“Why am I still alive?” he asked.
It was an awful question, and I made up an answer. “Because you have work to do yet.”
“Do you truly imagine I’ll recover enough to be useful to anyone?”
I ignored the bitter, angry words. We had been keeping his wounds clean, so I checked them. He should be healing better than he was. I found that the bites had begun to fester—again—which meant they needed to be opened and cleaned. I hated this part of the job. Sucking in a breath to brace myself, I got one of Tegan’s knives and treated it with antiseptic as I’d seen her do. When I came back, he shifted away from me, horror in his gaze.
“Don’t do this. Not again. I’m never going to be whole. Just … let me go. Better yet, kill me. It would be a mercy. Please, Deuce.”
It was impossible to hear a strong man like him beg, and for a few seconds, I was tempted. The Huntress in me wanted to give him the end he craved since he had been denied a warrior’s death. But the girl in me shook her head vehemently. Tegan will never trust you again, if you hurt him. My fingers trembled on the knife as dual instincts warred within me.
Gently, I said, “I’m not doing that, Harry Carter. You might’ve lost your family, but you saved a good portion of the town. I hear you fought like the devil himself, keeping the Freaks away from the Bigwater house, so that others could escape.”
“That’s done. I’ll never hold a rifle again.”
“That’s a lie,” I told him. “You took most of the damage elsewhere. If you’d just make up your mind to heal, you could get out of this place and take some revenge on those monsters.”
His retort was sharp with bitterness. “‘Revenge not yourselves, my dearly beloved; but give place unto wrath, for it is written: Revenge is mine, I will repay, saith the Lord.’”
I recognized that as a quote from the old book Caroline Bigwater had been prone to toting. “I don’t mean to urge you to sin, Mr. Carter, but if it was me, I’d want blood in payment from those Muties, not the word of a man who lives in the clouds.”
“So you won’t have mercy?” he asked, low.
The Huntress in me protested, This isn’t how I’d want to end my days. But I ignored her.
“No,” I said. “And what I’m about to do may seem cruel.”
My hands were clean; so was my knife. With careful fingertips, I traced the puffy edges of the first bite. Yes, it was hot and swollen, already filling up with pus again. He screamed when I opened the wound, and he yelled more as I expressed and cleaned it. The other patients called out words of encouragement as I worked, likely hoping to ease his pain. Harry Carter was a strong man, but he passed out when I got to the fourth one, which was a blessing. I finished my task quickly, then bandaged the affected areas. By the time Tegan got back, I was shaking.
Being a healer is harder than being a Huntress.
“What happened?” she demanded.
I didn’t share with her what Harry had asked of me. Instead I gestured to his fresh wraps. “I had to open him up again.”
Her dark gaze softened. “Poor man.”
“I hope this is the last time. I’m starting to feel cruel inflicting this on him.”
She nodded. “I’ve never treated so many Freak bites before, at least not on the same person. It’s almost like their mouths are poisonous.”
I stared at her, wondering if that was possible. “Are they?”
“I need more information. I’ve been treating this like an infection, but so few people survive an attack, fewer live through the kinds of injuries Mr. Carter’s suffered. I wish Doc was here.”
“He wouldn’t know what to do, either,” I said, but from her expression, that was no comfort, so I shut up.
“Stay with him,” she ordered.
I sat down cross-legged on the floor, keeping an eye on Mr. Carter. For me, this man’s recovery had become a personal battle. He had to get better; it was a sign of things to come. As I watched, she went to her bag and drew out some stoppered vials. Each contained dried, crushed herbs, and Tegan muttered to herself as she set a kettle on the hearth, added water, then pinches of this and that. The resulting mixture smelled really vile.
“Is he supposed to drink that?”
She shook her head. “I’m going to pour it into his bites.”
“What is it?”
“I have no idea. I’m combining ingredients that Doc told me were good for various things: fever, bee stings, snakebite, pain, swelling. I might make things worse, but I have to try.”
Studying Carter, I didn’t think it was possible to make him sicker. He was already begging for death. “We should do it before his wounds close and we have to hurt him again.”
“My thoughts exactly. It has to cool a little first, or we’ll burn him.”
That took a while. But it was a kindness that Carter didn’t rouse while we doused his injuries and wrapped them up again. It was too soon to say whether it helped, but I liked that we were trying something new, not just repeating past efforts and hoping for the best. I spooned some water into him and figured that was all I could do tonight.
Tegan sat back with a weary sigh. “Now we wait and see.”
By morning, however, we saw a vast improvement. His skin tone was better—bright and warm—instead of the ashy gray that marked a man for death. Tegan hugged me, and I squeezed her back, though I hadn’t done anything except stick around. We sped through our morning rituals, the cleaning and tending. At least we didn’t have to feed patients anymore; they were all well enough to hold a cup or a spoon.
Carter’s eyes were sharp and alert as I handed him a mug of broth. With my help, he struggled to a sitting position for the first time since we arrived in Soldier’s Pond. I took it as a personal victory. His hands shook but he downed it all.
“More?” he asked.
I refilled him. “Decided to live, have you?”
“It’s obvious you won’t let me die, so I better quit malingering and get back to the fight.” In his quiet expression, I saw gratitude.
“Thank Tegan,” I said. “She’s the doctor, not me.”
I felt so incredibly proud of her. With nobody’s help, she had come up with a successful treatment for Freak bites. I hoped she recalled the exact proportions of the remedy because I had a feeling we would need that tincture again in the near future. The Freaks hadn’t quit the field; they just hadn’t reached Soldier’s Pond yet. So that meant this was, at best, a lull before the worst of the storm.
Part of me felt anxious and unsettled. We should be laying battle plans, but I had no part in any such arrangements. Here I wasn’t even old enough to join the military. Once again, I had been relegated to the rank of child, regardless of what I could offer. I didn’t regret the time I had spent on nursing, but my skills were better suited to fighting the enemy.
Carter seemed to read my mood and his own expression grew somber. “Don’t worry. I’ll be on the front lines when the time comes.”
“That means a lot to me.”
I wasn’t joking. If I couldn’t have Longshot, then Harry Carter was the next best thing. He was Salvation’s hero, and I had no doubt that once he recovered his strength, he would be a powerful force in the war against the Freaks. He wore a determined look, as focused on recuperation as he had been on despair. If they weren’t terrifying monsters, I’d pity the beasts.