by Rebecca York
She ran inside, gathered up towels and returned to Gabe, where she followed the man’s directions. When she looked at the unit again, another man’s face floated above the screen.
“I’m med tech Harrison. I will be assisting you.”
That wasn’t exactly what she wanted to hear. “Can you come and get him—and take him to the hospital?” she begged as she pressed against Gabe’s chest.
“Negative.”
“That means—no?”
“Correct. It’s against the guidelines in our policy and procedures manual. We’re spread pretty thin. When there are two at a homestead and only one is disabled, we rely on the functioning person to take care of the emergency. We will help you through the treatment process and send a drone with supplies. Until then, apply pressure to the wound.”
“Okay.”
“I have the coordinates of your property. Where are you exactly?”
“In the farmyard. I dragged him in here for safety.”
“Good. But you need to get him into the house.”
It had taken a terrible effort to move him this far. “I don’t know if I have the strength,” she whispered.
“You need a tarp or some kind of sheet. Get him onto it and drag him indoors.”
She ran to one of the sheds, found a tarp and brought it back. When she moved Gabe onto it, he cried out, and she had to press her fist against her mouth to keep from screaming.
She laid the comms unit between his legs, then slowly pulled him to the front of the house, across the porch and inside.
“How long before the drone arrives?”
“Twenty minutes. While you’re waiting, I need to ask some questions. Does Gabriel have any special medical needs?”
Gabriel. She’d never heard him use that form of his name.
“No,” she answered.
“Was he in good health before the mauling?”
“Yes.”
“Bring covers. Keep him warm,” Harrison directed. “Can you turn up the heat in the house?”
“Yes.”
A roar outside announced that the drone had arrived in the farmyard as promised.
“It’s here.”
“Okay. Go out and open the door in the side of the fuselage. Remove the payload and bring it inside.”
When she had brought in a package that was almost too heavy for her to carry, Harrison said, “Good. Now pull over a small table and set the comms unit on it so I can see what you’re doing.”
She looked wildly around and spotted the kitchen table, which she dragged over before setting the unit down. The arrangement made it look like the man was sitting at the table watching her, and she realized that she’d taken off her shirt to use as a makeshift bandage. The guy on the screen was seeing her half naked except for a bra. She wanted to run and grab a shirt; instead she stayed where she was.
“Okay, good,” he said in a business-like voice, ignoring the forced intimacy. “There’s a special bed inside the medical kit. Unfold it near the patient.”
She pulled out the package, pressed a button on the side and watched it inflate. It made a padded bed that sat about a foot from the floor.
“Roll it to the side and roll him onto it, then center it horizontally.”
As she struggled to get Gabe into the bed, he groaned. “Sorry, sorry,” she whispered, then glanced at the man on the screen.
“Excellent job,” he said. “I’m getting readings from him now. He’s lost a lot of blood. You need to give him more.”
“How?”
“There are units with the supplies.” He told her where to find them, how to set up the IV drip, and how to put the needle into Gabe’s arm.
“Now you need to undress him, cut off his clothes and clean his wounds.”
“Okay.”
The clothing was already ruined, with deep tears where the animal had mauled him. In addition to the wounds on his face, he also had gashes on his hands—from trying to defend himself, she guessed. Worst of all, one of his arms looked like it was barely attached to his body.
She gasped as she saw the extent of the damage. If she hadn’t heard him call out, he would have bled to death.
She let the guy guide her through the process of positioning the arm and strapping it to his side and molding some kind of special material over his shoulder. When that was done, she covered his other wounds with the same material, which had a strange texture and smelled like they were soaked with medication.
The tech inspected her work. “Good job. Attach the waste unit between his legs, then cover him with the blanket that pulls up from the bottom of the bed.”
“The waste unit?”
“It will keep him clean. Waste is collected in the bed’s under layer. Now cover him with the blanket.”
When she completed the procedure, Gabe looked like he was enclosed in a cocoon. The blanket covered his body, and the bandages covered half of his face. The part she could see was pale and unresponsive.
The tech spoke, his voice penetrating the fog of fatigue that made her feel like she was functioning at the bottom of an ocean.
“You did a good job.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“The bandages are designed to speed the healing process, but he’ll need total support for a few days. And the bed unit is now providing sedation.”
“Will he be okay?” she asked urgently.
“We won’t know for sure for several days, but the medical bed is highly efficient. Hopefully, your husband will make a full recovery. The claws missed his eye, so the vision should be okay, and the muscles and nerves in the arm should regenerate. But he will have some scarring. You can look under the bandages on his face and chest in the morning, but leave the arm strap in place.”
She nodded, trying to take everything in. “What if he needs more pain medication?”
“The bed should take care of that.”
“What if it doesn’t? Can I give him more?”
“I wouldn’t advise it.”
“Okay.”
“Change the bandages in the morning. I will check in with you tomorrow. And get some rest. You’ll need it.”
“Wait!” she shouted, but Harrison’s image had already faded from the screen.
The bed was only a few feet from the couch. She scooted backwards and leaned against one edge, resting her head on the arm. She was totally drained—emotionally and physically.
A kick to the inside of her abdomen startled her, and she looked down at the small bulge that stuck up from her middle. The baby had done that before, but this was stronger and more sustained.
She laid her hand over her womb. She’d been carrying small, she guessed you’d call it, and mostly she’d been able to ignore her condition—unless she had a sudden spurt of terror when she wondered what, exactly, was going to happen between her and Gabe.
But mostly she must have been the master of denial, acting like everything was going to come out okay.
Fates, how could she have thought her stupid plan would work? Well, maybe it would have with another man—someone who wasn’t as smart as Gabe. And maybe it would have worked if she’d had the stomach—no pun intended—to go through with it. But in the end, she hadn’t been able to mouth the lie.
She stayed where she was for a few minutes before sliding back to Gabe. She thought his color already looked better, but maybe that was only wishful thinking.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I really messed things up, didn’t I? But I didn’t know what to do. I thought lying would be the easy way out, but I couldn’t do it. Or maybe I told you the truth because I knew I didn’t deserve to be happy with a man as good as you.”
She laid her head on the side of the bed and reached inside, easing a hand under the blanket. When she found Gabe’s bandaged hand, she gently clasped her fingers around his, hoping she wasn’t hurting him and wondering if he even knew she was there. And if he did, would he even want her beside him?
Tears welled in
her eyes, and she didn’t try to hold them back. Finally, she had the luxury of crying. For Gabe. For the mess she’d made. For the vast black unknown stretching out in front of her.
When she got control of the tears, she asked the fates to help Gabe. “He’s a good man,” she murmured. “He got angry, and he had the right to be angry. Don’t let my mistake kill him.”
Chapter Six
Carin was almost too tired to move, and she dozed off a couple of times. When she had the strength to get up, she staggered into the bathroom, used the facilities and washed. Instead of putting on a nightgown, she dressed in fresh work clothing and dragged a blanket and pillow to the lounge area. She lay down on the rug, a few feet from the medical bed, thinking she should keep watch, but sleep grabbed her, and it wasn’t until she heard the rooster crowing in the chicken house that she woke with a start, wondering why the bed felt so hard—until it all came flooding back.
Her firelight confession. Gabe’s reaction. The granling mauling him. And her frantic efforts to deal with the emergency.
“Fates,” she whispered as she scooted across the floor to the inflated bed that she was sure had saved Gabe’s life last night. She’d never heard of anything like it, but then she didn’t know much about medical practices on Palomar.
Gabe was still sleeping, and she thought he looked better—until she lifted the bandage on his face and got a good look at the claw marks that went from just under his right eye to his chin. But the medical covering seemed to be doing some good. Only a few deep slashes were red. The shallower tracks were fading. It was the same with his chest, only the lines were deeper, like the animal had gone for the kill. Had Gabe been able to defend himself at all, or had he been taken by surprise?
“How are you?” she whispered.
He didn’t respond, but she wondered if she saw his lips twitch.
“You were hurt by a granling last night,” she told him. “They sent a drone with a medical bed, and I’ve been talking to a tech who helped me get you stable. You’re going to be okay.”
Again, she was met with silence, and she felt her heart squeeze. She wanted him to wake up, but she knew he needed to sleep and heal.
“I’m going to take care of the animals,” she told him. “Then I’ll check on the fence.”
She didn’t want to waste time on breakfast, so she grabbed her comms unit and a slice of bread and butter before going out to let the chickens and some of the other animals out. She couldn’t let the cows into the pasture until she checked the fence to see what kind of repairs it needed. But she milked them and turned on the electricity, hoping that would keep any other predators away from the farmyard.
As she returned to the house, the comms unit chirped. When she answered, Harrison was on the other end of the line again.
“How is Gabe?” he asked.
“Okay, I think.”
“Let me have a look.”
She brought the unit to the table and pulled back Gabe’s covering. The tech had her lift the bandages.
“He’s healing nicely.”
“What about his arm?”
“I’ll look at that later. You need to change his IV drip.”
“Okay.”
He instructed her what to use,
“When can he wake up?” she asked.
“In a few days. Let’s look at the arm.”
She took off the bandages and the strap, gasping as she saw the line of raw flesh at his shoulder.
“Is it really going to be all right?” she whispered.
“The bed and the special bandage are designed for regeneration,” he repeated what he’d said the night before.
“Okay,” she answered, praying that the tech wasn’t simply trying to make her feel better about Gabe’s future.
“He needs to stay quiet for now, but his vital signs are what we’re hoping for.”
“Good.”
“I’ll check back this evening, or you can call if you run into any problems.”
She had another moment of panic when the tech clicked off, feeling the terrible responsibility of keeping the farmstead going and taking care of Gabe. Could you hire someone on Palomar to help with the work? Maybe, but she didn’t know anyone—particularly anyone she could trust. And would Gabe want someone poking into his business?
With a sigh, she went back to work, dividing her time between the farmstead and her husband.
Cautiously she walked into the pasture, beamer at the ready as she scanned for danger. There was a place where the grass was torn up, and she sucked in a sharp breath as she looked at it. Probably it was where the granling had attacked Gabe—and he had tried to fight it off. When she found the section of fence that the granling had knocked over, she used one of the farm machines to stabilize the posts, then checked on the electric charge. Both were okay, and she let the cows out into the field and mucked out their stalls before adding new hay.
By the time she was finished, she was wavering on her feet. Inside, she checked on Gabe, then brought some leftover stew to the place where she’d been camping out next to the couch. She managed to eat a little, then fell asleep sitting up.
The comms unit woke her, and she answered the call—from a different med tech this time, a man named Isherwood.
“Where’s Harrison?” she asked, fighting panic.
“He’s taking a break. He will be here next time you check in.”
Thank the fates. In just a few hours she’d come to rely on the man named Harrison. They’d never met in person, but she felt like he cared about her and Gabe.
The other man had her change the dressings. When he asked about the waste management unit, she flushed, realizing she’d forgotten about that. Quickly she cleaned Gabe up and replaced the interior linings before pulling the blanket back into place.
She longed to just sit beside him for a while, but she had to do the evening chores. When she came back, she saw the glass from the broken Christmas ornaments that was still on the floor and swept it up, then washed the area, trying to get up all the tiny pieces. She looked at the sad Christmas tree leaning against the wall. Grabbing the tip, she shoved it out the door, feeling like she was acknowledging the end of something important.
Finally, she was free to eat a little dinner and took a moment to start soup stock, because she had to keep up her strength to take care of Gabe.
Before sitting down beside him again, she built and lit a fire in the fireplace, the way they’d gotten into the habit of doing over the past few months—the happiest time of her life, she realized, as she thought back over her life with Gabe. She smiled as she pictured them making love. Eating together. Learning skills from him. Decorating the Christmas tree and exchanging presents.
That last memory brought a stab of pain as she recalled how their extended Christmas had ended. She’d shattered their lives with just a few words. But she knew she wouldn’t have been able to stand the joy on Gabe’s face when he thought his child was growing inside her. The lie about the baby’s origin would have turned her happiness to ashes.
Struggling to distract herself, she said, “When I take care of things on the farmstead, I try to think about how you’d do them. I got out that kind of all-purpose machine and used it to set the fence posts again. And all the animals are watered and fed. I was afraid to let the cows into the field at first, but that’s all straightened out. And I cleaned their stalls while they were out.” She cleared her throat. “And about that damn granling. I blasted it, and today I hacked some meat off a leg and used it for the start of a meat and vegetable soup.” She laughed. “It makes great stock.” Sobering again, she continued, “Then I used the small hauler to drag the bastard out near the wood lot. I’m sure the predators will take care of the rest of it for us.”
She went on to tell him more about her day, ending with, “I hope there are no crops that need harvesting right now. I guess there’s some manual or something I can read. Or maybe Control Central would talk to me about it. They were really good about
helping me yesterday. They sent out a drone with the bed you’re lying in. And two med techs told me what to do for you. They said you need to sleep for a few more days.”
It was strange talking without getting any answers, but she kept doing it, hoping he could hear her. Finally, she knew that dawn would come all too soon, and she lay down on the makeshift bed she’d made for herself.
For the next few days, her life followed that pattern—keeping the farm running interspersed with taking care of Gabe.
On the third day, a noise woke her before dawn. When she realized it was Gabe’s voice, she reached for the small lamp she’d kept beside her.
“Gabe, are you all right?”
“No.” He was looking around wide-eyed. Holding up his bandaged free hand, he stared at it. “Fates, it hurts. What happened? Where am I?” he croaked.
“You’re in a medical bed that Control Central sent. You’re going to be okay.”
“I had a nightmare. It was awful.” He stopped short, and she saw comprehension dawn in his eyes. “Slat! It wasn’t a nightmare, was it? I remember now. You told me you were having some bastard’s baby.”
Pain rocketed through her.
He started to speak again. “I did something stupid, didn’t I? Just like my damn father.”
“You were upset,” she whispered.
“Damn right. You said you didn’t want any secrets between us, but I knew you were lying about something.”
The insight stung.
“And then I found out what it was.”
In the next moment, he fell back into the bed and went still as death.
Her mouth dry as the limbs of the Christmas tree she’d thrown outside, she leaned over him, feeling for his heartbeat. Then a buzzing sound made her whirl, and she saw it was the comms unit, which was on the table where she always put it when she wasn’t outside.
She pressed the screen to accept the call, and a holo image formed.
“Sorry about that,” the tech named Harrison said.
“Gabe woke up. What happened?”
“A glitch in the control unit. It’s functioning again.”