17
Reaper was out all night. She almost left him and went back to the town to find Mira, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave him alone and vulnerable in the shack. She’d been able to subsist easily on the small amount of water and food Mira had given them, and whenever Reaper woke up, she plied him with food and water. Other than watching him almost without a break, she had no choice but to simply wait and worry.
Midmorning, all the sweat on his body disappeared, dried up by the high heat of a fever. He twitched and tossed and turned and mumbled, but never opened his eyes. She’d checked underneath his gauze when he got still and quiet, and while the wound looked red and angry, there was no pus leaking out. She could only cross her fingers and pray that meant there was no infection.
Plus, she’d found a syringe at the bottom of Mira’s satchel—another dose of antibiotics for her to give him “within the next thirty-six hours.”
She gently replaced the bandage and Reaper flung an arm out, the blow landing solidly across her chest and flinging her onto her ass in the dirt-covered hut.
He continued to mumble. It was mainly gibberish but every now and then she would catch a few words. “Winters” and “Project Mayhem” were two of the things he kept repeating. She hadn’t figured out what it all meant yet, but she knew Winters and what she’d done.
Pushing herself back to her knees, she went back to him and laid her hand across his forehead, snatching it back in shock when his skin practically burned her palm. Panic licked at her, blurring her senses. His fever should be getting better, not worse. What if his blood was infected? He needed that second dose of antibiotics now, and if he didn’t get better within the next few hours, she was going to backpack into town. She found the needle and approached the bed. Mira had injected the last dose into Reaper’s IV. Which meant it needed to go into a vein. Only with Reaper so dehydrated his veins weren’t bulging in the least.
Like many Americans, her medical knowledge came from watching reruns ofGrey’s Anatomy.She used her scarf as a tourniquet around his bicep and pulled as tight as she possibly could. After almost a full minute, a tiny throbbing vein raised beneath Reaper’s flesh in the crook of his left elbow.
She could do this. How hard could it possibly be to get that tiny little needle into that tiny little vein?
Tension filled up her chest like a hot balloon near to bursting. She bent over and slowly lined up the needle.
“Here goes nothing.”
Caroline bit her lip and pierced his flesh. She felt every layer of skin give way to the sharp point, and when she was sure she’d found the vein, she injected the antibiotics and pulled the needle out. A tiny almost minuscule bead of blood welled.
She’d done it! She’d given Reaper a dose directly into his vein!
Reaper roared, his back bowing off the bed, every muscle in his body straining. He collapsed onto the bed and then immediately dove off it. The needle flew across the room and clattered into the far wall as every bit of Reaper’s enormous body landed on Caroline, knocking the wind from her chest. Bursts of light stars flickered across her vision. She couldn’t breathe or even move.
Reaper’s hand snaked around her throat, squeezing until she couldn’t even suck in a particle of oxygen. She clawed at his grip, but even though he was looking directly at her now, he wasn’t seeing her.
Reaper’s harsh, gravelly voice, laced with violence, filled the tiny hut, “This isn’t what we signed up for. Look what you did to my men.”
Caroline tried to eke out a response, but she couldn’t even manage that small feat. She felt the blood rushing to her face. He was going to choke her to death and he wouldn’t even know it. She clawed harder, but it was like scratching at a brick wall.
“You lied to me. I talked them into this project and you’ve turned them into monsters. You deserve to die.” His grip tightened incrementally and Caroline choked, floundering for any chance to get him to snap out of this nightmare.
His fingers continued to close around her neck and the room blackened in the periphery of her vision.
She could pound on him all she wanted, probably claw the skin from his face, and he still wouldn’t snap out of his delusion.
There was only one possible escape. Caroline used every single ounce of strength she had left in her depleted body to jab the wound on his shoulder.
Reaper immediately released her neck, rolling into a ball on the floor beside her.
Sweet, heavenly oxygen filled her lungs and she lay there gasping for air, hands encircling her neck. The skin there was raw and would definitely be bruised. And the man she’d considered her savior had been the one to do it, however unconsciously.
When she was able to sit up without blacking out, Caroline placed her palms on the floor and straightened her arms until she was in a sitting position. Her entire body trembled and her heart raced like it had in the minutes after Dr. Winters had injected her with the adrenaline.
Reaper stayed huddled on the floor next to her, tremors shaking his body so hard that he was in danger of convulsing.
She touched his back, her hand trembling.
He moaned but didn’t flinch or lash out.
A good sign. She curled her hand around his bicep. His body was an inferno blasting heat.
“Have to find the girl. Have to bring her back. She’s my only chance at redemption.”
Caroline’s racing heart gave a huge thwack against her rib cage and then tumbled over in her chest. There was a desperation born of absolute need in his tormented voice. “Reaper, I’m here. You found me.”
