For it being a stuffed inanimate object, the bear's accusing stare gave him a wave of guilt. Guilt because he knew a lot about Bear having read her diary when she was out scavenging for food.
"You wouldn't understand Bear." Almost as he was saying it he felt foolish, but the bear seemed to say Try me.
The young man ignored the judgement and stuffed the bear unceremoniously into her overstuffed back pack. He then slung that over his shoulders re-slung the rifles and scooped up the unconscious girl into his arms. The arrays detected infection from the wound, if he had waited much longer septicemia would set in, as it was it would be a gamble to save her leg.
As he made his way back to the farm house he kept her close making observations. Her body was light, lighter than he had imagined when he had first seen her. The color of her hair in the sunlight those times he had spent observing her, was of spun gold. Now however it was matted to her head and dull. How could he have done this? Reduced her to this?
Carefully he cradled her close to his body shielding her from the cold and wind. He walked on urgently not for fear; there was nothing in this sector that was any cause for his concern. It was for her sake, he didn't want her to suffer more than what he had already put her through.
The walk was uneventful save for the driving wind and snow of the storm. He focused on her breathing and heartrate, Cassie…you are perfectly safe was his only thought.The storm intensified as the darkness fell, it did not matter. He was the perfect predator, the heightened senses guiding him leading him home.
At long last the farmhouse came into view through the gloom. Had time still held relevance it might have been after midnight, but it did not matter, it was a thing from the human world now past. He carried her and laid her on the couch in front of the fire place. The worn quit his mother had made as a boy was draped over her chair he retrieved it and wrapped her while he kindled a fire in the hearth.
When he was satisfied she was warm he went to the kitchen and filled the large pots where he heated up water for his baths. Those were set on the stove to boil. The suture and first aid kit was retrieved from his father's office as was the remainder of the saline drips, penicillin, bandages, and the drip stand. All of this was taken to the upstairs bedroom.
The acrid smell of sulfur tickled his nose as the match burst into an island of light in the dark room. The kerosene soaked wick lit immediately spreading warmth through the simple room. It was not a place in which he lingered much after his sister had passed of the Red Plague. Crossing the room to the dresser he pulled out a simple white nightgown that had belong to his sister and laid it on the bed. Then he spread out an old quilt on the side.
Crossing the hall he pulled two towels, from the linen closet, they still smelled faintly of fall sunshine. He filled the tub partially, the water very cold to the touch and proceeded back down to the kitchen to check on the pots. They were not yet boiling.
He went back to the living room shouldered the back pack and picked the girl up carefully. There had been no change in her position. In the room he laid her gently on the old quilt. The back pack was set next to the bed. A portion of the bear was sticking out, he felt bad for how he had treated it earlier, crazy to think that way. Wasting precious time he took the bear out, dusted him off and set him on the chair facing the bed. Somehow it felt more appropriate to have a chaperone that might speak on his behalf to attest that he did not have nefarious intentions.
"I know you don't know me," he spoke to it with his back turned, "but I'm here to help."
It was probably a trick of the echoes of whatever humanity was left when he assimilated Evan Walker, but he felt the bear's eyes watching him almost as if he knew his dark secret. Like you helped her when you shot her?
The bear had no way of knowing that he was the one that had cared for his family since the death of their parents during the third wave and for his brothers and sisters as they slowly perished of the Red Plague. His sister had been the last to go…after Lauren had hanged herself. And now Cassie was here and dying all because of his orders.
There was hair matted to her forehead, now that she was inside from the cold her body was running a high fever. Walking through the cold he hadn't put much thought in her body temperature, he should have known better. He brushed the sweat matted hair and touched his lips gingerly to her temple, the fever was over 103. In the side table there were scissors, he retrieved them and began to cut Cassie out of her clothes after removing her boots. Those he set at the foot of the bed.
The pants were crusted and matted with blood. There was a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach, guilt. The arrays had no answer for that. He cut around the tourniquet and left her under clothes in place. Wrapping the quilt around her he carried her into the bathroom. He had lit a few more lamps in the bathroom.
Carefully he placed her on the tub mat on the floor wrapping the blanket securely and propping her leg up. He ran down the stairs retrieving both large pots of boiling water grateful for the bucket handles. Running up the stairs was out of the question but he still came up faster than humanly possible. One pot went straight into the tub bringing the temperature just above tepid. The second he set next to the ravaged knee and got up to retrieve the suture kit from the room.
After washing his hands and donning the medical gloves he took a wash cloth and soaked it in the hot water and started cleaning around the wound. The skin was red and inflamed. After he cleaned off all the dried blood and dirt from the area he let out a sigh of relief and thanked whatever entity in the galaxy had made him err his shot so terribly.
A laugh escaped him, knowing that he himself was the reason she was still alive, he had shot it is true, but even in that instance corrected enough that the shot had missed bone and the femoral artery. It might have been nicked as the bullet exited her thigh but if he had truly hit it she would have bled out under that Buick, no tourniquet would have saved her or enabled her to make it to the SUV he had found her in. He thought…but pushed the thought aside, if she was like him she would not be Cassiopeia, humanities last hope. She would be Other, like him, and that was unbearable thought even if it meant her life would be saved.
I'm sorry Cassie, he thought, there was nothing for it, gritting his teeth for her, he poured hydrogen peroxide over the front and back of wounds, using the suture kit he stitched her up. He checked the water in the tub, it was well below tepid now but her body was still in fever mode, if anything it would help cool her body down. Picking her up he set her so that her head was tilted up on the edge of the tub he hair hanging down in matted clumps.
The knee was propped up above the water line. He drained some water to be sure. He was not about to take the tourniquet off until he had finished. Even so, blood ran down her leg tinging the water a faint pink. He rinsed out the washcloth he had used earlier and set to cleaning her body as quickly and gently as possible. There was no time for salacious thoughts. It was the act of a care taker with their charge, a brother caring for his dying sister, a father caring for a daughter, a son caring for an ailing mother, an alien caring for a wounded human.
Her body bore the signs of hard living. Various scars on the palms of her hands, the fact she bit her nails, various bites from living in nature. She was a warrior, a glance down to the knee, physical manifestation of a different sort of battle. And yet it was her heart that bore the most scars, he recalled the nights she cried herself to sleep wondering if she was the last one left.
No, he thought, not the last one.
He finished the task of cleaning her body, checking the obvious places for any insects but it had been cold enough even the ticks had died weeks ago. As he wiped her face clean he studied her features, much more detail then when he had through the scope. With her eyes closed she posed so little threat to him, his heart ached, would those eyes open again? He knew they would, but would they ever forgive the monster who had put her in the situation to begin with. There was a longing to see the soul which had caused him to abandon his people.
His thumbs felt the warmth and softness of her lips as he held her face in his hands. It was almost as if she was drawing him to her, her own gravitational pull on his heart. And he became aware of the ache and need he long ago felt only Lauren could satisfy. He looked away and inevitably looked out of the door across the hall only to see the bear.
I'm always watching.
Creepy bear, he thought.
Speak for yourself, Silencer.
Shaking his head he set back to the task at hand, retrieving the comb and detangling spray from his sister's drawer. Adding more tepid water to the now cool to the touch water in the tub. He quickly picked out any leaves and twigs that were caught in her hair during her hideout under the car.
Spraying the solution generously over the mats he grabbed the whole of her hair and started from the tips working his way back to the scalp with short strokes as his sister had instructed time and time again. When he could run the comb from the scalp to the bottom he set the empty bucket under her hair and retrieved the cup he used with his sister, he poured enough so that he could lather her hair with the shampoo. The room smelled faintly now of lilacs and spring, it clashed with the howling of the wind outside.
Rinsing the lather carefully he repeated the process with the conditioner, he smiled as he recalled arguing with his sister about the silliness of adding more to the hair after it was already clean, but he always gave her what she wanted. His sister was the last bright spot in his lonely existence, until now. After the conditioner was rinsed into the bucket below and he squeezed the excess water out he took the extra towel and wrapped it around her head securely.
Again he lifted her out of the tub and wrapped the bath towel around her body. The fever had withdrawn temporarily. After he laid her on the quilt he found the syringe, measured out a dosage of penicillin and administered it. He then put compression bandages on the two sutured wounds wrapped gauze tightly around that and then another heavier bandage applying pressure. Elevating the knee he then cut away the tourniquet carefully.
Satisfied that the bandage was well in place he grabbed the lotion and night gown. When he was done he unwrapped the towel around her head spilling out her golden hair, he worked the nightgown over her head and then undid the clasp of her wet bra using the nightgown to preserve her modesty. Somehow he knew she would probably kill him before believing he was doing all this with good intentions.
He worked her hands into the sleeves and repeated the process when he got to her wet panties in a bid to not disturb the wrap he had just created he used the scissors under the nightgown pulling the panties away from her hip bones and cutting the cloth away as if it were a diaper. She was going to be angry. He couldn't help the smile, Ben Parish, you idiot.
Slowly he worked the quilt out from under her body being especially careful working around her knee. The skin above it was starting to turn red after being purple due to the constraint, the skin would be sore and there was going to be bruising. There had been no signs of septic flesh and for that he was grateful. Now it would be a matter of time.
The Silencer folded the clean sheets and blankets over her body leaving the knee exposed on the edge of the bed but making sure her feet were covered. Gently he worked her hair from under her neck and back, it was still damp and now the pillow was damp. He flipped it over to the dry side and brushed her hair out and over the back of the pillow. It gave her the effect of having a halo, perhaps not an angelic sort of beauty, more of a fierce avenging angel sort of beauty. The bear watched with silent approval.
Now he would wait.
A/N: Yes in the book he shoots her in the knee and it melds with the bone. And she would have died, with a high powered rifle shot like that it would most likely have damaged her femoral artery and Cassie would have bled out. That being said I was curious about the time between Evan running away and Cassie waking up. Since the rest of the story is written not sure if I will add to this.
Sah-dah