Chapter 29: Alexis & Drake

DRAKE

Drake ripped off Lew’s sheet, then took hold of his ankles while his medical assistant took his shoulders. “Onto the bed. One, two, three…” They heaved him onto it.

In the corner of his eye, Drake glimpsed the Wriling as it thrashed around in the capsule. Quickly, he went over and locked the capsule before it could escape. Though Quinton had told them that the creatures would likely die once torn from their hosts, his assurance was not enough to completely drive away Drake’s fear.

~Likely~ wasn’t good enough.

He then rushed back to Lew. He was very pale, with deep hollows in his cheeks and his eyes sunken in. He could barely keep them open.

He was so weak he could hardly lift his arm. His vitals were holding, though his pulse was too high and his blood pressure a little too low for comfort.

“He is severely dehydrated—let’s get some fluid and electrolytes into him.” Kneeling beside the bed, the medic pierced Lew’s vein.

Drake released a breath. So far all their men were alive. Some were requiring rapid intervention, but they were all improving, though he would have to assess them thoroughly once they’d recovered to determine any muscle wastage or neurological damage.

They hadn’t been infiltrated for ~too~ long. He could only hope for the best.

“We need some help over here!” came a cry.

Drake rushed over, his heart thudding in his throat.

Miktar was pale, his yellow eyes dark, his mouth held into a stiff frown as he applied electrodes to Halo’s chest. ~Halo~. It wasn’t a complete surprise. Though powerful and athletic, he was older than the rest.

The Wriling was flopping around in the closed capsule. Halo’s Rictorian with the gray hair was screaming as she was dragged away.

“Keep her close!” Drake called. “If Halo needed resuscitation, then so would she.”

Drake helped Miktar prepare the necessary drugs and equipment. Halo’s usually deeply tanned skin was deathly white, his lips blue. There were dark shadows around his eyes.

His cheeks were so sunken in he looked skeletal. Drake could even see the bones in his neck.

His heart rate was erratic, his blood pressure fluctuating. He was at the very least in shock. At worst—dying.

“Come on, Halo,” Drake muttered.

Drake looked over at the Rictorian. She was growing quiet, standing slumped in the medic’s arms.

“Lie her down on the next bed,” Drake told him. “Prepare her for possible resuscitation.”

Drake’s heart sank. Her eyes were drifting shut. Her face was gray. He turned with a start at the sound of Halo’s monitor alarming. He was in ventricular fibrillation.

“Shock him!”

Miktar tapped at his monitor. Halo jerked in the bed with a grunt.

“Again!”

He jerked again. On the bed beside him, his bonded Rictorian was only in a slightly better state. Her heart was still beating, but she looked white and she was unconscious.

She was already stuck with electrodes, her breasts open to the room. Miktar had moved over to her and was watching her carefully. If one died, the other would. It was paramount that they both lived.

They shocked him a third time.

Drake felt a wave of relief. “Sinus rhythm,” he said. Halo was breathing on his own again, though he remained white and his blood pressure was too low.

As for the Rictorian—there was color in her cheeks. She opened her eyes.

Drake gazed down at Halo, wondering so many things. What would have happened if the Rictorian had only ingested two of Halo’s samples? Would he have died?

They should have taken more precautions. ~No one has died~, he reminded himself.

Not yet.

Fluid was pumping into Halo’s veins. Drake stood watching for some time before he was satisfied he would live. He hadn’t yet woken, and they took the opportunity to insert a feeding tube.

Drake went over to the Rictorian. She was awake, her gray eyes gazing up at him.

“You’re going to be all right,” he told her.

She didn’t move. She didn’t respond. He covered her exposed chest with a sheet.

He left her to check on the others.

ALEXIS

“Try to calm down!” Alexis cried.

The shouting and screaming continued. There were ~so~ many women, and they were all distressed. Some were very vocal, while others were quietly crying.

One woman was on the floor with her head on her arms. The rest were standing, white-faced and shaken, their eyes gleaming with hungry intensity as they stared at the door.

All but one woman had been removed from the infirmary. They all seemed well. One medic stood with Alexis, keeping an eye on them as they waited out in the corridor.

The medical team needed the room to treat the Zibons—and unfortunately, the women had to be patient.

Somehow.

At least Alexis wasn’t alone. Brenda was with her, but she was no better at calming the situation than she was. She looked tense, fearful, and uncertain.

They both knew what it felt like to bond—and yet they knew nothing at all. The experience was different for everyone.

Alexis raised her hands. “I know how you’re feeling right now, but rest assured, you will see your men shortly.”

It was kind of a fib. She didn’t really know how long it would take.

It would have been best to take them to their allotted rooms, but Drake and Miktar wanted to keep them close. There was no telling how strong their bonds were, and it was safer to keep them together.

So, Alexis waited.

She watched the women, studying them. They were all fairly young and clearly from all around the world. Many probably didn’t speak English. Not that it mattered now that they were bonded.

Through their bonds, the Zibon language would become instinctive.

One woman was sitting on the floor looking up at her. Her forehead was creased with worry, her eyes filled with questions. Alexis went over.

“My mother, where is she?”

“Your mother?” Alexis looked toward the infirmary door.

“Something’s wrong with her, isn’t there? They’ve done something to her.”

“I’m not sure.”

The woman looked down into her lap. A tear dripped into it.

Alexis stepped back, chewing on her lip. Folding her arms, she leaned against the wall with a sigh, guilt gnawing a deep hole in her gut. It was the right thing to do, she reminded herself. They had no choice. But looking at these women now, it was hard to believe.

Brenda came over, frowning and looking pale. “Are you okay?”

“Not really, no. We’ve done something terrible,” Alexis said.

Brenda looked over the crowd of women. It was starting to quiet down now. Most were sitting on the floor.

“I know what you mean,” Brenda said. “But there is no good answer to this.”

Alexis raised her eyebrows.

“You think so?” she said.

She looked down at the woman who’d asked about her mother. What life had she been leading? Did she have aspirations and ambitions? If she did—they were gone now.

Alexis and Brenda turned when the infirmary door suddenly pulled open. It was Drake. He was ~so~ tired. Alexis could feel it like an ache in her shoulders.

He gave her a small, quivering smile. “They can come in.”

Alexis watched as the women rushed over to their allotted aliens. Some threw themselves over them. Others sat beside them, taking their hands. A few stood at their bedsides not knowing what to do, confusion and fear etched on their faces.

The men were hardly moving. A few were awake and looking up at their mates with wide yellow eyes. One of them now had pale eyes.

It was much quieter. Much less frantic. The medical team was wandering in between them, checking monitors and vitals. Looking upon the bed-ridden, Alexis felt some of her guilt drain away.

To lose these men would have been a terrible, heartbreaking waste. It was worth it. It was ~worth~ it.

She turned at a cry. Immediately, she recognized the woman who had asked about her mother. She was standing before a bed further down the room.

Alexis went over but kept her distance. The woman kept raking her fingers through her long dark hair as she gazed down upon a figure in one of the beds.

It was a woman, undoubtedly the mother she’d been referring to, her long gray hair splayed across her pillow. Her eyes were closed, her arms limp by her sides.

On a bed beside her was obviously her Zibon mate. He was older, like she was, with a gray beard and wrinkles around his eyes and mouth, though still striking to look at. Both were breathing slowly and deeply.

The woman standing by the bed glared at Alexis.

“She won’t wake up. What have they done? What’s happened to her?”

Alexis could only gaze back, not knowing where to begin.