Page 66 of (Sur)real
“Lay down,” he said again. “I’ll look at your back.”
I stood with care and went to the bed. Getting onto my stomach hurt, but once I was there, I could relax. Until I felt his fingers on my shirt. I struggled not to go all hot and cold again. The material slowly inched its way up under his gentle touch. When he had the bottom above the top of the cuts, he stopped. Then he started peeling off the taped gauze.
“How does it look?” I asked when he did nothing for a moment.
“Not good.”
“It started bleeding again?”
“No. It’s oozing clear, but not bleeding.”
“Oh. That’s good then.”
He didn’t comment as he spread some ointment on and covered the area with clean gauze again.
“I’ll be right back,” he said after gently tugging my shirt back into place.
The door softly opened and closed. I didn’t bother to track his progress. Instead, I reached for the cell phone that rested on the nightstand between the beds and dialed Blake’s number. He picked up on the first ring.
“They tried using the Provider to see if she could get a premonition of what we need to do,” I said without preamble. “It didn’t work. They seem to have no set plan regarding what they will do with or without the answer.”
“Stop telling me useless information,” Blake said into the phone. “What is happening? I’m feeling things from you.”
“I didn’t want to worry you, but the bruises on my face aren’t my worst injuries. I have three gashes on my back. They hurt. And I’ve also been trying to encourage interest in the males here, thinking it would put me in a favorable position of influence.”
The soft brush of something on my back told me I wasn’t alone anymore.
“I don’t like it.”
“I don’t either, but you told me to use their kindness to gain answers. That’s what I’m trying to do.”
“I don’t like your tone,” he said softly. I shivered despite trying not to.
“I’m sorry, Father,” I said as contritely as I could manage.
“I’ll see you soon, Olivia. When we’re together again, I’ll keep you safe. Perhaps we’ll finally finish what you started.”
I let my mind go blank at his words.Don’t think about it. Don’t feel. Don’t react.
“Yes, Father,” I said.
“Goodnight, Olivia.”
The line went dead, and I lifted the phone for whoever was there to take it. Tears leaked from my eyes. The only physical sign that I really did feel something after that phone call.
“There’s no happy ending for me,” I said, mostly to myself. “If we don’t make the Judgement or if we Judge in favor of the humans, the Others will come. If we make the Judgement…”
I swallowed hard and refused to think about what would happen then as well.
Large, warm fingers gently brushed away the tears.
“If you make the Judgement, there will always be a place for you with us. With me,” Jim said.
I swallowed hard. His words painted a picture I would hold onto when the time for Judgement came.
“I have some ice for your back,” he said.
A moment later, a slight weight settled over my wounds. The cool felt so good.
