Bound (9 page)

With a roar Sebastian leapt forward, smashing my assailant on the head, knocking him unconscious. I whimpered and put a hand to my leg, the bite an open gash. Burns stepped up and put a hand under my arm. Sebastian growled and tensed; I put a hand on his arm, holding the baby awkwardly. “It’s okay love. Burns is going to help me, that’s all.”

Sebastian stepped back and the pack slipped in around him, stealing the body and dragging it to the back of the rifle range. Bastian didn’t move; he stared at me as Burns helped me out then shut the gate. “I’ll be back,” I said, and blew Sebastian a kiss. He nodded and sat down where he was, his back to the pack and their meal.

14

“We’ll tell them that one of the pack members jumped out, bit through Vincent’s throat, and then dragged him into the rifle range,” Burns said, as we slowly made our way to the bunker.

“Will they believe that?” I asked.

“Similar stuff has happened; you saw on the way here the guy that got dragged out of the truck, and those Nevermores are quick bastards,” he said.

As we came up to the bunker Burns stopped and faced me. “Marks will be in charge now.”

“That’s good though, isn’t it?” I frowned and tightened my arms around her, my leg throbbing in time with my heart as it sped up. “What?”

“The kid’s mom—the woman was Marks’ ex-wife. He went back to find her once Vincent convinced him of a cure.”

“You already told me that. Won’t he be happy that I saved his daughter?” I asked, rocking the little girl in my arms.

“Marks wasn’t sure the baby was his.” I let out a groan. This was not going to be easy. Burns touched me on the shoulder. “How can you be sure the baby isn’t one of them—that she’s human?”

I stared down at the bundle I held, wrapped in Burns’ jacket. Sound asleep, her body exhausted from lack of food and all the goings on, she looked like a perfect angel with her soft pink skin and downy blond hair. “I don’t think she is. Burns, there are documented cases of women infected with AID’s that don’t pass the disease on to their children. I think maybe something like that has happened here. Her skin is normal; she isn’t trying to eat us.” I smiled up at him, but he didn’t smile back.

The bunker opened up and it was just our luck. Marks stepped out, his brown hair rumpled and his eyes rimmed in red as if he’d been crying. My heart softened; I knew the pain of losing all you held dear.

“She’s alright, she’s human,” I said, limping towards him. He froze, his jaw trembling as he held out his arms. I placed her in them and she whimpered in her sleep.

“She needs a name,” I said.

Marks didn’t say anything at first, just stared at his daughter with an intensity that only a new father could produce. I saw emotions flicker across his face: love, sadness and a fierceness that could only be his desire to protect her. “I don’t know if she’s mine.”

“She’s yours Marks. That is all there is to it,” I said. She needed him and I thought that he needed her just as much.

“She looks like an angel,” He whispered. I smiled, and then grimaced as my leg spasmed.

“I thought the same thing,” I said.

“Seraphima. I think that would be a good name, it was my mother’s name,” Marks said, and went back down into the bunker, ignoring me and Burns, his attention solely on his little angel.

“He didn’t even ask about Vincent,” I said, surprise filtering through me. “Wouldn’t they want to know where he is? Isn’t he supposed to be the leader here?”

Burns shrugged. “We rarely ask questions when someone doesn’t come back. The answer is always the same as to how they died.”

He helped me down into the bunker and we made our way to a brightly lit area that I hadn’t been in previously. It was clean with white walls and gleaming surfaces that highlighted the medical tools spread about.

“I don’t know much about stitching wounds,” Burns said, as he helped me onto a chair. “But I think we should clean it and wrap it tight.”

I nodded and stared around the room, taking in the difference between here and the rest of the gloomy bunker. Burns noticed me looking and answered my unasked question as he prepared a tray of antiseptics and wraps.

“It’s where Vincent worked on training the Nevermores. Torturing them for the most part, like you said.”

I shivered. “Gives this place a whole new feeling when you know that.”

It didn’t take long for Burns to clean and wrap my leg up. Gritting my teeth through the worst of it (mostly the iodine), my body relaxed as he finished up the last layer. Burns stood and helped me to my feet.

“Thanks,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. I was exhausted, the mental and physical strain taking its toll on me.

We turned as Marks stepped into the room, Seraphima wrapped in a pink blanket from God only knows where.

“Mara, I need you to feed her, she isn’t taking anything from me,” he said, handing her over to me along with a bottle, also from God only knows where. I cradled her in my arms and stared down at her sweet little face, which was fading from the healthy pink of a newborn to a pale yellow. I sucked in a breath of air and looked up to see the concern on Marks’ face.

Moving swiftly, I stripped her of her coverings and laid her out on one of the tables. Her body was indeed yellowing, but there was no hint of a marking like the broom flower, as the Nevermores carried.

“I think she’s jaundiced,” I said. Looking up I caught Marks’ eyes. “I don’t know what to do about it, but it’s fatal if it isn’t treated.”

I wrapped Seraphima back up and held her tight, whispering to her. Marks stepped forward, everything about him vibrating with intensity. “Mara, I don’t know how to help her, please do something.”

“I’m not a doctor, or even a nurse,” I snapped, fear coursing through me. “Isn’t there anyone who has some medical training?”

Both men went very still and I looked from one to the other. “What? Is there someone else?”

Burns nodded slowly. “Donavan, he’s a doctor. But he’s crazy, gone over the deep edge when his wife took the Nevermore shot.”

“I’m not willing to take the chance that he would hurt her,” Marks growled.

“If he’s her only hope, then what? You just watch her die?” I said, my anger growing. “Do you have any idea what I would do to see my own child saved? What I would give up, who I would beg?” I stepped towards him, Seraphima’s slow breathing and her very, very deep sleep disconcerting. She should have been screaming bloody blue murder for food, something she’d not yet had since she’d been born.

“I’d do anything to save her,” Marks snapped.

“Then talk with Donavan, beg him if you have to,” I said. “I don’t think she’s got much time, she’s too young and weak to fight this off.” My throat closed at what I was saying, and I tucked my head down against Seraphima’s to hide the tears.

Footsteps stomped away and when I looked up it was just me and Burns again.

“He’ll do right by her. This baby is all he’s got left,” Burns said.

I nodded and crooned to the bundle in my arms. I could only hope Burns was right.

15

The next two days were hell. I’d barely slept, hardly eaten, couldn’t do anything but hold Seraphima and pray she could fight this off. Worse, Donavan wouldn’t parlay with Marks, no matter that a child’s life hung in the balance. Apparently, Donavan still believed that Vincent was alive, and refused to help us on those grounds alone.

We tried to feed Seraphima evaporated milk, water, and even a few mouthfuls of a box of baby formula one of the men found, but nothing stayed down. I begged God to let her live, to spare her life, to give us hope through her that all would be well.

Marks ranted and raved at Donavan, the world, and God, his shouts and anger not once disturbing the baby. I wanted to rant with him, but I knew it wouldn’t help her.

The morning of the third day I startled awake, my arms numb from holding Seraphima all night long. I jiggled her softly and her head rolled. I sucked in a gasp of air. “Oh please, no,” I whispered, my fingertips brushing against her cold skin.

The door creaked open and Marks stepped in, his uniform rumpled, his eyes tired and drawn. I couldn’t say the words, I couldn’t tell him, but my tears were enough.

He knelt in front of me and I slipped Seraphima into his arms as if she was still alive and he cradled her the same way.

“I’m so sorry baby girl,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.” His shoulders began to shake and I did the only thing I could. I bent forward and wrapped my arms around him and held him as he grieved for his daughter.

We cried for I don’t know how long, till the tears dried and the shudders racking us subsided.

“We need to bury her,” Marks said, staring up into my face from only inches away. I blinked and took a deep breath. “Deep, it has to be deep.” We both knew that a shallow grave would be quickly unearthed by one type of animal or another.

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine, softly, carefully with no lust or craving behind it. “Thank you, for loving her,” He whispered. I bobbed my head, feeling the tears well again. “Thank you for letting me,” I whispered back.

That day was silent as the men went about digging a ten foot hole, taking turns with the shovel and straight bar, the quiet only broken by a grunt here and there. All of us had lost loved ones, but to see a man bury his baby daughter was a pain we all seemed to feel. At the end of the day, as the sun began to set, we wrapped Seraphima in several blankets and lowered her in.

Burns held out a ratty old pink and purple teddy bear and put it in with her. “She might need it,” he said, his eyes glassy with unshed tears as he stepped back and ducked his head. The entire troupe was there, their eyes and hearts melting with the loss of a child who wasn’t even their own, the grief of their friend bringing home perhaps the losses they’d all had over the last few months.

Marks filled the hole himself, not once letting any of his men take a turn on the shovel. I couldn’t stay any longer, not without losing my composure again. No longer a prisoner, I made my way to the rifle range. I hadn’t seen Sebastian in the last three days as I fought for Seraphima’s life, and my heart ached to be with him and to have him hold me.

The rifle range was strangely silent when I approached and my heart began to thunder. The last ten feet I ran to the gate. “Sebastian!” I screamed.

Nothing.

I ripped the door open and ran inside, spinning in a circle. They weren’t here and I knew they weren’t in the bunker. I let out a whistle, hoping that Scout would hear me, and waited. Again, nothing.

“Sebastian!”

“Marks let them go,” Burns’ voice turned me around. “He didn’t want to kill them, he knew about Sebastian and the scrawny one. So he let them go.”

I started to shake and slowly slid to the ground. “Sebastian wouldn’t leave me.”

Burns shrugged and crouched down to my level. “He took off with the rest of them, the minute the gate was open. Maybe he finally lost himself to the drug.”

I hit the ground with my fist, the pain steadying my nerves. “No. It’s been too long, if it was going to happen, if he was going to lose himself, it would have been before now.”

Again Burns shrugged then held out a hand. “Come on, let’s go back inside.”

I stood on my own and brushed by him. The men here didn’t care about Sebastian, he was just another mouth to feed, another monster.

Stomping my way into the bunker, I went to find Marks. He was in the war room with three other men. When he saw me, he waved them out. “We’ll discuss this more tonight boys, I want to be very sure it’s possible before we attempt anything.”

The other men left, nodding to me as they stepped out the door. It clicked softly behind them, leaving Marks and me alone.

“Mara, we’re going to attack Donavan’s in three days time. I don’t know what to do with you, I can’t have you fighting, and I can’t leave you behind.” There was genuine concern in his voice and it slowed my anger, but only for a moment.

“Why’d you let the pack go? You knew Sebastian still had a connection to me.” I folded my arms over my chest and glared at him. Marks nodded and scrubbed his hands over his face.