Chapter Text
“Henry!”
Her heart was pounding, eyes flitting in every direction that even promised the notion of movement.
They should’ve crossed the river faster, should’ve tried to find an alternate route. Now, Henry was dragged underneath the murky surface by God-knows-what.
“There,” yelled Duncan, pointing a few yards away. Three air bubbles made their way to the surface, then—Henry’s hand shot up through the water, his head soon following as he flailed, gasping for help.
Before she even had time to blink, she dived at him, grabbing his hand so hard bone shifted.
“Duncan,” she ground out as Henry bit back a yelp at the tug-and-pull between her and the snake-like creature that had him in its jaws.
In a split second, Duncan and LeClerc were by his side, the latter stomping blindly into the water as Duncan yanked on Henry’s other arm.
It felt impossible, like Henry was being sucked into a black hole, like he was going to rip in half before they made any progress. Then, just as Henry screamed, LeClerc’s stomp landed on target.
Zora and Duncan fell back into the water at the sudden lack of force, dragging Henry free with them as whatever monster was trying to snack on him flailed and twisted as it swam away at lightening speed while Krebs, from the sideline, threw rocks at it’s exposed scaled back.
Not giving it a chance to change its mind, Zora, with strength she didn’t even know she possessed, hauled Henry up and towards the edge. Krebs, forgoing the rocks—even though he’d surprisingly made contact with the creature’s exposed back once or twice—dragged Henry onto solid ground, the rest of them following suit.
Not giving herself the chance to relax, she scrambled to Henry. He was curled up, left leg held to his chest, coughing up a lung as his wan form shook in agony.
“Let me see, let me see,” she said, trying to pry his hands away.
He shook his head, teeth gritted as he tried to curl further into himself.
“C’mon, kid,” said Duncan, placing a soothing hand on the nape of his neck. “We can’t help with the pain if we can’t see what’s happened.”
If possible, his brows furrowed more, teeth biting into his lip now, nostrils wide as he sucked in air at a rapid pace.
“Henry,” she barked, exacting her best commanding tone.
Like a taught wire cut, he let go of his shin with a loud gasp, bloodstained hands flying to cover his face.
Zora pulled back the shreds of his lower pants and it was… awful. Stark blood covered his lower leg from knee to his sock and was so thick it was hard to see the wounds.
On autopilot, she dumped water over it, clearing the blood away just for his leg to be covered again in the time it took her to blink.
LeClerc swore under his breath.
“Keep washing it,” said Krebs, pulling out the first aid kit. Looking at it now, it seemed woefully inadequate. There wouldn’t be enough in it to help him. Enough gauze, enough medication to keep infection and pain at bay. Enough to save his life. Henry was going to die.
Her heart was beating out of her chest, sweat dripping into her eyes. Every pulse bounded against her eardrums, each hit seeming to repeat the word ‘die’ over and over again.
Henry was going to die and it was all her fault. He was going to slowly bleed to death in front of her, all because she wasn’t fast enough—smart enough. Again.
“-ora. Zora.”
She blinked coming back to herself with a shudder.
“I need you to keep washing the wounds,” said Krebs as he pulled out a pressure bandage.
Without second thought, she poured the rest of the water on his leg, making sure to get all sides, steeling herself to ignore every gasp at the ministrations.
With more of the blood cleared, the jagged puncture wounds in the form of a large open-mouthed bite were obvious. On the meatier part of his calf, chunks of the flesh had been torn away, exposing muscle and fat. It turned her stomach, recalling horrific images of carnage she thought she’d buried deep after Yemen.
LeClerc dumped antiseptic all over Henry’s leg, causing him to jerk away. She scrunched her hands into fists, nails biting into her palms to keep from pushing LeClerc away, to save Henry from more pain. It was childish—stupid—but the urge to protect him from this was so strong it stole her breath with the power and irrationality of it all.
“Can’t we use that fancy surgical glue shit to seal his wounds?” asked Duncan, dubiously eyeing the bandages Krebs had pulled out of the kit.
He shook his head. “Only if you’d like him to get an infection on top of all his other problems. God knows what the hell even bit him let alone what’s been festering in this water.” Krebs set the kit aside. “This way we can keep an eye on it and keep cleaning them out.”
He tore open a bandage and looked to Zora and Duncan. “This isn’t going to be pretty, Dr. Loomis.” His eyes stayed locked on theirs. She and Duncan immediately understood what he was asking.
They both moved, Duncan blocking Henry’s view of his lower half, his hands strategically placed to hold him down if need be. Zora, meanwhile, stayed close to his ankles, ready in case they kicked out.
Krebs didn’t hesitate, pushing the pressure bandage against the worst of the jagged teeth marks. Henry immediately bucked, crying out. It made her skin prickle but she did her best to block it out, holding down his ankles while Duncan held down his shoulders as LeClerc tried to keep his injured leg in place long enough that Krebs could properly wrap it.
The gauze only covered about a quarter of the wounds, the pad rapidly turning crimson, only slowing once the gauze straps were wrapped snuggly around his leg several times. Before they had a chance to catch their breaths, Krebs started on the next bandage, Henry’s muffled cries echoing in her ears like icepicks.
“It’s almost over Henry,” she found herself saying. “He’s almost done. It’ll be over soon.” It sounded desperate and unsure, even to herself, but she didn’t know what else to do. It scared her. She always knew what to do. Always.
Duncan, bless his soft heart, seemed to sense what she was grasping at, and leaned close to Henry, murmuring something to him over and over, a large hand finding a place to rest against the other’s sternum. Just as Krebs was finishing up with the last bit of gauze, whatever Duncan had been saying to him must’ve been taking effect, as he was soon taking deeper, more meaningful breaths, even if they were still shaky and slightly off-rhythm.
For a long moment they all sat in silence, just their gasping breaths like they’d run miles, filling the humid air. They were alive. They were alive. They made it. They were alive. Holy shit, they were—
“Ici,” said LeClerc, breaking the trance. He pointed about 20 yards off. Some colossal tree roots and several boulders formed a protected alcove of sorts they could regroup in. “Allons-y.”
“We gotta move, Henry,” she said, helping him slowly sit up. He clutched at her hand as if it would disappear if he dared to loosen his grip. Then, before she could shield him, his eyes zeroed on to his bandaged leg with large splotches of blood already marring it like a sick abstract painting. His breath immediately picked up, so she grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at her instead.
“You’re okay, Henry.” Her conviction would be his. “It’s over. You survived. You got injured but it’s nothing you can’t bounce back from, do you understand? You’re okay and you’re going to stay that way.”
His large, scared eyes searched hers, looking for the crack to dig out the lie. Only, he wouldn’t find it. She meant what she’d said as if she were the Fates themselves who controlled these things. He was okay and he would remain that way because she willed it.
After a moment, he nodded. It was delicate, just like the trust in his eyes, but the belief was there and it meant something.
“All right, Doc,” said Duncan from the other side of him. “This is gonna hurt but we need to get out from out in the open here. We’re sitting ducks.”
“Try to move your leg as little as possible,” chimed in Krebs as LeClerc took her position beside Henry. She was about to a shoot a caustic ‘duh’ his way, but instead caught the oddly concerned look on his face. She didn’t think it was possible, but was Krebs actually worried about Henry? Or—her mood souring—was he worried that his precious scientist might not be able to complete the mission? That he’d only slow them down when time was in short supply?
They gave Henry a moment to collect himself before hoisting him up on three. An arm wound around the shoulders of both men, he grunted, his face paling considerably.
“You still with us, man?”
After a moment, Henry blinked and tried to smile. It didn’t go so well. “Yes. Sorry.”
Tension she didn’t realize she had been holding released from her shoulders. Hearing Henry speak, though his voice was rough and shaky from abuse, brought them one step closer to normalcy.
“Let us know if you need a break,” said Duncan.
Henry nodded. After a quick glance to her, Duncan and LeClerc moved themselves into the four-hand seat carry position under Henry’s thighs, picked him up, and then slowly carried him toward the alcove. Henry didn’t make a sound, just bit his lip so hard Zora was sure she saw blood.
The entire way she kept an eye on his face. Henry, thankfully, was naturally expressive, so she knew if anything changed, he’d let them know, even if he didn’t speak it.
It took careful navigation but they made it, Henry no worse for wear. Within seconds, he was gently placed on the ground, Krebs wrapping a shock blanket around him. He looked pitiful but alive, and that's all Zora cared about.
Now, they just had to figure out how the hell they were going to complete the mission and get Henry off this godforsaken island.