Chapter 22: Pay in Blood, Pt. 1

Lily woke with a jolt.

The tiny room was whitewashed and neat. She lay in a narrow cot, under a thin woven blanket. A quick examination showed that her injuries had been bandaged and she had been dressed in clean, unfamiliar clothes.

She winced as she swung her legs out of bed and hunted for her boots. They were gone; a bad sign. The door was unlocked, though, and she hobbled stiffly into the corridor.

A cool wind blew in through an open window, carrying the scent of fresh hay and deep water, erasing the falsely cheerful hospital odor.

The door at the very end of the long hall was cracked open. Lily heard a female voice speaking softly on the other side, words inaudible. A baritone rumble answered, and the woman laughed. She pushed the door open carefully, sure she had the wrong room.

Two of the three occupants looked up: Luke, and a severely pretty young woman with auburn hair hanging down her back in a thick braid. In the bed…

Michael’s chest rose and fell visibly beneath the quilt. He looked pale and worn, but he was alive. He slept soundly. His arm and torso were swathed in a neat white dressing.

Lily couldn’t feel her legs. “Is he ok?”

“Burnett says he’s stable. I'm Brenna, by the way. You must be Lily." The woman stood and held out her hand, and Lily shook it distractedly. She had calluses and a steady grip. "He asked for you, but I told him you were resting."

He'd looked for her. She hadn't been there. Lily dragged a chair around to the head of the bed and sank onto it. "How long has it been?”

"About a day." Luke stood, yawning. “I need to get some rest.”

"Sure. I’ll see you later.”

When the door shut, Brenna turned back to Lily with an eager smile. "You're the most interesting thing that's happened here since Cal's ewe dropped a two-headed lamb." She blushed bright red. "I mean, it's awful that you're both hurt, but…"

To her surprise, Lily felt a smile inching onto her face. “What are people saying?”

"Rumors, mostly. Where you came from, whether you're the reason we saw all that black smoke a few days back…" Brenna looked at Lily expectantly.

Lily looked right back.

Then it hit her. "Oh, we just…we came from the east.”

“The farthest east I’ve ever been was Three Deer,” Brenna sighed. “I’m guessing you mean further than that.”

Lily smoothed down the blanket over Michael's uninjured side. He made a small sound and shifted towards her. “About as far east as you can go.”

The other woman pressed her knuckles into her cheeks, eyes wide and bright.

“You have to tell me everything! I mean—” She blushed. “Sorry, it’s none of my business. And you’re hurt, and exhausted, and…like I said, nothing interesting happens here. Ever."

Another small, involuntary smile made Lily’s face itch. “Where is 'here’?”

"You're in Laketown. Lucky for you two, all the caravans from Seattle use our pass, and we still had medicine off the last one."

Brenna grinned, and again Lily found herself smiling back.

It didn't last. "What's this going to cost? The medicine. All this."

Everything had a price, but they had nothing worth trading. Not even a rifle; she hadn't been able to carry it and Michael, but she should've tried.

"Burnett will know." Brenna scooped up a woven basket brimming with yarn and a half-finished sweater. “I guess I should leave you two alone. See you tomorrow!"

Lily mumbled confused thanks as Brenna left in a whirlwind of red hair and grey skirts.

Quiet settled around and over her. Michael's breath hitched and faltered, and Lily felt her heart do the same. She was reminded again of that first night after she found him in the snow; he'd lived then, when she hadn't cared. He'd live now that she did.

"We'll be all right," she said. "We have to be.”

—

When Burnett came in with the setting sun and a wooden tray, Lily posed the question of payment again.

“Focus on healing,” the doctor said matter-of-factly, arranging the items on her tray and peeling back the blankets. "You were well on your way to sepsis. How do you feel?”

Lily realized she was in pain; it hit her like a slap to the face. “I’m fine. What about Michael?”

“He should be dead.” Burnett worked with deft fingers, changing dressings and bandages. Michael frowned but didn’t wake. “I can’t explain it. He’s past the worst of it now, but I hope this isn’t his dominant hand.”

It was. Bandages wrapped his torso to the waist, and covered that arm from shoulder to knuckles. The last three fingers were completely cocooned. Lily swallowed. “He heals fast.”

“I noticed.” Burnett washed her hands in a basin in the corner. “I think he has a bullet in his abdomen. Do you know anything about that?”

Lily dragged her hands down her face. No exit wound when she found him. “He got shot, but I didn’t…do you think it’s hurting him?”

“Hard to say. He’s been shot a few times,” Burnett remarked. “Any one of them should have been fatal. This should have been fatal. Tell me what you did.”

Hesitantly, Lily detailed the steps she'd taken. When she mentioned how they were injured Burnett just nodded, unfazed. “That was quick thinking. Do you have formal training?”

Lily remembered a man dying on the floor, a victim of her ignorance. “Not enough to help.”

“You saved his life,” Burnett said. “I’d say that’s enough.”

Lily had also gotten him hurt in the first place. Those things cancelled each other out, leaving her with nothing.

No, not nothing. Michael slept peacefully. When she took his good hand his fingers folded automatically around hers. That was something.

Burnett handed over a packets containing three rough white pills, and set an earthenware mug on the bedside table. "This tincture will help manage the fever. If he can sit up, he should drink it. These are painkillers. He can take all three.”

Lily nodded, all her relief and gratitude piling up at the back of her throat. Was she finally going to cry? No. It just stuck there.

Burnett paused halfway out the door. "The world has enough killers, but it can always use another healer. I would be open to teaching you.”

Thoughts of resting in this quiet, peaceful place were so sweet they made Lily’s teeth ache, but the longer she stayed the more chance there was of someone finding out that it was too late, that she was already one of the killers.

“Thank you,” she said. “But we have to keep going.”

—

An unremembered dream woke Lily dry-mouthed and sweating, still in the chair. The light was thin and cold. She rolled her shoulders, feeling the little bones in her back and neck pop audibly into place. Her injured side felt hot and tight.

Michael was dreaming too; judging by his expression it wasn't a good one. She took his unbandaged hand and ran her thumb over the small, raised scars on his knuckles.

It felt like his fever had broken; she imagined laying her palm against his forehead to check. It would be easy.

“I couldn’t find you,” Michael sighed. His eyes were half open.

A fist clamped down around Lily’s heart. How long had he been awake? She dropped his hand like it was still burning. “I didn’t go far. Are you ok?”

Michael looked around the room like he'd never seen it before. "I don't remember coming here."

"Well," Lily said, trying for lightness. "You were dead."

Her voice broke on the last word. She hated it, and she hated that he'd noticed.

"The healer left something for the pain," she continued, after clearing her throat a few times. "Those. On the table. In the bag."

"I'm fine."

"You should--"

“I don’t want it.”

Lily pressed the balls of her thumbs together until the skin around her nails turned white. Neither of them said anything else.

Outside, the hospital was waking up. Brisk footsteps passed by in the hall. Someone called out indistinctly and laughed. Then the door flew open, and a familiar fiery head popped into the opening.

Brenna's eyes widened. “Oh, you’re alive! And awake! Do you remember me?”

“No,” Michael said. He looked less than enthused.

Thankfully, Brenna didn't seem to notice. She handed over a covered basket and launched into a flurry of bright chatter.

The basket held hard-cooked eggs, crumbly cheese and warm flatbread, roasted root vegetables, and a container of some kind of broth. Lily’s stomach growled audibly.

“We can’t pay for this,” she said, closing the lid.

“Oh. Right.” Brenna unwound her green woolen scarf. “The Mayor wants to see you.”

Of course he did. They’d barged into town, disrupted work, used up medical resources…he was going to ask for payment.

She wasn’t hungry anymore.

Brenna leaned in, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “He’s not happy that Luke brought you here, but we convinced him you were harmless.”

“Thanks,” Lily mumbled, caught off guard by Brenna’s openness. “Is Luke in trouble?”

Brenna snorted. “The mayor’s his father. He doesn’t approve of anything Luke does, including me.” She broke down in giggles at Michael’s expression, adding, “You’ll be fine, I promise. Eat.”

She stayed and chatted while they ate, leaving under protest when one of the nurses told her that Michael needed peace and quiet. The nurse tried giving Lily the same spiel, but Lily didn’t move, staring the woman down as she changed Michael’s bandages.

“I’m coming with you,” Michael said, as soon as they were alone.

Lily propped her feet up on the bed. “If you can walk to that door by yourself.”

He set his jaw, raising himself to a sitting position before his arm gave out and he slumped back with a groan.

“Could be a trap,” he managed, face white with pain.

“Could be,” Lily agreed. “If they were gonna hurt us, though, why go through all this trouble?” She waved her hand at his freshly bandaged side.

In the end it didn’t matter whether Michael could get out of bed or not. A runner came with a summons from the Mayor, requesting to speak with Lily alone.

--

Brenna caught up with Lily outside, elbowing past the escort to walk next to her.

“He’s very serious,” she said breathlessly, twisting her long hair into a braid. “Good thing Luke takes after his mother.”

The mayor’s house was tall and wide, with a sloping porch and flaking red paint on the front door. Empty sockets for electric lights told her it was pre-Collapse.

Inside, men smoked by the fire and quietly conversed. Someone was cooking in a kitchen toward the back, obscured by a curtain embroidered with faded blue flowers.

Lily’s stomach churned. She stumbled over the edge of a woven rug.

“Through here,” her escort said.

Brenna flopped down on a fat chair by the fireplace, kicking her feet up on the low table. The conversation faltered.

“Someday this’ll be my house,” she said brightly. “Don’t ash on my rug.”

The messenger knocked on a door just to the right of the entrance.

“I’ll be right here,” Brenna said in an exaggerated whisper. “Good luck!”

Lily ignored a stab of panic as she was ushered in, straightening her back and marching forward. She had faced worse things.

The man behind the desk in the bare little room looked nothing like Luke. He was fair-skinned, white-bearded, no smile to be seen among the seams of his weathered face.

“They tell me you’re Lily.” His quiet voice reached every corner. His head almost touched the slanted ceiling.

“Yes. Sir.” The honorific was a bit of a question, but Mayor Abbott settled back in his chair. Lily wondered if she’d passed a test.

He gestured to a stool in front of his desk. “There are many rumors surrounding your arrival to my town.”

“I’m sure,” Lily said, in what she hoped was a diplomatic tone.

“I prefer the truth to rumors.” The mayor’s voice sharpened. “Where did you come from and why are you here.”

“We came from the east.” Lily shifted on her stool. “We walked across the Wasteland looking for a safe place. Where the bombs never fell. Do you—”

“I’ll ask the questions.” His volume didn’t change, but his voice grew a few degrees colder. “Are you Coalition?”

“No,” she stammered, dismayed. They were here. They had to be, for this man to say the word with such hatred. “They destroyed everything we cared about. We ran.”

A little of the tightness around Abbott’s mouth eased, and he nodded. It almost looked like empathy. “We saw black smoke in the east about a week ago. Was that you?”

“It was. Sir. We found an abandoned base and tripped some security measure from before, but it’s finished now.” Unless there were more Coalition machines hidden off in the trees. “We don't want any trouble.”

Abbott still didn’t smile, but the harshness was gone. “Neither do I. You and your friend received extensive medical care. Our resources are limited, we can’t offer this freely.”

There was no point in pretense. “I don’t know how to repay you. We don’t have anything to trade.”

“You always have something to trade,” the mayor began, and Lily's stomach dropped like a stone until he added, “If you have a pair of hands and the willingness to use them.”

An idea began to formulate. “What if I could get you medicine? Maybe weapons, too.”

“If you could,” he stressed the ‘if’, “Then that would be more than adequate.”

Lily wondered what would happen if they arrived at Sierra Basse and found that the entirety of it had collapsed.

“Lend me a wagon,” she said, “and I’ll settle my debt.”