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Gered slowly peeled his eyes open. His dry lips cracked as they parted in an exhale, his mouth working to bring some moisture back. Unfamiliar ceiling tiles stretched above him. He blinked slowly, a steady beeping encroaching on his awareness. Something pulled along the back of his neck as he turned to look. Blocky medical equipment stood next to the bed. He followed the trailing lines back to where they lodged in the crook of his right elbow.
Both wrists were bandaged and resting on a woven blanket drawn up over his chest. Another thick bandage covered most of his upper right arm.
Where am I?
The plaster walls were painted in a comforting pale blue. Not the Barracks. Several faded photographs adorned the walls—one a black and white of a mountain highway, and the other a forest.
And, curled in the armchair at the foot of the bed—Laramie, asleep, her jacket tucked up around her shoulders.
Definitely not the Barracks.
He shifted his elbow to try to push himself up. A hissing breath escaped as pain ricocheted across his chest. He settled back down.
Laramie stirred and blinked slowly awake.
“Hey!” She pushed her jacket away and came to sit on the side of his bed, rubbing her eyes, still careful of the bruising staining her left temple.
“Where are we?” He flinched a little as the hoarse words grated from his throat.
“Arrow.”
“Arrow?” he repeated in confusion. That was outside the territory. What were they doing there, unless...
“You won?”
She nodded, though a sort of haunted look filled her face instead of triumph like he’d expected. “Got a truck, our bikes, and you, and hightailed it out of there.”
There was no way Rosche just let her—let him—go.
“Is he dead?”
She didn’t say anything.
“Did you kill him?” He tried to sit up again, needing to know.
She shrugged. “I don’t know if he’s alive or not. I left him in the bottom of a ravine with a knife wound and what might’ve been a broken leg. When I got back to the Barracks, I told them to hold up the deal and I’d tell them where he was.”
“They went for that?”
“Moshe made sure they did. But Barns didn’t look too happy about it.”
He sank back into the pillows. Barns would be more than happy to take over from Rosche if given the chance.
“How are you feeling?” She leaned a little closer.
Dusted awful. Still better than the last time he remembered being conscious, which had been sometime after being cuffed to the posts. He lifted a shaky hand to his chest. The thin hospital clothes rubbed soft against his skin.
“Alive.”
A grin touched her mouth, skewed a little by swelling in the corner. “Good. For a bit, I didn’t think I was going to be able to get you here.”
He swallowed the faint moisture that had begun to come back to his mouth.
“Thanks.”
She nodded again, her jaw tightening.
He shifted, able to make it further toward sitting before having to give up because of his chest. The rough outlines of bandages poked up through the shirt across the right side of his ribs. A bone-deep ache lingered across his body from plenty of hits he remembered all too clearly.
“Wait.” She reached past him and something beeped. The bed adjusted itself so he came more into a sitting position. From there, he maneuvered himself upright.
“What’s this for?” He indicated the clear line, glad he hadn’t been conscious for that. He hated seeing anything sliding into his skin.
“You were severely dehydrated when we got here last night. They’ve been pumping fluids in like crazy. And some medication. They said the injuries from your crash were already getting infected.”
“Can’t believe you got us out.” He shook his head.
“Me either,” she admitted. “I tried to get Gioia to come, but she said no. I’m sorry.” Sympathy tightened the corner of her mouth.
His fingers pilled around the blanket. He didn’t want to admit how much he’d hoped she would have walked through the door. Alive. Out of the gangs.
“It’s okay.” He forced the words.
She briefly touched his hand, then pulled back to knot her fingers together. “Hey, when we were driving here...you told me that if you died, to bury you somewhere green. Somewhere with your name on the gravestone.”
He shifted. That sounded somewhat familiar.
She swallowed hard and reached over to her jacket. She slid something out of the inside pocket.
“You also said a name...not Gered...but a name that I know.”
His heart stuttered. He’d given up his name?
She extended something in a hesitant hand. His breath caught as he stared at nearly forgotten faces. He remembered the day the picture was taken. It had faded to colors and sounds and impressions. The sweet smell of the trailing roses. The warmth from the morning sun almost hot enough to be uncomfortable. The arms wrapped around him, holding him tight and tickling him to make him smile.
His fingers trembled as they took the picture.
“Where did you get this?” The words came out a whisper clogged with emotion.
“It’s mine. It was the only thing left in my house besides me after the Tlengin raiders swept through and the travelers found me.” She scooted a little closer, eyes bright. “I had parents, and an older brother named Marcus.”
A breath edged from his cracked lips.
“My name’s not really Laramie. It’s Melodie. Melodie Arabella Solfeggietto.”
He squeezed his eyes shut against the sudden sting. When he opened them, he saw the similarities between the woman in the picture and the woman sitting on the bed in front of him. He remembered playing with a puppy in the green grass, giggles following him as a yellow-haired baby sister with a mischievous smile tumbled after him.
Now that he dared to look closer at her, to actually care, he saw the things he’d nearly forgotten. The same touch of blue in her left iris like his mother. The way her mouth quirked at the corner when she’d been especially smart-ass like his dad.
“I had them test some of your blood against mine. It’s a perfect match. I’m sorry, I should have waited until you were awake to ask, but I just couldn’t,” she babbled, eyes widening as if afraid he’d be mad.
He couldn’t be. Not when there was a name pushing up from his suffocated memories. He held it in his mouth for a moment, remembering the soft edges of the nickname.
“Dee?”
She pressed a hand against her mouth. A tear trembled on her lashes as she nodded. “Yeah.” She reached out to touch his arm again, eyes wide as if afraid he’d vanish. “Saints, I can’t believe it’s you.” Her lips tightened and she blinked rapidly as if holding back tears.
Something damp trickled down his cheek. Am I crying? The picture blurred in front of him.
“Sorry.” He smudged his cheeks with fingers. Don’t apologize. Don’t show weakness. Cut it out.
Then arms were around him, and Laramie pulled him close. He slowly wrapped his arms around her, not even sure when the last time he’d been hugged was. Probably when the picture had been taken.
His shirt soaked up her tears as she pressed her face into his shoulder. Something seemed to finally break inside him, and he leaned on her, not even trying to stop the tears as they pushed from his eyes. With each one that fell, more and more tension released inside. From all the years of hell. From thinking his entire family was dead. From not trying harder to escape the raiders, and then the vipers. From leaving Gioia and Dayo behind.
Eventually his shoulders stopped shaking. He shuddered another breath, feeling even more drained and exhausted. She rubbed his shoulder.
“It’s okay,” she whispered in Itan. “It’s okay.”
He mustered the strength to lift himself out of her arms, dabbing at his cheeks again. She sniffed and scrubbed her sleeve across her nose.
“How did you survive?” He stared at her, feeling as though somehow she’d become something strange.
She threaded her fingers together again. “When the attack started, Mom grabbed me and shoved me into a cabinet in the kitchen. She told me to stay there until they came to get me. Then she went to go look for you.”
“I was outside in the garden,” Gered remembered. “Smoke and screaming everywhere...”
Laramie’s lips pressed tight together. She hated remembering as much as he did.
“But no one came. I remember climbing out of the cabinet when she didn’t come back. I thought I needed to help find you...” She rubbed her nose, and turned her head to look at the uninteresting machine. “Our door had been shot up. Raiders were everywhere in the streets. Bodies. Smoke. Fire.”
His heart hammered in his chest.
“A raider started coming toward the door. I ran and hid in the cabinet again and didn’t come out. Not even when smoke crept under the door and the screaming stopped.” She rubbed her arms, more tears streaking down her face.
“I don’t know how long it was until the travelers came through. The noise they made scared me so much that I must have made some sort of sound that led them right to me. They couldn’t get me to talk for months after that.”
“Dust,” he whispered.
“They told me later that everyone was dead. No survivors. Maybe they found another body and assumed it was you, or...”
“They did the right thing telling you that,” he interrupted.
She jutted her jaw like she wanted to argue.
“They took more prisoners than just me.” He seemed unable to bring his voice past a whisper. “You don’t want to know what happened to them. Or to any other Itan they took on their massacre runs.”
Laramie’s eyes widened and she placed a gentle hand on his forearm. He touched her warm hand, anchoring himself back to earth.
“I only survived because of the amount of blue in my eyes.” Apparently even holy wars made excuses for someone who might have a use. “Mom tried to get me back inside, but...” He’d buried the memory so deep it didn’t want to come out.
Laramie closed her eyes, tears leaking from under her lashes.
Finally she opened her eyes and mustered a smile. “I feel a little stupid. I should have recognized you. I’ve stared at that picture enough.”
Gered looked back at it still held tight in his hand. “It’s been years. We both knew our family was dead. And I’m...” He froze. She already knew what he was. There was no hiding it. She’d just have to get good at hiding her disappointment in him.
“Hey.” She nudged his arm. “I know a little bit about you, and I’m not scared or disappointed.”
He could barely meet her gaze. “Maybe not yet.”
“Don’t say that!” Her eyes glinted dangerously. “Never.”
He swallowed fear. She would be, eventually.
A knock at the door sent them both wiping their eyes again. Laramie offered a smile and went to answer it. Even though he knew they were in a med center, knew they were safe, Gered still tensed as she opened it.
A nurse in plain gray scrubs was on the other side. He carried a tray of bandages and medicine.
“Hey, you’re awake!”
Gered blinked at his cheerful tone. He’d never met someone so upbeat in a med center.
“Just needed to change out those bandages for you and check your levels.” The nurse set the tray on the table and grabbed a clipboard from the base of the bed. He tapped a few buttons on the machines and jotted notes.
He turned to Gered, who stiffened, wariness returning.
“How you feeling?”
“Fine,” Gered cautiously replied. Fine meant he could be left alone.
The nurse pursed his lips and raised an eyebrow. “Let me know if that changes while we switch these out.”
“I’ll wait outside,” Laramie said.
Gered edged away from where the nurse hovered closer, pulling on sterile gloves. He glanced to her. He wouldn’t be able to do anything to defend himself if the nurse pulled something. Instantly, he shook his head at himself. I’m being too paranoid.
“Unless you want me to hang around?” Laramie asked.
He jerked a quick nod, almost hating himself for the bit of weakness. She perched on the edge of the chair, watching the nurse almost as sharply as he did. It helped him relax a fraction.
The nurse reached for the ties lacing up the side of the hospital shirt. Once undone, he moved it aside to expose the bandages. Bruising covered his chest and stomach around the bandages. A few brown spots stained the white gauze. Gered swallowed hard, nervous to see what lay underneath.
All he remembered was the pain that had erupted after he crashed.
He bunched the blanket in his hands, breath escaping in sharp hisses as the nurse tugged the bandages free with murmured apology.
Underneath was a mess of raw and scraped skin.
“Hope you weren’t too attached to that tattoo.” The nurse pointed at his side.
The head and shoulders of the spotted jackal still snarled across his ribs, but the rest lay mangled and torn under the wound. He caught Laramie staring at it, her eyes distant for a moment before she turned to him and offered a slight smile.
“Not really,” he said.
The nurse dabbed something cool and pain-relieving over the injury before taping more bandages over it. He retied the shirt and moved on to Gered’s arm and then wrists.
Under his instruction, Gered gingerly tried to move his fingers against the sun-scorched tightness of his blistered skin.
“Keep working on it. Gently.”
Gered nodded obedience, focused instead on the raw wound that wrapped his wrist, severing the snake’s head from its body. He quickly turned his right arm up. The Itan script was intact. Relief sent his eyes closed for a moment. He didn’t mind the wounds so much if they’d broken the detested markings on his skin. But he would have hated to see the Itan ruined.
Their parents had kept the quote framed above the doorframe between the kitchen and cozy dining room.
“This one is gonna hurt.” The nurse folded the blanket back and undid the ties on the loose pants. “Let me know if you want an extra dose of pain meds.”
Gered nodded. His skin already felt raw from the treatment so far.
The nurse picked up a syringe from the tray and injected it through a small port on the main lines. Gered gingerly eased back down, his ribs and chest aching from the amount of time spent upright.
“Here we go.” The warning wasn’t enough for the tearing sensation in his leg.
Laramie was at his side in a second, pushing him down into the bed. He gripped her arm as well as his bandaged hand would allow until the meds kicked in.
“And that’s done!” the nurse announced, gathering up the dirty bandages.
Laramie tapped his shoulder and helped pull the blankets back up over him.
“I’ll be back in a bit with a food tray.” The nurse checked the machine one more time.
Gered nodded, even though eating was the last thing he felt like doing. “How long do I have to stay here?”
The nurse peeled his gloves off. “A few days at least. You were in pretty bad shape when you came in. Those wounds will need consistent monitoring for now. Doc’ll let you know.”
A few days. Gered already itched to put more distance between them and the border. But exhaustion pressed his body into the bed.
The thin mattress dipped as Laramie sat. “I’m ready to leave too.”
He tilted a glance at her. She’d been able to read him almost immediately.
“You pull some of the same expressions I see in the mirror,” she admitted almost sheepishly.
He half smiled.
“Hey,” she paused. “I know we hadn’t really talked about what we were doing after we got out. And now it happened.”
He rubbed the blankets between his fingers. Was this where she changed her mind?
“I’m headed back to my traveler family. You want to come with?”
He stared at her, still shocked even though he’d known deep down she’d offer.
“You sure you want me along?” he asked.
She rolled her eyes. “You think I’m just leaving you here after everything? Besides, I’d like to keep my brother around for a bit.”
His eyes stung again. Brother. He still didn’t know how to be that. But maybe he could figure it out.
“Okay.”
Her grin put the sun to shame. She pushed to her feet.
“They’ll be heading into the fall route, which means we’ll have about a two day ride to get there. I’ll start getting the stuff we’ll need, and make sure the bikes can make it.”
He frowned. “Bikes?”
“Yeah. Unit Four put our bikes in the back of the truck along with our stuff. I’ve got your guns as well.”
He turned his gaze up to the ceiling, focusing on the one uneven tile right above him. “How was Dayo?”
Laramie paused long enough that he almost looked at her again.
“He got you in the truck, but still looked pretty pissed. I’m sorry.”
He nodded. She didn’t need to apologize. It was his fault. And he might never have a chance to change it.
“I’ll be back later.” She tapped his shoulder again. “Get some rest.”
