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  His big hand covered her entire torso, and the yellow skin against the brilliant pink of the newborns was yet another contrast. Sebastian, still staring at the child, lifted his hand and pressed it against my belly. His understanding went straight through me like a blade; how could I have ever doubted him?

  “We have to get her out of here,” I said. “She isn’t safe.”

  Sebastian nodded, bent and kissed the crook of my neck, giving me a nuzzle. I leaned into him, his body curling around both me and Momma’s little girl.

  A hand brushed up against my leg and Sebastian snarled at the one who dared to come too close. I jiggled the baby, putting my pinky finger in her mouth to give her something to suckle. She latched on and quieted down in my arms, in the shadow of Sebastian’s protection.

  A scuffle and a rattle of the gate turned my head. There stood Burns like an angel come from heaven to rescue the baby. “Supper Mara.” Was it that late already? I’d barely noticed the passage of time with Momma’s labour.

  “I have to give her to him,” I said, as much to convince myself as anyone else. Sebastian gave me a gentle push and I walked to Burns, whose jaw dropped open in surprise as I drew close.

  “Holy crap, the pregnant one didn’t eat her baby?”

  My head snapped up. “What do you mean? Was there another one?”

  Burns nodded, opening the gate. “Three weeks ago another of the women gave birth; I think it was that one there.” He pointed to a heavy-breasted brunette and I could see that she did indeed have some extra flesh around her middle, not much, but more than any of the others.

  “The baby came out, and before we could get in the cell she’d grabbed it and taken a bite out of it. We wrestled her to the ground and took the kid, but he didn’t survive.”

  “Well, you’ve got chance number two now.” I stepped close to him and tried to transfer the baby into his arms. He shook his head. “She won’t be any better off with us, Mara. Can’t you feed her?” He stared at me, his eyes dipping to my breasts with a blush. I stared back.

  “She won’t survive out here, I have nothing to wrap her in and I don’t know if I can feed her,” I whispered, horror filling my heart where hope had only moments before resided. Burns handed me the basket of food.

  “I’ll get you some blankets and some more food for you. But you can’t share it with the rest of them.” I nodded slowly as a lump rose in my throat. I’d helped to bring her into this world; I only hoped I hadn’t done her a disservice.

  “I’ll bring up Vincent too,” Burns said. “Maybe there’s something he can do to help.”

  “He won’t help me or her,” I said, my arms tightening around the little girl.

  Burns didn’t answer me, just slipped off his jacket, handed it to me, and then shut the gate. The baby startled awake at the slam of it and started to wail. The pack, hearing the newborn’s cries, rushed the fence, snarling and growling, reaching for her. I snapped, kicking and hitting, screaming at them to get away. They fell back from me and I threw the food on the ground.

  “There! You’re hungry, go ahead and eat,” I screamed at them. I ran across to the farthest point of the compound, holding the little girl close. A glance over my shoulder showed Momma still where we had left her. She glared at me and I glared back. “Bitch,” I muttered under my breath. A squirm in my arms and a nuzzle at my breast pulled my attention back to the child I held. I didn’t know if I had the milk to give her, but I had to try.

  Slipping her under my shirt not only protected her from the breeze, but I was able to hold her to my breast and attempt to get her to latch on. It wasn’t easy—she couldn’t seem to get it right—but after several tries she latched on and started to suck. I had to hope that my swollen breasts would be able to give her some nourishment in time, that my milk would start with her suckling. It was the only hope she had.

  “Love.”

  I looked up as Sebastian crouched down and slid over to me. I reached out for him with a free hand and pulled him in close. He whispered in my ear, “Love.” His voice was rough from disuse. He wrapped his arms around the both of us, sheltering us again; his large hands rubbed my back as he consoled me. Nothing happened, despite how she suckled; there was no milk yet for me to give her. She gave a quiet mewl then snuggled into my arms. The tears started then, dripping down my face. No sobbing or any more screaming, just the steady flow of pain escaping me. This could be our child in a few short months; we could be fighting off a Nevermore pack just to keep our baby with us.

  I stroked the light blond downy hair, still damp in patches. I wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing how close the pack was. But maybe if Sebastian claimed her too, maybe then she would be safe.

  A short time passed and there was a commotion at the gate. Sebastian stood and growled. I stood and saw that Burns had come back, Vincent in tow. I made my way over to them, the baby exhausted and asleep in my arms. I had no doubt the lack of nourishment was already affecting her little body.

  Burns opened the gate. “You can come out now.” He closed the gate behind me, and I was outside of the rifle range. I let out a sigh of relief. I didn’t realize until that moment how on edge I’d been, even with Sebastian watching over me.

  Vincent snorted. “This is what you brought me up here for?”

  With what looked like a casual flick of his hand, Vincent knocked Burns to the ground, stunning both Burns and I alike.

  “Now, give me the baby,” Vincent demanded, and held his hand out, like he wanted a piece of fruit placed in it. Certainly not how you’d offer to hold a child.

  “What are you going to do with her?” I asked, holding her tight to me, my heart racing.

  “I don’t have to answer to you woman. Now give it to me,” Vincent growled, again reaching for the little girl. I side stepped him, keeping just out of reach.

  Chills swept through me. “She’s human Vincent, she isn’t one of them. Look.” I tried to hold her so he could see the pink skin and the pale blue eyes that stared up at me.

  “It’ll turn, just like the rest of them, and I’m not feeding anymore monsters. Give it to me or I will take your Sebastian in its place,” Vincent snarled.

  I cradled the babe, my hand brushing against the package Burns had given me, the gun he thought I would need against Sebastian and the pack.

  “Burns. Hold the baby for me.” I handed the little girl to him before he could say no. He held her awkwardly and she squawked at the jiggling.

  With my back to Vincent, I slipped the gun out. A single slow breath in and I turned, with the gun coming up as I flicked the safety off. There was no other recourse now, at least not as far as I was concerned.

  Letting the breath out, I took aim and fired at Vincent before Burns saw what I was doing, before Vincent could do more than widen his eyes in surprise.

  The trigger was easy to pull; the recoil though was not so nice. I wasn’t ready for the kick, and it threw my arm up into the air, the bullet hitting Vincent in the throat. He fell over backwards, hands scrabbling at his neck, gurgled air hissing through the bullet-made tracheotomy.

  The baby wailed. Shaking, I dropped the gun and held my arms out to Burns. “Give her to me,” I said. Eyes seeming to fill his entire blood-drained face, he handed her over to me.

  “Mara, I . . .” He stumbled over the words, not even getting a full sentence out.

  “This is a dog eat dog world Burns. Vincent was going to kill her, and if not her, then Sebastian. I had the means to stop him,” I said, cradling her to my chest. I needed a name for her; I couldn’t just keep calling her the baby.

  My eyes refused to see the still twitching body in front of us, focusing solely on the child in my arms. I cooed to her, rocking her gently back and forth. I didn’t want to think about what had just happened. The previous two deaths I’d caused had been reflexes, accidents. This was nothing of the sort.

  “What are we going to do Mara?” Burns asked.

  I turned to him, frowning. “What do yo
u mean?”

  “About the body; we can’t just leave it here. If the other men find out you shot Vincent, they’ll kill you,” he said.

  I glanced over my shoulder to see the pack crowding at the gate, their eyes hungry, and their gazes not wavering off the warm, barely dead body of Vincent. I sought out Sebastian. He hung back, not looking at us or making eye contact with me. I swallowed hard. Twice now I’d stopped him from killing and yet I’d killed three men. Did it matter that I thought what I’d done was right? Did it make any difference in the end?

  “I’m putting the body in with the pack,” Burns said, picking up Vincent’s legs. “Can you keep them away from the door, keep them off me?”

  I nodded and opened the door, forcing the pack to make room for Burns and the body. I looked at where Vincent had died; a trail of blood following from there into the rifle range. “They’re going to know. They can follow the blood and see that he was shot outside,” I said, my voice monotone and strange, even to my own ears.

  Burns gave the body a last heave and the pack fell on it. As I turned to step out something snapped down on my calf, and I screamed as teeth sliced into my flesh.

  With a roar Sebastian leapt forward, smashing my assailant on the head, knocking him unconscious. I whimpered and put a hand to my leg, the bite an open gash. Burns stepped up and put a hand under my arm. Sebastian growled and tensed; I put a hand on his arm, holding the baby awkwardly. “It’s okay love. Burns is going to help me, that’s all.”

  Sebastian stepped back and the pack slipped in around him, stealing the body and dragging it to the back of the rifle range. Bastian didn’t move; he stared at me as Burns helped me out then shut the gate. “I’ll be back,” I said, and blew Sebastian a kiss. He nodded and sat down where he was, his back to the pack and their meal.

  14

  “We’ll tell them that one of the pack members jumped out, bit through Vincent’s throat, and then dragged him into the rifle range,” Burns said, as we slowly made our way to the bunker.

  “Will they believe that?” I asked.

  “Similar stuff has happened; you saw on the way here the guy that got dragged out of the truck, and those Nevermores are quick bastards,” he said.

  As we came up to the bunker Burns stopped and faced me. “Marks will be in charge now.”

  “That’s good though, isn’t it?” I frowned and tightened my arms around her, my leg throbbing in time with my heart as it sped up. “What?”

  “The kid’s mom—the woman was Marks’ ex-wife. He went back to find her once Vincent convinced him of a cure.”

  “You already told me that. Won’t he be happy that I saved his daughter?” I asked, rocking the little girl in my arms.

  “Marks wasn’t sure the baby was his.” I let out a groan. This was not going to be easy. Burns touched me on the shoulder. “How can you be sure the baby isn’t one of them—that she’s human?”

  I stared down at the bundle I held, wrapped in Burns’ jacket. Sound asleep, her body exhausted from lack of food and all the goings on, she looked like a perfect angel with her soft pink skin and downy blond hair. “I don’t think she is. Burns, there are documented cases of women infected with AID’s that don’t pass the disease on to their children. I think maybe something like that has happened here. Her skin is normal; she isn’t trying to eat us.” I smiled up at him, but he didn’t smile back.

  The bunker opened up and it was just our luck. Marks stepped out, his brown hair rumpled and his eyes rimmed in red as if he’d been crying. My heart softened; I knew the pain of losing all you held dear.

  “She’s alright, she’s human,” I said, limping towards him. He froze, his jaw trembling as he held out his arms. I placed her in them and she whimpered in her sleep.

  “She needs a name,” I said.

  Marks didn’t say anything at first, just stared at his daughter with an intensity that only a new father could produce. I saw emotions flicker across his face: love, sadness and a fierceness that could only be his desire to protect her. “I don’t know if she’s mine.”

  “She’s yours Marks. That is all there is to it,” I said. She needed him and I thought that he needed her just as much.

  “She looks like an angel,” He whispered. I smiled, and then grimaced as my leg spasmed.

  “I thought the same thing,” I said.

  “Seraphima. I think that would be a good name, it was my mother’s name,” Marks said, and went back down into the bunker, ignoring me and Burns, his attention solely on his little angel.

  “He didn’t even ask about Vincent,” I said, surprise filtering through me. “Wouldn’t they want to know where he is? Isn’t he supposed to be the leader here?”

  Burns shrugged. “We rarely ask questions when someone doesn’t come back. The answer is always the same as to how they died.”

  He helped me down into the bunker and we made our way to a brightly lit area that I hadn’t been in previously. It was clean with white walls and gleaming surfaces that highlighted the medical tools spread about.

  “I don’t know much about stitching wounds,” Burns said, as he helped me onto a chair. “But I think we should clean it and wrap it tight.”

  I nodded and stared around the room, taking in the difference between here and the rest of the gloomy bunker. Burns noticed me looking and answered my unasked question as he prepared a tray of antiseptics and wraps.

  “It’s where Vincent worked on training the Nevermores. Torturing them for the most part, like you said.”

  I shivered. “Gives this place a whole new feeling when you know that.”

  It didn’t take long for Burns to clean and wrap my leg up. Gritting my teeth through the worst of it (mostly the iodine), my body relaxed as he finished up the last layer. Burns stood and helped me to my feet.

  “Thanks,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. I was exhausted, the mental and physical strain taking its toll on me.

  We turned as Marks stepped into the room, Seraphima wrapped in a pink blanket from God only knows where.

  “Mara, I need you to feed her, she isn’t taking anything from me,” he said, handing her over to me along with a bottle, also from God only knows where. I cradled her in my arms and stared down at her sweet little face, which was fading from the healthy pink of a newborn to a pale yellow. I sucked in a breath of air and looked up to see the concern on Marks’ face.

  Moving swiftly, I stripped her of her coverings and laid her out on one of the tables. Her body was indeed yellowing, but there was no hint of a marking like the broom flower, as the Nevermores carried.

  “I think she’s jaundiced,” I said. Looking up I caught Marks’ eyes. “I don’t know what to do about it, but it’s fatal if it isn’t treated.”

  I wrapped Seraphima back up and held her tight, whispering to her. Marks stepped forward, everything about him vibrating with intensity. “Mara, I don’t know how to help her, please do something.”

  “I’m not a doctor, or even a nurse,” I snapped, fear coursing through me. “Isn’t there anyone who has some medical training?”

  Both men went very still and I looked from one to the other. “What? Is there someone else?”

  Burns nodded slowly. “Donavan, he’s a doctor. But he’s crazy, gone over the deep edge when his wife took the Nevermore shot.”

  “I’m not willing to take the chance that he would hurt her,” Marks growled.

  “If he’s her only hope, then what? You just watch her die?” I said, my anger growing. “Do you have any idea what I would do to see my own child saved? What I would give up, who I would beg?” I stepped towards him, Seraphima’s slow breathing and her very, very deep sleep disconcerting. She should have been screaming bloody blue murder for food, something she’d not yet had since she’d been born.

  “I’d do anything to save her,” Marks snapped.

  “Then talk with Donavan, beg him if you have to,” I said. “I don’t think she’s got much time, she’s too young and weak to fight t
his off.” My throat closed at what I was saying, and I tucked my head down against Seraphima’s to hide the tears.

  Footsteps stomped away and when I looked up it was just me and Burns again.

  “He’ll do right by her. This baby is all he’s got left,” Burns said.

  I nodded and crooned to the bundle in my arms. I could only hope Burns was right.

  15

  The next two days were hell. I’d barely slept, hardly eaten, couldn’t do anything but hold Seraphima and pray she could fight this off. Worse, Donavan wouldn’t parlay with Marks, no matter that a child’s life hung in the balance. Apparently, Donavan still believed that Vincent was alive, and refused to help us on those grounds alone.

  We tried to feed Seraphima evaporated milk, water, and even a few mouthfuls of a box of baby formula one of the men found, but nothing stayed down. I begged God to let her live, to spare her life, to give us hope through her that all would be well.

  Marks ranted and raved at Donavan, the world, and God, his shouts and anger not once disturbing the baby. I wanted to rant with him, but I knew it wouldn’t help her.

  The morning of the third day I startled awake, my arms numb from holding Seraphima all night long. I jiggled her softly and her head rolled. I sucked in a gasp of air. “Oh please, no,” I whispered, my fingertips brushing against her cold skin.

  The door creaked open and Marks stepped in, his uniform rumpled, his eyes tired and drawn. I couldn’t say the words, I couldn’t tell him, but my tears were enough.

  He knelt in front of me and I slipped Seraphima into his arms as if she was still alive and he cradled her the same way.

  “I’m so sorry baby girl,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.” His shoulders began to shake and I did the only thing I could. I bent forward and wrapped my arms around him and held him as he grieved for his daughter.

  We cried for I don’t know how long, till the tears dried and the shudders racking us subsided.

  “We need to bury her,” Marks said, staring up into my face from only inches away. I blinked and took a deep breath. “Deep, it has to be deep.” We both knew that a shallow grave would be quickly unearthed by one type of animal or another.