Chapter 15: Elektra

Chapter 15

Elektra

She's moving.

Can I really do this, without knowing if she's unconscious? The shock could kill her if not. I wanted to be a doctor, not a butcher. Then again, what is the difference? These days surgery means death. No anaesthetic, no antiseptic. There is also the potential vaginal tear to contend with, even if Jason and I are able to pull this off, by some form of miracle.

I'm a butcher.

Danny traipses over to me. He takes out a leather pouch. He strokes the button. It takes him a moment but he opens it and passes something to me. A scalpel.

“It was...is...was Sam's. Just...don't f**k up. Those kids need their mother.”

“I have no intention of letting her die. Thanks by the way,” I say, accepting the gesture.

“For what?”

“For this,” I gesture to the scalpel, “and for stopping back there. I didn't want to have pick more pieces of Jason off of the floor. Flesh or teeth.”

“You raised a good point. She wouldn't want me to kill a kid, especially as it wasn't his fault. Tell anyone else and I'll deny it. Anyone asks he conceded, right?” he threatens.

“Of course. By the way, he's not a kid. He's twenty two years old, just to clear up. He knows how to defend himself when it comes down to it. He managed to save Alfie and get himself out of that place with practically no ammo,” I utter, twisting the scalpel in my hand. Danny tips his head back and laughs. He smiles at me and walks off. Well, that was unexpected.

Jason carries Helene over. She still seems to be bleeding. I lay down blanket I found in the back of an abandoned car. He gently places her on her front. It is easy to see the linear fracture under her hairline. I gag. I turn my head away and take a deep breath. I have to do this. I swore. Jason places his hand on shoulder. I turn back around and places the scalpel against her scalp. I make the incision. Blood beads on the surface. I feel a slight bit of movement; her knee seemed to jerk.

“How do we go about this?” Jason states, dabbing the blood with a tissue.

“We remove a piece of skull and let her bleed. Relieve the pressure on the brain.” My hand is shaking. Hold it together. Come on. I cut deeper and the blood begins to seep out. My scalpel touches the cranium.

“Can you open the incision up and keep it open?” I gesture to where my hand is. Jason nods and places his fingers on either side of the incision. I move backwards. Danny left the leather pouch. I open it, my blood covering the opening. There are tweezers, sterile thread and needles. There's also a nail file. This was a f***ing manicure set. Manicure set plus a scalpel.

I move forward again. I notice a small blood clot which I remove with the tweezers. I can see the fracture. There is one fragment that I could probably remove, if I am very careful. I slip my scalpel under one end of it and it begins to move. I keep my scalpel there but place my little finger into the cut. This is so grim. I yank it free. It won't go. I continue to wiggle it to loosen it. Come on, you little b*****d. I uncross my legs and rise to my knees. The gravel cuts into my kneecaps. I put the scalpel on the blanket next to her. I insert my thumb with my little finger. I grab onto this fragment and pull with all the strength I have in my upper body. It comes off. The force pushes me backwards. I stare at the fragment of bone in my hand. Jesus, it's sharp and, naturally, covered in blood. I examine it; when the pressure has begun to subside, it should be like putting a jigsaw together. Reassembling a skull.

“Lex, a little help here. What the hell did you do?” Jason looks frantic as he tries to keep the wound open.

“Let her. I have no clue what we do next but I guess we wait. Yeah, the pressure should subside soon.”

“What do you mean 'you guess'? You have never seen this done before?”

“You think I would put her in danger like that without knowing what I was doing? But technically, Rita ushered me out before she completed the procedure...and the patient was eighteen months old. Same principle applies.” Jason shakes his head.

“So you have no clue then? Quite a difference from the last time. She is going to die from blood loss if we do nothing.”

I have no idea what to do. Blood is pouring out of her head like a river. She is going to bleed to death. I only have one hand to lend. My hand isn't steady; I probably did something wrong. What have I done? I have to do something with this piece of skull. I have to reattach it. I take the super-glue from my belt and apply a thin layer on the edges of the bone; this has to be just a temporary measure. I can't see where it has to go. Jason dabs away at the blood but it does very little. I know what I have to do, I think.

“Jason, do you have a straw or a tube of some description?”

“Why do you want a...oh, no. That...no, that is rank. You cannot do that.”

“Do you have any other ideas? Just hand it over. You're going to have to reattach this.” He takes a piece of plastic tubing and hands it to me. I am really going to regret this. I place one end of the tube into the cut and begin to suck. I can see the thick red crimson liquid rise up through the tube. I'm going to be sick, I can feel it in my gut. Blood begins to fill my mouth, more than I had anticipated. It begins to roll down my chin. I turn my head and spit it out onto the floor. I just have to hold it together for now. I resume sucking on the tube. Oh God, I can taste the metallic substance. I keep sucking and spitting the blood. Jason hesitates.

“Alright, I think I have it. Are you alright to keep sucking the excess blood?”

I raise my thumb and place my hand back onto the tube. I force myself to look away, focussing on the task in hand. I feel myself needing to gag. Not long now. I can't gag, I can't backwash. For God's sake, what the hell is taking him so long?

“Needle and thread please. I think I can sew her up, if your hand is still shaking. I remove the tube and pass him the pouch. I stand up and spit everything out of my mouth: blood, bile...I can't tell the difference. I have the overpowering taste of metal down my throat. I swallowed some of it. I gag and allow myself to vomit. Even that doesn't relieve me in any way: now my stomach muscles ache once again.

Jason slides backwards and sighs. I hear his shoes, scraping the gravel. I wipe my mouth and sit down next to him. Jason passes me a bottle of water. I take it and take a gulp to gargle with. Get rid of the last reminiscent of blood from my mouth. I gargle the water and spit it out.

“Well, that was eventful.”

“Now, we wait,” I respond, washing the blood from my hands.

“It would seem so. Did we really just do that? With no real knowledge of what we were doing?”

“Yes. Yes, it would seem we did. Well, I did have some kind of idea, give me that at least.” I put my hand to her neck. There is a pulse. Weak but there. At least we haven't killed her yet. I am a butcher.

I stand up and walk towards the car. Towards Danny. He is sitting on the bonnet of a car, fiddling with a cigarette. I hand him the leather pouch. The blood isn't as noticeable but it still glistens. He accepts it.

“Thanks. Is she okay?”

“She's still breathing so yes. It isn't possible to tell if there has been any damage but...I guess we'll see soon enough.”

“Huh,” he says, his tongue in his cheek,”okay then. What possessed Lucas too bring Helene here, I don't know. If she was my wife, this would never have happened. I wouldn't have put her in such needless danger.”

“Point scoring again? He couldn't have predicted what happened; how could he have known that Helene would go into labour and that the centre would be overrun? Blaming him is fair enough if you have evidence that he was to blame,” I reply, glancing over at Lucas. He is cradling the baby, completely engrossed in her insignificant movements. There's something sweet and incorruptible about that moment. However, there is also a melancholic tint: that little girl, if she even makes it past her first week, is going to have to endure this without real guidance. God, poor thing. She doesn't even have a choice.

“He knew this place was f***ed,” he says, puffing on his cigarette, “he knew it. He's either an opportunist or he doesn't care about keeping us alive. Either way, hate to break it to you, he is to blame.”

“Why exactly have you got a stick up your arse in regards to Lucas? What exactly did he do?”

“What gives you the impression he did something?”

“Maybe because I'm not stupid. Nobody just develops a grudge for no reason, unless you're a total arsehole but...I'm not sure I buy that either.”

Danny laughs and shakes his head. He flicks his cigarette and takes another puff.

“No flies on you, eh? Okay, okay. I used to have a...a thing for Helene. We were close and Lucas came along. He came along, put her in danger and then, all of sudden, she falls at 'is feet. I could have kept her safe but no, no she turned to him. Does that explain it?”

“I guess so. Huh, so you are holding a grudge over a woman? Nothing substantial. Not a matter of life or death. No, a woman. Huh interesting, I think I understand you better now.”

“Women are the only things worth fighting over. You judging me? That's fine but ask your little friend over there if he would die for you. I bet you the answer will be 'yes',” he taunts, jumping forward, centimetres away from my face.

“Okay, want to bet? What would I get out of it?” I inquire.

“Winner gets to do whatever they want to the other,” he replies, smiling to himself.

“How old are you? Five? But okay, you're on. It's on.”

I stride over to Jason, who is monitoring Helene. It takes him a moment to notice me; then again, I am standing on his blind-side so he has an excuse. I bend down next to him and clear my throat.

“Having a nice chat, were we?” he alleges, dabbing a bead of sweat from Helene's forehead.

“As nice as could be expected. Can I ask you a question? Hypothetically, would you die for me? Just hypothetically speaking, I'm not suggesting I'm on my way out. I'm just interested in your answer.”

“Oh right, weird to bring that up at this moment but okay. Do you even need to ask that question? Of course I would, when it comes down to it,” he pauses, looking at his hands. “Why do you ask?”

“Just needed confirmation. Thanks. How's Helene holding up?” I reply.

“Still breathing and there was a bit of restless eye movement which is promising,” he ruffles his hair forward and looks up, “very promising considering the mess we made.”

“Yes, very promising. Please excuse me for a minute,” I murmur as I get up. I move back to Danny.

“Alright, you win. You win. But Jason is hardly the whole of the male population. In addition, he has known me for months. The case would be different if...if I took you for the example. You've known me two days and in that time, you've knocked me on my arse once and tried to kill someone close to me twice. So, a question then: would you die for me?” I pose the question, smiling to myself. I must look so smug at this moment in time, so smug.

He strokes his stubble as if in deep contemplation. It takes him a few seconds to respond.

“If it came down to it, I guess I would. Your looks would save you, in that case,” he replies, moving his hand to support his neck.

“My looks? What do you mean by that, you cheeky b*****d? My bloody looks?” I jeer, folding my arms in amazement.

“You're an attractive young girl, who has proved useful. Let's face it: there are not many women like that left because most of them have died off. The strong die for the weak. It's a cycle, in a way. The weak will inherit the Earth, as most people predict, because strong people will lay down their lives in order to protect those who can't protect themselves,” he responds. He stares me directly in the eyes after his speech. He seems to look right through me, as if I am just an illusion. A mirage to a man dying of thirst in desert. “You don't need someone to die for you from what I've seen,” he adds.

I take a minute for that to sink in. He thinks I'm attractive? Interesting way of showing it by winding me and call me a 'b***h' and a 'little girl'. Interesting. He's not too bad, I suppose...apart from the fact he has gone for Jason twice in two days. Maybe I should get to know him slightly better. Looking at him now, he's younger than he appears. I thought he had to be in his thirties but no, no. He looks like he is in his twenties. He's well built. Shawn dirty blonde hair with a slight bit of stubble on his chin. He has eyes that appeared gold, or amber. There is something strangely handsome about him. The worldly element to him. Interesting.

“So I guess you won the bet then.”

“Guess I did huh. Funny that. I told you, I know these things. Twenty nine years of experience will teach you these things. Probably not wise to doubt me, little girl,” he mocks.

I move closer to him.“Twenty years of experience will teach you to slap anyone who calls you 'little girl'.”

“Just you try it. Anyway, on to my reward. Have a drink with me. I have two bottles of cider in my bag from the store I looted. You can't refuse because you agreed to it,” he proposes, touching my arm. I sigh and shake my head.

“Fine, okay. Lead the way Macduff.”

Danny smiles and takes my arm.

We walk to a patch of grass about half a mile away from the group. It's starting to get dark so the distance from the cars may not be wise.

“Sit down. I'll get some wood for the fire, you must be freezing.” He jogs off into the section of trees. I sit down. Only now does it hit me exactly how cold I am. Before, adrenaline was pumping through my veins so the cold evaded me. Now, I am totally vulnerable to the elements.

Why am I out here? I don't trust him. I think I understand him but I do not trust him by any means whatsoever. Why did I agree to this? I am now a good distance away from other people, with someone who I don't trust. This is how people get dead. Very, very dead. I bring my knees up to my chest and rub my arm. I should have taken my jacket with me; it's covered in blood and mucus but at least it was warm. I liked that jacket. Well, s**t.

I hear footsteps approaching from behind. I place my hand on my belt, bracing myself. I kneel. I turn quickly, my hand inches away from Danny's throat.

“Woah, woah. Not nice to kill people, little girl. People don't tend to like that,” he says, keeping a grip on my hand.

“You scared the hell out of me!” I push his hands down. He lets go and laughs. Uncontrollable laughter. I just stare at him, confused. Glad he finds my fear so f***ing amusing.

“F**k you,” I mutter under my breath. He keeps laughing, crying with laughter. I sit back down and take out my lighter. I flip the lid up and down. Up and down. The flame comforts me. Danny composes himself and sits down. He arranges the sticks onto the floor and gestures for the lighter. I pass it to him and bring my knees to my chest again.

He gets a nice camp-fire going. Danny takes his rucksack off and pulls out a bottle of cider. He unscrews the lid and takes a gulp. He hands the bottle to me. Cider isn't that alcoholic, is it? I did promise to have a drink with him. I just have to take one sip and then I can go back.

I take a sip. It's not entirely unpleasant. It tastes like apple juice. Apple juice mixed with a bit of vinegar. On the whole, not entirely unpleasant. Hm.

“First time drinking?” he asks, watching my hands which are fiddling with the label.

“No, I live in this world. Of course I have tried alcohol before but I just have never liked it. Also there is also the baby angle to consider.” I put my hand on my stomach.

“Ah I see. I'm guessing soppy bollocks back there isn't the dad. Or is the identity of the father confidential?” he says, taking another gulp from the bottle.

“You would be right in assuming both things. The baby topic alone is a touchy subject. I don't want to talk about it; if I was serious about this pregnancy, I wouldn't be sat here, drinking.”

“Right.”

“Not got any wise words for me then?”

“Isn't my place to say anything. Your life, your body.”

“You're the first person to say that. Everyone has a bloody opinion it would seem,” I mutter under my breath. He looks up at me and smiles. “What? What is it? Why are you staring at me?”

“Nothing. It's nothing. It's just...just-”

“Go on, spit it out,” I interrupt.

“You're so beautiful.”

There's an awkward silence. I turn away. I can feel myself blushing. Wow, okay then. He thinks I'm...beautiful. Or is it the drink talking? He has drunk almost half of the bottle. Oh God, my face is burning. I clear my throat and tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

“To be honest, the only reason I wanted to bring you here was to get you alone. I made a bad impression to begin with but...don't let that define me. It's your brother that pisses me off,” he says, moving towards me.

“If you could sound a little less 'rapey' I would appreciate it.” He moves next to me and rests his hands on my shoulders. He places his lips on my neck and moves them up to my jaw. I don't move. His lips then move to my lips. He pushes hard against them. I put up as much resistance as I can manage. Then...I give in. I allow him to kiss me. I can smell smoke and lemon, mixed in a cologne like scent. The passion in his lips reminds me of Roman. That snaps me out of it. I push him away and stand up.

“I'm sorry but this is not happening.”

I begin to run back. He calls out after me but I don't look back. I wait until there is a suitable amount of distance between us. I lean against a tree and begin to breathe heavily. I can feel pressure pulling me down, forcing me to return to the ground. I hug my knees to my chest and focus on my breathing. Oh God, oh God. I can't. I can't. Everything is just so...s**t. What the hell is the point anymore? Whenever I believe, even for a second, that I can have some glimmer of happiness, it goes. I make it to France, find my brother and yet everything is the way it always was. There's no 'safe' place. I really hoped things would be different in France but everything is still f***ed.

My mind is...f***ed.

I can't do this anymore...I can't.