Created (Talented Saga) (9 page)

“Thanks,” I said, gratefully accepting the kit.

“I’m going to check on the status of the other planes, make sure they got off okay,” Crane told me. “I’ll be back when I know more.” He squeezed my shoulder once and was gone.

Inside the medical kit, I found towels, scalpels, gauze, thread, needles, sanitizing creams, burn ointments, and several bottles of distilled water. I used the water to clean the filth off of my hands the best I could. Next, I gently pried Henri’s hand away from the bullet wound. Even though I’d already seen it, the gruesome sight made me blanch.

“I’m sure I can hang on until someone else is free,” Henri said. He’d opened his eyes, and seen my reaction.

I swallowed hard. I could do this. I had to do this. Everyone else on the plane was busy tending to themselves or to the other injured; I had no choice.

“What, don’t you trust me?” I tried to joke to lighten his mood.

“With my life, Tal,” he whispered.

“Good, then be quiet so I can concentrate.”

I found the sharpest scalpel and used it to cut away the fabric surrounding the entry wound; it was sticky and I had to peel the material away from his skin. He winced, and I drew a little more of his pain into me.

“Don’t, Tal,” Henri muttered. “You need your wits about you right now.”

He was right, but I hated that without me dulling his sensations, he would feel every move my clumsy fingers made. I took a deep breath and released his mind.

I wet one of the towels with the distilled water and dabbed at the blood and dirt surrounding the wound. Henri grimaced but didn’t complain. Once his shirt and the excess blood were out of the way, I was able to tell that the bullet had gone clean through his shoulder. The metal had left the space close to his armpit a mess of torn flesh and tendons. I swallowed my revulsion, not wanting him to see how hard this was for me. If I thought seeing the injury was bad, I couldn’t imagine how he must be feeling. Actually, I could. Yeah, I definitely had the better end of the deal.

“This is probably going to hurt,” I said as a disclaimer. Then without giving him time to respond, I poured the sterilizing serum over his injury.

Henri jerked back, slamming his head against the bench. A solitary tear leaked out from beneath one closed lid. I let him rest for several long seconds before gently easing him forward and repeating the process on the exit wound. His hand shot out and gripped my thigh so tightly that I thought he might actually break the skin. I kept my face expressionless. If I couldn’t use my talents to lessen his pain, letting him use my leg like a stress-reliever was the least I could do.

“Breathe,” I coaxed him. “Just breathe. It’ll pass.” We both knew that while the sharp bite of the sterilizing serum would pass, the worst was yet to come.

Once his skin was clean and sterile, I threaded the needle and prepared to stitch his wounds. During my time with the Hunters, I’d learned how to stitch wounds, but this would be the first time I’d actually done it.

“Ready?” I asked when his breathing evened out. “I’ll be quick,” I added when he nodded.

“Don’t be too fast. I don’t want to have a scar,” he replied through tightly clenched teeth.

I smiled at his attempt at a joke. We both knew he was going to have a nasty scar. He’d be lucky if his shoulder ever worked right again. TOXIC doctors, and probably Coalition doctors, too, would be able to reattach any torn tendons and muscles, but with my limited medical training, he’d be lucky if the stitches were remotely straight.

The task of pulling the skin on either side of his injuries closed was much harder than I’d anticipated. He ground his back teeth together while I worked, but remained otherwise stoic. When I was finally finished, I clumsily wrapped gauze around his chest and shoulder to keep the stitches clean.

“Thanks, Tal,” he muttered.

“You did this for me once,” I replied. It was Henri who had stitched a knife wound on my side when I was a Pledge. Only his steady hand had produced a perfectly sewn line that would’ve left a small scar had TOXIC not used lasers to remove it.

Henri settled back, trying to make himself as comfortable as possible on the hard floor. I looked around the cabin, thinking that I should try to help the others with their injuries. But the critically injured outnumbered the relatively healthy, and I didn’t know where to begin.

A small boy with blonde hair and pale skin caught my eye. He was sitting in his mother’s lap, and she was cradling wet towels to one of his small arms. When I looked closer, I noticed blackened holes in his clothing, exposing reddened flesh beneath.

I quickly rose, and carefully staggered my way to where he sat.

“Did he get burned?” I asked his mother.

She met my gaze with hollow brown eyes. There was a deep gash just above her right eyebrow, causing rivulets of blood to snake down one side of her face like a morbid tattoo.

“Yeah, it’s pretty bad, too,” the woman replied dully.

She’s in shock, I thought.

I gently tried to remove the towels, but the fabric clung to the boy’s skin. I was afraid of tearing it and causing him further damage. The anger from earlier resurfaced, scalding me from the inside out. He was too young to be exposed to such atrocities. It wasn’t fair. He should be playing with his friends, coloring, making those weird noodle pictures like Alex had done for me when we were in D.C.

Alex. Another little boy whose innocence and youth had been stolen.

Don’t think about him now, I told myself. He’s safe with Erik’s father and brothers. That’s all that matters.

Returning my attention to the here and now, I steeled my nerves and slowly began separating fabric from flesh. The skin underneath the towel was raw and blistered, and the temperature of my own skin soared as I absorbed the child’s pain. Compartmentalization had always been one of my strengths, and I did just that now. I shoved the boy’s suffering into the deepest recess of my mind and locked the door. Tension left my shoulders, and the ache at the base of my skull lessened as I began to slather burn cream over his arm.

“Thank you,” he mumbled when I was finished.

I gave him a small smile and willed him to sleep. I couldn’t hold onto his pain for him, but at least I could put him out of his misery for a little while.

“Talia?” Crane said, tapping me on the shoulder. I hadn’t heard him come up behind me, and I jumped a little at the contact. “I have news about the others.”

I nodded, following Crane back through the maze of injured people to the pilot’s cabin. There were four hard plastic chairs behind the cockpit, and I sank gratefully into an empty one. Part of me felt bad for not staying to help tend to the injured, but I was also relieved to put some distance between me and their suffering. I hadn’t even realized how much their emotions were impacting mine until I was separated from them.

“Is Erik safe?” I asked, as soon as Crane took the seat next to me.

“Yes. The first plane got out shortly after the attack began. He and the other critical patients are en route to the cottage. He’s had several transfusions, and so far, his body has accepted the blood. He’s still unconscious, but that’s to be expected.”

I sighed, disappointed that the news wasn’t better. But really, what had I expected? The fact that he’d gotten out safely was the best-case scenario.

“Frederick, is he okay?” I asked.

“Fine. He was still in Gatlinburg when we left, looking for Henri. When he saw him get shot, and the three of us board the hovercraft, he jumped on the last plane to get out of there.”

I sighed. All my friends were accounted for.

“What about all the people we left behind?” I asked, hating how small and childlike my voice sounded to my ears. By the time Crane and I had reached the escape crafts, only two had been left. I didn’t know how many others there had been originally, but probably not enough for the droves of people I’d seen running through the camp.

Crane didn’t answer right away, and when he finally did, he wouldn’t meet my gaze. “There are caves in the woods about two miles from the camp. The caves have enough food, water, and medical supplies to last several months. There is also a fair amount of weapons, so they’ll be able to protect themselves in the event TOXIC pursues them.”

“What about the ones who didn’t make it to the caves?” I asked, dreading the answer.

“The survivors will be taken into custody,” Crane replied evenly.

So, they would be arrested. Their homes were destroyed, their families torn apart, many were killed, and even more were injured, and it was because of me. TOXIC came for me, and all those people paid the price.

“The members of the Underground know the risks, Talia. They understand the consequences if they’re caught. You can’t blame yourself. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine.” Crane slammed a closed fist into the armrest, and I jumped at the rare display of emotion. “When the doctors on the first hoverplane told me they hadn’t found one, I should’ve insisted they keep looking. McDonough is too methodical, too cunning to leave anything to chance.”

Crane’s guilt magnified my own. We were both partially responsible for the tracker debacle. Both of us should’ve known better. I closed my mind off completely. There was no use lingering on things that couldn’t be changed, and doing so would only sink me into despair. Forward. I needed to just keep moving forward.

“Where will all the refugees go?” I asked to change the subject.

With the critical patients on their way to the cottage, plus Brand and the other soldiers, Coalition Headquarters – Crane’s home – had to be nearing capacity. Even with all of the sublevels, there wasn’t anywhere close to enough room for everyone.

“There are temporary facilities where they can stay until we find them permanent housing. Doctors can treat their injuries there, and they can be assessed for compatibility with the Coalition,” Crane replied.

Compatibility with the Coalition? That sounded ominous.

“We can’t be too careful, Talia. I have spies all over the eastern half of the United States, and some placed in high government positions within TOXIC. McDonough isn’t stupid; he’s done the same. Anyone seeking refuge in the Coalition’s territory has to be thoroughly evaluated before being allowed in.”

“I see,” was all I said. His reasons made sense, but I didn’t want to think about the little boy with the burned arm being “evaluated.” It brought to mind the images of those lines of children that had been forced into my mind on the ground in Gatlinburg. I shuddered. That Manipulator had controlled me as easily as a puppet. I didn’t appreciate that. No, I hated that. I was done with blind subservience.

“Our procedures are painless, I promise,” Crane continued, as though reading my mind. He wasn’t. I’d made sure of that. But I was doing little to keep my emotions out of my expression.

“How long before we’re back at the cottage?” I asked abruptly.

I wanted nothing more than to see Erik. To sit with him, and hold his hand, and tell him everything was okay. I wanted to tell him about flying to California, convincing Crane to help us, and the rescue mission. I wanted to tell him Penny was alive, and that together the three of us would provide UNITED with the proof they needed to take action and stop Mac and TOXIC.

“A couple of hours. We need to drop the refugees off at one of the induction facilities, then we’ll fly straight home. Don’t worry. He’s in good hands until you get there. My doctors are top notch. I have a feeling Penny will personally take charge of his care in your absence. And God help him if he wakes up before we get there and Marin takes responsibility for his care. She is quite the force to be reckoned with.” Crane’s eyes crinkled when he talked about his supposed housekeeper.

That was how she’d been introduced to me, as Crane’s housekeeper, the official headquarters cook, and unofficial Coalition manager. I wasn’t fooled. The way Crane and Marin looked at each other, all soft and sickeningly sweet, made it obvious the separate bedrooms were purely for show. And I’d taken the liberty of reading Marin’s thoughts, just to be sure I was right – know thy enemy and all that. Neither Crane nor Marin was my enemy, but they were unknown entities, so I thought the proverb still applied.

“What about Henri? Are you going to make him go to an induction camp?” I really hoped not. He was already wary of Crane and after being shot, I didn’t trust his wellbeing to strangers.

Crane scrutinized my face as I gave him, what I hoped, was an earnest smile. I thought about summoning the strength to compel him to agree, but I wasn’t sure I had it in me. Old-fashion begging, however, I was plenty capable of.

“He’s Frederick’s partner, right?” Crane asked, clearly stalling for time.

“Yes, and he was my team captain when I was with the Hunters. You can trust him.”

“Trust is a strong word, Talia. You shouldn’t use it lightly,” Crane replied, giving me one of his penetrating gazes.

“I don’t,” I snapped, suddenly irritated that he was treating me like a child.

“Do you trust me?” he asked, surprising me.

Did I trust Ian Crane? I knew he hadn’t killed my parents and he’d helped me rescue Erik. But did that mean that I trusted him? So many people had violated my trust. So many people had lied to me. Some had done it to protect me, others not so much. Crane wasn’t one of those people.