"Any more of them?" I ask.
"Alik is checking, but it looks like that was the last one."
"Good. Get Safi in the back seat. We need to go. I'll just lie here a second."
He disappears, and I'm tempted to stay exactly where I am until they're ready to go—but I think of Rak trying to lift Safi and the packs with his wounded hand, and I can't let him do it alone.
Despite the pounding pain in my skull, I manage to carry packs and guns and water bottles to the Vilor machine. Alik and Rak sit up front, while Safi lies on the back seat and I crouch on the floor beside her.
It takes Rak several minutes and a lengthy argument with Alik before he finally figures out how to start the Vilor vehicle. When at last he ignites the engine, the roar of it is so loud that I jump.
"That engine is like a hammer smashing inside my head," I groan, resting my temple on the edge of the seat as the machine moves forward into the desert.
"Have some pain tablets," Safi whispers.
I dig a pair of them out of her bag.
The inside of the Vilor machine smells like piss and fuel fumes and sweat and death. Images flash in my brain—the vile gesture of the Vilor driver I shot when we escaped Ankerja—the way his body jerked when the bolt punched through his brain. The bubbles of liquid-filled skin on the face of the man I burned to death. The gaping slit in Rak's hand when I pulled the glass out. A rough tongue sliding along my face, weight pressing on my back.
"Rak, stop!" The words jolt out of me, and I don't wait for the machine to stop before I'm hanging out the open door, clinging to it as I vomit onto the sand.
Rak waits, the engine growling at a standstill, until I swing back inside and close the door. "Better?" he asks, setting the machine rolling again.
"Not really." Every bit of my muscles, bones, and skin throb with pain. I want to sink into a very large plush bed and sleep and sleep, only waking up to take a hot bath or eat warm soup.
For the people who live here, life doesn't seem to include those luxuries. Ever.
"Is it all like this?" I ask.
"All what?" Alik twists around from the front seat to look at me. He has wiped most of the blood off his face, and his eyes shine like two blue stars—so beautiful compared to our disgusting, dingy surroundings that I take a second to admire them.
"Is all of Emsalis like this?" I ask. "Death, danger, pain, and poverty?"
"Not all," he says. "In the cities it looks better, sometimes. Taller buildings, more commerce. Less Vilor violence. But even there, most people don't have much. Medicine, food, clean water—it's hard to come by. Not to mention the outrageous prices for decent technology. The factions control the tech, mostly. Normal families can't afford anything but the most basic devices."
"But I thought—my team was told that you have all the modern technologies here. All the infrastructure and current devices."
Alik smiles patiently. "You are the Magnate's daughter. You and your vid crew would have been shown the very best Emsalis has to offer—the most beautiful buildings, the best-maintained streets, and the cleanest shopping plazas. Your route would have been carefully plotted, and confined to the southern part of the country. We're in the North, where your Ceannan Peace-Keepers don't usually dare to venture."
I remember Vern emphasizing how important it was for our team to stay on the prescribed routes, not to venture away to explore any non-approved or unsecured parts of the cities we were to visit. At the time I thought it was only for the usual security reasons—now I wonder if their primary intent was to manage my perception of the country. And through me and my vid crew, they could manage the way the whole world perceives Emsalis.
The southern part, calm, and under the control of the Peace-Keepers. The northern half, wildly different. Does my father know how little control our forces actually have in this region? If he knew, why is he lying to the rest of the world? And why would he send me here?
"When I was the son of the ambassador, I was part of the top tier of Emsalis society," Alik continues. "We had everything we needed, and plenty of it—although my father always complained about how long it took to get the latest versions of his favorite skull-port attachments here. When the NXD holo-screen came out, he had to wait two months to get it. Nearly killed him." He snickers. "Of course then the war began, and they were among the first to be targeted. And then I became acquainted with the real Emsalis."
"And you began stealing."
"I was a teenager without skills, except for my quick fingers and sharp wit." Alik winces and touches his chest again. "Babes' blood, I think one of those rutting Vilor snapped a couple ribs and nearly broke my breastbone."
"You're lucky they didn't," says Rak. "Saw a man get his chest smashed in once—ribs disconnected, lungs punctured—"
I leap for the door again and retch into the wind streaming past the vehicle—but there's nothing left in my stomach. My mouth feels dry as the desert, and my tongue tastes terrible.
When I close the door again, Rak glances back apologetically. "Sorry."
"I don't know what's wrong with me," I gasp, lying down with my head on Safi's pack. Then I realize that she has been quiet for a long time. I sit up to check on her.
Safi's beautiful face is dead white under her light tan, her skin glistening with sweat.
"Safi." I touch her shoulder. She doesn't respond, doesn't move at all. "Safi!"
Alik turns his head. "Is she all right?"
"She's not doing well. I really think she might be bleeding internally. Where's the nearest town?"
"It's about a day's drive from here. Saghir, it's called."
"I don't think she's going to make it that far."
Alik and Rak exchange glances, and I know they're thinking the same thing I am.
Safi is going to die.
I've only known her for a couple of days, but friendships seem to form faster out here than they ever did at home. Maybe it's something to do with the peril we've faced together, the food and shelter and laughs we've shared.
I didn't know I had carved her a place in my heart until it was done. She's there now, with my friends from home, and Rak, and even Alik. If she disappears from the world, I'll have a hole inside me where she used to be. Like the deeper crevice in my soul left behind by my grandmother.
The longer I live, the more people I will lose. By the end, my heart will be a carved-up, ugly thing, with chunks missing where all the people I cared about used to be.
What does Rak's heart look like? How many friends and relatives has he lost? His father is gone, and many of his Fray friends have been killed. It's a wonder he's willing to open his heart to me, even a little bit. Especially since I'll be leaving soon. And once I leave this terrible country, I'm never coming back.
A flicker of guilt. Because the people who live here don't get the same choices that I do. For them, this land of thirst and peril is all there will ever be.
Thirst, and hunger, and sadness, and death.
19
The machine jolts to a stop, and I startle awake. I didn't even know I had fallen asleep.
Alik is taking over the driving for Rak. Groaning, I force my aching body upright so I can check on Safi.
She doesn't seem to be breathing.
"Rak!" I call, panicking. "I think she stopped breathing!"
He's in the back seat instantly, leaning over her. He licks his wrist and holds it over her parted lips.
"It's there, but it's faint," he says. "I don't know what to do for her." His eyes reflect the pain and helplessness surging in my soul.
Alik jumps out of the machine, swearing. "Why didn't I think of it before!" He races out of sight. Then a shriek and groan of metal echoes from the back of the vehicle.
"What is he doing?" Rak leaps out, and I follow.
Alik stands before a compartment in the rear of the machine, slinging packs and satchels from its dark depths onto the sand.
"I knew they must have some place to stow their belongings," h
e says triumphantly. "Maybe they have medical supplies in here. Start searching!"
We rifle through bag after bag, until I find one with silver-wrapped nano-patches, injectors, and germ-eradicators. "What about something in here?"
Rak comes to my side and shuffles through the items. "I didn't have much medical training with the Fray, but I think this injector might help. The foam expands internally and stops the bleeding, and it dissolves over a couple of days. And here's a nanite coagulant. And a packet of synthetic blood." He frowns at the items. "I suppose you put the foam in at the affected site?"
I flip the injector over. "There are instructions—I can't read them, but you probably can. We'll have to try it and hope it helps," I say. "At this point, I don't think it can hurt."
She's dying anyway.
Back in the vehicle, I pull the remnants of Safi's clothes away from her stomach, leaving her chest covered. From what I can see, the worst wound is along her left side—a mottled, swelling bruise, purple and blue. The skin stretches tight and shiny over the distended area.
My stomach swirls again, and I suck in a deep breath.
Rak touches my neck lightly with his bandaged hand. "Zilara, Alik and I can take care of this."
"I should be here," I whisper. "I'm her friend."
"We'll take care of her. You trust me, yes?"
"I do."
"Then wait outside. Drink some water, check the bags to see if the Vilor left any food in them. It's not going to help Safi if you're in here throwing up on her."
Sighing, I push past him and leap out.
"Get in there, Alik," I say. "He'll need you, since he's got an injured hand."
"Of course, Princess." His lanky form disappears into the back seat.
After a long drink of water, I pick through the Vilor warriors' possessions. Sharpening blocks for knives. Stained underwear. Spare changes of clothes that aren't so fresh. A grungy tube of tooth cleaner, a sweat-stained weapons harness, a pair of cracked goggles. Cases of skull-port attachments, mostly vision enhancers, audio docks, and agility tech. One of them carried a case of injectors for muscle enhancement.
Out of one satchel tumbles a stash of snacks—nuribars with enhanced flavor, potato crisps, cured meat sticks, dried fruit. In the very back of the storage compartment sits a large case that Alik didn't bother to bring out—it proves to be the treasure trove I was looking for. Potatoes, vegetable stalks and fresh meat in cooling bags, packets of soup and stew and porridge—plus, a burner of much better quality than Safi's, and extra pots. Apparently no one ever cleaned the pots, though—they're caked with the remnants of past meals, reeking heavily of grease and spoilage.
I set aside everything we can use and throw the disgusting things together in a heap.
Rak and Alik haven't come out of the vehicle yet.
Rummaging through the medical supplies again, I find some clean cloths in a sealed packet. I walk to the open door of the vehicle, my heart pounding, and I step up. All I can see is Rak's back, and Alik's sweating, anxious face, and dark blood surging from purple edges of flesh. They cut her, probably to relieve the pressure of the fluid building up inside.
"I found clean cloths." My voice comes out as a croak.
Alik's eyes flash up at me, vivid blue. He reaches over Rak, snatches the packet from my outstretched hand, and goes back to whatever they're doing. For a minute I think I can stay and help—but the bile rises in my throat again. I can't do this. I'll only be a distraction.
Jumping down from the step, I wander around the vehicle to a strip of shade. The sun is sinking again, marking the end of yet another day in this alien place.
I wish I were stronger. I wish I could help them fix Safi.
I wish I had never agreed to visit Emsalis.
But then I would never have met Rak, or learned how powerful I am. I would never have understood these people and their struggle as I do now—not perfectly, but I'm beginning to grasp it.
Maybe I can't handle blood and human fluids very well. That's doesn't mean I'm not strong in my own way.
"Zilara!" Rak's voice is sharp, commanding. "The stitch kit from the medical pack. Nano-patches—anything you find. Here, now!"
Something I can do. I run to the bag, fingers scrabbling through the remaining supplies, and I race to the vehicle with my hands full.
Rak's fingers are slick with blood. He wipes them on a cloth and takes the stitch kit. "Got to close her the old way first," he says. "Just to be sure it stays shut. The nanites in regular patches won't seal it as fast as we need them to. Open those for me? I'll need them in a minute."
He turns to Safi, his broad shoulders hiding whatever he's doing. Sweat slicks the shirt to his back, highlighting the powerful muscles.
I don't have time to ogle him. I need to get these packets open.
I rip three of them, holding them ready. After a few minutes, Rak reaches for one, then another, and then a third. I don't know what it's costing him to do this delicate work with his injured hand, but he must be in immense pain.
"Alik, you got the blood ready?" he barks.
Alik's golden head bobs in response.
"Good, start it now. We need to replace some of what she lost. I hope it will be enough to get her through to Saghir. Zilara, water."
I'm back with the water in seconds, handing it up to him. Another few moments, and Alik hops out of the opposite door and walks to the back of the vehicle, a pile of blood-soaked cloths in his hands. He flings them onto the heap of dirty clothing I made.
Rak backs out of the vehicle and leaps down, and his legs buckle under him. I catch his arm. "Rak! You've lost blood too, and you haven't rested at all."
"More important things," he says, leaning against the machine. "Had to—" He breaks off, sucking in a deep breath and leaning over.
"Is she going to be all right?"
"I don't know. I don't know." He's shaking his head. "I tried. I did my best—which is usually not enough."
My eyes widen. He seemed so confident when he was working over her. "Whatever you did, it's better than anything Alik or I could have managed."
His mouth curves slightly. "That's probably true."
"You know it is. If she lives, it'll be thanks to you. And Alik."
"The pretty-boy was useful," he admits, looking up at Alik with a wry grin.
Alik does an elaborate bow. "Pretty-Boy at your service." But he looks paler than usual too.
"As much as we need rest, we probably shouldn't camp here," I say. "I can drive while you two sleep."
Rak's mouth twists. "Have you ever driven anything this big, in the desert?"
"No, and no."
"Have you ever driven anything at all?" Alik asks. "I heard that in Ceanna, you all get from place to place using automated hoverpods and lev-trains."
"We do," I say. "But I've visited my uncle's ranch, and I drove his survey machine while we were there. Several times."
"In sand?" Rak's scar-twisted grin makes my heart jump out of rhythm.
"In dirt. Does that count?"
He watches me, uncertain.
"Do you trust me, Rak?"
He exhales. "I do." Slipping the timepiece from his wrist, he points to the directional gauge. "Keep us heading north, toward the mountains, and don't flip the vehicle. You come to a dune you can't handle, go around. Keep the speed down in case you hit a ridge you didn't see."
"We're really letting her do this?" Alik sounds less than pleased.
"Problem?" says Rak.
"No problem, as long as I get to sleep, and as long as I get to wake up alive, not smashed to pieces in a wrecked vehicle or skewered by Vilor."
"I promise you'll be safe," I say.
Alik makes himself a ramshackle bed on the floor by the back seat so he can check on Safi, and Rak sits up front with me.
"The primary controls are fairly simple." He points out the levers and pedals. "Forward, reverse, brake, and accelerate. And of course the steering. If you want to get fancy wi
th it, make it easier to get uphill or down, try this switch. Lights are here, and if we're skidding, hit this button. Got it?"
I swallow and smile at him. "Of course. I'm perfectly fine driving the Vilor blood machine across the desert in the dark."
"If you're not up to it I can take over."
"Not a chance. Relax, rebel. Go to sleep."
He sighs heavily, leaning his head back against the padded bar at the top of his seat. "I never thought the Magnate's daughter would be driving me around. Or that I'd trust her not to kill me in my sleep."
"I could, you know," I purr, tracing the edges of the nano-patch on his neck, trailing my fingers down to his chest.
"I know." He lays his uninjured hand over mine, stilling my fingers against his shirt. His chest rises and falls faster, and that look in his eyes—a blush creeps up over my cheeks and I look away from him.
"Time to go."
"Yes." Rak helps me with the complex sequence of switches that starts the vehicle, and at last it rumbles ahead into the dark.
"Lights! Lights!" Rak says, and I press the button. The lights don't seem very bright. "Press it one more time," he urges. The lights become broad, far-reaching beams, slicing the darkness.
"Keep an eye on our direction," he says, pointing to the timepiece he gave me.
"North," I affirm. "Calm down, Rakhi. I've got this under control."
Whether he trusts me or not, his body decides for him, and soon he and Alik are both snoring faintly. I glance back at Safi a few times, but her face is shadowed, and I can't tell if she's alive or dead, better or worse. So finally I give up checking and I drive.
If I had my skull-port and attachments, I could listen to music, or a book, or a chat-feed while driving. As it is, I have only the sky and the stars and the sand for company.
In the trackless desert, driving straight is tougher than I expected. I have to keep checking the nav readout and correcting my trajectory northward.
After a few hours, my eyes start closing by themselves. Once I jerk awake to find that we've turned in a circle and are heading back south. At that point I stop the vehicle as gently as I can, turn in my seat, and lean into the back, shifting Alik's head to one side so I can access the bottle of hulem in the front pouch of Safi's bag.
Rebel of Scars and Ruin (The Evolved Book 1) Page 18