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Cut the Branch
A foot in the side woke Cassie up from a dream she didn't even remember before it was over. She saw Larisa standing over her, her hands in her sides, her form sharply contrasting with the pale grey morning sky.
"Mm… what?"
Flower child pointed a thumb over her shoulder, in the direction of the repurposed prison. Oh, right, the girl they'd captured. Risa's face bore an expression somewhere between impatient and alarmed. Something was wrong.
Cassie rose, took her rifle and followed Larisa into the shack, even though she felt groggy, hungry, and her mouth tasted like she'd been gulping motor oil. She saw Larisa put two fingers on her own forehead and pull them away as if they got burned just touching her brow. Fever. Shit, seemed like their new guest wasn't too long for this world, then.
She kneeled by the captured girl, Larisa standing over them.
"Hey… can you talk?" She suppressed a yawn but didn't succeed entirely.
"H… hand. Let… let me see."
It was dark in the shack, so Cassie used her welder-cutter as a light.
The girl's pretty face looked much worse than it had in the beginning. Black rings were around her eyes, and her skin looked sunken and stretched. "Oh… oh my," she breathed when she saw her hand. "Oh… oh no. I'm… I'm going to die."
Cassie knew why she said it. Half her hand had turned black, the skin letting go in places, like lettuce that had been lying around so long it had started to liquefy. The rest was a red and yellow ruin. It stank immensely.
"You… you sure? I mean, do you… know anything about medicine?"
"A… a little," she breathed. "More than… you guys, I th… think?"
"There nothing we can do?"
She weakly shook her head. "Mm. If the s... sepsis won't kill me outright, then the… the infection will… travel uh... uh… upward until it r-reaches my heart, and, and then…"
"I'm… sorry," Cassie could only say.
"There is… one thing we can… try."
"What's that?"
She held up the blackening, oozing ruin of her hand, using what little strength she had left to give herself a look of determination. "Head it… off at the pass."
"What do you mean?"
"Cut it off."
Cass heard Larisa abruptly turn and stomp out of the shack.
"You… you sure? I mean, cutting off your hand will – "
"Only way," she breathed, her voice weak.
"But I don't know, I mean, I've never… and neither have any of us. And it'll just get infected again."
"N-no. If I… If I survive… you can… get me healroot. Smear it… smear it on the wound before… before it infects. Stops bleeding too. I… I know what it looks like."
Cassie slowly let a mouthful of boiled water run into the other girl's mouth. "I… I'm sorry, but we tried that already."
"Nu-uh," the girl croaked. "That was… regular aloe. Nice but… not powerful enough. I mean some… something else." She explained, a long stalk, curved at the top, with slightly luminous blue pods at the ends. Cassie'd seen those already, not too far off.
Was this girl really suggesting they'd amputate her hand? Without sedation? An operating theatre? Sterile tools? Any medical knowledge? "Look, I, I know you want to live, but none of us know – "
"I do. I know. I'll… walk you through it."
Chef's voice came from behind her. "Did I understand Larisa right? Are you going to try and perform surgery?"
"It's what she asks," Cassie said back. "… But I don't know if – "
"Only chance I… got. I take," she chuckled, the breath grinding in her throat, "full responsibility."
"Alright," Cassie managed to say. "Let's do this. Chef, get your knife."
"Steri… lize in boiling… boiling water. Or over… flame."
"And get Larisa, tell her to make paste of those weird roots we've seen at the edge of the camp, the ones with the blue thingies on top." Cassie tried to maintain her cool composure, but inside, she was close to freaking out. They were going to amputate a hand. A living, breathing person's hand. At least the double agent she'd shot in the butt had been an enemy, and it had happened without thinking, but this… holy Hell, this was the real deal.
Chef had gone outside to sterilize the knife, and she was left alone with the girl. "You uh, sure you want to do this?"
The girl's lips formed a feeble smile. "You… sure you want to?"
She had to admit, "No. But at least I won't have to actually experience it."
"It'll… be painful but… beats being dead."
"I s'pose."
Chef had sterilized the knife be holding it over the morning campfire and came back in. Despite how discouraging it was to see his hands tremble, Cassie was actually somewhat relieved that she wasn't alone. The new arrival, Squires, had followed them in and said, "I don't know jack about medicine, but uh, how can I help?"
"You can…" the girl croaked. "Help hold me down." A raw chuckle followed.
The new guy licked his lips nervously and finally said, "… sure. I guess."
"Take me… outside, please?" the wounded girl rasped. "If I don't… survive. Want to see the sun."
More than understandable, and Cassie was happy to oblige. After all, it postponed the actual horror for a few more minutes.
Chef slid his hands under the girl's arms while Cassie held the knife. Squires took her legs and on the count of three, the carefully lifted her up and carried her through the doorless doorway, Cassie spreading her jacket on the ground. Morning grey still covered the heavens, but nothing they could do to fix that. At least she was under the open sky now.
"Pft. Shitty... weather. Just my luck. Alright. No time like… present."
Cassie knew she'd have the dubious honour of performing the actual amputation. Chef's skills with a knife limited themselves purely to the culinary, and as Squires had said, he didn't know jack about medicine. "Squires?"
"Mm?"
"Get Larisa. We'll need everyone."
"But she – "
"Don't argue with me on this, please. I'm high-strung enough as it is."
He thankfully understood and ran to the new, under-construction shelter to bring Flower Child back. At this moment, Cassie didn't give a shit how squeamish she was. They had to survive, and everyone had to pitch in, including during the horrible moments. It was the only way they'd survive.
Larisa did come back with Squires, but she was pale as a sheet, her lips trembling with nerves and her eyes pleading.
"You don't even have to watch," Cassie rapped at her. "Just sit on her legs and hold them down. Look the other way. Put wax in your ears, I don't care. Just keep her from kicking out."
Silently, Larisa obeyed, putting her weight on the injured girl's skin, her back to what would soon be a horror scene.
"Alright, I think we're ready."
"Got any… booze?"
She could use some herself, and so could the others, given the lack of colour in their faces. "Sorry. No."
"Ah… well."
"You're going to have to tell me what to do."
"Take… knife. Put edge against… dimple formed between base of… thumb and… radius."
Gently, Cassie moved the sharp edge of the knife down the girl's thumb and felt it slide snugly between the bones. Her bowels felt like knotted wood.
"Then just… start cutting. Use as much… force as you can." She managed another short laugh. "Not like you… have to worry about... damaging anything."
"I… think I'm going to be sick," Cassie heard escape from her lips. She tried her hardest to keep it from showing, but she was terrified, so much she could actually feel the sweat break out of every single pore on her brow.
"Be… fine." Her eyes suddenly lit up as much as they could. "By the way… if I die… don't blame… you for anything."
"That's… good to know." It was, but she could do no more than acknowledge it at this point, even though it mattered immensely. "You ready?"
"No one can... ever be ready for this." She assumed that was a 'yes'.
"Chef?"
He looked back at her, his weight on the patient's left shoulder, his eyes betraying barely contained panic, but he nodded.
"Squires?"
He was in the same position at her left shoulder, and managed to say, "This wasn't what I thought would happen when I won my ship ticket."
"I'm… ready." The girl said, her eyes fixing on Cassie's. "Are… you?"
"I have to be. Oh God, I'm sorry for everything that's about to happen."
"Procene."
"Mm? What?"
"Procene," the girl repeated, her eyes calm but her face tense. "It's my name."
Oh! Right. Cassie knew why she said it. It wasn't as a means of introduction, the girl just didn't want to die nameless.
Her brow hardened and she grunted, "Now get to cutting. Handle high… blade low… put your weight on the handle. Like… cutting off a chicken leg. Just the same."
Cassie's breath came in short, shallow gasps as she shifted her weight and prepared to exert power on the hilt. Oh God oh God oh God.
"Do it."
With a high-pitched, breaking grunt, Cassie put her weight on the knife handle, the sharp plasteel sinking in through the girl's tanned skin, blood welling up against the sides of the blade. The girl screamed, pounding her free hand on the ground, but her injured arm was pinned down by Squires, and didn't move.
Cassie pushed down again, a wet sucking noise coming from the wrist as the knife bit deeper. Another push and blood came spurting up, covering her mangled hand and forearm. The girl shrieked in pain but when Cassie hesitated, she heard her screeching voice, "Keep going! Don't stop! Ignore my screams, just cut!" The rest was inarticulate.
She again put her weight down on the knife, and it sank even deeper, catching against bone.
"Cut, cut, keep cutting!" The rest was drowned out by more screaming. Cassie heard the sound of someone vomiting, but she did as she was told, pushing the blade down and sawing it back and forth.
The girl tried to scream more instructions, but she couldn't stop herself from letting out only inarticulate screeches. Cassie did manage to discern, "Wrench between the bones!" somewhere in there. She made the mistake of looking at the girl's face and saw a twisted mask of pure agony, saliva dribbling in thick globs down her chin and cheeks, snot on her upper lip. The air was rank with the stink of vomit, urine, and worse.
She looked back at the horror in front of her and pushed down again, now wrenching the knife from side to side to separate the bones from each other. When it happened, Cassie felt as if she was no longer a participant in the grisly scene, but merely observing, as if someone else was guiding her body while she watched, a terrible calm coming over her. A wet, short crack sounded and the knife was through, Cassie's weight sending it tearing through the rest of the girl's wrist, separating it from the arm in a flood of red. The dead hand lay still, the stump of the arm moving and spurting red.
"Bandages! Bandages!" the girl's voice sounded, hoarse but still somehow shrieking. "Stop the bleeding!"
Cassie saw herself taking the bandages they'd sterilized and pushing them against the wound as hard as she could. Somewhere, far away, a voice screamed "tourniquet!" and her hands tied the bandages around the girl's forearm, tightening them as hard as they could to stop the bleeding. Pale, slender hands came near, trembling, and pushed the healroot paste against the bandages, the stuff (hopefully) stopping the bleeding and warding against infection. With any luck, it might even work as a bit of a topical sedative.
"The… the… the… healroot takes… a few… a few… a few…"
Cassie felt herself being roughly inserted into her own body again, and she once again felt the warmth of the girl's arm between her fingers, the foul smells in her nostrils and the metallic taste in her mouth. Her tongue pounded in pain from where she'd bitten it.
"… minutes to… to… work…" the girl panted, ""Keep pressure on until it stops… bleeding. Relax... tourniquet for one... second every... ten seconds." Her eyes rolled in their sockets, her jaw slack and her tongue flopped in her mouth like a dead eel. "It's… done," she managed to breathe, the air coming in short, shallow gasps. "Holy crackers… that was…"
"I… I can't believe…" Cassie stammered. "We actually… we actually… You did incredible, Procene, Just… incredible."
This girl had just had her hand sawed off without any sedation, not even a half-bottle of whiskey, and she'd remained conscious throughout the whole ordeal. Cassie couldn't imagine what she'd felt, what she'd been through. It had felt harrowing enough to actually perform the act, let alone to suffer it.
"You too…" she actually had the magnanimity to say. "All of us." Her head rolled on her neck, her eyelids fluttering. "Now if you'll… excuse me, I'm… going to pass out now, if that's… alright."
Before Cassie could answer, the girl slipped away.
She looked around at her fellow colonists, all of the faces as haggard and dismal as hers probably was, and said, "I don't know about you guys, but I sure could use a drink right now."
"I'd chop off my own hand for a quart of scotch," Squires said sullenly, his attempt at humour lost even on him. Larisa wasn't in any state to answer, lying to the side, fainted, with the bowl of healroot paste still in her hand. The girl might be wimpy, but she'd done what was necessary. They all had.
"I'll stay with her for now," Chef said through dry vocal folds, his hands pressed firmly against the bloody bandages. "Keep watch."
Squires just sat there, sullen and numb. "I'm going to complete the shelter after… a few moments. I'm too new to take a day off. And I'll feel better if I keep busy. Help Risa to her feet first."
Cassie rose, but as she did, she felt all her strength leaving her and a sharp headache setting on. The sounds of the wind stirring the grasses was suddenly very sharp, as was the sound of the knife slipping from her fingers and burying itself in the earth. "I'm going to… sit over there for a bit and be a zombie for the rest of the day. You two can… dispose of the hand."