.x.
I made my way back to the infirmary, becoming only slightly lost along the way. Pushing open the door to the infirmary I found Ana already inside. she stood at the counter and was opening and shutting the cupboard doors with enough force to let me know she was furious. She didn't hear the door close behind me and I hesitantly cleared my throat to catch her attention. She whirled around, a terrible scowl on her face, but seeing me her expression softened somewhat.
"Ms. Woods."
"Lex," I corrected, crossing the floor to hop up onto the bed facing her. "Is everything alright?"
"No." She said fiercely, slamming another cupboard door shut. "I can't believe—ooooh, he's such a—goddamnit!"
Her voice had risen into a shout with the last word, and as she spun around I watched her with wide eyes. Seeing my expression, she said, "Reed thinks you're lying, but you already knew that. He criticized my care of you, insulted my daughter, and wants me to follow you everywhere and give you the third degree. If I ever get off this ship, I quit my job. I am not working for him. His father was twice the man he is."
I agreed with her on that. She continued after a moment, in a softer tone this time, "Is it true, what you said to him? That Charles was dying?"
"Yes. I caught him in one of the snow-crawlers breathing from on oxygen bottle. He admitted it to me when I told him he shouldn't come along."
"But he went anyways," Ana sighed. "Old fool."
A silence fell between us then, until Ana turned back to the counter and began cleaning the mess she'd made in her fury. "Some of the sedative syringes are missing. Now we have people stealing medical supplies. Reed will love this." Moving away from the counter and towards the door she said, "You'll be given your own quarters to sleep in tonight. I'll show you where they are now, if you want."
"Okay," I said, sliding down from the bed and following her.
.x.
Evening found me once again in the mess hall, seated at a table again with Cora, Ana, Sam Thorne and Ray Gerdol. It was considerably more crowded this time as the salvage team had returned for the day. I caught sight of Reed entering as I finished my meal. Seeing me, he merely nodded before crossing the room and leaving my sight. Sam and Ray were arguing. Ray, I noticed, was halfway through a bottle of beer, and two empty ones stood next to his plate. I didn't pay attention to their discussion because I was far too busy scouting the room for what I knew was there but couldn't see. I felt like a child with an invisible friend, except that there were three and they were incredibly violent. Wouldn't it be lovely, I thought idly to myself, if that's all they really were? Figments of my imagination? My wishful thinking evaporated when I saw Gerdol's eyes flick to my cheek, to my marks, and then quickly away. I sighed. There was nothing imaginary about my situation.
After dinner everyone drifted their separate ways. Ana decided her daughter was in need of medication in light of the fact she'd recently caught cold. At this, Cora protested vehemently, claiming her sniffles were only because she'd been crying all day, but her mother firmly vetoed her protests. I followed them out of the mess hall and left them, making my way to the infirmary. I wanted fresh air, and I wanted to find Scar in order to try and obtain more information from him about our new … status. I had resolutely squelched all ideas that pertained to the fact that perhaps he may be somewhat fond of me, because thinking about it made me distinctly perturbed.
Once in the infirmary, I donned the thick jacket and the lined gloves that had been left for me and headed out again. Once I'd climbed the stairs to the open deck I pulled my hood up around my head and breathed deep the crisp, icy air. As I exhaled a cloud of vapor rose up, momentarily obscuring my vision. I moved to the railing, propping my elbows on it and peering overboard to stare at the dark waters in which large pieces of polar ice floated. From there my eyes rose skyward, to find that the night was ablaze with the intricate, irregular dance of the aurora australis. Countless times in my past I'd stood outside and watched the phenomenon, marveled at the way the colors blazed and faded, and never did I lose my fascination. I'd confessed to Graeme and Sebastian my love of this snowy landscape, of this harsh climate, and I found that even after the nightmare I'd so recently lived through I loved it all the same.
I heard a sound behind me, a footstep made deliberately heavy. Expecting one of the hunters, I craned my head around only to find Ray Gerdol standing at the head of the stairs, dressed in layers as I was, breath rising as fog from his mouth.
"Hello," I said, a little confused as to why he'd be up there. He gave me a brief nod, and shrugging I turned back to the scenery before me.
He stepped up beside me a little while later, maintaining a distance and leaning against the railing on his forearms. His eyes, like mine had been, were focused on the brilliant spectacle above us, and I thought then that perhaps he was here to enjoy the view. I was proven wrong, however, as he opened his mouth and began to speak without removing his gaze from the sky.
"You've seen them." It wasn't a question—it was a statement, and it was uttered in a flat monotone rendered even more so by his heavy accent.
My heart dropped. I should have known. I should have seen this coming. To anyone who hadn't seen the hunters, my earlier behavior was easily explained. To those that had, however … Keeping my own voice even, I asked with as much casual innocence I could muster. "Seen who?"
"You know who," his tone had altered, become hard, and he turned his head to regard me. "I watched the way your eyes kept moving around during dinner. You were looking for something. You saw it the other night, too. That's why you were so frightened."
I swallowed thickly. There was a fever gleam in his eyes, and I had a sneaking suspicion he was drunk. "I don't know what you're talking about."
He spat something at me in his native tongue before taking the three steps he needed to be directly beside me. I turned away from the railing to face him and managed not to back away as he lowered his head to within an inch of mine. When he spoke next, his words were grated, "You lie."
On his breath I could smell the alcohol, pungent and overwhelming, confirming my fears. "You're drunk."
Gerdol chuckled unpleasantly as an acknowledgement of what I'd said. "I know you've seen them. Why do you lie? Do you know what they are?"
That was a loaded question. Did I know what they were? Oh yes. Did I want to know? Not really. "You're drunk, and you're not making any sense," I said then. "I'm leaving now."
He shook his head, and as I made to step around him he shifted, blocking me. Apprehension flared within me. He was drunk and he was terrified of what he had seen, and that made him dangerous.
"Move." I said.
He didn't comply, not that I'd honestly expected him to. One of his gloved hands rose, and though I twisted my head aside his fingers found the mark on my cheek nonetheless. "And this, what is this? No random burn …"
"Get away from me," I said with a calm I didn't feel.
"You hide something," He said suddenly, catching my chin in his fingers and turning my face back to his. "What is it you're so reluctant to tell?"
I said nothing, and his grip tightened to the point of pain. That was it, I'd had it, and so I brought my right arm up in a swift arc. My fist connected with his jaw—hard—and his head snapped back, hand falling away. I raised my uninjured leg and stomped down with all the force I could muster on his shin. Snarling incomprehensibly in his language he staggered away. I watched him retreat, breathing fast and I knew with cold certainty that if he hadn't been drunk this encounter would have gone much different.
"Get out of here," I said coldly. The knuckles of my hand ached something fierce from the punch I'd landed, and I flexed my fingers in an attempt to alleviate the pain.
He glared at me with such venom that I could almost feel it before spitting in my direction and lurching to the stairs. When he was out of sight, I allowed myself a trembling sigh of relief before sagging back against the railing. In the last week of my life I'd fought off aliens, predators, and one drunken German man. Impressive …
When Scar suddenly materialized off to the side, I didn't even jump. I had guessed he might be somewhere nearby. I merely nodded in his direction and watched to see if Scale or the other, unnamed hunter would make an appearance. Neither of them did, and I wasn't sure whether I was relieved that I would only be dealing with Scar or not. Growling, he thumped his chest—congratulating me on my pathetic victory over Gerdol? I smiled, but it wasn't a happy smile. It was the smile of someone becoming jaded and resigned over the fact her life was swiftly unraveling.
"You know," I said bitterly, watching as he crossed to the railing to stand next to me, "that this is all your fault?"
He gave a short grumble, tilting his head and lifting his mottled, clawed finger to touch the scar that decorated my cheek. I was really becoming tired of all the attention it was drawing; having your face constantly pawed at by strange creatures and people alike wasn't as much fun as it sounded. I didn't pull back at this touch, and on some distant level this worried me, because I would have once upon a time.
"If it wasn't for you," I continued, "I wouldn't have had to do that."
He'd begun producing his throaty trill; he was tugging now on the edge of my hood and was either completely ignoring my words or else not comprehending them. Annoyed, I swatted his arm away and stalked around him to lean on the railing on the other side of his bulk. I stared morosely into the water and wondered what would happen if I tried to push him overboard. He'd made a rude noise as I'd left, and as he neared again he rapped me on top of the head with one fist. Familiar by now with this reprimanding gesture, I found myself shaking my head and smiling. Abruptly my smile faded, and I became mortified as I realized I didn't actually hate Scar. I had come at some point to regard him as a companion. He was large, yes, and astonishingly violent, but he had saved my life repeatedly …
"This isn't right," I muttered, pushing away from the railing and backing several steps. Scar didn't follow, merely cocked his head and grumbled something inquisitive at me.
Exasperated, disturbed by my revelation, I said a little wildly, "You're—I don't even know what you are! You tried to kill me! And here we are like we're the best of psychotic friends. Why are you here? What do you want?"
Shut up, Lex, warned the silent voice in my mind I had come to despise.
"Can't you just leave me alone? I'm not like you!" I was shouting now and becoming more and more worked up as I carried on; I was confused, I was frustrated, and I was still frightened. "Do you get some kind of perverse satisfaction from seeing me paranoid? I—"
Scar chose that moment to produce a violent and ear-splitting roar. I fell immediately silent. As he approached this time I could read the controlled anger in his slow movements, and belatedly realized that perhaps, like a human, he didn't enjoy being yelled at. He stopped when he was a breadth from me, gazing down with ire I couldn't see but could definitely feel.
"It's not fair," I whispered, because it wasn't. Scar snarled, lifted one hand—
And then I heard a small, quavering voice. "Alexa?"
I spun around. Cora stood at the top of the stairs, eyes wide and face pale. Her gaze was on Scar, and as he growled softly she gasped, whirled, and bolted down the stairs.
"Cora! Damnit!" And without a second glance at the hunter, I went hurtling after her.
.x.
