Cover Of Night

Cal was shaking convulsively, his teeth chattering; there was no way he could hold the cup. Cate sat beside him and carefully held the cup to his lips, hoping she wouldn’t spill the coffee and scald him. He managed a sip and made a face at the sweetness of the brew.

"I know? you don’t like sugar in your coffee," she said softly. "Drink it anyway."

He couldn’t manage much in the way of a response because his entire body was engaged in battling the cold, but he dipped his chin in a nod and took another sip. She set the cup aside and stood behind him, rubbing his back and shoulders and arms as vigorously as she could without completely dislodging the blanket.

His hair was wet, and the night had turned so cold ice crystals had begun to form on his head. She warmed a towel over the heater; then used it to rub his head until his hair was merely damp. By the time that was accomplished the shudders had subsided a bit, though occasionally a violent shiver would rattle his bones and teeth. She gave him more of the coffee; he reached to hold the cup himself and she let him.

"How are your feet?" she asked.

"I don’t know?, I can’t feel them." His voice was flat, utterly drained. The savage shaking his body had given him in an effort to get warm had completed his exhaustion. He swayed where he sat, his eyelids heavy.

Cate moved to sit at his feet, and then folded the blanket back. Taking one cold foot in her hands, she rubbed and chafed and blew on his toes, then repeated the effort with his other foot. When they were no longer white with cold, she wrapped them in a warm towel. "You need to lie down," she told him.

With bleary effort he shook his head, and looked toward where Neenah was taking care of Mr. Creed. "I need to see what I can do for Josh."

"You can’t do anything right now, considering the shape venire in."

"Yeah, I can. Get me another cup of coffee – black this time – and something to wear, and I’ll be good to go in five minutes." His pale eyes flickered up at her and she read the steely determination in them.

He really did need to sleep, but in an instant of unspoken communication she knew he wouldn’t until he’d done what he thought he needed to do. The fastest way to get him to lie down, then, was to help him.

"One cup of coffee, coming up." She poured more coffee, and as she did she looked around the basement at her neighbors and friends. They had been alarmed, disoriented, but ahead)’ they were settling down to take care of business. Some were arranging cushions and pillows and distributing blankets, some were taking inventory of the number of weapons and amount of ammunition they had, Milly Earl was getting some food organized, and Neenah was overseeing Mr. Creed’s care. They had cut away his pants and covered him with a blanket except for his injured leg, which was propped on a pillow. Neenah had carefully washed the wound but seemed at a loss for what to do next.

Cate went to Maureen and mentioned Cal’s need for clothes. The jeans Maureen unearthed from a box were too big in the waist, but they would do. Perry made an upstairs raid – on his hands and knees, in the dark – and returned with clean underwear and socks, and a thermal-knit pullover shirt. Cal pulled on the underwear tinder the cover of the blanket, then threw it off to finish dressing as fast as he could.

Cate didn’t let herself stare at his mostly naked body, though she couldn’t resist one look, during which she noticed that all her carefully placed butterfly bandages were gone and the two cuts were oozing blood again. Sherry noticed her looking, and leaned close to whisper, "That’s a man.’"

"Yes." Cate murmured in agreement, "he is that."

When Cal finished dressing, he moved slowly to where Mr. Creed was lying, and asked for his first-aid box. Cate braced herself, told her suddenly queasy stomach to take a hike, and went to help him.

"’What can I do?" she asked, going down on her knees beside him.

"I’m not sure yet. Let me see what the damage is."

Neenah moved to Mr. Creed’s head, her lace white as Cal studied the two wounds and carefully prodded the bone beneath. Creed bit off a curse, his back arching, and Neenah reached for his hand. His big fingers closed around hers with a force that made her wince.

"I think the bone’s cracked," Cal said, "but I don’t feel any displacement. I have to look for any bullet fragments – "

"The hell you do," Creed snapped.

" – or an infection could cost him his leg," Cal finished.

"Fu – " Creed darted a look from Neenah to Cate and clamped his jaw shut.

"You’re tough, you can stand it," Cal said with a remarkable lack of sympathy. Then he glanced at Cate. "I need more light, a lot more."

The light from candles and an oil lamp wasn’t suitable for probing, so Sherry stood behind Cate with Cal’s powerful flashlight and shined it on Creed’s leg. Taking a pair of forceps from his tackle box, Cal probed, and Creed cursed. He found one sliver of bullet fragment, and a chunk of leather from Creed’s boot, plus a tiny piece of blood-soaked cotton from a sock. By the time he finished, Creed was ghost white and covered with sweat.

Neenah held Creed’s hand throughout the ordeal, murmuring to him and wiping his face with a cold cloth. Cate handed Cal whatever he asked for, and then held a saucepan under the wounds while he flushed them thoroughly. She swayed once and had to look away when he began suturing, though why a needle piercing the torn flesh should make her queasy, she didn’t know.

She wondered when he’d learned how to suture a wound, where he’d gotten his medical training, but those were questions that could wait for another day.

Soon alter that, antibiotic had been applied to the closed wounds, Creed had been made to swallow some pills, both antibiotics and painkillers, and a neat bandage was wrapped around Creed’s lower leg.