“It looks okay to me,” Tomas says from the other side of the oasis.
“Just a few more minutes. Please,” I yell. I turn my back on him, hoping this will end the discussion. My gut tells me to get the hell away from this place, but I have to convince Tomas. He has always been so good, so kind to others—especially those who are sad or in distress. It is no wonder he expects the government that brought us here to be helpful, too. With this being the only water source we’ve seen since the contaminated river yesterday, I don’t blame him for being tempted. If only there was another water source nearby. There’s another hill not too far away. Maybe I will see something if I take a look . . .
“I’ll be right back. Stay there,” I say, and I set off for the hill. My legs are tired, but I move fast. I’m at the top of the hill in less than five minutes and, though I am breathless, laugh when I see it. Not too far away—maybe another hundred yards or so—is a small river. The water doesn’t gleam and the plant life surrounding it isn’t lush, but I know by the path it sculpts through the ground that it is natural. Water. Contaminated? Probably, but I have my kit to deal with that. For the first time today, I feel a sense of relief.
Then the world explodes.
Chapter 12
SURPRISE AND THE force of the blast knock me off-balance. I hit the ground and roll, then scramble up to my feet, trying to understand what just happened. The ringing in my ears. The gaping hole where the oasis used to stand. Tomas nearby on the hard, cracked earth lying completely still.
Choking back a sob, I fly down the hill to where Tomas is sprawled on his back, eyes closed. I fear the worst. That once again I will hold the hand of someone from home as he slips from the world, leaving me behind. Then I see the steady rise and fall of his chest and sag with relief. He’s alive. However the trap was sprung, Tomas was not in the middle of it when it happened. Otherwise he—like the trees, flowers, and water—would be gone. Just thinking of a world without his strong, steady presence is enough to bring me to my knees.
Still, he is not conscious, which isn’t good. I sit on the ground next to him and gently check the back of his head for swelling that would indicate a concussion or something worse. I am relieved to find nothing. Then I notice the blood pooling on the ground next to his right hip and the inch-thick branch protruding from his body.
I stamp down my tears. Crying won’t help Tomas, so I have to decide what will. Dr. Flint always says you aren’t supposed to move someone with a head wound, but I don’t have a choice. I have to stop the blood seeping into the cracked soil. Carefully, I shift Tomas onto his side. The jagged wood is buried deep in Tomas’s backside. The explosion and the impact against the ground must have created enough force for the branch to impale him.
Taking a deep breath, I get a good grip on the tree branch and pull. The edges of the wood catch on Tomas’s flesh. He starts to groan and wince as I work the wood back and forth in the wound to remove it. The flow of blood increases as the wood slides free from Tomas’s body. I rip a strip of fabric off my cot sheet, press it against the wound, and hold it there with one hand while my other searches for the medical kit. The disinfecting ointment will come in handy. The needle and thread might, too, if I can get up the nerve to use them. I’m starting to roll Tomas onto his belly when he moans again.
His gray eyes blink open. “What happened?”
Hearing his voice, seeing him awake, makes me smile even as it unlocks a flood of tears. “The oasis blew up,” I tell him, wiping tears with the back of my dirt-streaked hand. “You got impaled by a tree branch. I removed it, but the wound is bleeding pretty bad. Don’t worry,” I say, feigning more confidence than I feel. “I’ll have you fixed in no time. Only . . .”
His eyes narrow. “Only what?”
I feel the blush heating my cheeks even before I say, “You’re going to have to remove your pants for me to do it.”
The grin he gives me is wicked and more than a little sexy, but quickly turns to a frown as he struggles to unfasten his pants and push them down. The wound is still bleeding, but not near as bad as it was. The puncture is over an inch in diameter and judging by the blood on the stick at least three inches deep. The area around the wound is a mangled mess of blood and tissue. An injury like this has to hurt like hell. And I have no idea how to fix it. Over the years, Dr. Flint closed several of my brothers’ cuts, but those didn’t look like this. Those had been tears in the flesh, which could only be brought together using a needle and thread. This is a gaping hole.
Still, I have to do something.
I dig several pain tablets out of the bag and prop Tomas up so he can swallow them. Then I clean the wound as best I can with water. Wiped free of blood and dirt, the injury looks even worse. I was right—there is no way I can sew this wound shut. Which leaves me with only one idea. Just thinking about it makes me want to scream, but I have no choice. Blood is still flowing from the gap in his flesh. If it doesn’t stop soon, Tomas won’t be able to travel. He won’t finish the test and neither will I since I could never leave knowing he’d most likely die out here injured and alone.
Gathering bits of dried grass and pieces of wood into a pile, I light them with one of Tomas’s matches. Once the fire is started, I pull the hunting knife out of my pocket. In addition to the knife and screwdriver, there is a nail file, a wood saw, a hook, and several other metal gadgets I’ve never found a use for. Until now.
I select the tool that is about an inch and a half long, less than a half inch wide, and flat on top. There is a hooked thing near the middle my father said he used as a child to open bottles, but we don’t have those kinds of bottles in Five Lakes so I can only imagine how that works. It isn’t the bottle opener I’m interested in, but the flat, unsharpened surface near the top. Now I just need to muster the courage to go through with my plan.
As the small fire crackles, I do something I’ve seen Dr. Flint do when the patient is conscious during a particularly unpleasant treatment. I hand Tomas his cot sheet to bite down on, then hold the bottle opener over the flames and wait for it to turn red. When it does, I ask Tomas to look away. Before I can lose my nerve, I pull the hot metal out of the flame and apply it to the wound.
Tomas screams into the sheet and bucks in pain. The sounds of his agony are muffled and my eyes fill with tears. But I have to keep working. I put the tool back into the flames with one hand while I wipe the blood from the wound and hold Tomas’s legs down with the other. When the metal is once again hot, I place it against his flesh. A coppery, sulfurous odor makes me gag. The smell of burning skin.
Tears run down my face. My chest tightens so I can barely breathe. Tomas’s muted screams rip through my heart as I heat the metal and apply it to the wound again and again. Until, finally, the burned tissue fuses together and the bleeding is stopped.
My hands shake as I use our precious water to dab clean the wound. Then I spread ointment on the area, bandage it, and help Tomas struggle into his pants. I fervently hope the bleeding is stopped for good because I don’t think I can do that again.
Tomas’s eyes are glazed and his forehead coated with sweat as he gives me a weak smile. “I barely felt a thing,” he lies.
I go to place a kiss on his cheek, only he turns his head and the kiss lands on the corner of his mouth. Time stops as we stare at each other. Then, very slowly, Tomas leans forward and kisses me again. The kiss is light as a feather, but I feel it all the way down in my stomach. I’ve been kissed by boys before—I’m young for my class, but I’m not that young. None of those kisses made me feel the way this one does. Maybe because of the fear and adrenaline I’ve been operating under or because I don’t understand why Tomas kissed me. Gratitude? Or something more? Something I have felt building since we danced last year and have been too scared to believe is real.
Confused by emotions I don’t want to analyze, I turn away and start jamming supplies back in my bag. “It’s going to get dark soon. When I was on top of the hill, I saw a stream. It’s not to
o far away. Do you think you can walk or should we set up camp here? There’s probably enough light for me to make it to the stream, fill up our canteens, and come back.” I know I’m rambling, but can’t seem to stop myself.
He shakes his head and slowly gets to his knees. “If your crossbow friend heard the explosion, he might come looking for us. We should put some distance between us and here before we lose light.”
With everything else going on, I’d forgotten about the other Testing candidates. The explosion will have drawn attention. If the crossbow shooter heard the explosion, he might assume whoever was caught in it is dead. Unless he heard Tomas’s screams during my treatment. Either way, Tomas is right. We need to clear out.
I help Tomas to his feet and loop his arm around my shoulders so I can lend him support. He is almost a head taller than me, but we manage to make it work. It’s slow going up the hill, though, and both of us are panting hard when we reach the top.