Chapter Ten

..

Bella woke early the next morning. She had rolled over on her hand and the pain was enough to jolt her out of sound sleep. She looked over at Edward to make sure he hadn't been disturbed by it. Apparently, when he was asleep, he couldn't sense her pain and she was glad. She didn't need him worrying about her on top of everything else.

She went into the bathroom and removed her bandage. Even in the dim light from the single bulb on the medicine cabinet, she could see that it was infected. She gritted her teeth and washed it in the sink with soap and hot water, tears seeping from the corners of her eyes. She dried it gently and put on a new bandage.

In the living room, she found Carlisle staring at the television set, the volume turned down very low. Dave was curled up beside him, his paws twitching in his sleep. He was dreaming of cats, cats everywhere for him to chase.

"Where's Rose and Emmet?" she asked.

Without taking his eyes from the TV, Carlisle pointed at the closet.

"You're kidding."

He rolled his eyes.

"How long have they been in there?"

"Since yesterday." There was a note of longing in his tone and Bella knew that it wasn't because he was particularly interested in Rose; he just longed for contact.

Bella sighed and rubbed her forehead with her good hand. "I was going to ask Rose, but she's ... busy. Could you go to the store for me?"

"Sure. What do you need?"

"Some peroxide and antibacterial ointment." Bella eyed the closet door with some trepidation. "Uh ... My purse is in there."

Carlisle sighed. He rose to his feet and marched over to the closet door. He gave it a bang with his fist. "Oi! We need Bella's purse."

The door opened a crack and a female hand emerged, holding the purse by its strap. A wing popped through the opening and was pulled back by its owner. Carlisle shoved the door shut, catching the wing's bottom feathers. There was a yelp and the door opened again to pull them inside.

Bella fished through her purse for her wallet and opened it clumsily with one hand.

"Your wound really hurts," Carlisle observed.

"Yeah, and I think it's getting infected, hence the peroxide. But don't tell Edward, for God's sake. He'll freak out and want to put me in the hospital or something."

"Do you think you should be?" Carlisle asked.

"No! Jeeze, it's just a stupid cut. I'm sure if I clean it out well, it will be fine."

Carlisle sighed. "I wish Esme were here."

Okay, that was random, Bella thought. "Soon, Carlisle. Only a week now."

He took the money Bella held out and headed out the door. With any luck, he would be back before Edward woke. She sat down on the sofa and turned the TV up to audible range, flipping through their small selection of channels. She found some cartoons and settled back beside Dave to watch She had picked up a little Spanish from watching children's shows, which tended to have simpler vocabularies.

Carlisle returned even more quickly than she'd hoped and handed her a brown plastic bottle and small, rectangular yellow box, along with the money she had given him. "Um, Carlisle? How did you pay for this?"

"I didn't," he said. "When I got there, I decided that you need to save what money you have."

"You stole it?" Bella was aghast.

Carlisle shrugged. "I'm already Fallen. A few more sins won't make a difference."

Bella was really uncomfortable with that, but couldn't think of a response. "It's just wrong," didn't seem like it would have much impact on him right now. She made a mental note to have Edward talk to Carlisle, not about this specific incident because she didn't want him to know what she'd needed from the store, but about his general demeanor. Carlisle was starting to worry her.

She went back into the bathroom and poured the peroxide over her cut, hissing a little in discomfort, and watched it bubble. Bella had the vague memory of her mother telling her that the more it bubbled, the more germs it was killing and that it should be reapplied until the bubbling was slight. She didn't know if that was correct, but she re-doused it and squeezed her eyes shut.

"Bella? Are you alright?" It was Edward's voice, right outside the door.

Shit! "Just a minute!" she called. She smeared her finger with some of the ointment and put on a fresh bandage, then hid them under the sink where he never ventured. She opened the door and found her sleepy angel on the other side, rubbing his eyes with his fists.

"What hurt you?" he asked.

"I bumped my cut finger," she lied, keeping her mind carefully blank. "It's okay now."

He yawned and shuffled past her into the bathroom. She shut the door behind her. Edward never had caught onto the "bathroom privacy" concept and half the time he'd forget and leave the door standing wide open while he used it. She supposed that it was because angels never grew up being taught that bodily functions were dirty or embarrassing. They might see their humans learn it, but it wouldn't be ingrained into them.

Bella went into the kitchen and pulled down the box of pancake batter. Carlisle was still alone in the living room, and the closet door was still firmly shut, though she could see the tip of a feather poking under the door. Good grief. Didn't they ever take a break?

They were still in there when Edward came home from work, carrying a large, lumpy object wrapped in a moving pad. He laid it on the floor after kissing Bella and unveiled the contents: Five AK-47 rifles and ten .45 caliber handguns. Each had several boxes of ammo.

Bella was awed. What was Jenks's angle, anyway? All of this had to be extremely expensive. She had never bought an illegally acquired firearm, but she imagined they didn't sell cheaply. The ammo alone was serious bucks.

"And look at this." Edward stood and reached behind his head and swiftly drew a long, curving sword from a sheath hidden beneath his coat. "Watch."

Bella jumped a little when the blade seemed to burst into fire. The orange flames danced along the surface of the blade. Bella reached out with her good hand and held it above the sword, but didn't feel any heat coming from them. She passed her hand through it. An illusion, and a damn scary one. She would have quailed if an angel with a flaming sword charged at her.

"Pretty cool, huh? It happens every time I draw it."

"Oh fuck, you didn't do it in front of Jenks, did you?"

"I don't think he saw," Edward said. "I put it away pretty quickly when I realized what was happening and he was busy checking the guns over."

Bella examined the sword, impressed by its lethal beauty. This wasn't a flea market replica meant to hang on someone's wall. This was a the real thing, beautifully crafted and perfectly balanced. There Japanese characters etched into the base of the blade. She certainly wasn't an expert on these things, but a sword like this couldn't come cheap and probably cost more than they were paying for the entire mission. It made no sense.

"Jenks collects them," Edward explained. "It's just borrowed, and the guns were left over from his last selling trip. He said he got them really cheap and sold the rest of them for a shitload."

Bella smiled. She could just hear Jenks describing his profits using that term. If they were around him for very long, Edward was going to pick up a very colorful vocabulary.

Edward's explanation made her feel marginally better about the weapons. Jenks wasn't running a charity, after all. He was a mercenary, and she didn't imagine they often gave discounts or tossed in free firepower just to be nice.

That night, they had their first planning session after prying Emmett and Rose our of the closet. Carlisle drew them a map and explained what security measures he had seen when he scoped out the facility upon their arrival on earth.

"The first obstacle is their radar system, which warns them of any approaching watercraft or airplanes," he said. "They don't monitor it constantly; an alarm sounds if something enters their zone. I couldn't tell what its range was. They check it at the change of every shift, just a cursory glance to make sure it's still running."

"If we disabled it, how long could we have before they discovered it?"

"Four hours, tops, unless we could figure out a way to keep it looking functional."

Bella made notes on a pad of paper.

"Most of the time, the guards in the monitoring station play cards, or read, or even watch TV. They're not expecting any trouble."

"Are they the ones who monitor the cameras inside the facility?" Bella asked.

Carlisle nodded. "I didn't see any other facilities with monitors, except for the ones inside the testing rooms."

"Is there any way to make the monitors play recorded footage like in Ocean's Eleven?"

"I don't know," Carlisle replied. "We should, perhaps, send a second scouting mission to see if it's possible."

Bella scribbled it down on her paper, chewing on the end of the pen between thoughts.

"What else?"

"There were twenty soldiers in the facility at all times, with twenty more off duty. They have quarters behind the gray metal door."

"If we could disable the door, could we trap the other troops inside so that we don't have to fight them if an alarm is sounded?"

"It's worth looking into. I didn't check to see how many ways there were out of the barracks."

"What do you think the likelihood of the residents joining us in battle would be?"

Carlisle shook his head. "Bella, yous saw them. Many of them are like my Esme, without hope. Some have been so brainwashed that they might fight us alongside the soldiers. There may be a few, but we can't count on them. And we can't waste time trying to convince the ones who don't want to leave. I'm not sure if they have backups somewhere else on the island, or how long it would take for them to get reinforcements from bases on the mainland."

"The island is about 600 miles from Ushuaia and the ship only goes about 25 miles per hour. It's going to take at least 24 hours to get there."

Bella turned to Edward, awe written on her features. "How did you fly that far with me?"

Edward's features were grim. "I had no other choice. It's open ocean between here and the island. I had to keep going or you would have died of exposure."

She thought of her poor angel, unused to the gravity and thick air, valiantly fighting to stay aloft over the icy sea, the life of woman he loved at stake. No wonder he had only been able to manage short distances in the days afterward. He had to be exhausted.

"It wasn't that bad," he told her softly. "I didn't lose strength from the trip down like the Fallen. Perhaps the Highest One granted me the strength I would need."

"Let's hope he's willing to give you another boost for this mission. I think we may need it."

"So, assuming we get past the radar, do we just charge on in?" Emmett asked.

"My idea was to try to hide and capture one of the doctors or soldiers, to use their keycard. Otherwise, we'd have to wait for shift change and hope to sneak in behind them. Those steel doors would be almost impossible for us to get through on our own."

"Bella could do it," Edward bragged, giving her a proud and fond smile.

"Probably," Carlisle conceded, "But we need to save her power for shielding and such. If she battered down the door, she would probably be out of commission for the rest of the mission."

Rose, who'd been absorbing this conversation silently, spoke up. "Let's imagine everything goes perfectly and we get in without being detected or showing up on the monitors. Do we use the keycard to start opening resident's doors and hope that they're willing to join with us? There will be some of them that are scared to help for fear of failure and reprisal."

"Well, yeah," Bella said. "The residents are our main goal, after all, and the sooner we can get them out and running for the ship, the better."

"Bella, they'll freeze," Emmett said suddenly. They don't have coats and boots."

"Can we take them from the soldiers? That would actually be a good idea if they wouldn't pursue us because they had no shoes."

They debated various strategies late into the night. Bella felt a mixture of excitement and trepidation. They were really going to do this. And with what Carlisle came up with, it just might work.

Early in the morning, Bella left the apartment and walked down to the end of the hall where a payphone was hung on the wall for the residents' use (quite a few of the apartment building's residents didn't have phones of their own), Bella deposited a coin, and dialed the number on the card Jenks had given her in case they needed to set up any more meetings.

His irritated voice answered on the third ring. "Jesus Christ. Eight A.M. Whoever this is, it better be important. Muy fuckin' importante, get it?"

"Hello, Jenks, it's Bella."

His irritation subsided somewhat. "Hello, Bella. How's that man of yours?"

"He's well. Jenks, I need to ask you a question."

"Yeah?"

"Do you sell drugs?"

There was a long pause. "Can I call you back at the number on my Call ID?" he asked.

"Sure." Bella hung up the receiver and it rang almost instantly.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you not to talk about drug shit over phones registered in your name? I called you back on my disposable."

"Sorry. This is the first time I've ever made this kind of request."

He sighed. "What do you need, sugar? Mind you, I ain't sellin' you the hard shit. I like Edward too much for that."

"Penicillin."

There was a long pause and then Jenks let out a snort. Then a chuckle. Then he burst into howling laughter. "S- sorr- sorry. D- did you j-just say penicillin?"

"Yes."

More laughter. Bella waited until he had calmed. "About a week's worth, I think."

Jenks was still snickering. "Got a little infection you need to clear up without Edward knowing, honey?"

His tone made Bella indignant. "It's not something like that," she said.

"Good, 'cause I'd hate to think you were fuckin' around on that boy."

"I'm not. I wouldn't. I've got a cut on my finger that keeps getting redder. I don't want Edward to know just because I don't want him to worry, okay?"

"All right. I'm ... out of town at the moment, so I'll have one of my guys drop 'em in your mailbox this afternoon."

"How much?'

He snickered again. "Don't worry about it."

"You know, for a mercenary, you seem rather unconcerned about money."

"Bella, it's like, five bucks. Really. Don't worry about it."

"Thank you."

"Yeah, chickie. You keep an eye on that cut. Infections can get nasty."

Edward was still asleep when she went back to the apartment and she gave a huge sigh of relief. She went into the bedroom to wake him for work. He was lying on his stomach, nude as usual, with the sheet tangled around his legs. The morning sunshine streamed through through the window onto his wing, making it glow a brilliant, pearlescent white. She stood there for a moment, admiring the view. She wished she was an artist and could immortalize the sheer beauty of this scene. Without a doubt, the man had the most perfect ass that God had ever created.

"Why, thank you," Edward said. His eyes popped open and he grinned at her.

"How long have you been awake?" Bells tried to keep her mind blank.

"Since you came in and started ogling me." He propped himself up on a pillow, unabashedly naked.

Bella felt her face heat.

He crooked a finger at her in a come-hither motion.

"You need to get up and get ready for work," Bella said, her voice weak and unconvincing.

"We're not starting until ten this morning," Edward said. "Pleeeeeenty of time."

That sexy, hooded gaze of his was like a tractor beam, drawing her helplessly into his arms. He lifted the hem of her t-shirt and stuck his head beneath it. "Ooh, no bra!" he announced, and took happy advantage of the situation, licking and sucking at her nipples until she was writhing helplessly beneath him.

"Please," she gasped. "Touch me."

He blinked his pretty green eyes, trying to look innocent. "Where?"

"Argh! You know where. You can read my mind, remember?"

He slid down her sweatpants and underwear, his talented fingers unerringly finding her most sensitive spots. "Anything else you'd like me to do?" he purred.

"Oh, God, anything," Bella moaned.

"That's a very broad invitation," Edward whispered, his breath hot in her ear. "I have a very long list of the things I want to do to you." He flipped her over so that she lay on her stomach, draped over a small mound of pillows. "Ready for item number one?"

She was.

The antibiotics apparently weren't working. Bella's hand throbbed and burned. By Friday, she could barely stand to have it covered by a bandage. She dumped some more peroxide over it, hissing through the sting. And to add to her troubles, she seemed to be getting the flu. She felt nauseated and weak, a little feverish to boot.

"This cannot happen now," she told her body. This was their only chance. Jenks was leaving at the end of the month for his mysterious "job" in Southeast Asia. If they missed this window of opportunity, he wouldn't be back for six months and they wouldn't have the money to hire another boat, assuming they found someone trustworthy and willing.

It was becoming increasingly difficult to hide her infection from Edward. Dave kept telling him that Bella smelled funny, but he hadn't made the connection yet with her bandaged finger. Bella tried very hard not to think of it when he was awake and only tended the wound in the early mornings. She knew if he found out about it, he would scrub the mission.

A thought occurred to Bella: what if her fever was because of the wound and not actually a flu like she'd thought? She took a few aspirin and pushed the thought away. No matter what, she had to make it through this mission and afterwards, she'd go see a doctor about it. It was risky, she knew. She wasn't very well-informed about infections, other than what she'd read in novels and they didn't have an internet connection for her to look it up online.

Another terrible thought: what if they wanted to cut off her finger? Perhaps some of her reticence to seek medical attention was childish avoidance, like hiding beneath the bed during a house fire. What if she got gangrene? She peered closely at the wound, but didn't see any green, much to her relief. It was simply red, and the color extended down the length of her finger to her second knuckle in odd streaks. She tried to keep her hand out of view as much as possible. She was actually happy when their heat broke down on Wednesday, giving her an excuse to wear gloves in the apartment. For once, a slow-to-repair apartment manager was a good thing.

Just four more days, she told her body. Please, just give me four more days and then we'll see a doctor.

She had to have faith that God would help her in any way necessary to allow her to complete this, her task, for which her life had been preserved when Jacob would have shot her in the snow. But even though she had proof of God's existence in the form of the angel curled up in their bed, faith was hard to come by.