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Stealth is holding a metal tray, the kind that might have been used in a cafeteria when this hospital was in service.
“I’ll get the kit,” he says. “You fill this with water. Remember that puddle we waded through at the bottom of the stairs?”
I blink. That water was filthy! Stagnant. “He can’t drink that!”
“It’s better than nothing, and there ain’t any working pipes in this building. Come on!”
He keeps his hold on my vest, and we run together to the stairs that brought us to this horrible basement. One of his boots splashes in the puddle, and then he’s taking the stairs three at a time, headed for the truck.
I don’t question him. He’s a former Marine. He must know that dirty water is better than no water. I tip the tray and let its sectioned compartments fill with dingy water, and then I carry it as carefully as I can back to the cell.
Jud already looks better, but only a little. His clothes still hang off him. His shoulders and knees still make bony angles instead of bulging with muscle, but in the beam of my flashlight, he has more color, and he’s able to lick his lips.
Oh, God, his eyes! I can’t look at them!
“What about his eyes?” I ask Doc. I can’t hold back the tears, anymore. They’re flowing freely as I try to balance the tray.
Doc gives a frustrated shake of his head. “I can’t…regenerate body parts. Never been able to do that.” My stomach bottoms out. Is Doc saying Jud is going to be like this forever? Our leader is going to be blind? “And I can’t…I can’t build up his wasted body. I boosted his cells so they function for now, but there’s not much energy in there to work with. Where’s Stealth?” His voice cracks. It sounds like he’s battling tears, too.
“He’s getting the med kit.” I crouch next to Doc and tip the tray toward Jud’s mouth.
Doc helps me steady it. “Good. There should be an IV bag in there. Drink,” he tells Jud. He doesn’t say anything about the quality of the water. I only hope it helps.
At the touch of the liquid, Jud jerks his head away, causing water to slosh down his shirt.
“Damnit!” Doc curses. Half the water I collected is now wasted down the front of Jud’s clothes. “You have to drink this, man.” He tries again.
Jud musters his strength and knocks the tray out of Doc’s hands. It clatters to the floor, water no more than a damp spot on concrete. “Cora,” he says, voice scratchy. “Bring Cora back.”
“I’m here, Jud.” My hands are on his face again, his beautiful, rugged face. I draw close and kiss the corner of his parched mouth. When I pull back and open my eyes, I have to suppress the urge to sob. “I’m here. We’re all here. We’re going to get you home.”
His head bobs with a clumsy nod. “Home,” he says. “I’m ready. Take me.” Am I imagining it, or is there relief etched on his face? Without his striking eyes, it’s harder than ever to read him.
“Yes. We’ll take you home,” I say. “Can you stand?”
“I’ll help,” Doc says. He hooks a hand under Jud’s armpit and starts to stand.
With a groan, Jud shakes him off. “Uhmready!” he says, slurring, belligerent. “Ready todie.” He licks his cracked lips, but there’s no moisture to spread. “Take me, angel.” His head lolls back, as if he’s looking to the sky. With a fist in the sleeve of my shirt, he says, “Watch over Cora when I’m gone.” He says this tome,as if I’m not Cora but someone else.
“He’s delirious,” Doc says. “We’ve got to get him to Baton Rouge. I can help him there. Where’s the chopper?”
“You’re not dying,” I say, giving Jud’s shoulders a shake. “We’re getting you out of here. We’re taking you home. To Eagle Peak.”
“You can’t reason with him,” Doc says. “C’mon, Jud. Get off your ass. We’re leaving this shithole.”
“Not leaving.” Jud slurs. “Can’t.”
“Damnit. I need Stealth to help me move him. Hold down the fort,” Doc runs back the way we came.
I wrap my arms around Jud’s neck. His body temperature is slightly warmer, thanks to Doc, but he feels as frail as he looked when I first laid eyes on him in here. He has absolutely no strength in him. He’s lost so much muscle mass, he’s nearly unrecognizable.
I’ve only ever seen Doc heal fresh wounds and actual injuries, an invaluable Gift for sure. But I guess, like everything, it has limits. Like starvation and the scabbed-over mess that used to be Jud’s ice-blue eyes.
“It’s going to be okay,” I tell Jud. “We’re getting you out of here.”
“Heaven,” he whispers, arms coming weakly around me. He burrows his face into my neck. “Any chance of that, angel? Or am I damned?”
Tears continue to stream from my eyes as my heart cracks down the center. Then I remember something from what feels like a lifetime ago.
