His head bobbed like a cork. A long inhale through gritted teeth helped just a little. “In the second pocket on the outside, there’s a med kit. Pull it out.”
As she dug, he fell back on his ass, legs akimbo. He managed to unfold the bad one with some extra help from his hands but decided the good one could stay where it was for a bit while he paid attention to the business of breathing.
“Jesus, Ian.” Marley unfolded the other leg, straightened it. “Now what?”
“Utility knife on my belt. Grab it.”
“Okay. Next?”
“You’ve got to cut the bullet out.”
“I what?” she squeaked.
“There’s disinfectant in the kit. Douse the knife and cut it out.”
“Ian, I don’t have any kind of medical training. I—” Her voice had gone high and strained and streamers of electric purple panic shot off her.
He hefted himself onto one elbow, gripped her shaking wrist. “Marley, look at me.” He waited until her gaze met his. “I heal at an accelerated rate. You have to cut the bullet out before the wound is closed up completely. It’s just the meaty part of my shoulder. You aren’t going to damage an organ.”
“Oh, sure. Just the meaty part of your shoulder. Because that’s just like carving a freaking roast.” Her face was ashen.
Ian squeezed his eyes shut to block out the view of her emotions. They called too much to the hunger. “Marley.”
“Okay, okay. Roll over.”
He tried and found his legs weren’t interested in cooperating. “Need a little help.”
“Oh God,” moaned Marley, tugging until he flopped gracelessly onto his stomach.
“It’ll be fine. Just get the bullet out. There are sutures in the kit too. Go ahead and lay them out, along with the forceps and cotton to mop up the blood. If I pass out, just keep going. Get the bullet out and stitch up the hole. My body will do the rest.”
Ian checked his reserves. Not enough power to maintain any semblance of control if he continued to scan for threats. His range was compromised already. With one last pass to assure himself no one had found them, he shut down his senses, going blind for the first time in decades.
The loss of input was staggering. In the wake of the relative mental darkness, a surge of panic crested through him.
“There’s not enough light for this.”
Have to hold it together for Marley. Ian dug deep, pressing his hands against the stone floor of the cave to ground himself. “Electric lantern. In the pack.”
“Is there a hospital johnny too? Because I just destroyed your shirt.”
“Funny girl.” Ian tried to laugh, winced instead. “Told you it paid to be prepared.”
The blue white glow of the LED lantern filled the cave. Marley set it beside his shoulder and crouched down.
“Shit, Ian. The hole’s barely big enough for a pencil.”
“Already healing. Use the knife.”
“Wait a minute.” He heard her moving, a brush of fabric, a faint metallic clink. She thrust something into his field of vision. “My belt. It’s leather. Bite down.”
Ian shoved it into his mouth and nodded.
Behind him, liquid sloshed as she sterilized the knife. The hand she braced on his shoulder around the wound was tentative, fingers pressing, probing.
“Do it!” he snarled.
The knife bit in. A bright new pain layered over the burning ache left by the bullet. His body bowed and the pressure was instantly gone.