Ander - Part 6: Subchapter 149
149
"Get up! Get the hell up!"
The world came back in fits and starts; little pieces of sensory input that didn't make a whole lot of sense at first, conflicting messages that made her wonder if anything was real or if she was back in that horrid place with the dripping light, or maybe some kind of fusion between the two.
Heat, and a dull throbbing in her temple. Something wet against the side of her face. Hard, unforgiving ground beneath her body. Shouts and screams and some kind of crackling close by. The smell of smoke.
Layla...? Layla, where are you?
They need you, Mother. They all need you...
Smiling... for her?
A sharp pain in her right index finger, like a cut. The pungent smell of rubbing alcohol.
Did I... do it right?
I couldn't have done it better myself.
Bethany opened her eyes, and the first thing that materialized out of the blurry mess of smoke and orange light was her own hand lying sprawled beside her head, and the thin white bandage around her finger, the one Layla had so carefully wrapped.
That girl... always smiling... It's because I'm so weak... because I don't have enough strength...
They need you...
Bethany blinked the harsh sting of smoke out of her eyes, and in the brief moment of darkness behind her closed eyelids, she once again saw herself struggling with a needle and thread, jabbing them together over and over again and failing each time, even while a Wolf lay dying at her feet, and all because she couldn't stop thinking about Kiana, the wayward daughter she loved so much, gone missing, out in the cold somewhere, perhaps scared for her life...
She blinked again, and this time she saw her other daughter, Layla. Such a good girl. Such a kind girl. But most of all, such a perceptive girl. Underneath that cheerful exterior, she had a way of knowing exactly what was going on with everyone around her. Even perfect strangers were completely open to her most of the time. What did that girl see when she cast those perceptive eyes of hers upon her own mother? A vixen who could take charge of any situation and work hard to make everything all right in the end? Or a blubbering old coot who was so worried she couldn't even focus on the ones right in front of her, the ones who desperately needed her help? Someone so caught up in her own visions of disaster that she couldn't even thread a needle properly?
No more.
Bethany balled her hand into a fist, and the sharp stab of pain in her finger was exactly what she needed. The fog of her dream solidified into a haze of smoke, slowly crawling along the ground. The frantic whispers turned into real voices - screams of panic and desperation. The vague sense of pain around her head concentrated itself into a single, throbbing ball on her left temple. Annoying and slightly dizzying, but manageable.
Bethany gritted her teeth and pushed herself up on one elbow, blinking her watery eyes to see through the gathering smoke.
There was a massive tree going right through the centre of her medical tent. Flames were sprouting up from the branches like infernal blooms, sending a wall of smoke up through a tear in the ceiling. The walls had gone all soft and saggy and were billowing against the wind like poorly tied sails. It would only be a matter of time before everything went up in flames.
"Move! In the name of the Cora, get out of the way!"
Bethany wiped a sooty hand across her eyes and blinked at the strange lumps of shadows until they came into focus.
There was a crowd of Wolves and Foxes all piled up against each other, pushing and shoving, trying to force their way through the exit.
The fools, they'll all die like that...
Bethany began to get up and nearly bonked her head on a thick, black branch jutting over the aisle. One look at the smear of blood and the loose strands of hair caught in the bark was more than enough to tell her why she was suffering such a splitting headache. She was lucky it had stopped there instead of crushing her skull.
She pulled herself up by the same gnarled branch that had nearly killed her. Blood was running down her face and dripping against her shoulder, quickly getting absorbed by the tattered remnants of her dress. She could feel the heat baking into her back, but that was nothing compared to what she felt at the sight of these children, stuck at the door and fighting over who could get outside first.
Bethany took one wobbly step, cupped her hands around her mouth and bellowed: "Everyone stop!!"
They ignored her completely. So great was their panic that they didn't even notice how the ones in the middle were getting completely sandwiched, or that those in front were being squashed against the fabric. With the supports broken, the exit had collapsed in on itself, turning their only means of escape into a net, trapping them all inside.
"Back up!" Bethany shouted, feeling like her throat was about to shrivel up and die. "Back the hell up!" She tried to forcibly pull some of them away, but they kept throwing themselves at the writhing wall of bodies like birds trapped in a cage, reaching over each other's shoulders for a salvation that simply did not exist. In their panicked frenzy, they were making an already hopeless situation even worse by clogging up their only exit with -
The realisation settled into Bethany's chest like a heavy ball of lead, locking her in place. If the exit was over there, beyond their reaching fingers, then that meant, in the back...
She turned around and stared at the hungry flames, swarming over the blackened branches, quickly devouring everything they touched.
Rufio. Hezzi. Renna. Mateo. Sarah. Mellah. The twins. By the gods, so many...
They need you. They all need you...
She threw herself at the writhing crowd, reaching and shoving, desperate to get out. If she could circle around the outside, maybe she could find a knife or something and cut her way into the back. If she could -
An elbow caught her in the face and a flash of pain -
(A black thread, bending back against the smooth metal eye of the needle.)
- tore through her bleeding temple. She tried again, grabbing and pulling, trying to dig her way through the crowd, but they were too tightly packed together and she was forced back, again and -
(Fingers, shaking. Black thread, jabbing at the eye, missing completely every time.)
- again and again.
"Rufio! Rufio, are you here?" she called, scanning the crowd, trying to identify the back of his head amidst all this chaos, hoping against hope that he had somehow gotten out of bed in time, and was right this moment working his way towards the exit, hoping that -
(Black thread. Missing the eye. Black thread, bending backwards.)
Hoping that...
(Black thread. No hope.)
"Rufio! Oh gods!"
(The eye was too small. She didn't have the skill or the ability. She could do nothing. Nothing. Absolutely nothing...)
"Rufiooo!"
Someone slapped at her reaching hands and Bethany staggered away from the crowd, clutching her throbbing finger to her chest. She could feel her own heartbeat pushing against the bandages - a dull, pulsating heat.
Did I... do it right?
What was she doing, going to pieces like this? People needed her! And if she couldn't reach them from the outside... well, that left only one other option.
She turned around.
This demonic, orange glow. This inferno blooming from the carcass of a fallen tree. Was she staring Hell itself in the eye? A living, breathing Hell come to swallow her friends, her family?
"Not if I have anything to say about it." Bethany balled her hand into a fist, and in the brief flash of pain springing up from her bandaged finger, she saw the thread slipping neatly through the eye of the needle.
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