Torn Away

For the longest time, nothing happened. I was about to relax, but Wolf activated his cloak and a new wave of anxiety crashed over me. I couldn't move, didn't have my sword . . .

Leftover fear was telling me it was probably another drone. One that had been off the ship, returning to its queen only to find the ship gone.

But I didn't want to believe that. It was easier to think they were all dead.

Then, an explosion of gunfire reigned from the tree line. Wolf snarled and somewhere out of sight and I screeched in surprise, throwing myself down.

I twisted so that I was face-first on the ground and holding my hands over my head. The movement had required I flip over, though, and white-hot pain lanced up my legs and to my hips, bringing fresh tears to my eyes.

Hands grabbed at my shoulders and brought me up. Adrenaline had chased away some of the cold, and the throbbing in my legs made me forget about the rest of it.

I screamed and struggled, not sure who had me or what their plans were.

"Shh, it's okay, we're gonna get you outta here," a human voice said over the gunfire.

Eyes wide, I tried the best I could to look up at a person swathed in a military camouflage outfit.

"Where'd it go?" he shouted to his comrades, who had all emerged from the foliage, rifles squared up.

"Disappeared," someone called back.

Clicking his tongue in irritation, the soldier returned his attention to me and asked, "Did that thing hurt you? Were there others?"

All I could do was stare at him in disbelief. Where had these guys come from? I hadn't heard any approaching vehicles, not that I'd been paying attention.

A quick scan around revealed other shadowy men lurking around to form a perimeter. My mouth hung open and I resisted his attempts to pull me up.

"Miss—miss it's okay. You gotta get up," he insisted.

Finally, I found words. "My legs, they're broken."

"Ah shit," he huffed. He put a hand to the earpiece under his helmet and said, "Legs are broken. She's freezing cold, has lacerations and burns all over . . ."

Rescue—the rescue I'd been hoping for, waiting for.

The backup I'd been told about hours ago. But, it was technically too late and I didn't even need rescuing anymore.

I didn't want to be rescued. I should have been overjoyed to see these people. They were going to take me home, back to town, back to my family.

Back to a school where all my friends were dead, where I'd broken the one rule we'd all been given: don't go out into the woods until the military says it's safe.

Would Wolf even let them? He'd disappeared as soon as they started firing, but would he fight or fall back to regroup with Brutus and then start a fight? Both of them were outnumbered and outgunned, even though they were formidable.

First the crash, then all the fights with the drones . . . they had to be exhausted and injured. Wolf would be killed, or captured—

In my mind's eye, I saw it. Wolf strapped to some cold gurney, probably dead with his ribcage broken open so they could poke at his insides and see what made him tick.

We'd have his technology which meant so much for our science, for our advancement as a species . . . but could I do that to Wolf? I had no doubt that he'd be able to fight these guys off—if he hadn't just spent a whole night struggling and barely scraping by.

No. I didn't want that. Not even for the jerk Brutus.

Maybe Wolf was an asshole sometimes, but he'd saved my life. When he could have left me to die, he took me under his wing and not only protected me but gave me the means to protect myself.

The man hooked his arms underneath mine and started to pull me backward, but immediately stopped when I cried out and arched my back in pain.

"Ah, shit—sorry. You'll be alright. We'll get you fixed up. Are there any more of them?"

Someone to our left let out a loud choking sound before falling in a heap to the ground. Everyone was immediately back on edge, sweeping the trees and nearby area for who had killed him.

"Stop!" I shrieked, clutching the man's arms. "Just let me go!"

Mr. Military stopped short, then shook his head and heaved me up again, calling for someone to come help him with me.

"Can't do that, miss. We're gonna get you safe, don't worry about us."

He didn't understand.

I didn't care.

Another couple men on opposite sides fell dead, impaled by invisible weapons. Brutus had come back, that was the only thing that made sense. Maybe together they could kill these men, but that also wasn't something I wanted.

They were just doing their job. They were here to help, to try and figure out what had killed the first group and crashed in my back yard.

"I'll be fine, Wolf, it's not worth it!" I called out again.

"She's delirious. In shock," Mr. Military said to the soldier who had come to help pick me up. The two heaved me up into their arms and I bucked in pain, biting back the scream. I didn't want to give Wolf any reason to be mad at them.

Though I tried not to struggle too much, they were having way more trouble than Wolf did to carry me back into the trees, and each step and lurch sent another fresh wave up my spine.

From the line of men; "Bogies in camo, can't see them! Not sure how many. Two, maybe more."

"Please, just go!" I demanded, flinging my arm to punctuate my point.

Had that been vibrant green blood I'd caught a glimpse of?

"We're gonna get out of here, calm down!" My rescuer gave up using his help and heaved me up to toss me over his shoulder fireman style, causing me to gasp.

Pain shot all the way up to my midsection in brutal waves, causing my vision to blur. Even the sounds of gunfire seemed muffled like I had been dunked in a vat of water.

I successfully fought off the darkness. "Go," I whispered, pleaded.

Though the blurriness, I saw the bend and twist of light as either Wolf or Brutus slipped by. The soldiers seemed to have caught on and fired at where he had been, tightening their line to separate us from the fighting.

The trees started to close in and I tried to keep my head up, tried to make sure he was leaving. I heard the muffled sound of his familiar roar somewhere in the trees. Relief had me sagging against my rescuer.

At least he'd fallen back, but I couldn't speak for Brutus. He seemed like the kinda guy that would be out for blood regardless.

We broke through the woods back into the open, where Wolf and I had jumped from the falling ship. When I lifted my head, I spotted black vehicles parked, rotor blades twisting leisurely.

Helicopters—the buzzing and humming I'd heard earlier.

How had I not made that connection?

I had been expecting them all night, and yet I had forgotten all about them because I hadn't wanted to go home.

Now, that was just where I was going because I'd been too stupid or blind to warn Wolf that they were coming. They were still shooting out behind us, either still fighting someone or unaware that they had fallen back.

If they'd fallen back.

All I could do was hope that they had, or that if they really wanted to fight . . . they would win.

Part of me—the selfish, scared part—wished that Wolf would try a little harder, but most of me was relieved. Relieved that he had enough brains as well as brawn to know which battles to pick, that he was at least okay for a little while longer.

I was placed on a gurney and strapped in, then loaded onto the helicopter. I was numb by then, half-conscious and reeling from the pain.

I drifted in and out of consciousness. The guy who had picked me up told me his name several times, but I could never latch on to it.

He kept trying to ask me some questions, but I couldn't focus enough to understand or answer. The helicopter was so loud and my face was covered in an oxygen mask anyway.

Besides that, I probably wouldn't have answered, anyway.

The second he gave up and left me alone, I closed my eyes and tried to rest. The pain made it difficult, but I was so exhausted that I still wound up passing out completely at some point, only to wake up to new faces staring down at me.

Faces that were hidden behind yellow hazmat suits, silhouetted by bright white lights.

"Hold still, you're safe!" one of them said as soon as I started to struggle and fight, shoving hands away. "You're going to make your wounds worse if you don't hold still."

They were pushing my stretcher down a sterile, white hallway. I counted at least four people, but a couple of them might have just been duplicates from my bleary vision. I wasn't really sure with the lights blaring down at me.

"Mendes, you and any others who were in direct contact with her or the, uh, beings, need to get to decontamination right away."

That was his name. The guy who had picked me up—Mendes.

I was being held against the stretcher with heavy hands, so all I could do was flick my eyes from face to face, trying to see if I could spot him. He must have been hanging back, though.

"Wrong. I have to stay with her in case she says anything. Direct orders," Mendes said.

"She's barely conscious as it is! Just go and you can be back right away."

It wouldn't matter. I didn't feel much like talking.

All the same, Mendes grumbled a begrudging resignation and I didn't hear from him again. The hazmat doctor leaned in to speak with me again.

"Are you in pain?"

Somehow, I managed a meek nod.

"Won't be long. We just have to get you into quarantine to check you out."

Whatever that meant. If they thought I had been impregnated, they'd find out I was fine soon enough.

I stared at the ceiling, counting the fluorescent lights as they passed by overhead. Another hazmat suit leaned into my line of sight and I focused on their face: a woman.

Smiling, comforting. Probably no older than my mother. The tension in my body left just looking at her.

"Sweetie how did you break your legs?" she asked.

Someone else at my left lifted my arm to take my blood pressure on the run. Seventeen lights had passed by now.

When I didn't immediately answer, she cooed, "It's alright. You can tell us."

Maybe, but I wasn't sure what I was supposed to say. How much they knew. They were familiar with the military that had shown up and nabbed me, so it was probably safe to say that they were at least somewhat aware of what may have transpired in the woods.

But I still didn't want to say too much. My throat was dry and sore, and all the struggling with Mendes had renewed the pain in my chest from the queen hitting me.

For a while, I'd even forgotten about it because of the whole leg thing.

In the end, after she pressed me for the answer again, I sighed and tried to wet my lips with my tongue. I was so thirsty all of a sudden. And hungry. And tired. I just wanted to sleep for a little longer.

Or for several days.

"The ship was falling. I jumped off it," I said at last. "Landed wrong . . . hit a rock with my knee."

She nodded and we shoved passed two doors. I was assuming that the helicopter Mendes had put me on took me to Estes Park Medical Center, but none of it looked familiar.

I'd been to the ER once when I'd broken my arm, but otherwise, I really hadn't spent much time at the hospital. I couldn't see much besides the ceiling, either: for some reason, they'd decided I needed a neck brace.

It was probably protocol.

Were these all government people, or had they brought in any actual staff? I supposed it didn't matter, so long as they took the pain away.

"What about the burn on your back, sweetie?" she asked.

Burn? I struggled to remember what she was talking about, then realized that it was from the fight with the drone. When I'd been separated from Wolf.

If I wanted to feel better, I needed to tell them. "It was acid. I neutralized it already."

Two of the doctors shared a glance, but the woman wasn't done asking me questions yet. Mostly, she wanted to know where else I was hurt, or where the pain was coming from.

I told her about my ribs, how something had hit me in the chest. The bite wound—I couldn't remember every little injury I'd sustained anymore.

The discomfort was getting worse the more lucid I was. I fidgeted and groaned, only partly aware that I was basically topless. Shifting around, however, made me remember the dog tags and other things I had in my pockets.

Most of the stuff in my pockets had probably all been scattered over the side of the mountain when I'd fallen, but if they were up there scouring it for Wolf and other aliens, then maybe everything would be found.

"These tags," I muttered, trying to lift my hand to pull the chains from around my neck.

"We got them, already. Everything you had on you. We'll get them where they need to go."

I dropped my arm again, which had been too heavy to lift all the way, anyway.

"The cell I had . . . it was my friend's," I murmured.

"Okay, we'll try to get that to her family," I was promised.

All my limbs felt like they were full of lead.

The nurse gave me a reassuring pat on the shoulder and said, "We're gonna get you cleaned up and then take you to x-ray, okay?"

They pushed me into a tiled room, like a pool shower. Stopping, I was left alone for a moment before a hazmat doctor showed up with a needle.

I squirmed, but he assured me; "It's just morphine. It'll help with some of the pain and make this process less miserable for you."

Nodding, I held my breath when he stuck me with the syringe. As soon as he emptied it, I felt immediate relief.

The discomfort fled, but so did many of my more coherent thoughts, and I was even sleepier than before.

But, it did its job and they were able to undress me, then pick me up and put me in one of the tubs without me feeling anything but the smallest discomfort.

Even modesty had fled as they scrubbed and hosed me down with water that smelled like chemicals. Unfortunately, I couldn't enjoy the feeling of being CLEAN in my drugged up state.

I was still covered head to toe in crusted-over alien spit, caked-on blood, and just various types of dirt and grime. The burn on my back especially needed to be washed, as did all of the lacerations and the open wounds on my legs.

Everything was at a risk for infection.

They tried to needle me for answers, but the best I could tell them was that "The ugly black alien bugs did it."

Whatever they washed me with was burning. Even through the painkillers. It made my skin red and itchy, and if I hadn't already been ready to pass out, I might have scratched myself raw.