Page 43 of Desiderium
After a moment, she abides by his request, getting to her feet, washing her hands and placing a fresh pair of gloves on before coming to his side. When she goes to stand beside him, he shakes his head and indicates for her to go on the opposite side of Cole. “Take this and dab at the laceration.” He hands her a metal instrument with a gauze pad fixed to it. “Keep the wound clear for me so I can finish quicker.” Nodding her understanding, she takes it as a drop of blood oozes out of the wound, quickly dabbing it up and earning herself anatta girlfrom Hawk.
He looks back over his shoulder, winking and nodding to the huge shower behind me. I echo the movement as I turn around and get in. I know what he’s doing and I’m thankful for it. Aly needs to get out of her head. She needs to know, hands on, that Cole is alright. It doesn’t matter how many times we tell her,knowinghe will, by her own hands, is going to get her through this.
Hawk lifts the metal tweezers and sutures and begins closing the longest of the two lacerations. Cole releases a sharp gasp as the needle punctures his skin, twisting his head back and forth before biting down on his fist, containing his pain. Looking at the length of the wounds, he’s probably gonna need to eat his fist to get through this.
“We good?” Hawk pauses to ask.
“Let’s just get this done and over with,” Cole replies, his words strained but determined. Folding his body over, he rests his head on his arms situated on the back of the tank, closing his eyes as he releases a slow breath.
With Aly and Hawk working together to patch up Cole, I turn towards the giant walk-in shower and turn the water on. Regardless of how cold it is, I force myself straight into the frigid water to rid myself of the death stench currently surrounding me like a plague cloud. Hawk was right, you can’t get someone else clean when you’re not actually clean, yourself. And I’m far from it.
I’ve gotta say, with regards to finding a place suitable enough to take care of Cole, we fucking lucked out. I had a hunch this property would have running water. Being so close to the town meant the homes around here had a higher probability of utilizing waterlines as opposed to a well for water. What does that mean? A well, like I had at both the estate and the cabin, requires some sort of pump to pull the water up from the ground and against the natural flow. But town water? That shit runs on gravity. The big ass reservoir in town is designed to hold an entire population’s worth of backup water just in case the power ever shut down. I might not have electricity to heat the water here, but I’m about to take the longest fucking shower in my recent memory. Not to mention, the previous homeowners left all of their toiletries on the mantle in the shower cubicle so I can, thankfully, get as clean as humanly possible.
I upend the shampoo, conditioner and bodywash, making a sanitation trifecta that I then use to cover my entire body. The washcloth draped over the hook on the walldoesn’t stand a chance, either. I use that bastard to scrub my skin so hard it starts to turn red and even peel the top layer off in some places.
Good. Fucking. Riddance.
It takes a total of three rounds of critical deep cleaning to reverse the damage done but, for the first time in hours, I don’t smell like the Devil’s own asshole. Satisfied, I step out of the shower and wrap a towel around my waist.
Fuck, I feel so much better now.
Looking over at Hawk, I see he’s finished with the stitch job on Cole. He stretches his back with a groan, twisting and pulling the muscles until he’s standing upright again. Swapping positions, he enters the shower cubicle and does the same as I did, covering himself in every bit of soap available, finally getting all of the cobwebs and whatever else that’s caught in his hair out. The only one who isn’t a mess is Aly, currently perched on the side of the tub, dipping her arm into the water to see what the level is.
“Water’s good, Doc, time to get in,” Aly informs the room but when we all converge on Cole, he doesn’t seem to move a muscle.
“Cole?!” Aly jerks to him, concern and terror etching her face.
Oh fuck...
We swiftly surround him, still slumped over on the toilet seat. I get there first and immediately check his pulse.
Oh, thank God...
While his breathing is barely noticeable, his pulse is there, strong and bounding. “He’s ok. He’s alive.” It’s only then, we realize, his exhaustion and pain had finally taken its toll, pushing him into oblivion. The poor guy is out cold. Releasing a breath, I turn back to the others. “Let’s finish cleaning him up as best as we can with the washcloths, then get him on the couch. Rest is what he needs now. He can get a full bath when he wakes up.”
After Hawk and I get dressed, we each take a wash cloth, soaking it in the newly soapy bathwater, then slowly, gently wash the rest of the debris that we might have missed away from Cole’s skin, careful to avoid the fresh stitches. He doesn’t even flinch during the entire process which is just a testament to what he’s been through.
When we’re just about finished and he’s as clean as he’s going to be, Aly takes advantage of the filled tub, quickly washing with the chilly water before wrapping a towel around herself, getting dressed and rejoining us. We gingerly pat Cole’s skin dry and then, together, move him out of the bathroom and into the living room.
Taking our time, we place him on his stomach on the large deep-seated couch, positioning cushions around his body so he doesn’t jostle himself and rip open the stitches. When we think he’s in a comfortable position, Hawk and I cover the cuts with more antibiotic ointment and begin to lay heavy dressings over them to protect his healing wounds. There are so many, however, that we end up covering his entire back with gauze, fixing it in place with an entire roll of surgical tape.
“Fuck me, I’m wrecked,” Hawk says when we’re done as he stretches his back. I hear his spine crack in the darkness, the stress leaving his weary bones. “I did not sign up for all of these activities when I left for camp today. I’m talking to a counselor first thing in the morning.”
Regardless of the satirical nature Hawk’s trying to provide, the exhaustion is evident on all our faces. We’re practically sleeping on our feet. Without needing to voice it, we each take a seat around the room, refusing to leave Cole’s side even for a minute.
The large couch, as well as the recliner, are enough to accommodate all of us in the same room. We don’t need the comfort of an actual bed. That’s not important. Whatis, is the need to stick together. To be there for one another.
Tomorrow, we’ll be able to explore the place more thoroughly. But tonight? Tonight, I’m content to simply watch over my family and make sure we all make it to see the sunrise.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Hawk
The house is quiet as my eyes take in the softly glowing morning light. It’s calm and serene—the complete opposite to the hurricane whirling around in my head. While the couch we all slept on last night was soft and agreeable, my mood this morning is anything but comfortable.
I’m on edge. I’m worried. It’s like my skin is crawling with spiders and my gut is ready to heave its contents directly onto the pristine white carpet next to me. I don’t ever remember feeling this way, even on deployments. Sure, I had the normal adrenaline rushes that come with being over there: the firefights, the unknown threats that could come from every angle.
But this?
