The Rift Frequency - Amy Foster S.

Скачать книгу

that end with us being separated from our technology, and effectively stranded. I allow myself to imagine briefly what it would be like to be stuck on a desert island with Levi for the rest of my life. No family, no friends, no Ezra. Just me and Levi forever.

      That thought, along with the excruciating pain, brings bile to my throat.

      What the hell is wrong with me? I can’t be thinking about any of that now.

      Crisis.

      Mode.

      I have to deal with Levi. Since he’s lying facedown in the sand, I’m fairly sure he isn’t conscious. Thankfully, there is that small tree line behind me made up of a crop of swaying palms. They’ll provide enough shade for us to rest without having to set up the tents. I grab Levi by his pack, and because I’m in too much pain to carry him, I have to drag him the hundred feet or so away from the beach. My burnt hands touch his backpack, and the pain of this one small act, dragging my partner to shelter, almost brings me to my knees. I take a moment when it’s done, steadying myself on a tree with my elbow. I’d like to collapse, too, but there’s too much to be done.

      There’s no point in waking Levi until I can doctor his wounds, and I can’t do anything to help him with my own wounds raw and exposed. I take off my belt and unzip my catsuit-like uniform down past my belly button. Ever so gently, with just my thumb and index finger, I peel the suit down. When I get to my wrists I try to make the opening wide enough so that the material doesn’t touch my hands. I fail on both sides and I grind my teeth against the pain so hard my jaw starts to ache.

      I sigh with relief when it’s off. Beneath the suit I’m wearing nothing but a black sports bra. Ordinarily I’d worry about touching Levi dressed like this, about touching him period, but he’s in too much pain for his Blood Lust to activate.

      I hope.

      I gently tie the sleeves of my uniform around my waist and walk briskly to the ocean. I need to clean my injuries before I can put on medicine and dress them. I crouch down and swiftly blow air out of my lungs, then plunge my hands in the warm salt water. I actually scream it hurts so badly. I must be seriously injured. Citadels excel at many things, but most of all they are masters at fighting, lying, and enduring pain. The Roones say we have the ability to turn down the sensitivity of our nerve receptors, which is probably a version of the truth. So the fact that I’m ready to pass out right now says a lot about the magnitude of my injuries. I need real medical attention, but what can I do about it? There’s no one else here, and Levi is worse off than I am.

      I steel myself as I splash seawater on my face, bringing on another round of agony. I falter in the ocean, nothing but collapsing sand beneath my feet to steady myself on. I dig deep, mentally, trying to push through the sharp white pain without passing out, but I’m not sure how much more of this I can take.

      When it feels like I’ve sufficiently cleaned my wounds, which, as far as I can tell, are mostly second-degree burns wherever my skin was exposed, I race back up to the coverage beneath the trees. I dump the contents of both our packs out onto the sand. It’s easier to get what I need this way as opposed to rooting through them with my raw and damaged hands. I take our bowls and cups and run back to the ocean to fill them. I move so fast I manage to outrun the latest wave of pain as the water hits my skin. Or maybe more and more of my pain receptors are being turned off.

      A girl can hope.

      When I get back to our pile of stuff, I find my first aid kit and open it with my teeth. We have an ample supply of medicines and supplies for all kinds of injuries. Edo must have known we would encounter Earths like the last one, with dangerously unstable atmospheres. I find a tube that looks like toothpaste but is labeled as burn ointment. I unscrew it with my teeth and squeeze out a generous amount into my palms. The relief is immediate and palpable and I cover my hands with the medication. I do the same with my face and the pain becomes tolerable. I wrap my entire left hand in a bandage and most of my right, but leave my fingers exposed so I can treat Levi.

      I remove his helmet first. When the contraption retracts he wakes up with a yelp of pain. “Don’t try to be a stoic, okay? Just lie here and let me help you,” I warn him. By way of reply Levi nods his head. “This part is really going to hurt. Like, probably more than anything you’ve ever experienced. I have to clean the injuries and no, I’m not rubbing salt in your wounds for fun. It’s antibacterial, so grit your teeth and don’t punch me.” I gently pour the water I collected from the ocean over his hands. To his credit, Levi remains perfectly still, though tears are pouring down his face. I take a clean cloth and dab his face lightly with the seawater. Wearing a sealed helmet would have helped with bacteria, and even though there is an antibacterial agent in the burn ointment, given our situation, I must be doubly safe. I don’t want to return home before we’ve found Ezra just because of an infection we can prevent.

      Once everything is clean, I gently pick up his hand and, with featherlight fingers, apply the ointment. I hear his heartbeat slow and he releases an audible sigh of relief. The burns he sustained cauterized the bullet wound, which went straight through his palm. I suppose in that one way he was lucky. I wrap both his hands in bandages and then move to his face.

      There’s no denying that Levi is beautiful. His brown hair glints russet in the single shaft of sunlight that has escaped the palm leaves. His eyes are a green as bright as the Rift. But right now he looks like something out of a horror movie. There is not an inch of exposed flesh on his face that is not blistered or bleeding. I gently rub the medicine into his skin. He remains unmoving, but his eyes tell a different story. It seems that he has focused all his pain right in the blazing rings of his irises. I’ve never seen him look so vulnerable, and it actually shakes me to my core until I can force myself to simply focus on the task at hand. When I am done, I sit back on my haunches and reach for the other bandages to wrap the fingers I had left exposed.

      “Thank you,” Levi croaks. I nod my head and turn away. I didn’t choose to become a Citadel, but I did choose to get out from under the yoke of ARC. My decisions are now a constellation of burns and blood on Levi’s face. I don’t know exactly how much I am to blame for all this, but I feel responsible enough, and a wave of guilt washes over me, settling squarely between my shoulder blades.

      Captain Sato had done a lot of preaching about the greater good, and now I recognize why his seemingly casual grasp of the concept offended me. Levi, right here, in agony—this is sacrifice for the greater good.

      Thinking of Sato reminds me of that stupid clock on the wall. My flesh seems to throb in time to the second hand. Tick. Tick. Tick. Every hour we are gone puts everyone more at risk, but right now we’ve run out of options. We have to stop and rest. We have to heal. I pour some water down Levi’s throat and take a deep gulp from my own canteen.

      I pull out the Roone equivalent of a hypodermic needle from the med kit. It looks like a tiny silver gun with a hollow front where you can swap out different medicines. I load up Levi’s with a pain medication that will knock him out. He’s looking at me, shaking his head. He doesn’t want this.

      I don’t have time for his stubborn ass right now.

      “We have to, Levi. We’re in no condition to do anything. And besides, I really don’t think there’s anything or anyone else here. This is Waterworld Earth. We need to sleep.”

      I prep the little gun and watch the slender needle snap out. “All I need is rest, not sleep. We could be out for days,” Levi says in a whisper.

      I cock my head and give him my best mom look. “If you had a mirror right now, you’d let me do this.”

      “I don’t need a mirror. I can see what you look like.” I curl my lip. Rude. No need to state the obvious.

      “Sorry.” Not sorry. I jab the needle into his neck, maybe a little harder than necessary. I watch his eyes flutter and close. He’s out in seconds. With the last bit of energy I have I manage to make a lean-to of sorts by jamming our rifles into the sand and attaching a solar sheet with tiny holes in the corners for this very purpose. It’s little things like this that freak me out. The Roones really did think of everything.

Скачать книгу