A Bullet Or Two

Chapter 4.5

Morning arrived. 

The dark blue of the sky ran from the emerging orange. A Cockrell announced the arrival of the sun. Piles of grey, decaying flesh and black liquid scattered around the paddock. The same dark blood dripped down from the bales Delilah sat atop. Thick drops fell from the straw, right onto the limbs of Nightwigs that had been blasted apart by her bullets.

Delilah heaved. 

Three claw marks buried deep into the muscle of her left calf and stung so much that tears pricked her eyes. Any glance at it made her want to bring up the stew. 

The thing snuck up behind her, clambered up by the entrance, and sliced at her while she shot others lurking to her right. The wound festered faster than any she had ever had. She screamed at the burning sensation when it was made. Now, as she forced herself to look at it, she did not know how she had lasted the hours after. 

Inflamed and greying skin surrounded the wounds. Yellow pus seeped out of it, mingling with the red blood spilling down onto the straw. Her body felt hot. Much hotter than it should be in the crisp air. The flask containing her water was empty. She used it up long before in the night when pauses in the fight allowed her to. 

"Douglas! Keith!" She called out, throat croaking in pain. Again. Again. And again. "Douglas! Keith!"

Gunfire never ceased in the night. It was a constant reassurance that she was not alone and that the boys were still standing. Reassuring until she was too disorientated and focused on the extermination to hear the bullets leave their chambers.

"Ma'am?!" Douglas' nasal voice replied, so far away but also close.

Delilah thought she would cry at the sound. The stinging was spreading up her leg. "Douglas! I...I need... I need help." She did all she could to not bite through her tongue as she spoke. Douglas rounded the wall of the barn from where he was stationed. Splatters of the Nightwigs' blood and remnants of gunpowder covered him. His cloak was torn at the ends, but no visible wounds were on him. He looked relieved at the sight of her for a moment until he noticed the infected wound on her calf soaking through the holes in her black pants. Alarm replaced his relief. 

"I...I need bandages." Delilah cried through her teeth. Douglas made no response. His face duplicated and blurred, the shaking of his head slowed and spun in her vision. Then it stopped. Disappeared as he did.

The water in her flask had replaced the ale she snuck on the journey. How Delilah wished she had savoured it until now.

In she breathed then out. Her breath was heavy and labored. They had survived the night. She was victorious. But the wound would ensure the Nightwigs did not die alone. A sad chuckle almost burst out. All Delilah wanted was to prove she was useful. Instead, she was going to die and add more trouble to the farmer's misfortune.

Sweat bubbled up along her skin. She felt like she was one of the pork shins boiling in last night's stew – hot and slimy. Black spots peppered her vision. Was it just the poison? Or something else too? Delilah could not tell, did not know. She had not learned everything known about the creatures. Only bits and pieces she read in the few biology books the library owned.

Iron and gunpowder joined the smell of hay and manure. The wound made her feel ill enough, the smells only worsened her state. As the dots continued to circulate in her vision, Delilah struggled to keep her eyes open. Her lids dropped heavier and heavier. Blink. Keep blinking. She reminded herself. Blink. Blink. Blin...

"She's over here!" Was that Douglas? Keith? She could not tell. Her eyelids felt heavy, and her limbs numb. She slumped back onto the hay bale.

"Baroness. You need to stay awake. Eyes open. Baroness!" The voice was more feminine. Scared. It spoke quickly to her. Coolness pressed against her forehead. Pressure clenched against her arms as she was hauled up. Voices merged together, incoherent and erratic. It was all a mesh of sounds to Delilah as she lost herself in the silent dark.