It’s Laura who finds me. She rushes to my side and tries to lift SC-13 from my chest.
“No,” I whimper. “He’s mine.”
“You’re in a pool of blood.”
“It’s Konrad’s.”
“He’s dead. Really dead.” She places a hand on my head. “Are you injured?”
“My leg.”
“Do you think you can use me as a crutch? I have a medical team at the house, but they are caring for the others. David is injured. I’m afraid to call anyone away.”
“I can do it.” I sit up and am surprised that my leg doesn’t hurt as much as it did. I look down at SC-13, wondering if my healing, while not complete, is his doing. Laura helps me slide him into the satchel and sling him over my back. She seems resigned to it, even though it would be easier for her to carry the womb herself.
“One… two… three.” She lifts me onto my good leg and we limp toward the door to the barn. I take a second to glance back at Dr. Konrad, his face still covered with my jacket, the pitchfork thrown into the bloody hay beside him. “You’re sure he’s dead?” I ask, shivering.
Laura’s hand cups my cheek. “He’s stiff and cold. No heartbeat. He’s dead.”
I meet her eyes. “I want to burn his body.”
She nods. “We will.”
I expect to feel guilty about killing a man, especially in the brutal way I took out Konrad. After all, I was born and raised a pacifist. I don’t have my wolf to blame either. For a long time, she’s protected me from the full weight of guilt about what I had to do. But not anymore. She is gone for good. The only one who wielded the pitchfork was me. I don’t feel guilty as we make our way to my father’s house. All I feel is relief. I thank God for giving me the strength to protect my child and myself.
Inside the farmhouse, David is unconscious on a cot in the center of the room. A bag of blue fluid drips into his arm. A man and a woman in Liberty Party scrubs are stitching a wound in his shoulder.
“The blue solution contains serum, as much as we could spare. He risked his life coming here. We’ve been living on half doses until the new doctor can replicate the formula,” Laura says.
I bite my lip. A wave of loss over Charlie’s death almost brings me to my knees.
“Where’s Korwin? My father? Jeremiah and Trinity?”
Laura answers. “They’re fine. The medics are stitching them up. Korwin is still unconscious but healing.” She gestures toward the bedrooms.
I move in that direction, needing to see for myself that they’re okay, but I stop when David shifts on the gurney. “Lydia?” he rasps. His eyes flutter.
Laura races to his side and grabs his hand. “You’re okay, David, just rest.”
His sunken eyes find my mother’s face. “Liar.”
A tear cuts a trail down Laura’s face.
“Lydia?” he says again. He blinks and doesn’t open his eyes fully. His head tilts in my direction, but I don’t think he can see me. His eyes seem unfocused. “Please.”
I limp to his side, lowering myself to the chair near his head. “Thank you, David, for coming for me.”
“Owed you,” he rasps, each word a pronounced effort.
“No, you didn’t. You didn’t owe me this.”
He blinks slowly. “Sorry for … I did to you. Forgive?” The words are slurred. His body is so still, his flesh raw with electroscurvy. He stares aimlessly at the ceiling. I haven’t seen a person in this condition since Natasha.
“I forgive you.” I squeeze his hand, my eyes pooling with tears. “I forgive you, David. For everything. I understand now. I understand why you did it.”
He swallows and stops breathing.
“David? DAVID!” I shake his shoulder.
The medics rush in. I scramble out of the way, and Laura catches me in her arms when I trip over my injured leg. One of the medics places a rubber mask over David’s mouth and nose while another begins compressions on his chest.
“Don’t you dare die, David!” I yell. “I won’t forgive you if you die!” I sob as Laura cradles me in her arms, stroking the back of my head.
I’m not sure how much time passes until the medics stop working. I raise my face from Laura’s shoulder to see them packing up their equipment.
“Is he dead?” I ask.
The medic shakes her head. “Not today.”
I limp to his side. He’s even paler than before, but he raises his eyelids, and this time, he’s focused on me. “Konrad?”
I nod. “I killed him, David. He’s dead.”
“How?” His voice peters out, but I can tell what he wants to ask by the shape of his lips.
“With a pitchfork,” I say solemnly. “No spark. No Nanomem. Just the tool I used to use to shovel manure.”
David’s eyes close but the corner of his mouth lifts into a slight smile.
“An appropriate end for him, I think,” I say. He squeezes my hand and then slips into a needed slumber.
“You saved us, Lydia,” Laura says, coming to my side and placing a hand on my shoulder. “All of us, including that little guy on your back. Don’t ever forget that.” The look she gives me is knowing and empathetic.
I kiss David on the cheek and watch his chest rise and fall evenly.
“Wait!” a Liberty Party medic yells from my father’s bedroom. “I need to examine you!”
Korwin staggers into the doorframe, a bag of ice pressed to his head, and locks eyes with me. “Thank the Lord!” He limps across the room to wrap me in his arms. “Konrad knocked me out. When I woke, I was afraid… I…”
“I’m okay,” I say. “Konrad is dead.”
He squeezes me tighter.
There’s more yelling from the bedroom and my father appears. War-torn but alive, he hobbles to me, and I embrace him. “I wasn’t sure I’d ever see you again,” he says.
I squeeze him tight. “It’s going to be okay. You’re safe now. Konrad’s dead.”
Trinity, head bandaged, emerges from my room, pushing Jeremiah in his wheelchair.
“Did I hear Konrad’s dead?” she asks.
“Yes,” I say, breaking into a grin.
Jeremiah shakes his head. “I, for one, don’t reckon I’ll miss him.”
With one arm around Korwin and the other around my father, I break into a slow, painful smile and shake my head. “I don’t think you’re alone in that, Jeremiah Yoder.”