Page 37 of Bones
“Night, Shortcake,” he called over his shoulder.
In the silent darkness, I laid back down and stared anxiously at the ladder until exhaustion pulled me under again.
* * *
I spent the next several days in fear of the door opening, dreading Mac returning to summon me back to the watchtower, but the days continued to go by with no sign of him. More people started coming into the clinic, keeping me busy in a good way. Being able to freely heal people felt like a balm on my soul, but also left me confused. I hated Madame and everything that happened under the watchtower, but as I used my powers more a long-dormant part of me seemed to awaken and stretch, and it feltgood.I tried to tell myself that I was quickly growing attached to the clinic because I’d never had my own space before, but it didn’t change how I felt about the small wooden building.
Mac’s crew confused me even more. I didn’t know what to do with them, and they would not leave me alone orstop fucking talking. Trey, Griz, and Sam were almost always in the clinic getting in my way. They joked and teased and asked stupid questions and didn’t seem to care when I refused to participate or snapped at them to get the fuck out and go bother someone else. They didn’t act like guarding the clinic and keeping an eye on me was a job. Sometimes I had to remind myself Madame ordered them to be here. They were guards, not friends, no matter how friendly they acted.
Jax didn't come to the clinic often, and when he did he seemed to be delivering things. He stayed quiet around me, but I often heard him chattering at the others outside. Sam called him "the kid," "Trey Jr.," and "blondie." He didn't seem to mind the nicknames, except for "the kid." I often heard him shouting "I am fifteen! I'm not a kid!"
Sometimes I caught a glimpse of his sandy blond hair and my heart would leap before I remembered where I was.
I spotted Lana a few times from a distance, but I could still feel the scorching heat of her glare. Raven still hadn’t said a word to me, but the woman could speak volumes with a single twitch of her eyebrow. She’d made it clear she disliked me, but I expected that. Neither of them had taken a guard shift yet, and I couldn’t help wondering how they were given out. Did Mac assign shifts or did they volunteer? I glanced outside from where I was bandaging a man’s leg in the clinic. I’d taken to leaving the door open due to the heat. As much as I was curious about how Mac distributed shifts, I wasn’t about to encourage the two idiots currently challenging each other to see who could balance a stick on one finger the longest by asking.
“Cheater!” Trey yelled, the stick wobbling on his finger, but he laughed as he dodged the pinecones Sam tossed at him.
"What? I'm just tryin' to clean up Bones's yard." Sam caught me watching them and winked.
I flushed and looked back down at my work. This could not be more different from being with the Reapers. They hated me at first. They thought Juck had lost his damn mind making a ten-year-old kid the gang healer. On good days they just ignored me, but most of the time they were cruel. Once I got older, they got more friendly, but not in a nice way. Then Juck made it crystal clear no one,no one,was allowed to touch me and they went back to keeping their distance. Only two had been something like friends, and they both paid the price for it.
My heart clenched at the memory as I glanced back outside. Sam and Trey had abandoned the stick and circled each other, fists raised, but they were both grinning as they taunted each other. When they started throwing punches, my fingers stalled wrapping the bandage. They moved lightly on their feet, throwing jabs and spinning and ducking and laughing the whole time. It wasn’t long before Trey had Sam in a headlock, a move I recognized from being trapped in it on the roof, and Sam tapped out. They broke apart grinning and wiping sweat from their faces.
The blacksmith I’d been bandaging cleared his throat, and I just about jumped out of my skin. My face flamed. I’d forgotten about him. He eyed me with a slight smile, clearly knowing why I’d gotten distracted.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, tying off the bandage.
“S’alright,” he said. “Mac’s crew is one of the best Safeguards we’ve got.”
“Safeguard?” I asked before I could rein in my damn curiosity and shut my mouth.
“Crews that go outside the hold and do reconnaissance or make trades,” he explained. “We’re pretty self-sustaining here, but we have to go on supply runs or make trades every so often. It’s always dangerous when you’re dealing with valuable resources. Sometimes they gotta fight off raiders.”
I needed to know this information for my escape. That’s why I asked. Not because I wanted to know anything about them. “How many Safeguard crews are there?”
“We’re down to two now. Mac’s crew and Hawk’s crew. We had a third, but they went on a mission, and well, none of ’em came back.”
The Reapers had often clashed with small crews. Usually over resources, but sometimes all it took was a stupid argument. Sometimes they attacked small crews just for fun or to blow off steam. The spaces between holds and garrisons were no man's land, ripe for anyone to control if they had the gun power and the stomach for it. Juck had both. The Reapers had ruled the desert for the past decade, partly thanks to me. Juck and his immortality were infamous. He could receive a fatal injury and come back in just hours for revenge. My stomach churned.
“Now that you’re here, we won’t have to make so many to get medicine or medical supplies,” the man continued. “That’s always been our biggest need. Once the snow falls, it’s pretty impossible to get in and out of here so we gotta stock up for winter.”
I tucked that bit of info away too. If I wanted to get out of here, I'd have to do it before winter or wait until the snow melted. I rattled off some instructions for how to keep his wound clean and he thanked me with a grin before heading out to chat with my guards. Trey and Sam had both stripped off their shirts and my eyes lingered on them. I'd seen countless bodies working as a healer, and you'd think I'd be immune to getting distracted by them. But I couldn't help admiring their wiry muscled bodies gleaming with sweat in the sunshine. They were both handsome, but my eyes kept straying to Trey. From this distance, I couldn't see the scar on Trey's stomach, but I knew it existed. I wondered if I ran my hands across his tanned skin, would I feel it beneath my fingertips?
I gave myself a firm mental shake and forced myself to get back to work.
* * *
Almost two weeks passed before Trey came in one morning and told me we were taking a tour of the Vault. I frowned at him, trying to hide my anxiety. Trey hadn't given me any reasons to be afraid of him, but that sort of command made alarm bells start blaring in my head.
“I’m busy,” I said.
“C’mon,” he replied, “you need to know where everything is.”
“I don’t care.”
“I got a couple horses all ready,” he continued like I wasn’t digging my heels in.
“I’m not going.”
