the virus. But I couldnt abandon them. Id promised my patients I would fight to the end, and that was what I was going to do.
Grabbing my coat, which Id tossed on the desk before falling into unconsciousness, I walked out of the office.
And ran smack into a large, solid chest as I emerged, yawning and rubbing my face. With a yelp, I stumbled back, looking up into Ben Archers worried brown eyes.
Sorry. His deep voice held traces of alarm, and I gave him a wary look. I need to talk to you. Something is wrong with Nate, and I dont know what to do for him.
My head pounded. The stress, disappointment, and looming sense of pointlessness were starting to get to me, but I put my feelings aside to focus on what I had to do.
Walk with me. I started down the hall, and he followed at my side. The clinic was dark now, as evening stole in through the door and cloaked everything in shadow. I could hear the generators out back, humming away, but we were running out of gas, and not much power was left for lights.
We reached the spot where Nathan was being kept, one of the smaller rooms that was separated from the main wing, away from the sick. A chair stood in the corner, probably where Ben had been sitting. Jenna hovered next to the patient, looking grim.
The man on the bed groaned, sounding delirious. He was definitely paler, and blood had soaked through the bandages on his arm. But what was most worrying was the red fluid seeping from beneath his eyelids. It oozed slowly over his cheeks, cutting two crimson paths down his skin, and it could be only one thing.
I swabbed it with a cotton ball, just to be sure. Yes, it was definitely blood. Ben came up behind me, peering over my shoulder.
Whats wrong with him?
I...dont know. Though I hated admitting it. Peeling back his lids, I shone a light over his pupils, checking for wounds or scratches. Nothing. The only thing I can think of is a subconjunctival hemorrhage, or Ebola, as unlikely as that is. Sadly, the only way to know for sure would be to conduct blood tests, but we dont have any way to do that here. Well just have to keep him under surveillance and see what happens.
I caught a whiff of something foul, rotten, like the stench of a decaying animal, and my heart sank. Frowning, I shooed Ben out of the way and bent over the wounded man, gently unwrapping the gauze to see the wounds on his arm.
The wounds were clean. The skin around them was still puffy and red, but the bites themselves looked fine. Or at least not infected. And yet, I could still smell the faint stench of rot and decay that suggested gangrene or wounds that had gone septic.