“Thank you.”
I stepped forward again, but my leg crumpled under me. I tried to steady myself, but the earlier blows caught up to me all at once. The basket slipped from my hand and into hers, even as she rushed forward trying to catch me as my knees buckled. A noble attempt, considering I weighed so much more than she did.
“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
Dottie’s voice sounded distant, even though I knew she was right there next to me. I stumbled forward a few more feet until I hit the wall, then I slid down to the ground, my energy completely expended.
Chapter 21: Dottie
Ror’k went down hard, hitting the ground with a heavy thud the moment he touched the wall. I carefully placed the basket of kittens down, a tremor running through my chest as I dropped down to my knees next to him.
“Ror’k?”
There was no answer except for the pitiful cries of the cold, wet kittens next to me. They needed tending to, but first, I had to make sure Ror’k was okay.
“Ror’k?” Worry had my voice cracking.
The sharp tang of iron hit my nose, and dread settled in the pit of my stomach. He was bleeding somewhere. I could hear the big alien warrior breathing, and it was the only assurance I had that he was still alive. And even though the storm rumbled above us, the basement felt too quiet with him lying there stock-still.
His skin felt warm and wet under my hands, and I prayed that all the wetness was from the rain and not blood. Panic tightened in my throat as my fingers trailed down the muscles of his stomach to his belt, searching for his communicator. I needed light; I needed to see what had happened.
My hands locked around his communicator, but it was firmly attached to his belt, and I struggled to unhook it in the dark.
“Damn it!” My hands shook as I pressed the buttons wildly, hoping that it would react to my touch.
A soft light washed over us as the screen lit up—enough for me to fumble with the clasps and free the device from his belt.
“Oh god!” I forced down the lump that rose in my throat at the sight of him.
Blood streaked across his ribs and shoulders. It was too dark to see where all the injuries were, but the lacerations across his side were deep and angry. There was a long gash along his arm, still seeping red even though the edges had already begun to pull together.
I knew these warriors were fast healers, but the injuries were closing far faster than anything I’d ever seen. But what worried me the most was that he was still unresponsive. I scanned his form again in the faint light, but it wasn’t enough for me to see well.
Turning the device to the room around us, I saw the basement for the first time. The light from the communicator cast a soft haze across the room, and shadows stretched in long, uneven shapes toward a wall lined with shelves. Broken glass lay scattered near the stairs leading up to the main floor.
The storm rumbled and vibrated through the floors above, but to my surprise, the basement kept out the storm. This must have been built as a bomb shelter back in the day. I scanned the equipment on the shelf and spotted a flashlight. What were the chances that it would still be working?
I went over and picked it up. It was one of those LED ones, and sure enough, it turned on.
My stomach shrank at the sight of Ror’k. He was in much worse shape than I thought. What I hadn’t seen before was the blood staining his face. It streaked down from his head in wet rivulets. I hurried back to his side. There was a cut on his head, but it was already starting to heal. Now with a stronger light, I could see that the horn with the broken tip now had a much larger crack running through it.
Maybe I could call for help!
I turned the device back over in my hand, pressing the buttons and trying to reach the last person he’d spoken to. That would be Roger, and he’d be able to send help. But the device wouldn’t react to anything I did, except to turn the screen on occasionally.
I felt so utterly useless. My growing frustration had me wanting to chuck the thing across the room, but a pitiful whimper had me turning my attention to the basket on the ground. The poor kitties were cold, wet, and miserable. I wanted to release them, dry them out, and get them warmed up. But I couldn’t do that with the glass still on the ground.
Needing something to do, I located a broom and started cleaning it up, trying my best not to miss any for the sake of their little paws. Then I scoured the basement for supplies that would help me warm the kittens back up. I found a blanket, which I laid down on the ground in case I missed any of the glass, and a small cardboard box to contain the kittens and keep them from wandering around. Her Highness would still be able get around. I hoped she was smart enough to keep herself out of trouble.
Surely a cat that had survived long enough to reproduce during a bugpocalypse would be a smart one.
I wasn’t able to find any towels, but I did find a bin full of old children’s clothing. They were a little moth-eaten, but would have to do. I dumped some of the clothes and used them to linethe cardboard box. After I had all the cats out of the basket and into the cardboard box, I piled more dry clothes in there with them and got to work drying the kittens.
I kept my eyes on Ror’k the whole time, sitting pressed up against his body so that we were touching him. The fact that he was warming up even more kept my hopes high.
Soon, the chaos upstairs died down. As quickly as it had landed, the twister was gone again. But Ror’k was still unresponsive. He was warm, much warmer than usual, like his body was burning extra calories to help him heal.
I cuddled in close, and so did Her Highness, who sat on his chest. She started to groom the purple skin around her, cleaning up the drying streaks of blood. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that, so I picked up a mostly dried kitten and placed it in front of her, and she started grooming it instead.
