New To Beven

Chapter 11

Outside the Lee dome, cool air brushed across my face, with a touch of dust. And the smell of dry grass replaced any lingering metallic odor. I breathed deep and swung bent arms in rhythm to marching feet, trying to amble my way to a fresher mood. It didn't take me far.

In fact, I paused, considering the infirmary. Maybe I could find a welcome substitute to that branded image of a puma all skin and bones, attached to Dan's head, his own skin stretched thin on angular skull bones, eyes so sunken.... It was like my brain had made its own horror vid, complete with a Dan-cat zombie. And anything would be better than that. At least I hoped he was.

Trying not to make a sound, I eased my way inside, past prone forms taking shallow breaths and the muffled drips of liquids, small motors whirring. The smell of antiseptics blasted my nose, which crinkled as I fought a sneeze tingle and scanned the ward for Dan's cot, where he, as it turned out, was not prone.

With a soft hiss through my teeth in disapproval, I shot straight for his cot, trying to tiptoe all the way. Words primed on my tongue, ready to berate him for moving around in his condition, but they never passed my lips. The grimace on his face told me he was already aware of his folly. Sweat beaded his brow, but determination clenched his jaw. He wasn't backing down. Still mum, I pressed a palm to one shoulder, trying to ease him back, when his amber gaze flashed, shining in the weak light. 

He shook his head and then tried to push off, seeming to give standing another go, but his limbs shook from the effort then gave out. He caught himself, not by the skin of his teeth but by elbows, at the edge of the cot. The event left him panting. 

I sighed. This was ridiculous. And yet concern banded my chest, the tightness keeping me near him, hands out ready to help, but I felt as helpless as he looked, a motor spinning but cut off from its mechanical function.

"You're sick," I whispered hotly, frustrated with weak human bodies, thinking of my brother as well.

"I'd rather be sick somewhere else," he very nearly growled. "They did their rounds and now I'm going to walk out of here before the next one."

I placed my hands on hips and leaned back, to grace him with a full body scan. "Walk out?" Now with arms crossed, I arched a disbelieving brow.

He gritted his teeth while nodding, and stiffened his torso for attempt number three. That was when things kinda stalled out.

My foot started tapping. He released a frustrated breath and glared.

I glared back. If he was going to be foolish, I would stand watch until the next nurse made their rounds.

"I'd just like a change of scenery," he confessed, with a longing gaze at the door.

Pivoting on a foot, I headed that direction.

"Steph..."

He needn't worry; I wasn't bailing and tattling, just grabbing a compromise. After it squeaked once, I lifted the chair the rest of the trip and then dropped it on its wheels in front of him. I caught his look and raised a brow. Well? He mirrored the movement.

With an impatient wave of my hand, I gestured, after you.

He sighed and clutched the chair's back. As he worked his way over, he lost his grip, and my arm shot out, grabbing around his torso. He breathed onto my neck as I half-supported his weight. With him so close, the scent of cedar and bergamot replaced the hospital odor, and it might have eased tension in some of my body parts while tightening others.

Finally, he fell back into the chair. I cautiously eased it toward the door, but the extra weight eliminated any squeak of the wheel. With the IV hooked onto the back, we made our escape, no matter how brief I promised to make it, for the sake of his health and the sanity of the medical staff.