Текст книги "Undone"

Автор книги: Rachel Caine

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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

The mountain lion launched itself into the air, scimitar-sharp claws extended to disembowel me.

“Get out of the way!” I heard the man behind me yell, but my attention was fully on the animal. Someone was pushing it, controlling it, overriding its self-preservation instincts. These creatures weren’t the enemy; they were weapons, confused and terrified beneath the surface fury.

I couldn’t condone their deaths, rare as such predators were on the earth since the proliferation of humans. Luis and I could handle them.

It was a risk—a large one—but I slapped my hands down on the creature’s skull as it barreled into me, bearing me to the ground with a heavy thump. Soft fur, hard bone, powerful flexing muscles. I saw the flash of teeth. Its claws ripped at the leather covering my chest, and I felt the sting of cuts.

My leather had slowed it, but I had seconds, at best. I poured my power into the creature, not to dominate, but to free its mind from the cage of power that had trapped it. It seemed easier in theory, because the faceless enemy had all the strength of a top-class Earth Warden and all the ruthlessness of a Demon. I slashed at the bonds holding the cat, and it sprang away from me, snarling in terror and confusion.

It leapt past the trembling policeman behind me and vanished into the grass.

Luis’s mountain lion lay unconscious on its side, breathing in slow, steady rhythm.

I dragged Officer Styles up to his feet. The four of us formed a square, shoulders touching, as the bears loped closer.

“Next time, put it under,” Luis told me. “They’ll just grab the animals again once you let go.”

He was right. The mountain lion I’d freed from control was veering, turning back toward us at a gliding run. It slowed to a cautious, slow stalk, luminous eyes fixed on me. Its huge paws made almost no sound at all on the grass, but I could hear the low sound of its growl on the cooling air.

They would know my power now. They’d tasted it. I wouldn’t be able to be so merciful again without cost. They would kill me if they could. Me, Luis, the two policemen.

All for what? For Isabel? Why?

“Cassiel,” Luis said, and held out his hand. I hadn’t realized that my reserves were sinking, but he was right. I needed power. The golden flow poured into me, waking shivers, and I cut it off as quickly as possible to keep my attention focused outward. “Put them out. Down, if you have to.”

I nodded. The policemen had their guns drawn, but unless they were very fine shots I doubted they could bring down any of these animals before being gutted. The bears were charging, one on Luis’s side, one on Officer Styles’s.

“Go!” Luis shouted, and let go of me. I spun away from him, facing the nearest threat. It was another mountain lion, already in the air. Her muzzle was drawn back, exposing her fearsome sharp teeth, and the roar was meant to freeze me in place.

Instead, I waited until the last instant, stepped aside, and straddled the lion’s back to slap my hands on its skull from behind as it landed. She roared again and twisted, but I found the blood vessels I needed, and squeezed.

She went limp. Still breathing, but down. I kept her at that level as I jumped across her body to veer in front of Officer Styles, who had his gun trained on the charging black bear.

This animal was not as large as some, but large enough—at least half a man’s weight, all muscle and fury. Black bears were, for the most part, good-tempered, but this one had been driven almost to the edge of madness. He was in terrible pain, and he would savage anything that came within reach of his claws and teeth.

I repeated the trick of knocking out the animal, but this time it was more difficult. I had to concentrate on the mountain lion, as well, and the bear was strong and very, very angry. When it finally collapsed into a messy tangle of broken grass, it was breathing heavily and making a noise that sounded terribly like a moan of fear.

I looked around. Luis had brought down the last mountain lion, and the other bear—cannier than the others—was pacing angrily in jerky paths, charging Luis, then backing away. Never quite committing. That one, I thought, was not fully under our enemy’s control.

All in all, we had managed to come out of this well, without unnecessary death.

I should not have been so sure of that.

My first hint of more trouble was from the other policeman—CAVANAUGH, his name tag read—who put a hand on my shoulder and pointed off toward the east. A black smudge of smoke was rising about a hundred feet away. As we watched, it spread into a line, and as the dry grass caught like tinder, flames blazed six feet into the air.

The wind was toward us.

Within seconds, the smoke had reached us, thick and choking. The fire would not be far behind, and grass fires could race faster than a running man. I couldn’t leave the animals helpless to burn alive, but if I freed them from control, they would turn on us.

“Run,” I snarled to Styles and Cavanaugh. “Get to the car!”

They did not argue. They pelted through the smoke, into the grass, heading in the right direction. I hoped there would be nothing there to meet them, but I had other problems.

Luis coughed wetly as he stumbled to my side. “Gotta go!” he shouted. I nodded.

“Go first!”

He clearly didn’t wish to, but he loped into a run and was immediately lost in the thickening smoke. I was coughing now myself, and my nose and eyes were dripping fluids. The air was filthy and thick.

I released the animals all at once, with a snap of power, and three mountain lions and one bear rolled up to their paws.

All oriented on me.

All forced to ignore their natural instincts, which would have taken them from the fire into safety.

They moved to circle me.

I waited until one darted toward me, then dodged and jumped the circle, and ran.Not toward the road—I could not be sure that the others had made it to safety yet, and I didn’t want to draw an attack to them.

I ran to the north, toward the trees. I fed my muscles on pure golden Earth Warden energy, putting on a burst of speed that kept the mountain lions bounding a few feet behind me. The smoke was blinding, and I felt a blast of heat loom at me from the right, hot enough to sear. I smelled my hair burning, an acrid and stomach-turning stench, and veered to the left as flames flickered and took hold in front of me.

It was no use. The field was fully in flame now, driving me toward the road in a broad, shrinking arc.

Out of desperation, I softened the ground beneath my feet and dropped into a sinkhole of powder-soft sand, plunging grave deep into the earth. I hardened the top as quickly as possible, and felt the thunder as the animals charged on, chasing shadows.

The pressure of the sand and earth around me was intense—cool, insistent, constant. I struggled not to fight it, concentrating instead on holding my breath and staying calm, calm, calm. Seconds ticked by, slow as torture. I counted every pulse beat.

When I could no longer resist the need to struggle for breath, I reversed the process, hardening the sand beneath my feet in stages, and rose from the ground like a dusty, pink-haired Aphrodite. . . .

. . . Into a blackened, stubbled, smoking emptiness like the shores of hell. The fire had passed over me and was sweeping toward the road, leaving smolders and sparks behind, and little else.

There was no sign of the mountain lions or the bears. They had lost me, and continued to race on to the safety of the trees, or veered toward the road.

I felt exhausted, bruised, and smoke soaked as I limped toward the line of flames and black billows. Before I reached it, the last of the grass was consumed to twisted ash, the wind carried sparks across the road, and the field on the other side of the pavement began to burn.

As smoke cleared, blown by the constant wind, I saw that the patrol car was intact, though smoke stained, and so was the Victory. The car doors opened.

Both policemen were safe.

There was no sign of Luis.

Chapter 13

I SEARCHED UNTILmy strength failed, but there was no trace of him. No sign of his body, either. It was dimly possible that he had been caught by the animals and dragged into the trees, but I thought he was too good an Earth Warden to have gone without a trace. And without a fight.

He had simply vanished into thin air, like his niece before him.

And now I was alone.

I had, at least, earned the respect of the two policemen. Styles required no explanations of me; he simply accepted it, perhaps too focused on the enormity of his missing child to care about any abilities Luis and I might have displayed. He would, I thought, find some logical reasons to forget or dismiss it all. Humans were well-practiced in the art of denying what did not fit their neatly ordered view of the world.

His partner Cavanaugh, however, seemed less willing to shrug it off. “But howdid you take down a cat like that? I mean, it’s a friggin’ mountain lion, not a tabby, and I can’t even get my cat to the vet without getting my face clawed off.” We were standing at the edge of the road, staring out at the blackened field. I had given up roaming in search of my missing Warden, and simply waited.

What I waited for, I couldn’t say. Perhaps I was just tired of losing people.

“It’s a simple thing,” I said wearily. “Any vet could do it. Pressure points.”

“Pressure points?” he echoed, eyebrows rounding in disbelief. “You’re kidding. I watch the Discovery Channel, and I never heard of anything like pressure points on a mountain lion. And, anyway, those big cats aren’t like African lions—they don’t travel in packs like that. It’s not natural. And the bears—what the hell was going on? I’ve never seen black bears attack like that.”

“The fire,” I said. “Driving animals out into the open.”

He was already shaking his head. “Panicked animals keep on running—they don’t stop to attack everything in their path. I don’t get it, but I don’t think I want to, right? This is some kind of CIA thing—you’d tell me but you’d have to kill me?”

And then Officer Styles turned and said, “You’re an Earth Warden.” I was temporarily surprised into silence. He didn’t wait for my answer in any case. “Christ, I can’t believe this.”

“How do you know of the—”

He made a sharp, angry gesture. “My wife opted out of the Wardens about ten years ago. She was a Fire Warden. They did that surgery on her, the kind that blocks powers.”

The world took on a different reality to me in that moment. There wasa connection: Wardens. Children of Wardens.“Has your son displayed any kind of talents?”

“No, of course not. He’s five.”

Neither Manny nor Angela had referred to Isabel having such abilities, either, and it would be extremely rare for them to manifest so early.

But not impossible. Luis had told me himself that his abilities had begun to make themselves known at an early age.

Styles was watching me closely. “This kid you’re chasing, she’s his niece. He’s a Warden, right?”

“His brother also was,” I said. “There is a strong genetic disposition for the abilities to run in families, although it does occur spontaneously, as well.” I had studied the phenomenon of Warden abilities in humans for a long time, seeking to discover why they developed, and how to stop them from doing so. I had found no answers.

Officer Cavanaugh was looking at the two of us as if we’d sprouted tentacles. “What in the hell is a Warden? You mean, like a prison warden? Wait, are you talking about those crazy con artists who put on that show for the news in Florida?”

Neither of us paid him any mind. “You think these people—whoever they are—are grabbing Warden kids,” Styles said. Muscles jumped along his jawline, as if he were resisting the urge to bite. “My God. How widespread is this?”

“I don’t know. The Wardens are—” Secretive. Devious. Embattled. “Not inclined to share their information with those beyond their circle. If there have been other Warden children abducted, the fact that the parents were Wardens would not have been noted in any police reports. We would have to cross-reference lists of Wardens with parents who have reported their children as missing.” It was a difficult time for the Wardens, and that made it a perfect time for their enemies to strike. Many parents, if they were off traveling with Lewis Orwell’s party, might not even know yet that their children were missing, but I couldn’t believe it to be so widespread. This had the feeling of cold, clinical planning, and a laser focus.

Luis could gain access to Warden records. If he’s still alive,part of me whispered mockingly, but I hushed it. He was alive. I had taken energy from him, and our bond had grown steadily stronger. I would have known if his life had been snuffed out. I had known when Manny . . .

No. He was alive, and had either been taken or followed a trail without me. Or perhaps even both. He could have been lured away and then captured. Not impossible, in all the confusion. He might have even gone willingly, if they had used Isabel to draw him in.

A tremor of rage went through me, burning a red-hot wire trail from the crown of my head to the soles of my feet. Those who had done this—who continuedto do it—would pay dearly. I had been born into flesh without an instinct for mercy, and what little I had learned had been burned away by this latest affront.

“What can we do?” the other policeman asked. I took a deep breath and deliberately banked the fire inside of me, saving it for a more appropriate time and target.

“You can start by looking through your records,” I said. “Any missing or abducted children.”

Styles’s face could have been formed from concrete. “You got any idea how many of those there are every year?”

“An unpleasantly large number?” I didn’t wait for confirmation. “We have little time, Officer Styles. Luis may have no time at all. I must find him and Isabel. I pledge to you that if I find your son, I will bring him back to you safely, but I need to go. Now.”

“Go where?” That was a reasonable enough question. I had no reasonable answer.

“Away,” I said. “Away from here.”

He exchanged another of those looks with his partner, who finally shrugged. “Don’t know, man. She could have let us die a couple of times. She didn’t. I have to count that in her favor.”

Styles’s attention returned to me. “I don’t trust Wardens,” he said. “My wife doesn’t trust them. If the Wardens are behind this—”

I could not believe they were. At least, not the official organization. Lewis Orwell and Joanne Baldwin, in particular, would never have condoned it. “I will find out,” I said. “I swear that to you.”

He nodded and stepped back.

I climbed on the Victory, checked the gauges, and started the engine. I would need gas soon, but for now all I wanted was to get away from the stench of burned grass and defeat.

Officer Styles didn’t raise his hand in farewell to me, but I supposed the fact that he also didn’t raise a gun was a bit of a triumph.

I went on, heading into Colorado. I was no longer sure my answers lay ahead, but movement, any movement, was better than standing still when there was so little time to waste.

I was five miles down the road when I heard the whisper: Luis’s voice, clear as if his lips were beside my ear. “Cassie.”

Don’t call me that.I sensed a pulse of lazy amusement from him.

“Cassiel.”

I brought the motorcycle to a tire-burning halt at the side of the road. The wind had picked up again, whipping dirt in swirls over me. I closed my eyes and concentrated, turning inward. Seeking.

It was his voice, but not his presence. “Luis? Where are you?”

“I’m tied up in the back of a truck,” he said. He sounded remarkably slow and calm about it. “Sorry. They grabbed me in the smoke. Not much I could do.”

He was lying to me. No Earth Warden would find it difficult to get away from such a situation. Ropes, metal—it was all subject to their power and therefore significantly less effective, unless the enemy also had a Warden focused on preventing his escape.

“You went willingly,” I said.

“Busted.” He sounded faintly amused about it—and drugged, perhaps. I was not amused at all. “Look, they suckered us. They set a trap for us. If we want to get to Ibby, we have to let them take us to her. Don’t you get it? We have to stop fighting.”

“You have no idea what they want from you,” I said. “Or what they will do to you. Luis, tell me where you are. Tell me.”

“No. Not until I’m ready. I don’t want you busting in and blowing everything, and I know you. You’re about as subtle as a lead pipe. When I see Isabel, when I know she’s safe, I’ll signal you.”

“How are you doing this?”

“I’m vibrating your eardrum. Old Earth Warden trick for covert operations,” Luis said. His tone changed. “Got to go. We’re heading north now. Follow us.”

And then he was gone, and I heard nothing but the steady, low moan of the wind.

Fool.

I had no choice but to follow his instructions.

I stopped for gas after two more hours of riding and waiting. I heard nothing from Luis, not even that faint and intimate whisper of my name. I wondered if he knew how that had sounded, how warm.

I wondered if I had imagined it.

He needs you,part of me said. That doesn’t mean he cares for you. Why should he? You’re hardly inviting it.

It was a foolish thought. There were so many larger things at risk, and it was yet another signal to me that I was sinking ever deeper in the quagmire of humanity. I had to struggle harder, reject these emotions, the pleasures and seductions of this flesh.

I purchased a hot dog at the gas station and ate it while standing next to my motorcycle as the tank filled. I drank a large bottled water before pressing on into the gathering darkness. The road continued to climb, heading from desert to lusher regions, thickening with trees. The stars were already bright, even though the sun hadn’t completely slipped behind the branches, and the road was in deep velvet shadows.

At Pagosa Springs, Luis’s voice returned to my ear to say that they were still heading north, following the same route I was traveling. “Don’t gain on us,” he warned. “I don’t want to spook them.”

I ignored that last, and accelerated.

What traffic there had been fell away. It seemed as if I had the road to myself, traveling endlessly through a cradle of dimly seen mountains that rose to brush stars from the sky. I glimpsed animals on the road—deer, fox, an owl swooping into the hot glow of my headlights to pluck a scurrying mouse from the pavement.

It almost seemed peaceful.

There were no towns, and no turns to take, until I neared the intersection of Highway 160. Luis was silent on the subject of a change in direction, so I continued on, following the twists of the road as it switched northwest, then seemed to reverse directions altogether after the town of Creede. After that, it took another sharp turn, back to the north, avoiding the massive upthrust of mountains.

“Cassiel,” Luis whispered, and I involuntarily slowed, surprised again by his sudden appearance inside my skull. “We turned off the main road about five miles before you get to LakeCity. We’re heading west.”

“Are there markers?”

“Look for a leaning dead pine; it’s caught in between two others. The turnoff is about ten feet farther on. It’s on the left.” Luis no longer sounded as casual as he had been, or as confident. “Look, I think—I think they’re screwing with my body chemistry. It’s subtle, but I think they’re making me high, and I can’t control my powers as well as I—”

His voice broke up into an earsplitting shriek of noise. I stopped the motorcycle, clapping my hands to my ears. It didn’t help, of course. The metallic scream went on, drilling into my head. Deafening. It seemed to be increasing in power, and I knew that it was only a matter of seconds before it ruptured the fragile skin of my eardrum.

This, at least, I could prevent. It was a relatively simple matter to dampen the vibrations to a low hum of static. Of course, this meant cutting off Luis, as well. Whether it was his own lack of control, as he’d said, or an attack using him as a medium, I couldn’t afford the risk of staying open to him just now.

They’re making me high,he’d said. I knew, from a small sampling of popular culture and newspapers, that he meant they were giving him drugs—or, more accurately, manufacturing them within his own body. Earth Wardens had trouble healing themselves, even the most powerful of them, and if they were successful in getting past his defenses and poisoning him in that manner, it could be very, very bad.

I didn’t dare reach out to him. I needed my concentration all on the road ahead.

He’d given me a small hint, at least, enough to get me on the right trail. I spotted a dead pine matching the description and slowed to a crawl, seeking the trail.

There was none. Not in ten feet, not in twenty. Not at all. I stopped the bike and slowly walked it backward as I studied the rough ground.

They’d erased it.Yes, of course they would. It was something an Earth Warden would find simple, to obscure a trail by growing new plants and moving the earth. Even a Weather Warden could erase all traces using wind and water, but from what I saw before me, I knew an Earth Warden had been behind this obscurement. Some of the saplings seemed green and new, not even weathered by the sun and wind yet. Some of the dirt, though authentically random in its scatter, seemed freshly distributed.

I spotted the outline of a tire track deep in the brush, and forced a way for myself and the Victory through the tangle. It was at least twenty feet deep, long enough to make me wonder if they had closed the entire trail. I pressed on, ducking to avoid the worst of the stiff branches and needlelike leaves.

The growth suddenly ended, and a dirt road carved itself out of the thin and shadowy moonlight. There were tread marks still fresh in the dust.

My enemies knew I was coming. Even if Luis hadn’t warned them, despite his best intentions, they would simply know. I had no doubt of that. I would press on as far as they’d allow before it came to conflict.

It didn’t take long at all.

I accelerated as the road twisted around a darkly shadowed curve, then another, and as I came out on a straighter section, the trail was blocked by a single, small figure—a boy of Isabel’s age, with ragged dark hair and huge eyes. He was wearing a grimy cotton shirt with a garish blue and red design, and small, loose cotton pants. No shoes. His face was smeared with tears, his nose was running, and he looked blank and terrified in the glare of my headlight.

I stopped in a cloud of dust, staring at him. My first impulse was to leave the bike and go to him, but my Djinn instincts tempered my human ones, infused the moment with an ice-cold clarity.

There was no reason for this child to be here, so far from his home, in the middle of the night.

“Is your name C.T.?” I asked. “Calvin Theodore Styles?”

His eyes filled with tears that glittered in my headlight. “Mama?” He sounded lost and very uncertain. He shuffled forward a step. “I want to go home! I want to go home!”

His voice rose to a chilling wail, and this time not even my cautious, cold Djinn side could keep me from turning off the motorcycle and dismounting. I approached the child carefully, not wishing to frighten him more than necessary. He was sucking on his thumb, and his eyes seemed the size of the moon that loomed overhead. Silver tears washed clean trails through the grime on his face.

I was halfway to him when the next child appeared. And the next. And the next. All moving silently out of the brush.

Ten, at least, all below the age of ten. Most looked thin and ill-kept, their clothing filthy. Some lacked shoes.

All seemed far too feral for comfort, and they were all armed. Knives, for the most part, but a few had clubs. No projectile weapons, for which I was grateful.

I paused, assessing. They were all around me, coming out of the underbrush in soft, stealthy whispers of leaves and twigs.

“I’m here to help you,” I said, in what I hoped was a soothing tone. “Please. My name is Cassiel. Let me help you find your homes.”

None of them made a sound, not even the boy who’d wailed so pitifully. The wind through the trees made a hissing sound as the pine needles rubbed together, and I became aware how vast and empty this area was . . . and how alone I had become.

“I am looking for a girl called Isabel,” I said. She wasn’t here, wasn’t among the feral ones. “Ibby. Do you know her?” I focused on the closest child, a girl with short blond hair. “Do you know Isabel?”

She didn’t answer. None of them moved, and none blinked. It was odd and—even for a Djinn.

C.T.—if he wasC.T.—was no longer weeping, though tears still trailed down his cheeks. He had assumed the same cold, empty aspect as the other children.

I took a step forward toward him, and they all rushed at me in silence. I jumped, grabbing hold of a low-hanging branch, and pulled my legs up as they slashed at me with silver flashes of blades. A few made grunts of effort, jumping to try to reach me, but they didn’t speak, not even to each other.

By some unspoken coordination, two of them bent over to boost up others, who caught hold of lower branches and began to climb toward me. It was a ridiculous situation, hemmed in by infants—and yet there was a certain cold logic to it. I would be hesitant to harm these defenseless children, while the enemy—and I knew it wasour enemy—would not hesitate to spend every small life to hurt me.

They were the perfect shock troops.

As the first child crawled along a branch toward me, mad eyes shining, I shifted my weight and grabbed for her wrist, twisting it. The knife fell like steel leaf.

She raked my arm with her fingernails and bared her teeth.

I had no choice but to sweep her off the branch, stunning her into unconsciousness as I did so. I cushioned her fall on the dirt with a burst of power.

Another was already coming. And another behind him.

These are annoyances,my Djinn side complained. Deal with them and move on.And had they been adult humans, I would have done so, but the reluctance to hurt a child was encoded in my helix DNA, and not even Djinn wisdom could counter it. You’ll waste your power fighting this battle. It’s what they want.

I knew that, but I also remembered Officer Styles on the road, the desperation and trauma in his face. The promise I’d made to him.

There were ten children here. Ten families searching for answers and praying for miracles. I couldn’t take that hope from them.

I dropped out of the tree, crouched, and began touching the children on the head, one after another. I forced myself to be methodical about it, ignoring their weapons. It worked for the first two. The third scored a long cut along my arm that burned like drips of fire before I sent him unconscious.

The fourth and fifth of the remaining nine went down without injury to themselves or me, but as I turned to the sixth, I felt a blinding cold pain in my side, and looked down to see that C.T. had buried a knife to the hilt in my body.

I slapped my palm down on his forehead, triggering sleep, and he collapsed to the dirt.

That left three still standing. They were two girls and another boy, and they clearly recognized the danger I represented. They stayed farther than arm’s length, waiting to see what I would do.

Sink them in the ground.

No. That was my Djinn ghost talking, and I would not do it—first, because it would hurt and terrify them, and second, because I could not afford the burst of power. Not injured.

I eased my weight down to my knees, trying not to gasp as pain arced through my nerves, and reached for the knife in my side. I touched it lightly, diagnosing the wound as best I could. I did not think it had cut any significant blood vessels, but there was damage—intestines cut, a cut to my liver that could be dire if untreated.

I pulled the knife out and somehow did not cry out. Blood dripped from the steel. I held it for a moment, staring at the children who circled me, and then rammed it point first into the ground in front of me.

They rushed me all at once.

Concentrate.My vision blurred, and I blinked away the haze. My hands flashed out, right and left, and brushed sleep into the minds of two of the children. Their falling bodies caused the third to stumble, and his club, aimed for my head, struck my shoulder instead with bruising force. I grabbed it, yanked it away, and pulled him toward me. He struggled in my arms, but I held him still, staring into his empty, wide eyes.

“You,” I said softly. “The one who hides behind children. I am coming for you.”

The boy’s mouth opened and he laughed softly. That was no child’s laughter. There was too much malice in it, too much knowledge.

Too much madness.

“Come, sister,” he said, and his eyes rolled back in his head as he fell to the ground.

He wasn’t breathing.

No.

I put my hand over his chest and felt no sign of heartbeat.

My enemy had just killed him casually, from a distance.

“No,” I said aloud, and pulled the boy into my lap. “No.”There was still a feeble flutter of life inside of him, struggling like a bird in a net. “You won’t do this.”

I put my hand over his heart and closed my eyes. Luis’s warnings came back to haunt me—I wasn’t trained in this; I could so easily damage the child—but I had no choice. There was no one better qualified to take my place.

I put my fingertips above his heart and forced his heart to pump. Once. Twice. Three times. Each time, I sought for the return of a rhythm, but his system seemed paralyzed, unable to function on its own.

His bloodstream, though sluggishly moving through my efforts, carried little oxygen. None was coming through his lungs. I would have to breathe for him, as well. I pulled in as deep a breath as I could, bent over him, and filled his lungs; the cut on my side stretched and widened, and tears blurred my vision.

My pain didn’t matter.

I forced his heart to beat again and again and again. Breathed.

His open eyes stared at me, and there was no shadow of self in them. No hope.

I felt the flutter of life weaken in him, and continued to stimulate his heart in slow, thick beats, an imitation of life, nothing more. . . .