Adapt (I)

Scarlet

Caron dumps her arm load on the floor and starts tearing everything open. Her face is streaking with tears. “Bring a straw!” Caron calls at Boe.

“Caron?” I say her name, hoping to give her some consolation, to communicate with her that I will be alright. But my voice comes out shaking and raspy, probably giving her the opposite impression.

She sniffles back a sob but doesn’t look at me directly yet. “Scarlet, I need you to lift your hand from your stomach. I need to cut away your clothes to see the wound.” She meets my gaze and I see the determination branded there. I decide that asking questions isn’t going to help either of us. So, I obey, biting back the pain it causes.

Caron pulls on some rubber gloves and starts to work, deftly cutting the fabric of my now destroyed hoodie and peeling away the bloodied parts around my wound. When my wound comes into full view, Caron sucks in a hiss. She regains her composure and begins to pat and wipe away the blood. I can’t see what she is going but I can feel it. She cleans my wound and pats it dry. She looks up at me again. Her face is now settled into the mask I recognize as concentration. Her tears are dry, and no new ones seem to be coming.

“Scarlet, your wound is a mess. You have stray bits a skin all around it. I’m going to have to cut them away so that you can heal cleanly.” She takes a deep breath. “I’m not a doctor, Scarlet, so there is a good chance you will get an infection if you don’t go to a hospital and get some anti-biotics.”

“No.” Boe walks into the room, not doubt having heard everything that Caron had just said.

Caron turns to him, her blue eyes ablaze. “A wound like this will infect, Boe. Trent said that guy’s hand was buried in her chest. Do you know how dirty hands are even immediately after washing? I can’t clean her wound deep enough.”

“If she checks into a hospital she is as good as dead. HQ will pick her up immediately. Her name would have an alert attached to it, and every camera would be scanning for her face.”

Boe comes over with a glass of water and one of Clarks silly straws sticking out of it. He bends it to my face and lets me take a few sips. The pain of drinking isn’t as bad as breathing, but it is different. After three draws my mouth is wet, and I settle for that. I pull my head back.

“Caron, he is right. I haven’t gotten an infection before and I have been cut with dirtier weapons than a hand.” I say, less haggard sounding now.

“But this is around the most important muscle in your body, and very some vital organs.” Caron counters.

I shake my head. “Give me enough time and I am sure I will heal.” I say, trying to echo Boe’s confidence from earlier.

Caron grinds her teeth. “Scarlet, I really think that-”

I give her a look that stops her speech. “Caron, I’m not going to the hospital. I have healed on my own in the past and you haven’t even noticed before. Not to mention that even if HQ wasn’t looking for me, doctors would instantly get suspicious why a girl came into the ER with her gut torn open. Plus, all of the tests they would do would raise too many questions. They would see my markings; they would want to keep me over night; and they would be astounded when my wound heals far more rapidly than a regular person.” I laugh softly, then stop when pain reminds me that I can’t do that right now. “And after all of that, the antibiotics may not have even been necessary.”

Caron sits back on her heels, her lips poised. She had never lost a debate with me before, and she seems to be having a tough time with it.

I smile at her. “Caron, I trust you will do the best that you can. I understand if you don’t want to dress my wound. If you want, you can go. I’m sure Boe will be able to-”

It is Caron’s turn to cut me off. “Pfft, please. Like I am going to leave you in his hands after what he has let happen to you.” With her ego strafed, Caron sets about tending to my wound again. She takes the same scissors as before, now cleaned with the hot water in the thermos, and begins to artfully cut away the pieces of skin that would labour a clean heal. The little snips feel like paper cuts between my fingers, but I don’t say anything. I set my jaw, trying to bare the pain without moving or making a sound. It is, by far, not the worst pain I have felt today, but my body seems to be lacking the strength to bolster itself against it.

A hand threads into mine. I look over to Boe, who is giving me the same strained smile he has been giving me since I woke up.

“Where are the girls?” I ask. Trying to busy myself with anything else other than the pinpricks of pain.

“Trent’s just left to look for them. Logan probably took care of them though. There were still four girls left in the slaughterhouse. Either HQ got them, or Logan did.”

One of the snips hits a nerve and I flinch. “Sorry.” Caron murmurs, but continues.

After a deep breath, I ask, “Do you think either of them will be able to help the girls?”

Boe shrugs. “Probably more so than we could.”

Caron finally puts down the scissors and pats the wound again. She takes something cold and wipes around the perimeter of the wound, then begins to thread a needle with what looks like nylon.

“Scarlet?” A small voice calls. I can’t see anything except Caron and Boe, but I recognize Clark’s voice. It is still early in the morning, and Clark hasn’t gone to school yet.

“It’s all good, my man.” I try to say in the strongest voice I can manage, hoping that my tone will be enough to reassure him.

Clark’s face appears behind Caron and Boe. Boe turns to stop him. “Sorry, kiddo.” Boe says, restraining Clark, but Clark has already seen wound. His eyes are wide in fright, already brimming with tears.

Caron covers the wound with gauze.

I smile at Clark. “It’s alright.” I say to Boe, who let’s go of Clark. Clark wastes no time coming to me and throwing his arms around my shoulders. I feel his tears in the crook of my neck as he cries. The pain of the jostling doesn’t stop me from wrapping my arms around him and shushing him.

After a moment, I feel Caron continuing to tend to my wound. The needle pricks in a steady rhythm as she sutures. The sensation isn’t as disconcerting as the pulling sensation of the string bringing my skin back together. Clark doesn’t move, he just holds my neck tightly, and I squeeze him back, letting his embrace ground me. When she is done, Caron begins layering up the gauze and taping it down. She then gathers up the supplies and leaves. Boe doesn’t leave, opting to make a bed on the ground out of a stray blanket.

Clark curls himself up on the bed next to me. Guilt strikes me as I realize how awful it must be for Clark to have seen me stumbling through the door, covered in blood and wounded.

“Clark, you need to go to school.”

He tucks himself into my side even more. “No.”

I tighten my arm around him, tears brimming in my eyes. “I will still be here after you come home.” I shake my head a little at the thought of sending this poor kid to school after everything he has seen this morning.

He shakes his head in the crook of my arm.

“Let him stay.” Boe says from his position on the floor. His voice is laden, I can tell he is inches from sleep.

Caron enters the room again. She picks up the glass of water from the nightstand. “Jess had some old antibiotics from getting her wisdom teeth out. I’m not sure they will be strong enough, but they should help.”

I nod and let her feed the tablets to me and give me some water. “Thanks.” I breath.

She walks over to Boe. “Do you need anything? A pillow?”

Boe takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. “I can get it.”

She puts her hand on his shoulder. “I will get it. It is the least I can do after you brought her back alive. However barely it is.”

He gives her a half laugh but doesn’t say anything. His eye lids droop. Caron leaves to get Boe a pillow. I realize that she probably hasn’t gotten any more sleep than us, yet she is operating at full capacity. She would have made a great hunter.

I feel the exhaustion setting in. The pain of breathing hasn’t eased but having Boe and Clark here with me acts like a pain killer, sending flush of relaxation through my body. I close my eyes and let the wave of darkness wash over me.