Heart's Redemption (MxM)

Chapter 42 ~ Sam

By the time we reach the Walkers' house, I'm my human self again—short and slight, and barely able to carry Ian's weight as he leans on me heavily for support.

He's breathing hard, his face is a colorless gray, and his hair is damp with sweat. He still bleeds from the three long gashes across the left side of his face, though it's slowed to a trickle now. It's his arm that has me worried: I don't know how much more blood he can lose before he passes out, or worse.

"Just a little...farther," I pant as our goal comes into view. "Just...need to wake up...Cass." I hope that with their paramedic training, Cass will be able to render Ian the first aid he needs, at least until he can get to a hospital.

He stumbles, missing a step, and I'm not strong enough to hold him up. We go down together, falling to our knees. Ian shakes, his body probably going into shock, and his uninjured eye has an unfocused, half-glazed look.

"Ian? Come on—you can do this," I urge, looping his arm over my shoulders and struggling in vain to hoist him back to his feet. "Please—we're almost there."

"Sam...I don't think I..."

He sways, and leans on me more heavily, forcing me back to the ground.

"Hey, no! Ian, no!" I hold the back of his head with one hand and the side of his face with the other. "Not now—not when we're so close! Please!"

He's barely conscious, and it's clear I'm losing him. His good eye meets mine, but it has a dreamy, far-off look, like he's seeing and not seeing at the same time. His lips move and soundlessly form my name, and he reaches for my hand, taking it from his face and pressing it over his heart instead.

Even without words, I know what he's saying. He's saying he's sorry. He's saying he loves me. He's saying goodbye.

He starts to go limp, losing consciousness, and I shout and scream, but I can't bring him back and I can't hold him up. If I could transform again, I could carry him easily, but I used all my energy already, and now I have nothing left.

The sound of quick footsteps makes me look up, and I see Carlos approaching at a run. He skids to a halt beside us, tan face drawn and dark eyes wide with a look of horror as he takes in Ian's hurts. "Oh shit, oh shit," he says, head between his hands. "What can I do? What can—"

"Help me carry him!" I gasp, cutting him off.

He obeys, slipping his arm around Ian's back, and together, we hoist him up. He's bigger and heavier than either of us, and even together we can't lift him completely, so we drag him along as best we can.

"You alright?" Carlos asks over Ian's other shoulder.

I nod, unable to speak.

"Inez?"

"Dead," I pant.

He nods. "Whatever she did to me, it stopped so sudden I figured so."

"Karin?"

"I don't know. I took off running back this way as soon as my mind cleared. That was like, two minutes ago, so..."

We reach the steps of the Walkers' porch, but mounting them is beyond my strength, at least with Ian. "Go," I say, pointing to the house.

Carlos understands and, shifting all of Ian's weight to me, races up the steps, across the porch, and vanishes inside.

I sink the rest of the way to the ground, letting Ian's upper body rest against mine, and holding my arms across his chest. A moment later, Carlos returns, Cass and the other Walkers in tow. They look drained, a little sick and still suffering the effect of whatever sedative Inez dosed them with, but awake and alert at least.