The Survivor - Veil Walkers Book One

Chapter Two

Home, Modern Era - Nanami

"WHY'RE you sewing him closed instead of just healing him?" Nanami asked the preparing surgeon. The tray of surgical tools in her hands shifted when she looked up.

The surgeon, Astrid, relieved her of the tray. "If you can't hold it still, don't hold it at all," she chided, "and I'm closing the edges of the wound. It will take less energy to heal him once they've settled in place for a bit."

The adults had been cross ever since Nathalie had died. Astrid was snappier than the others, but she had been the one trying to save her life. Nanami frowned and studied her worn pink shoes. The soles used to light up every time she took a step, but they had stopped flashing some time ago. She could get new ones anytime, but Astrid had embroidered these with little unicorns, and she didn't want to give them up.

"You don't have to pout," Galen soothed as Astrid prepared a suture kit. "You did a good job of helping until you almost dropped everything."

Nanami perked up at the praise. At least Galen was being nice to her. She took his hand as Astrid's rose pink energy illuminated the wound and sank into it. He cringed, so she squeezed his hand until he relaxed.

Astrid prodded the wound. "Can you feel anything?"

"Nope," Galen smiled. "Have at it. I'd like a proper scar this time, something I can show off. Maybe a crescent moon?"

"If you don't stop clowning around, I'll have her put craters in, too." Deza said from the nearby chair. Nanami saw the spots of blood that had soaked through the bandages around her head and knew it had to hurt. After what Astrid had called 'triage,' though, her injury had been deemed less important, so she waited her turn.

The white of Deza's bandage pulled the wild hickory ringlets back from her face. Her jade eyes displayed her exhaustion, but everyone was tired these days. The adults kept talking about computer problems and being shorthanded. Nathalie's death would make things even harder. She wished she could help, but the grown-ups wouldn't teach her anything except 'school work.'

What she knew, she had learned in secret, and kept it that way because Rosie said so.

Nanami felt a slight breeze along her neck, a sign that Rosie wanted her to listen. She had to concentrate to hear her spirit friend - the one the others said was only make believe - but the words that stirred the surrounding air were all too real.

"Pay attention as she sorts the wounded," Rosie's disembodied voice whispered. "You will do the same one day."

Nanami frowned. "I know," she said aloud, "but I don't understand it."

The three adults gave her various confused looks.

"You're don't understand what?" Astrid asked, hesitating between stitches.

Nanami made to answer, but the snap of fingers elsewhere in the room rendered her silent. Her breath caught. She spun toward the sound, and proceeded across the room to where her mother leaned against the infirmary wall, reading.

"I've told you not to speak to Rosie out loud."

She lowered her head at the admonishment. "I know. I wasn't thinking. I'm sorry."

Mama's name was Sumiko, and she always moved with grace, or so the others said. She insisted they speak in Japanese when they weren't around the others because it was important she 'learn her own culture.'

That culture meant a lot to Sumiko, but Nanami still struggled to understand why. Rosie agreed she would appreciate it someday, so she studied, wrote, and memorized in anticipation of that day.