Part 3
Jim was up to his elbows in someone else's blood. The wound in Williams' throat pulsed and oozed under his hands. He tried frantically to smother it, putting as much pressure on it as he could without effectively suffocating him. Nevertheless, his ministrations didn't seem to be helping and blood kept dripping through his fingers onto the, once clean, floor.
Williams was trying to talk, but the liquid pouring down his throat made it near impossible. Most of it was unintelligible, and only seemed to result in coughing fits. Speckles of the blood caught in his throat, spraying Jim in the face as he leaned over him. He would have brushed it away but his hands were already covered.
Jim allowed himself to look up and away, spotting McCrae near a door to his right. His hands were tight around the bar that acted as a door handle, and he was holding it closed with so much effort that his knuckles were white. When Jim and Spock had burst through the door, Williams was already bleeding out on the floor, so they hadn't seen the thing that did this to him. He didn't bother to look for McCrae because his attention had been grabbed by Williams.
Something crashed into the other side of the door McCrae was trying desperately to keep shut. The cracking noise of the wood bending under the weight of a body being thrown at it made Jim jump. His hands slipped on the blood and squeaked when they slipped across the floor. The attacker in the room growled and snarled while Jim hurriedly placed his hands back where they were. From the sounds of it, the attacker appeared to be some kind of animal, most likely wild and territorial from being in isolation for so long. However, judging by the way the door was creaking; it would have to have been quite a large animal.
Spock dropped to his knees at this point, startling Jim back to the moment. He ripped the already soaked arm of Williams' shirt clean off and folded it a few times. He then lifted Jim's hand, placing the rags on the wound before pushing Jim's hand back on top of it. Jim understood right away and continued to push down on the wound.
Another loud band echoed in the room, and Jim's head shot up to face McCrae, fearing the attacker had somehow gotten out. He sighed in relief when he saw McCoy and not some ferocious beast.
McCoy had been running as he was panting and gasping when he exploded through the ER doors. The bag on his hip jostled as he moved, it must have hurt when it swung and hit him in the leg because it was weighted down by several different medical instruments, but he made no face saying that it did. McCoy moved so fast that when he dropped next to Spock, pushing him slightly to move out of the way, he skidded in Williams' blood. He threw out a hand to keep his balance, but his hand also landed in the pool that was forming. Jim would have laughed at McCoy lack of grace if it had been a different situation, but today he just ignored it.
McCoy batted Jim's hand out of the way, grimacing when he realised the state Williams was in. The bleeding should have slowed at bit considering how much he had already lost, but it continued to gush.
Jim sat back on his haunches, allowing himself a chance to breath. He held his hands out in front of him, uncertainly. He was actually sitting in blood, but he still didn't want to put his hands anywhere that would smear them more. He glanced at the communicator he had thrown down after contacting McCoy; thankfully it was rested just out of the way of all the commotion. McCoy leaned forward over Williams' deteriorating body, noticing Jim's unsure gaze. He grabbed Jim's bloodied hands in his own and directed them back Williams' neck. He then turned to the bag on his hip, pawing through it until he found what he wanted.
With one hand he lifted Jim's hand out of the way again, while the other waved an instrument over the wound. Jim frowned when McCoy grumbled in frustration under his breath, and hit the instrument into the palm of his hand a few times.
"It's not working. God damn it, of all the times."
McCoy sort of trailed off, as he pulled another instrument out of his bag. Again, this one also hovered uselessly over Williams' neck. He dropped it back into the bag, wiped his hands down his legs, and sat back mimicking Jim's position. His hands, now wiped clean of most of the blood, reached up to his forehead, massaging it to try and clear the headache so he could think properly.
The attacker moved for the first time since McCoy had arrived. It threw its body at the door while McCrae was distracted and it vibrated in its frame. McCoy shot a wide eyed look towards it, and when he turned back to Jim, tried to school it back into a calm thinking face. Spock took this time to move away from McCoy's shoulder and try to help McCrae with the door.
"We're going to have to do this the hard way." Jim nodded at McCoy, not quite understanding what he meant, but willing to help nonetheless. "His heart is beating too fast and it's pumping too much blood out of the wound. We need to slow it down." Again, Jim nodded along, understanding the logic McCoy was going through, but being unable to help as he didn't know how to go about it. "See if you can find anything labelled 'Amiodarone' in the drawers over there."
Jim repeated the word over and over as he scrambled to his feet, stumbling over syllables and his own feet. He ripped open the drawers he had haphazardly sorted through earlier, reading each label he came across. There were many things that were similar to what he was looking for but not what he wanted. He finally found it in the back of the third drawer.
Clumsily, Jim passed it over to McCoy, who had taken over Jim's job of holding the rag to Williams' neck. He also had his fingers pressed to the other side of his throat, checking his racing pulse.
McCoy didn't bother to worry about how long the medicine must have been here. Nor did he worry about how un-sterilised the 21st century equivalent of a hypospray must have been when Jim grabbed it off a tray. He tried to forget all of this as he grabbed Williams' sleeveless arm. He could deal with the unavoidable infections when he was back on the Enterprise. It would be unwise to move him at the moment.
They all waited with baited breath. McCoy kept his fingers pressed onto the junction between Williams' neck and jaw. Jim watched McCoy's face. Spock and McCrae held the door shut, though the attacker had stilled momentarily it seemed.
"It's not working. It's not slowing." McCoy sighed.
It was as if the attacker had heard McCoy because, as soon as McCoy spoke, it sprung back into life. Slamming and snarling into the door. There was a moment when the door pulled open a fraction, before Spock and McCrae could pull it back. It wasn't enough to see the attacker inside, but was enough to worry Jim, who rushed to the door to help pull it to. With all three of them it was easier to overpower it and the door crashed shut. Though, it didn't stop it from scratching and screeching at them.
Movement caught Jim's eye, and he saw McCoy getting to his feet when he twirled around, still a bit frantic from the adrenaline.
"He's dead, Jim."
Jim began to think maybe McCoy had some sort of special connection with the attacker, because his words kept having an effect on it. McCoy announced Ensign Williams was dead, and the attacker stopped. All of the fight disappeared from the door and it looked as if the attacker had given up. Wearily, Jim backed away from the door and approached Williams' body, stopping when he stood next to McCoy. He would have put a hand on his shoulder, but he didn't think he would appreciate the bloody handprint, so he just stood silently.
"What is that thing?"
McCoy turned to face Jim, a dry trail of Williams' blood decorated his forehead, but he didn't move to scrape it away. Jim remembered that he probably looked pretty similar.
"I don't know. I thought it was a dog or something, but it's bigger than that."
Jim tried to clean his face using his shoulder, though the wet feeling was higher than his shoulder could reach. Without thinking, McCoy reached over with his slightly less bloodied hands to help him. Neither of them mentioned how intimate the gesture must have looked.
"Maybe it's a survivor. Being alone for this long might have taken a toll on its mind."
"Could be." Pulling away from McCoy, Jim turned his attention to the door Spock and McCrae and were still crowding. "There's only one way to find out." He stepped forward.
A hand grasped his elbow; Jim felt the material squelch.
"You don't seriously think you are going in there?" McCoy's voice was harsh and low, a tone he usually reserved for when Jim was about to do something stupid, which was more often than not.
"I have to. Like you said, it could be a survivor." The hand on his elbow tightened.
"Jim, it just ripped Williams' throat out. What makes you think it won't do the same to you?"
"Don't worry. I'll be careful."
A breath tickled Jim's ear when McCoy sighed in defeat. He knew nothing was going to change his mind, so why bother fight it. He eventually let go of Jim's arm, but not before squeezing it as a warning to be careful.
Jim approached the door, ordering Spock and McCrae out of the way. McCrae moved quickly, obviously thankful to finally be able to let go. Spock, however, was more reluctant. He began to question Jim, but Jim just waved off his concerns like he had with McCoy. After that, he had no reason to get in the way, so Spock stood to the side, still staying close in case things went wrong.
Even though there was nothing holding it closed anymore, the door remained unmoving. Like whatever was inside had lost interest. Jim doubted that the attacker would stay that way for long. He carefully stepped forward with his fingers brushing the surface. He didn't glance back at the faces watching him, fearing he would change his mind. The door pushed open smoothly despite how much it had been battered in the last couple of minutes. It opened fully so the attacker wasn't waiting right in front of it either.
Standing on the other side of a, rather large, supply closet was a man. His back was facing Jim so he couldn't see his face, but it was enough to tell Jim the extent of what was wrong with this planet. In reality, the man shouldn't have been able to stand there. The damage done to his back should have rendered him, if not dead, then at least unconscious. At a certain angle, Jim was convinced that he would have been able to see right through the man's stomach, but he didn't want to move to find out.
A poor excuse for a shirt hung loosely on the man's shoulders. More than half of it was missing, and Jim couldn't be sure what colour it was before, but now it was a strange mix between red and brown. The tattered threads at the ripped ends disappeared into the hole in the man's stomach, disguising themselves as odd bits of skin and muscle. By the looks of it, the man was falling apart. Jim found it hard to believe that this was the thing that nearly tore down the door. It looked barely strong enough to hold its own weight let alone overpower two men and a Vulcan.
Jim froze when the man started to move. From the other side of the closet, he could see the muscles quivering under his skin, the effort just to turn around being too much. The man stumbled at one point on his shaky legs, but still managed to stay up right, in order to fully face Jim.
One side of his face had started to rot. There were patches where it was so worn away that Jim could make out the bones underneath. Half of the man's mouth was gone, the lips ended so soon that the teeth poked out. The man's eyes were dead, dull and incredibly bloodshot. They didn't seem to be looking at anything even though they were clearly being trained on Jim. Dark stains, which Jim could only guess was Williams' blood, covered the lower part of the man's face. Lacking lips meant that he had dribbled it all over the front of his shirt as well.
The smell was definitely the worse part. It was like rotting meat. It choked you and made you eyes water a little bit. Under all that there was also the undeniable stench of blood. The strong copper smell made Jim's teeth hurt when he breathed in through his mouth instead of his nose.
Jim took a tentative step into the closet, not risking it by going to far. It was all the man needed though, as he lunged when Jim's foot hit the floor. Jim saw the remainder of the man's lips twist into a snarl that was moving swiftly closer. He was about to cartwheel back when he felt a hand grasp at the collar of his shirt, catching a few stray hairs on the back of his neck in the process. The hand then whipped back, pulling him with it. Jim flailed a bit but kept on his feet as he was physically dragged backwards out of the small room. The world blurred for a second, though Jim was still able to make out McCoy dashing forward to slam the door shut. He had to use his own body mass to keep the door from bouncing back open again.
Spock's hand loosened after he was sure Jim had regained sure footing. Leaving Jim where he was, he then rushed forward to help McCoy, who was starting to struggle. McCrae also appeared at their sides with a broom suddenly in his hands. Between the three of them, they managed to hold the door shut while they threaded the broom through the handle. Very slowly, in case it didn't work, they stepped back, hands out ready to grab the handle. The man fought but the broom seemed to be holding firm, and they were able to retreat back far enough so that McCoy could latch a hand onto Jim's shoulder.
Jim jerked back into motion at the touch, suddenly remembering that he was in fact the Captain.
"We have to get off this planet."
"That is indeed a logical choice, Captain."
"Jim, what about Williams?"
"We take him back to the Enterprise. I'm not leaving him down here. Not with that thing trying to break out of the next room."
Spock went to go pick up the Ensign's body, not seeming to care that he got coated in blood while doing it. McCoy, meanwhile, explained that they would have to leave the hospital in order for Scotty to be able to beam them up. Something about strange electrical fields messing with the transporter. He then complained about how he had to run about most of the hospital before he found them. Jim knew he was just trying to lighten the mood, but at the moment it just fell flat.
---
Scotty hung his head at the scene that materialised on the transporter pads.
Everyone had blood splattered somewhere on their body and each person stood looking very grim. Spock was carrying a lifeless body in his arms, McCrae looked slightly traumatised and Jim was standing so close to McCoy that he was basically leaning on him.
When they left the transporter room and walked down the hallway to the sickbay, everyone they passed stopped to watch. They didn't stare like they were fishing for gossip, they stood straight-backed and silently showing respect for them fallen family member.