I clean her up with some wet paper towels, then use the gauze pads to stanch the bleeding. Since I’m standing right behind her she can’t see robohand, but its whirring sound seems louder than normal, and bad. I use it as little as possible, ripping open the packaging for the butterfly bandages and gauze with my teeth.
As I treat the cuts, a whole other part of my mind is noticing unrelated things, like the white lace peeking above the waistline of her jeans. The goose bumps on her skin and all the ways her body curves. The clean, flowery smell of her hair makes my heart bang against my ribs.
I’ll be revisiting these details at a later time, no doubt. And often.
When I apply the antiseptic, Daryn drops her head and laughs a shaky laugh. “Um, you said five? It hurts like a ten.”
“Five was a preliminary number until I got a better look. This is a seven point five—that’s an official diagnosis.” In several spots the cuts graze muscle. I’d be howling if I were in her place. I’d be crawling up the walls and begging to be put out of my misery. “But the good news is you won’t need stitches if you can keep these bandages on.”
“I promise I won’t rip them off.” I know she’s smiling but I keep my head down. Keep on task. “Can I ask you something? How do you work with Cordero? She’s so pushy.”
“She’s not that bad. She can be bullheaded but her heart’s in the right place. I know she screwed up with Shadow but I think she feels bad.”
“How can you tell? Did she appoint someone on the team to feel feelings for her?”
“Nah. Some people just have a hard time saying they’re sorry. They show it through their actions.”
“They showpologize?”
“Exactly.”
“I think I know someone like that.”
“Oh, definitely. Marcus is the worst. He’ll eat his shoes before he apologizes.”
Daryn laughs. “Weird how I don’t remember that about him at all.” She twists her hair over her shoulder, doing this spiral thing I remember, and shifts her weight. “You and I have made some real memories in bathrooms.”
I almost fumble the butterfly bandage in my hand.
She’s bringing this up?
Last time we were in a bathroom together it was in Rome and we kissed. A lot. First and only time that happened. I have no idea why she’s mentioning it and I don’t want to know.
“That’s right,” I say, like I’d forgotten about it. “Okay. All done.” I wad up the trash and toss it.
She turns to me and I shove my hand into my pocket. This hangup I have with her and my prosthetic is getting old. I’m not self-conscious about it. I wasn’t, even when I first got it.
Daryn arches her back, testing out my patch job. “Thank you.” Her shirt’s still pulled up and my self-control doesn’t kick in fast enough to stop me from sneaking a glance. Her stomach is bare and smooth. Amazing. Just … amazing. “It hurts more, which I think is a good sign?”
Sign. Hurts. Wound—her wound. “It’ll feel better in a couple of hours. I’ll check it later and change the dressing.”
“That sounds good. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Did I just say “you’re welcome” for something I haven’t done yet? “You may want to change into a clean shirt.”
Her mouth lifts on one side. “I’ll do that after you leave.”
Don’t let me stop you. Go right ahead. “Okay.”
I catch a glimpse of my reflection and want to bang my head against the mirror. I look insane. Partly like I want to jump her and partly like I’m watching the most incredible sunset I’ve ever seen. Time to get this under control. “Daryn, we need to be able to work together. For Bastian’s sake. We have to be professional. Civil. Let bygones be bygones.”
“Definitely.” She nods. Frowns. “Professional and civil. Of course.”
“Good.” With that settled, I get myself out of there.
Apart from sounding like a moron a few times, I handled that much better than yesterday. Didn’t yell or make stupid accusations. Did everything I planned to do, so. Successful mission.
Outside, Marcus runs a hand down his jaw. “Blake, man.” He shakes his head.
“What?” I look from him to Jode. “What?”
Jode laughs his psycho-kid laugh, a short one like a hiccup. “You’re a bloody idiot.”
*
Because we have to go around some weather our flight lasts slightly longer than it should, an hour and twenty minutes. We land on an airstrip on a playa, a wide stretch of paper-flat desert framed by low mountains. As we taxi I can see our base—a series of trailers, semis, and vans. A modular building is going up at the center. A crew lifts huge light panels that flash in the sun, like ants carrying around leaves. Then I see the plane sitting on the opposite end of the runway.
Shadow is in there.
A few seats over, Daryn’s watching it too, barely blinking.
The MI Trio are waiting for me as I deplane.
Soraya hands me a radio. “Just holler if you need anything.”
“Thanks.” I slide it into my pocket. A cool breeze blows past, carrying a slight scent of sulfur.
“Or push the button and tell us what you need,” Ben says. “That thing’s got a mile range. The whole point is you shouldn’t have to holler!” He laughs way too much, his shoulders shaking like he’s working a jackhammer.
“We’re really tired,” Sophia says.
Soraya nods. “Major sleep debt.”
I thank them and jog to catch up to Marcus, Daryn, and Jode, who are already halfway to the other plane.
Daryn sees me coming and frowns. “Where’s everyone else going?”
“Away,” Jode says. “To make it easier for Shadow.”
She squints up at Marcus. “You guys arranged this?”
“G did while you were gettin’ packed.”
“We all did.” I tip my head at the guys. “They came with me to talk to Cordero.”
Jode shrugs. “But it was your idea. Marcus and I simply stood there. You did all the talking.”
“That’s right. We just backed you up.” Marcus nods a few times.
I telepathically inform them that I’ll be kicking their asses as soon as the opportunity arises. “Shadow will have a stable by your RV,” I tell Daryn. “It’s being set up on the edge of camp opposite the generators, so hopefully it’ll be quieter. It might not help much, but … maybe it’ll help.”
She doesn’t say anything. I wonder if she’s thinking, Showpology?
I also wonder if it’s working and if I’m hitting the bar we’ve set for professional, civil conduct.
As we near the ramp I remember Shadow and Bas on the plane we took to Rome last fall. Both of them tall and spindly. Bas wearing the goofy grin he always got around his mare, and saying, You can lead a horse to Rome, Gideon. But you can’t make it drink every day. So random. I don’t know why Bas made me laugh so much. He just surprised me all the time.
Bas and Shadow were the first to bond. He was always a few steps ahead of the rest of us without even trying. Things just come easily to Bas, like he’s ad-libbing through life, no problem. That’s how I know he’s still alive. Bas is the least lethal one of us, but he’s the real survivor.