Page 98 of Undone
“I . . .” He flinched and grabbed his head, pulling up his knees. “I am to obey the Baelese.”
Oh, shit . . .
“What’s wrong with him?” Josh asked from the doorway.
“He’s got the fucking worm,” I told him.
Now it was Josh’s turn to curse. I shook all over as I reached for my bag, fumbling with the zipper. “It’s okay, Tater. I’ll fix you.”
My brother. My poor Tater. That thing in his head. I wanted to puke as I remembered what the humans in Alaska had gone through when I took them out. But it had to be done. I found the rectangular device and pulled it out.
“You have to stay very still,” I told him. “This is going to hurt.”
I held the device to his forehead and pressed the button hard with my thumb. It took a few seconds before Tater’s back arched and he let out a terrible sound. He pushed me, and I pressed forward, sitting on his bucking knees, but he shoved me and bucked.
“I need help holding him down!”
Tex and a human male and female rushed over, grabbing him and sitting on parts of him. I used all of my strength to help hold him down and keep the device in place. Another man came over and grasped his head. It was a painfully slow process, his shouts of pain killing me every second. I let out a cry of relief when the bloodied metal tip became visible from his nostril. I dropped the magnetic device, and pinched the tip of the worm with my fingers, yanking it out and throwing it. Josh gave it a hard stomp.
Tater’s body began to seize, and I leaned over him, taking his face.
“It’s okay,” I murmured. “You’re going to be okay. Look at me.”
I held his face hard, and he slowly stilled.
“Amb,” he whispered groggily.
I let out a sob and pulled him into my arms. He was sweating and limp. Tex helped him sit up.
“I’m here,” I said.
His arms went around me, and I held him tight, feeling lighter as his embrace strengthened.
“What . . .” he whispered. “Oh, God, my fucking head.”
“I know,” I said. “Listen. We’re all here. We’re taking back this base. Everything is going to be all right.”
“Tex.” Tater turned his sweaty head to peer at his friend.
“Right here, bud.”
“Where the fuck is my weapon?”
I shook my head as Tex and Josh both laughed.
Tex pulled a rifle over his shoulder and pressed it into Tater’s hands. We stood, unsteady, and Tater wiped his nose, sniffing and grimacing. I knew what he wasn’t saying—that he had a killer migraine, like the others had—but I doubted he was going to let it stop him.
“Where is Remy?” he asked, making my heart jump.
“I haven’t seen her yet,” I admitted, hoping like hell that she was okay.
“We need to find her,” he whispered.
Running steps approached from outside and Josh reported, “It’s Sean and Carmen.”
Sean was one of the head officers for this operation. Josh waved them in.
Sean squinted into the dimness. “Is that Tate?”
