Page 13 of Vile Bastards
The water level drops to my knees, my ankles … and then I’m on land and pulling the girl’s comatose body through the thick grass and into a field just off the side of the road. The very first thing I do is drop to my knees and check to see if she’s breathing.
She’s not.
Panic spikes through me, but I force myself to concentrate. Just because she isn’t breathing, that doesn’t necessarily mean she’s dead. I do my best to check her pulse, but I’m in as much trouble as she is. I’m quite literally freezing to death; my hands are numb, and I can’t tell if Scarlett has a pulse or not.
I allow myself one, small scream of frustration, and then I start CPR. It’s a gargantuan effort on my part, mammoth, monumental. I wouldn’t just put my mouth on anyone else’s filthy lips—not even to save their life. This is a gift I wouldn’t bestow on a single other living human being. If my parents were alive, I’d breathe for them, but that’s the extent of my compassion.
This is futile, Alexei. It’s over. It’s fucking over.
Scarlett is cold, motionless, silent.
Scarlett is dead.
There’s no hope of anyone finding us here. Even if I continue to perform CPR—which I am—how long can I keep it up? Already, I’m struggling to find my own breaths let alone lend them to her. I need to get her out of that wet dress, that beautiful white dress with the cherries all over it.
Oh, Miss Force.
She’s beautiful, even like this, clinically dead. Her skin is tinged silver from the moonlight, her pouty mouth blue. The dress is far too sweet for someone as violent and wild as her, but asleep like this? One might almost believe she was a princess.
And she might’ve been mine. My princess. My wild, barbarian princess.
No matter how my mind tries to trick me later, how my idiosyncrasies swear up and down that fucking her was a mistake, I know it wasn’t. It was the only break of sunshine through the clouds of my life, the only glimmer of a promising future I’ve had since my mother died.
I continue with the chest compressions and the rescue breaths, my mind frantically searching through options. If I don’t get her warmed up, she will die. If I don’t continue with CPR, she will die.
Or rather, she will stay dead.
My teeth are chattering so hard that I almost don’t hear the footsteps until it’s too late. My head snaps up, and I catch sight of a flashlight in the gloomy darkness.
“Scarlett?” It’s Widow’s voice.
I don’t answer him. I don’t have the energy to offer Scarlett my breath and talk at the same time. Instead, I continue what I’m doing and then there they are. Bohnes crouches down beside us, and I catch sight of his face when Ash Kelly’s flashlight sweeps over his features.
Complete and total devastation.
“Oh, my heart …” he murmurs, voice cracking. In those three words, I can see how deeply dedicated to this woman he is. But he hasn’t had to compete against me yet.
What a horrid thought.
The girl may very well be dead.
I blame the blip in brain activity on the fact that I’m having trouble remembering where we are or how we ever ended up here in the first place. Hands land on my shoulders and shove me aside.
There’s no energy in me to resist. I end up sprawled in the mud, panting for breath as Widow takes over, offering Scarlett much better care than I was able to. He continues the chest compressions and the breaths as Bohnes slips out of his trench coat and lays it across Scarlett’s body.
“We need to move her. Now.” Bohnes pauses to look across the river, and I see a slow sweep of headlights. Either the family is still looking for us, or it’s the mayor’s goons.
Based on what I heard via that last phone call, I’m not so sure that they are working together. I’m also not particularly certain if they’re here to kill me or not.
“Help me lift her and then we run,” Bohnes tells Widow, and the other man prepares to do just that. “You, keep the flashlight out.” He barks that order at Ash, and then glances very briefly in my direction.
There’s panic etched into his eyes, but he does an admirable job of hiding it.
“What about him?” Ash asks, panting heavily, staring at Scarlett as if he’s considering following her to the grave. “The Grove boy?”
“Leave him.” Bohnes and Widow heft Scarlett up in their arms, and I relax into the mud, finally allowing my eyes to slide closed. If there’s anything more that can be done for her, they’ll do it.
I’m half-asleep before they take their first steps back in the direction of the road. Hypothermia sets in, and I accept death’s waiting arms with a final sigh of relief. At the very least, I was able to give Miss Force a chance.
