Blood on the Snow
She shouldn’t have felt this: not this burning, poisonous worry, and especially not the sticky, heavy fear. So disgusting that Elena wanted to slap herself. She shouldn’t care. His condition, just as much as his opinion and feelings didn’t have to concern Elena in the slightest, but for some reason all these strange, all these annoying emotions still stained her heart.
She couldn’t get rid of them the same way she tended to get rid of everything alien: with a shot from the Vector rifle. As if some disease had settled in her, disturbing the peace in the soul and only progressing with the passing time. Tougher and worse than any virus.
Elena merely hoped those feelings would melt into nothingness soon enough. But they have not disappeared anywhere. Instead, they grew even stronger.
Elena bit her lip, making yet another circle in the narrow cabin on the Avenger. Time dragged on unimaginably slowly as if annoying the already highly-disturbed woman on purpose. Her eyes constantly switched between the ancient clock with the dial and the doorway: empty and ominously gloomy. The wait, previously so familiar to her, was now unbearable. Where she used to find serenity, now laid only chaos. As if something had clicked a switch in her. Why she couldn’t stop thinking about him? Why was she afraid that he might not return? Elena was angry with her own inability to throw away such foolish concerns. Bonds and worries: all this was superfluous; all this would only bring her pain in the end. Agonizing and sharp like a dagger. How many tears had she shed, crying over the disemboweled, mutilated comrades? How many stupid things had she done, blinded by the desire for vengeance? How many times had she burnt herself, allowing such ties? The war had never been merciful to her: nor when she was still very young, thrown in the middle of the alien invasion, nor when she had a lot of battles left behind. The war forcibly taught Elena to be cold-blooded, stoic and prudent: an example for the Reapers, Volk’s right hand. However, deep inside there still lived that little girl who ran around the yard with a slingshot and jumped on the roofs of old garages. The hissing of the radio on the shoulder brought Elena out of her thoughts: she clicked the button, expecting to hear Volk or Bradford on the other end. However, the hoarse, barely discernible bass of Mox that reached her ears, was akin to a slap in the face. Elena jolted, deftly jumping over the staircase rail that led down, and hurried outward to the best of her speed. Instincts had never failed her: even without knowing the reason for such a spontaneous contact, Elena could feel that Mox was in danger. Fortunately, she was already in a full combat gear. On the run Elena entered the coordinates that Mox’s emergency beacon had sent her, mentally hoping that he was near. She shouldn’t have felt this terrible thrill in her chest. It squeezed the heart in a subconscious fear to see the same sight: lifeless eyes and a face twisted in horror.
She didn’t want him to die.
The weather conditions outside were horrible, yet Elena didn’t feel the sharp wind that cut her face and the snowdrifts that reached her knees. Focused on one single thing, she merely tightened the grip on the hood and headed forward.
“I’ll be there soon,” she reported shortly five minutes later, turning to the south-west and making sure to stick to the rare trunks of young pines. Less than five hundred meters laid between her and the destination point. She merely hoped that Mox could make it: unless it was one of the Chosen that had struck him, his chances were more or less promising. Mox was well-built and tenacious: due to hybrid psychology the blood tended to curdle faster and it made his wounds heal much more quickly.
When according to her calculations only a hundred meters remained, Elena finally decided to contact the Avenger staff. More likely than not they have already received a distress signal, but she wanted to make sure. The radio on her shoulder was a bit troublesome to use in such conditions, but it still gave her access to the control room.
“Outrider to Avenger. I have received an emergency signal. If it is possible, arrive at the given coordinates to extract a soldier.”
A heavy silence hung on the other side, and Elena started to consider hitting the device.
“Got it. We have received a similar signal,” finally answered the voice of one of the workers. “Stay in touch for further information if the situation requires it. Skyranger is ready to take off. It will be there soon.”
“Thank you,” she responded blankly, having passed another hillock. She didn’t really count on the ship to arrive earlier than her, even keeping in mind its high speed, but the journey back to the Avenger was much more expedient to make in the air rather than on foot. Of course, she was strong, but carrying Mox through the storm wasn’t the best idea.
Please, don’t die!
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When Elena caught a glimpse of the familiar silhouette, she sped up, almost flying past the long branches. Keeping the Vector close to her chest, she was ready to literally rip the enemy in pieces if one dared to show up.
“Mox!” she shouted, feeling her insides curl into a painful knot. She feared that she was late, and no response would come her way. That her words would drown in the dreadful silence of the pine forest.
Five alien corpses laid dead around the skirmisher. Most likely killed by the ripjack built-in his gauntlet. Mox himself was leaning on the trunk of a high spruce. His right hand covered a lacerated wound on the abdomen, thick blood dripping on the ground. His face was covered in awful bruises and scratches, perhaps from the faceless claws, or even worse - cryssalid claws. She couldn’t really tell whether the skirmisher's chest moved at all and it caused the fear to take over.
Elena threw off her hood and knelt next to Mox. Having found the traces of pulse on his neck, she felt a bit relieved: he was alive. On the surface, it seemed like his wounds were not fatal, but still serious enough to prevent Mox from escaping the upcoming storm on his own. If she doesn’t take action, then he may actually die from a blood loss.
“Dummy,” she snapped, her emotions taking over, even though Elena tried not to show her worry. “Why did you go there all by yourself?
Why didn’t you take me with you?
“You…came,” Mox whispered, coughing and hardly managing to lift his eyes to her level. “You actually came.”
Elena took out the first aid kit from the loincloth pocket. Her gloved hands shivered, yet not from the cold temperature. Clenching her teeth to the dull pain, Elena forced herself to calm down and focus on treating the wound on his stomach. She shouldn’t let the memories of the past take over.
“Of course, I came,” she replied, placing Mox on the snow carefully. “You are my partner after all.”
“Glad to hear,” Mox smiled with a corner of his lips. “At least I got to see your face before dying.”
His hand, big and warm, touched her cheek. The tender caress of the fingers was akin to a burn from the campfire.
“Don’t say such things,” she whispered quietly, placing her hand over his and clutching the clawed fingers. “I won’t let you die. Not like that.”
She won’t forgive herself if he dies. She will reproach herself until the very end for not coming with him.
“My wounds are far too serious. Do not bother. Her sword knows no mercy. Doesn’t leave anyone standing.”
It means all these wounds…It was all this bloody offspring of the Elders?
“I will get you out,” Elena insisted, not wanting to admit it was too late to save him. “You won’t die as long as I am here.”
Elena tried not to think about his words about the approaching death: using a bundle, a few layers of bandages and a disinfectant she did her best to stabilize his condition and stop the blood flow. Nevertheless, it continued to slowly but surely drip on the snow. It didn’t want to stop. Elena began to rummage through her pockets in panic, hoping that she had taken a universal nano kit designed by Lily Shen with her. It could help where traditional Reaper medicine was powerless. But it wasn’t there. Nevertheless, Elena continued to search for any type of saving means feverishly.
“ Elena…” "No, you will not die," she shook the head, feeling her eyes fill with tears. "You will not die. The Ranger will come, and we will get you out of here. And then you will get back on track.” “Elena-” "I will never let you die in my hands like this, do you hear me?" she snapped, wiping her tears with a glove. "Not after I finally managed to join the team and learn to trust you. I-” "Don’t cry," he said affectionately, smiling at her. "Don’t shed tears because of someone like me. I deserve to die for all the crimes that I have committed.” "Idiot," Elena raised her tear-stained eyes at him. "Didn’t you tell me that you would never have done something like that in your right mind? You are much more than just a puppet of the Elders. You have proved this many times. You even managed to get me to give up the prejudiced view of your kin. You have often sacrificed yourself, protecting me. You-” She squeezed his hand convulsively, trying to pull out all those words that she would never have dared to say in another situation. She didn’t want his last memories of her to be of all those times she angrily snapped at his sincerity. Of all those times she didn’t want to admit that she could feed something for Mox.
“My time is running out... Just know that you're amazing... And that I love you.”
"No, don’t die... Don’t die, no, no," Elena could no longer stop the tears. Again, she was losing people that were dear to her. Once again, she couldn’t save anyone. She felt the pain suffocate her.
“I'm ... I'm also, damn, why it's happening again, I also love you. I just, gosh, I never would have thought that I would fail in love with someone who would have killed on the spot not so long ago. I am sorry for being so insensitive- I am sorry that I behaved so coldly and rudely with you. I didn’t want to believe that I could love you. Mox, please don’t die. Don’t, I won’t be able to accept your death."
Elena bent down and kissed his cold, frosty lips. But there was no answer that followed.