Page 74 of The Secret Librarian
Camille was gasping now, and Avery’s shoulders shuddered as she tried to stop crying, the pain in Camille’s every breath impossible to ignore. She couldn’t help but think about Jack andhow many friends he’d lost when he was overseas, about all the men serving and the horrors they were faced with.
‘How did I miss him? He was right in front of me, he—’
‘Shhh,’ Avery tried again. ‘Please, Camille, just rest. You need to rest.’I don’t give a damn about anything else now, Camille. I just want you to live. Live, goddamn it!‘None of it matters anymore.’
‘You’re ... a good friend, Avery,’ Camille murmured as her eyes fluttered shut. ‘You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.’
Avery slumped low over Camille, her tears merging with the blood on Camille’s skin, smeared all across her hands.How did this happen? How was I such a fool that I didn’t see who,whathe was?
There was a thump, thump on the door then, sending a shiver of terror through her.
‘Don’t let them in,’ Camille whispered, lucid, her eyes wide. ‘You can’t trust them.’
Avery nodded and kissed her forehead. ‘I won’t let them in. I’ll fight until my very last breath to keep you safe, Camille. I promise.’
But when she peered out from the office, creeping through the store to see out into the almost-dark, her heart leapt. It wasn’t the PVDE, it was James. She dashed through the shop as quickly as she could, fumbling with the key as she hurried to open it for him.
‘James!’ She threw her arms around him, holding him as tightly as she could.
He kept one arm around her and manoeuvred them both inside, shutting the door and locking it behind them before engulfing her in his arms. His mouth was pressed to her neck, his embrace warm and solid as she cried.
‘I don’t think she’s going to make it. I don’t—’
‘Where is she?’ he asked.
Avery took his hand and led him to the backroom where she had Camille on the floor, her head propped up on a blanket she’dfound folded in the office and the coat they’d taken from William over her to keep her warm.
‘There was so much blood, and I’ve done my best but she’s ...’ Avery didn’t even want to say it.She looks like she’s dying. James. My friend is lying on the floor dying and there’s nothing I can do about it other than watch her slip away.‘She needs to go to a hospital,’ she said, instead. Because it was true; if Camille had any chance at all of surviving, she needed proper medical treatment. ‘I know you said we couldn’t, but she’s going to die if we don’t,’ she whispered.
‘Can you see the bullet?’ James asked. ‘If we can get the bullet out, she has a chance at pulling through.’
Avery’s stomach turned at the thought of looking at all that blood again, of touching her friend’s flesh and trying to fish out a piece of metal from inside of her. ‘I couldn’t see it, I just tried to stop the blood and—’
‘James,’ Camille gasped, her eyes suddenly flickering open. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘You’ll have plenty of time to apologise to me another day. Right now, I’m going to get Avery to hold you down and I’m going to try to get this bullet out of you.’
Camille groaned.
‘Avery, we need boiled water, anything that resembles a clean cloth, and something sterile to dig the bullet out.’
Avery’s eyes widened. ‘Do you even know what you’re doing? Do you—’
‘I know enough, and right now I’m the best she’s got,’ he said with a grimace. ‘Can you find those supplies? And we’re going to need a needle and thread. We can sterilise the needle in a flame.’
Avery started to nod her head, unable to stop, her body in shock.
‘We don’t have long, Avery. Every minute counts.’
An hour later, Avery and James sat side by side, shoulder to shoulder, backs against the wall and their knees drawn up. She’dcried so many tears she was dry, her eyes raw, her skin still covered in her friend’s blood. All they could do now was wait – to see if Camille would pull through, or perish right there on the floor of the bookshop she loved so much.
‘Do you think she’s going to make it?’ Avery whispered.
James had his head tipped back against the wall, his eyes shut, arms resting on his knees. Camille’s blood was dried beneath his nails and streaking the skin of his arms. He even had it on his jawline, and if she hadn’t been so exhausted, so drained of every ounce of energy, Avery would have lifted her hand and turned to him to wipe it away. But instead she just sat, turning her gaze back to Camille, who was lying on the floor still, covered in two jackets in an effort to keep her warm.
‘James?’ Avery asked, her voice husky and sounding like it belonged to someone else.
‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I want to tell you that she’ll be fine, but I honestly just don’t know.’
