I search for the three men in the lobby and find them, their heads bowed down as if they were in a church instead of a healing clinic. Two are Dark Skinned and one is neither dark nor light…an odd mixture of both that I have never seen before. “She is alive right now,” I tell them, afraid to give false hope. “Entho is watching her closely.”
“Thank you,” her husband answers, rising up from his seat. “We’ll wait here if that’s okay.” He says it like it is a question, his voice quivering.
I am not sure of Entho’s clinic rules, so I just nod my head. I clear my throat, nervous for what I am about to do. “Ahem.” I clear my throat again. “Ahem.” The clinic lobby is full of dark faces. A few people look my way, but most ignore me. I announce to them, “The clinic is closed for the rest of the day.” My voice is small and weak. Nobody moves.
A streak of irritation rushes through me, and I raise my voice. “There has been an emergency. The clinic is now closed,” I proclaim in my most proper Weapons voice…drilled into me like medicine in Entho’s mortar. “You will have to come back tomorrow.” I stand firmly before them meeting their gazes head on with mine. At last the people get up, wander out the side door, many of them giving me nasty looks as they leave.
I clean the clinic as well as I know how, washing away the massive amount of blood from the floor and soaking the linens. I scrub the rest of the floor and lock the medicine cabinet. Then I wash my hands and arms in the sink, mesmerized by the blood as it stains the water – a morbid mixture of red, pink, and brown. I shake the water from my hands and turn to leave.
The three men are still sitting in the abandoned lobby, heads still hanging, as if staring at the floor could bring someone back from the brink of death. “I have to close up now,” I tell them softly. “You can come back in the morning.” I feel cruel, seeing the look on the man’s face – her husband. I have never had a boyfriend…can’t imagine what it would be like to love someone this much. His grey eyes seem to be searching mine…for answers I don’t have. I bite my lip, wondering what to do. I move over to the office section of the clinic and search for a piece of paper and a pencil.
“Can you write?” I ask the husband.
“Yes…yes. Of course.” I hand him the pencil and small piece of paper.
“Write down your address. I will stay up with her…if anything happens, I will come and get you.”
His voice is low as he thanks me and writes down his address, handing the paper back to me. When I take it, I notice the dried up blood on his hands…the blood of someone he loves. I shudder, wondering how the woman is doing. The three men exit the clinic silently, heads still hanging low.
Shivering, I lock the side door to the clinic, the bolt clicking into place with ease. I scan the lobby area and sigh at its emptiness. Images of the woman keep flashing through my mind…her fair skin and reddish blonde hair. Her neck, sliced open. The gurgling sounds she made as Entho stitched her up. Me pressing down on the open, lethal wound. The faces of the men who brought her in.
My thoughts are shattered, though, by a loud knocking at the side door. The thunderous sound shakes me back into reality. Someone is hurt, I am sure…needing Entho’s healing abilities. But he is with the woman. I struggle with what to do as the bold knocking continues.
Cautiously, I walk toward the door, not sure if I should open it. I stand on my tip toes and slide back the metal viewing plate. It is getting dark, but I can make out the faintest outline of two amber eyes, almost the color of mine.
“Who is it?” I ask.
“I’m here on an errand…to get a package from the healer.” The voice is distinctly male. I slam the viewing plate shut and exhale loudly, my hair blowing up as if it were in a windstorm.
I open the viewing plate again, peer out at the eyes. “He’s with a patient. You’ll have to come back tomorrow.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?” I am losing patience with the man. Or boy. I really can’t tell with the door muffling his voice.
“Because we’re leaving tonight. And we don’t have a place to stay.”
“What do you mean…we?”
“My friend. And me.”
I wait to answer. There are two of them? “It is just you and your friend?” I ask suspiciously, squeezing my eyes through the viewing plate.
“Yes…geez would you just open the door?”
“Just a minute.” I slam the viewing plate shut and run upstairs as quickly as I can, turning into my bedroom as my feet slip on the slick floor. My bag is in my closet, and I kneel down, untie the cords rapidly, and reach in it, quickly snatching a dagger. The small knife feels comfortable with my fingers wrapped around it. I stare at it for a second, the steel glimmering at me as if to welcome me back. It has been a long time since I held a weapon in my hand.
I race back downstairs to the door, my feet hitting the steps like rain pelting on a roof. Breathless, I open the viewing plate again. The same amber eyes peer back at me. “Hold on a minute,” I tell them. I shut the viewing plate, slamming it a little too hard against its frame. I slide back the lock and pull open the door.
In the fading light stand two boys about my age. Boys I have never seen before. They are both dressed in beige tunics and pants. Both are tall, but one of them is bit taller with a wide chest and shoulders. He is also a Light Skin. The first Light Skinned boy I have seen since I was a small child.