by JJ King
My memories of high school health class returned in a flash. We’d all been certified in First Aid before graduation and had learned how to treat fractures, wounds, and burns during the week long training. I remembered the picture in the booklet with the woman whose guts had been coming out.
In a million years I would have never thought I’d need to remember how to treat a gunshot to the abdomen.
“Lie on your back,” I ordered Xavier, keeping my voice low in case another guard showed up to see what was taking so long.
Xavier slumped into my arms and let me lay him gently on the floor as nerves and panic spurred me on. I needed to see the wound.
“I need to see it,” I murmured, moving to lift his hands from his side. For a split second, when his hand fell to his side, I worried that he was dead, but his moans of agony when I moved his hoodie up to reveal a gaping hole in his abdomen confirmed he was still alive.
Blood pooled on the floor beneath him and spurred me on. I looked down at what I was wearing and tore the sleeve from my shirt with a violent rip. It was freshly washed and as close to sanitary as I was going to get in the moment.
I folded it and held it, suspended above the wound for a moment, long enough to take a deep breath and steel myself for what had to be done. I covered Xavier’s mouth with one hand and pressed my sleeve to the bullet hole with the other.
His eyes went wide then rolled back in his head as a sharp wheezing sound escaped his lips. His body tensed, every muscle going stiff, then collapsed.
He’d passed out, I realized, from the pain.
It didn’t make sense. I chewed my lip and looked up at his face. He looked young but he had to be older than me to be teaching here. Our kind healed quickly, even quicker with age. Xavier was either my age or…
I swallowed hard, wanting to dispel the very idea. His body was limp and so pale it was terrifying, but I had to look now, while I had the chance.
I peeled the blood-soaked fabric from his wound and looked inside.
He was a mess of torn muscle and blood that made it impossible for me to see what needed to be seen to be believed. I needed to know if the bullet had passed straight through. I reached for his side. With a grunt, I lifted him up enough to see that there was no exit wound.
The bullet was still inside him.
I laid him down carefully and rocked in place, breathing heavy and hating what I was being forced to do, but knowing I had no choice in the matter. Either I womaned up or Xavier died.
I dipped into the gaping hole, gently pushing aside mangled muscle in the hopes of finding the bullet. Xavier’s face contorted as I probed and sounds of agony gasped out of his throat.
“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” I breathed, pushing in a half inch more. My hand was covered now with Xavier’s blood as it seeped from him.
My fingertip touched something solid and I held my breath. I bit down hard on my lip as I nudged it a fraction of an inch to the left, hoping I wouldn’t hit some internal organ and speed Xavier along to an untimely death.
It shifted. Ever so slightly, but still, something. Exhaling slowly as my heart thundered, I tried to move my finger alongside the bullet so I could hook the tip with my fingernail and pull it free. With each passing second I was aware another guard could show up, my finger could nick an artery, or he could die right in front of me.
The pressure felt like a vise on my chest.
I focused on what I was doing, the rise and fall of Xavier’s chest, and the fact that he’d literally thrown himself in front of a bullet for me. The very least I could do was dig the damned thing out of him so his body could heal.
Finally, my fingertip rounded the end of the bullet. I closed my eyes and let myself just feel as I slowly backed my finger out of the wound, lifting the bullet as I went.
A sucking sound filled the air as muscle and blood moved to fill the hole I’d vacated. My stomach churned at the sound and at the slick feel of blood coating my skin. When my finger lifted free, the bullet fell with a metallic pinging sound on the library floor. I opened my eyes and stared at it.
Slowly, I reached for it in the silence of the room. I’d grown up in a rural area where plenty of families hunted moose and other game for meat. I’d never judged, I was a wolf, after all, so I understood. I’d seen plenty of bullets in my life, mostly from rifles, though. This was different, because it was made for a handgun, I thought, trying to tell myself I was wrong. Wanting to be wrong, needing to be wrong, I lifted it between slick fingers and brought it to my nose.
The sharp scent of silver filled my nostrils like acid and I recoiled, dropping the bullet to the floor as I finally understood.
Xavier wasn’t healing because he’d been infected with silver and would die unless I found him an antidote.
Chapter 14
Xavier’s eyes fluttered open then closed again. I shifted my gaze to the open door, wondering if we’d have enough time to hide before more guards showed up. I couldn’t take the chance. My hand snaked out and slapped Xavier’s face before the thought had even crystallized in my mind.
His breathing caught for a moment then he gasped and opened his eyes. They shifted around the room, like a rat looking for trouble, too erratic to be conscious. When his gaze fell on the dead guard, his face turned an even paler shade of white.
“What?” He tried to lift his head but stopped when a wave of pain hit him. His face contorted with it and his breathing rushed in and out.
I pushed him back gently. “Don’t try to sit up. You were shot.”
His gaze flew to me, wide and glazed. Memory sparked in his tortured eyes. “He was going to kill you.”
I smiled down at him even as the press of time settled on me like an anvil. He deserved so much more than I had time to give him right now. I nodded and pushed a strand of hair back from his slick forehead. “You saved me,” I reassured him, giving him at least that small kindness. “Xavier.” I took a deep breath before continuing. “The bullet was silver.”
His eyes went wide.
“I managed to dig it out,” I said, rushing on, knowing it hurt him to speak. “But, the poison is already in your system. You’re not healing and you’ve lost a lot of blood.”
He was silent for a moment before nodding, the slightest shift of his head. “I’m dying.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head vehemently. “No, I won’t let you die. There has to be an antidote in the nurse’s office, I just have to get across campus to get it. And,” I added, knowing this part would be a bitch, “we have to find a place to hide you until I can get back with it. You’re going to have to move.”
While he came to terms with the excruciating pain I was asking him to willingly accept, I tried to think of a place, any place in this library that I could stash him while I apparently went all 007 and made my way across campus and back in time to save him.
One step at a time, I told myself sternly. I’d figure out my spy moves once I’d gotten Xavier to a safe place.
“The rare books room,” he wheezed out with a cough that seemed to rip him apart. I pressed my hands against his chest while he caught his breath again. When his chest rose and fell in a rhythm again, he repeated himself. “The rare books room is sealed. You need a key to access it.” His lips lifted in a tired smile. “I know where it’s kept.”
My eyebrow winged up. This was exactly what we needed. “Where?” I climbed to my feet, careful to stay away from the spreading blood, as he explained where I needed to look.
“Elena,” Xavier’s call stopped me before I could leave the room. “Take the gun.”
My gaze shot immediately to the gun that lay several feet away from the guard’s body. My stomach churned and I shook my head automatically. “No, I can’t.”
“You can,” he said insistently, lifting his arm with a grunt to point imperiously at me. “Elena, look at me.”
I did.
“You are stronger than you know. The girl that wrote that essay is fearless. You can do this
.” He sounded so sure of himself that my unease faded enough for me to nod and reach for the gun.
It was cold against my palm, cold and hard. I’d held guns before but none that had been used to kill anything other than an animal. I swallowed my revulsion and lifted it to click the safety into place before tucking it into the back of my pants.
I should have felt confident with it, but it made me shiver and threw me off so much that my legs jittered as I peeked around the corner and rushed down the hallway towards the librarians’ office.
The library was empty and the lack of sound, soft whispers or laughter, filtering through the stacks down to the commons made it feel like a dead place. I crept around the edges, sticking close to the displays so I could hide if anyone entered. They’d smell me, I stank of fear, sweat, and blood, but my brain didn’t care. If I needed to hide, I’d hide… and pray.
My pulse thundered in my ears as I assessed the distance between where I stood, cowering behind a display, and the door to the office I was to infiltrate. The door was open, thank the Old Ones, because there’d been no reason to lock it. The desk Xavier had described, however, was most certainly locked and there were no librarians around with keys to open it.
Sucking in a deep breath, I dashed across the open commons, knowing indecision would keep me frozen in place and, if I did that, Xavier would die.
I ducked into the office without being shot and breathed a sigh of relief. Not wanting to take chances, though, I closed the door and lowered the blinds that provided privacy if necessary, to the staff. The thin plastic blinds made me feel safer.
The desk was at the back of the office, an old-fashioned wooden one made to last for centuries. I tried the first drawer, hoping I’d get lucky, and cursed like a sailor when it didn’t budge. The two others below it held fast, as well.
“Damnit,” I muttered, looking around the room for something to use to pry the drawer open. The keys were inside and the only way I was going to get them out was to destroy this antique. With a dismissive noise, I grabbed a letter opener made of what felt like solid steel and shoved it between the wood. Everything wolves owned were antiques. We lived to be old as fuck, if we weren’t killed first.
The drawer stuck but the letter opener didn’t break. I took that as a good sign. “I need something else,” I muttered to myself as I scanned the room. “Where’s a fucking crowbar when you need one?”
I went from desk to desk and gathered up every letter opener I could find, which amounted to four. Each were strong and slim, perfect for what I needed. I shoved them in side by side and put all my weight behind my thrust.
The drawer popped open with a groan of splintering wood. I shot my fist into the air like Judd Nelson and released a silent victory cry.
The keys sat in a little plastic container that separated them from other office paraphernalia. I bypassed the tape and a stapler and grabbed them, then raced to the door and peeked out.
The library was still quiet and empty, I couldn’t believe my luck. Even as the thought entered my head, a manic giggle escaped my throat. Lucky? Who the fuck was lucky during a siege? People were dead. Xavier was dying. I had to risk my life to get the antidote or face myself every day for the rest of my life and know I’d let a hero die if I hid until this was over.
No, I shook my head. I wasn’t an asshole. He’d saved my life and I would save his.
I pulled open the door and was about to step out when I noticed an economy sized bottle of hand sanitizer sitting on a desk. I grabbed it and, wrinkling my nose, pumped a huge glob into my palm and began systematically rubbing onto my skin, clothes, and hair. I figured it was better than nothing and would, at least, confuse my scent somewhat. I was leaving a second time when I noticed a big spray bottle of bleach tucked almost behind a filing cabinet.
“Bingo,” I said with a grin, grabbing it up.
The coast was clear when I peaked out again, so I ran outside and began spraying the bleach as quickly as I could, trying to wipe the scent of blood from the air. They cloying scent of ammonia burned my nose.
Xavier was leaning against the wall, next to the ruined drywall when I got back to the antiques room. I rushed to his side and shook my head. “Stupid man. Why didn’t you wait?”
He arched an eyebrow at me. “You could have been captured out there. I figured if it was my time to go, I’d rather go sitting up.”
“Fair enough,” I whispered, reaching for his shirt. The fabric was soaked through, now, so I quickly tore the other sleeve from my shirt and replaced it. “You need to keep pressure on this.” I clucked my tongue just like I’d heard my mother do a million times and held the keys up. “I got them. You’ll be safe soon.”
He nodded and closed his eyes for a moment. I could practically see the internal conflict happening through his eyelids as he steeled himself for what was to come. When he opened his eyes again, they were determined, and terrified.
“I got you,” I said quietly, wishing I were stronger, wishing I had someone else here to help me support him. He’d be forced to carry a lot of his own weight, now, and I knew that would be agony.
His face blanched with the first move. I hooked my hands under his armpits and braced myself, then pulled him up with every ounce of strength I had. The sound that escaped his gritted teeth was heartbreaking but we couldn’t stop. I bent my knees and pushed up until he was on his feet, standing with blood leaking from his wound. The folded square of fabric lay on the floor.
I scooped it up and pressed it to his side, wishing it was sterile. Normally, that wouldn’t be an issue, but now, with the silver poisoning, his body could react to the slightest thing.
“Where are we going?” I shuffled him forward a few steps, aching with each moan of pain that slipped free. He was trying to stay quiet; I could see that in the set of his shoulders, but it was impossible.
“At the back of the art gallery there’s a door,” his voice was weak.
I nodded. “I know the one. Come on. Hold onto me.”
We moved as quickly as he could manage, which put us at risk with every second that passed. Time was a strange thing; I wasn’t sure how much of it had passed since I’d looked out the solarium window and watched that first execution. All I knew was that our luck would have to run out soon.
By the time we got to the door, Xavier’s breathing was labored and his body sagged against me. I was basically carrying him while keeping pressure on his wound so he didn’t bleed out.
I pushed him up against the wall next to the door and kept a hand on his chest, knowing that if he slid to the floor, I’d have to drag him into the vault. My hands shook as I fished the keys from my pocket and tried first one, then the other in the lock.
The second one slid in and clicked as it turned.
Hot tears spilled from my cheeks. This room was secure. It could lock from the inside and wasn’t accessible from the outside unless you had the keys, these keys, I looked down at my hand. I could stay here and be safe. I was safe.
I swallowed my traitorous thoughts and pushed the door open.
Inside, a long table sat surrounded by chairs. I shuffled Xavier to the table and helped him sit on the edge, then lie back with a cry that died then and there. I glanced around and saw the padding on the walls and the communication device and locking system on the wall next to the door. This vault was my own personal panic room.
“I have to go,” I rushed the words out, knowing that if I took the time to think it through, if I gave myself even a moment to feel the safety of this place, I would never leave. “Hold on, Xavier. You need to live.” I leaned over him and smiled. “You’ve been such a prick; you’re going to need to live if you’re going to make it up to me.”
He let out a strangled laugh and closed his eyes. “Deal,” he murmured and lifted a hand to my arm. “Be safe.”
I nodded, unable to speak anymore through the thickness in my throat, and turned for the door, grabbing the bleach as I went. I closed the door with a sharp snick b
ehind me, then chose a large planter to bury the keys in. I’d need a way to get back in if Xavier passed out from blood loss.
He was as safe as possible in that vault but there was always the chance the bad guys had explosives or something, so I sprayed as much bleach as possible on the drops of blood and mopped them up with what remained of my shirt, leaving me in a tank top I was glad to have put on.
When all trace of Xavier was erased from the library, I made my way back to the fallen guard and grabbed the walkie-talkie from his shoulder. It had dawned on me as I’d mopped up blood that it would help to know the locations of the other guards as I did the impossible.
I readjusted my ponytail and checked the safety on the gun again, feeling more than a little paranoid about the weapon. Then, steeling myself for whatever was to come, I poked my head out the main doors, and heard footsteps coming my way.
Chapter 15
My mind didn’t have time to process. I ran as fast as my legs could carry me towards the stacks. Panic and adrenaline pumped through my veins, making it hard to think straight. As soon as I was out of sight, moving steadily farther back into the stacks, I realized my stupidity. If I’d just gone back to the vault, I could have gotten the key and slipped back inside until the coast was clear.
Sweat slicked my back, intensifying my scent for all to smell. I looked down at the bleach bottle still in my hands and didn’t know what to do with it for a long moment. Then, I blinked, and it was like coming out of a dream. I sprayed the acrid liquid into the air in a fine mist and, closing my eyes, walked through. It felt like acid on my skin but I was alive and breathing and maybe had hidden my scent for a few minutes.
Long enough to get the hell out of here.
Sound was smothered back here, so I had no idea if they were on my trail or finding their buddy right now. Either way, I had limited time and needed to find a way out. I pictured the layout of the library, I knew it better than any other building on campus, after all. There were exits at the main entrance and on the lower level but I couldn’t access either of those without walking out into the open.