He was there before the pain finished its journey, forcing past me, brushing my shoulder, the knife through the creature’s pale temple in the same movement, its teeth letting go as it went limp. He stumbled over the body, falling, rolling, the knife left behind as he tumbled. His eyes were all around the room, his hand on the hilt, pulling, wiping the blade on the clean edges of the bedcover. He turned, his featured coming to rest on mine.
He stared into my eyes, not looking at my hand covering the wound, blood dripping between my fingers, messing the floor. He stared on, face blank and I replied locking my eyes, waiting for his reaction. A heavy bang on the front door came from downstairs, his face lit and we separated, our eyes parting, his mouth closed, head shaking in slow motion. He ran past, making himself small, trying his best not to touch my arm as he sprinted from the room. I closed my eyes and concentrated on the pain, the pulse of energy shooting out from the wound. I heard footsteps on floor boards racing away and I stumbled forward, almost tripping over the body, my senses too overwhelmed to take in all but the edge of the creatures smell.
I sat on the corner of the bed following my trail mixing with the dark of the creature’s, watching the blots of blood shrink then expand, a record of my journey as the blood continue to ooze, to make its way from the surface of the gun I’d dropped to the carpet as my first reaction. I tried to concentrate past the pain, tried to ignore the hurried escape of the man I’d misread, reaching out for what was happening in the wound, sensing, imagining the tiny diseased critters invading my blood. The start of the war I knew I’d lose.
A calm came over me as the pain lulled to a thud, a dull ache to the beat of my heart slowing every other moment, until I moved, until I tried to pull off the jacket one handed. At least the scarlet was only a little darker than the two piece Toni had picked out, it shouldn’t dry too dark before I could reach the cameras and make my first, make my last, piece.
I stood and landed back down to my butt, my head light, swimming, lolling around in my skull. I would need a moment to compose myself, to let the blood stop, although the growing puddle falling down my lap, running along my legs told me I may need to give it some help.
With a deep breath I let the jacket from my shoulders, pushing past the world shrinking to a spot in the centre of my vision, waiting only a moment for the dark border to retreat before I lifted the arm I doubted I could use for much longer, tugging at the collar, pain surging, but only for a moment before the darkness took over.
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Reading out of sequence, here’s the rest of Season Two.
Not read Season One? Here it is.