by Amy Cook
“Smelling you.”Cajun’s tone was strange, as though a mixture of humor and disbelief.
“Yes, but really that came later, I’m getting ahead of myself. First I helped him cut off his shirt, because he couldn’t pull it off with his wounds-”
“You helped him cut it off…with what exactly?”
“A knife.” There was a stunned silence on the other line before Cajun’s voice came back.
“Okay.”
“So after that he said he had to get to the shower. He locked me out and told me not to come in, no matter what. I tried to listen but I knew the water had to be running cold, and I hadn’t heard a sound. I shouted for him, but somehow his ears got messed up tonight. So I picked the lock.” She waited for a rebuke or some sort of reply to this, but when none came she continued onward. “There was blood everywhere, and he was passed out in the shower in ice cold water. I managed to get him out and in my living room. That’s when he kept talking about my smell. I thought it was because I stunk, but then he kept muttering delicious and I was scared he was going to eat me instead. Which I think may not be too far from the truth because when I was bandaging him up I found a bite mark on his calf. Like a people bite mark.” She could feel her own kind of shock starting to settle in around her, her hands shaking, tears sliding down her face as she babbled incessantly. She kept staring at Harley, waiting for him to jump to life and attack her. When Cajun spoke again, his voice was calm but cautious.
“Amiel, I need you to listen to me very carefully. Can you do that?” She nodded vigorously, then mumbled a yes when she remembered he couldn’t see her. “I can’t come help you.” Her heart nearly burst.
“Wh-what?”
“I’m sorry, bird, but I can’t. It would only make matters worse.” He paused, as though carefully considering his next words. “Has my brother talked about us much? Told you about our job, about who we are?”
“No, I don’t know anything! You have to help, I don’t know what to do!” She panicked, torn between wanting to help him and being terrified to go near him. She’d thought help would be on the way, but now it looked like she was on her own.
“That’s alright, Amiel, don’t spit the dummie.” Amiel frowned, momentarily distracted from her panic.
“Excuse me?”
“Oh, uh, I mean to say don’t lose your cool. Lost in translation, sorry. I need you to focus, this is very important.
“Right. Okay.” She nodded, one hand pressed against her unsettled stomach as she stared at the man on her floor.
“Now, there are things about us that my brother hasn’t told you; things that make us different and sometimes dangerous.” She bit down hard on her lip, eyes squeezing shut as she tried very hard not to lose it. “I’m not trying to scare you, sweetheart, but I need you to be very aware of everything you do over the next few days.”
“Days?” she squeaked.
“Yes, days. No worries, everything will be just fine, if you do exactly as I say.” He paused. “Breathe, Amiel, you’re getting a bit heady over there.” He was right, her breathing was coming in ragged gasps. She held her breath for a long moment before releasing it, forcing her breathing to slow.
“Alright now?”
“Yeah. I just…I don’t understand. Why can’t you help me?”
“It’s part of the things you don’t know about us, bird. I wish I could help, I truly do. But in this situation, my being there would make things much worse.” He paused, deliberating. “The things that make us different don’t necessarily make us bad, Amiel. I want you to keep that in mind. But they do make things a little more difficult, as far as propriety goes. There are rules and statuses for our kind.” Her mind reeled at his wording ‘our kind’. What was he talking about? The gang? She fought for focus as he continued talking.
“I can’t say much now, but it will be explained when Harley wakes up.”
“You mean when he eats me!”
“No, no. If you do as I say, he won’t hurt you at all. I promise.”
“I don’t think you understand. He’s been bitten!” she argued, trying to fight down the hysteria once more.
“Again, that’s part of the things you won’t understand yet. Just know that he won’t turn Rabid.”
“What? How is that possible?” she said with a gasp.
“We’re different. But that will have to wait for later. For now, you need to know what to do. I’m guessing he’s unconscious right now, yeah?”
“Yes.”
“Good. It means his body has shut down, Collapsed.”
“How is that a good thing?”
“Because that is how we heal best. When we Collapse, we heal quicker. We’re also less of a danger to those around us.”
“Good. That’s good,” she murmured, grasping her tags. Still no warnings, not even the faintest blip of a warning.
“Yes. Now here’s what you need to do. Did you tend to him at all?”
“Yes. I…I, uh,” she fought for coherence, “ I cleaned the wounds the best I could and wrapped them in bandages. And I tossed some blankets on him.”
“Good. Now write this all down, okay, bird?” She nodded, distractedly searching for pen and paper. Finding one, she tried to steady her hand for writing.
“Okay.”
“He’ll need all the heat you can get him.” He paused. “Some of these may sound strange, but I need you to follow exactly, alright?”
“Okay. Keep him warm. What else.”
“Do you have raw meat in your fridge?” Raw meat? She quickly moved to the freezer, taking inventory.
“I have a couple pounds of hamburger.” Cajun hummed on the other side of the line.
“You’ll need more than that. Never mind what you have, I will grab a bunch of stuff and drop it by the guard house for you.” Guard house? Did he know where she lived, too? “Alright now, you’ll need to feed him lots of potassium, protein, and iron rich foods. The meats need to be raw. Put out the food every two hours. Just put it in a bowl and slide it in front of his face. Then don’t talk and keep your distance while he eats it, but don’t move away or make sudden movements. Oh and it needs to be raw. Cold or warm doesn’t matter, just keep it raw. Alright?” Raw meat, keep your distance , no sudden movements? Was he giving her directions for feeding a wild dog?
“You’ll need to leave him lots and lots of Gatorade, too. Don’t worry, I’ll bring you some of that also. Always keep an open bottle by him. He’ll go through a lot. Okay? Fish, eggs, leafy green veggies and bananas, the whole bit. But keep it all raw, every two hours. No need to separate them into groups. Each time he rouses, give him as much food as he can take. You’ll know because he’ll pass out again when he’s had enough.”
“Okay.” She leaned against the counter, feeling overwhelmed.
“Most important, Amiel, is this last bit of advice. This will go on for a few days. It really just depends on how much damage he took and how much blood he lost. You said he only had one bite?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Very good. It will take less time for him to recover if he doesn’t have too much Taint in his blood. He will rouse to eat, but he won’t really be aware of things around him. When he wakes up for real, he will be…a little odd for a while.”
“Odd? Odd how?” she asked, nerves rising again.
“Did you have a computer where you are from, Amiel?”
“Yes.”
“Just think of the next few days as a sort of system reboot for people. His body just went through a lot, so it had to shut down. Then it will reboot and have to update and refresh everything. Okay?”
“Okay…?” She rubbed her brow, straining for a grip on reality.
“So when he wakes up, don’t be surprised if he doesn’t recognize you immediately. He may do…..odd things like what you already mentioned. Smelling you, maybe even invading your personal space a little.” She frowned. The more he talked the more confused she became. What was it exactly that caused ‘their kind’ to
be so different?
“The most important thing you can do during this transition is to stay calm, and don’t run away or scream.”
“Run away or scream? Am I going to have a reason to do these things?” Her voice shook.
“That was a joke. Kind of. Anyways, just be calm and let him do his thing. It won’t take long for him to snap out of it. Then you can ask all the questions your little heart desires. He may be a little grumpy, so, you know, don’t browbeat the man. But you’ll get your answers. Just give him some time to readjust, right?” When she didn’t answer he continued consolingly. “Look, if you have trouble, call me. I will try and walk you through it. But trust me, you’ll be fine.”
“I don’t know, Cajun. Maybe I should just take him to the hospital.” Her breath shook as she released a sigh, wrapping her arms around her stomach.
“No, you can’t do that, Amiel,” Cajun interjected sternly. “He’s got a lot of enemies just waiting for him to have a weakness. If you expose his weakness to anyone, chances are someone will be trying to finish him off within the half hour. Cleans, Rabids, and especially my kind. If I weren’t his brother, I’d probably be over there already myself.” Her eyes went wide with shock. His voice was tired and heavy with guilt when he spoke again. “I know, it’s not pretty. But our kind does not accept weakness well. And Harley is in a high position of power amongst our kind. He’s at his weakest now, and can’t protect himself. It would be the perfect opportunity for someone looking to move up in the ranks.” He paused, ensuring the full depth of his statement sunk in.
“Harley may seem gruff on the outside, but he’s a big softy on the inside. And he’s got a soft spot for you, kiddo. And right now he needs a friend, one that can be strong for him and protect him. Can you be that friend, Amiel? He’s protected me for many years, in so many ways, and this is all that I can do for him right now. Please promise me you will be there for him. He needs you.” She stared at Harley, still lying prone on her carpet, face pale and riddled with wounds. He hadn’t abandoned her to the thugs. Tandy hadn’t abandoned her despite the fact that she’d been a raving loony on the trip over. And she hadn’t had much of an excuse for it, the way Harley did. Tandy hadn’t abandoned her and she wouldn’t abandon his son now.
“Okay,” she whispered. “You’ll get me the supplies?” The relief was evident in his voice when he replied.
“Yes, I am gathering the supplies as we speak. I’ll bring it to the gates and leave it with the guards.” He hesitated. “I wish I could bring it further, but I can’t.” She could hear the guilt and dismay in his voice. How would it have been for her, if she couldn’t be at Jaron’s side when he was ill and needed her most? It would have been torture.
“It’s okay, I understand. I will take care of him.”
“Thank you. I truly think you will.” His heartfelt thanks and confidence in her ability to provide for his brother gave her more comfort in that moment than all of his previous placations. Hanging up she waited nervously, peeking over the counter to stare at Harley’s unconscious figure, where she stayed until the intercom on her wall scared her spitless.
“Miss Amiel, we have a big load of supplies down here for you.”
“Thank you, Jerry. Is there any way one of you can haul it to my apartment and leave it in front of my door? I know it’s a lot to ask…” She winced, waiting for their reply. It wasn’t exactly in their job description to haul random packages, or people, up to their rooms. Finally Jerry said he’d send George up with the supplies. She thanked them and switched off the com. Her eyes drifted to the plate of chocolate chip cookies she had made the day before. It would have to do, as far as amends would go. When she heard the knock at her door, she squeezed through the opening, shutting it behind her before George could see the half-naked man sprawled out on her floor.
“Want me to bring it all the way in?”
“Oh, no that’s fine, thank you, George. For your troubles.” She handed him the plate full of cookies, and instantly his frown turned into a smile. He turned with a nod, eyes not leaving his new treasure. Amiel glanced nervously up and down the hall, afraid that Darvey would stick his head out the door and catch her at any moment. She knew without a doubt that Darvey was an enemy of Harley’s. An enemy right next door. The thought spurred her onward, bringing the mass amount of supplies inside with a surprising swiftness. Thankfully it seemed Darvey wasn’t home tonight. Which was good. She could use all the luck she could get right now. With the door safely locked behind her, Amiel stared at the boxes in front of her. Did Cajun really believe Harley would eat all this? She moved through the boxes, gathering the materials that would need to be refrigerated until they could be eaten, inventorying what she had.
She was just placing the last Styrofoam dish of fish in the fridge when she heard a noise behind her. Slowly spinning around, her eyes went wide when she saw Harley slumped against the wall, staring at her with vacant eyes. Her face flushed and she looked away quickly. At least she now knew he had no injuries in other area’s that she’d been too modest to check earlier. Blinking, she fought to remember what Cajun had said. Was Harley supposed to be up and moving around already? Cajun made it sound like he’d be passed out on the floor for days, except to slurp food out of containers like a dog. He’d not said a thing about him getting up and walking around!
Swallowing, she slowly turned back to Harley, focusing on his face. He was swaying in exhaustion, face still pale. A few of his bandages were seeping through. Yet he didn’t seem to be entirely aware of what he was doing. Maybe it was cue time for the food, she thought. Moving slowly, she grabbed a few trays of food she’d just placed in the fridge then headed toward Harley. The moment she neared him, his eyes snapped upward, fixing on her face. She fought the urge to run, realizing that Cajun hadn’t been entirely joking about that comment. Harley’s pupils were dilated so far that only a rim of blue remained. And though he looked right at her, the lights weren’t on. Still, she could feel some amount of awareness staring back at her. Whether it was nice Harley, or crazy Harley, she was about to find out.
“Harley?” she whispered. His head cocked to the side in a sharp movement that reminded her of a lizard eyeing its prey. Swallowing hard, she remembered the pointer Cajun had given her about not talking. Instead, she lifted the tray of fish then cautiously backed toward the blankets he’d abandoned. He watched her steadily, but didn’t move to follow. Reaching the desired spot she carefully knelt, placing the food and two Gatorades she’d grabbed, on the floor. Careful not to make swift movements she broke open the thin plastic wrapping on the raw trays of foods, and moved on to the Gatorades. She was in the process of cracking the seal on the second drink when she sensed his nearness. She hadn’t even heard him move. Slowly lifting her eyes, she came face to face with his waist.
Holy Goshness! she gasped mentally, quickly averting her eyes. For being such a private and antisocial guy in normal everyday life, zonked out Harley sure didn’t have a problem with wandering around in the buff. He stood in his statue mode for a long moment, only feet away from her. It was a long uncomfortable silence, and she was beginning to wonder what she’d have to do next to get him to lay back down. He solved the problem when he collapsed on the floor, limbs shaking. She breathed a sigh of relief, drawing his gaze once more. Wincing, she slowly lifted a tray of fish, scooting it closer to him. She was careful to avoid eye contact with him, still fairly creeped out by that intense and not entirely all there stare. One by one she slowly pushed all the trays of food closer to him, the Gatorades coming last.
Not knowing what else to do, she sat down fully, pulling her knees to her chest, eyes carefully aimed straight downward at her feet. She nearly jumped out of her skin when his hand moved to grasp her foot. His skin was ice cold, but his grip was gentle. She stared at his pale hand unsure what she should do, when it moved away and started digging into the food instead. She kept staring at her feet, not wanting to see him ripping into raw fish and the other foods that w
ere sure to make her queasy. He ate for a solid fifteen minutes, not leaving a speck of food in the containers. She wondered if that meant she should get him more, but he laid back down, not moving.
After a few moments, she risked a glance his way. His eyes were closed and he appeared to be sleeping. Quietly gathering the trays into a pile, she gathered her courage, too, and moved closer. Lifting the blankets in shaking hands, she carefully slid the fabric across his skin, gently tucking it in around him. With a small smile she glanced toward his face and froze. He was staring at her steadily, an almost curious expression held in those wide dark depths. And then he blinked, and closed his eyes.
That simple action did something strange and miraculous to her. Her muscles relaxed, her lungs no longer feeling entirely confined in a space too small for them. She had no idea why, but what he had just done gave her a feeling that he was showing her an almost intimate depth of trust. Likely he wasn’t even aware of what he’d just done, or he simply didn’t care that she was there. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that something big had just gone down. Grabbing up the foam plates, she quietly made her way out of the room.
From that moment on, Amiel carefully watched the clock, bringing food and drink in for Harley ten minutes before the two hour mark. Each time she would carefully lay out the food, remove the coverings or skins, depending on what food he would be eating this time, and then sit back to wait. The moment the food was uncovered in front of him, his eyes would open wide, watching her every move. He’d eat his food, then lay back down. She’d give him a few moments to fall back asleep, before gathering the leftover plates and readjusting his blankets. He had the unerring ability to lose those blankets. Each time she’d smile a small smile as the fabric was tucked close. Each time he’d watch her, then shut his eyes and drift back into unconsciousness. This pattern continued consistently over the next twenty four hours. She’d occasionally find herself nodding off sitting on the floor, only to wake with Harley’s hand resting on her foot.