REVENGE (2nd book of FEAR)

- chapter six -

"Locus!"

The soldier jumped, blinking a few times before turning to face the person. "Jesus, man," Daniels shook his head, "I've said your name at least five times now." Locus cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, "Sorry about that."

Daniels was a nice guy to Locus. Treated everyone here with respect, from what he saw. Had a good sense of humor. Nothing to dislike about him. It kind of scared Locus that he actually liked the guy. They had patrolled together a few times, and he was one of the guards that brought Liz to the camp. The soldier thought about asking him about her, but he decided against it.

"No need to apologize," Daniels took a long look at him, "You okay? You look pretty rough." Locus nodded, "I'm fine. Just waiting." He had been standing in front of the infirmary tent for 3 days. He even missed his bread ration. Bella failed multiple times to bring him back to the tent.

Daniels licked his bottom lip and gazed at the tent, "For who, if you don't mind me asking?" Locus hesitated, "Sheryl." The man nodded, clearly not convinced. He decided to drop it. As the guard began to stroll off, Locus was quick to stop him.

"Hey," he called after him, causing Daniels to turn around and raise his eyebrows. "What do you know about this girl?" Locus lowered his voice, trying to sound nonchalant.

The guard shrugged, "Nothing, really. Johnny and I just found her struggling to walk about a mile out. No dog tags, no ID. There was blood all over her. She flipped out when we tried to help her. Johnny had to knock her out before she hurt anybody."

Locus clenched his jaw, a sudden flare of anger rushing through him. He shook his head, trying not to think about what Johnny had done. After a silent moment where he didn't respond, Daniels assumed it was safe to leave. He walked off, leaving the mercenary to continue his wait.

***

It was around midnight when Sheryl finally left the infirmary. Her scrubs were covered in head to toe with blood, and she appeared to be exhausted. Locus crouched behind a crate, watching as she shuffled away for the night.

A couple of assistant followed her, and he waited until the coast was clear before he made his way to the tent. When he entered, the metallic smell of blood hit him like a wave. It was dark in the tent, but his eyes adjusted when someone flicked a gas lantern on.

"Hello?" Her voice was quiet and weak, and he flinched. Her face was illuminated by the soft light, casting shadows on her facial features. Her alert eyes darted around the room, trying to see through the darkness. The blood was cleaned off of her, and she seemed to have a bandage around her left shoulder. Liz, he thought, It's really Liz.

He took a step forward, and the girl's eyes widened in shock. He could detect the fear and disbelief on her face. "Locus?" She wheezed, her hand covering her mouth. The soldier was silent. He searched for the right words to say to her, but his throat was too tight. His heart was pounding too fast. His breaths were too rigid.

"What are you doing here?" She whispered into the darkness. He felt his rage start to boil inside of him, "I should be asking you the same thing." Liz shifted in her bed uncomfortably. Locus couldn't remember the last time he had seen her this nervous. Usually she was an expert at hiding her true feelings.

"Look," she began, "I know you have a lot of questions-" Locus shook his head, "I don't, actually. I came to give you this." He held out the item in his hands, grasping it so that his hands wouldn't shake. He swallowed hard.

"My helmet?" She cocked an eyebrow in confusion, "You came in the middle of the night to give me my helmet?" There was amusement in her voice, and he desperately wanted to rip it out. She didn't deserve it.

"Take it or don't. I don't care," Locus spat, tossing the helmet into the girl's lap. She caught it, taking a moment to trace the outlines of the cobalt blue trim with her fingers. She smiled, and Locus felt his heart ache.

"I don't really need it anymore. I'm done with that kind of stuff," Liz held the helmet back to him, showing him a tight-lipped grin. I didn't ask, he thought bitterly. "I don't want it," Locus pushed the armor back to her, maybe a little too hard. It hit her chest with a thump. She tried not to wince.

"I guess that makes sense," Liz avoided his gaze, "You don't have any use for it now." Locus growled, "Never did." They sat there for a few moments, letting the awkward silence settle in. "Locus, I-" She began to explain, but he was quick to cut her off.

"Who did this to you?" He mumbled, his eyes scanning her hurt body. Liz was surprised, but she cleared her throat and answered, "Oh, um... Some raiders saw the wanted posters and thought they could get the bounty."

"Where did they hit you?" His nails dug into his palm. "One bullet to the trapezius muscle," she pointed a finger at the area between her neck and shoulder, "and another to the deltoid." She placed a hand on her inner shoulder.

"Barely missed an artery," she smiled up at him, and he fought to keep a grimace on his lips. "Two bullet wounds to the shoulder wouldn't cover you in that much blood," he crossed his arms and gave her a quizzical look.

Liz huffed a laugh, "That's because it wasn't my blood." When Locus didn't laugh or even smile, the girl quickly wiped the smug grin off of her face. She quickly changed the subject, "That nice lady, Sherry I think it was? She cleaned me up and took the shots out the day I got here. I've just been resting."

A wash of relief rushed over Locus as he exhaled deeply, and the feeling made himself pissed. "You look..." The soldier's voice trailed off, and Liz laughed faintly, "Different, yeah. I know."

"Your hair," he began, wanting to reach out and twirl a strand between his fingers like he used to do. It was jet black, covering the beauty of her fiery red curls. The curls weren't even there anymore. Her hair was as straight as a board, shiny and hanging down by her face. He frowned.

"You'd be surprised at how recognizable the red is..." She laughably shyly, tucking her fringe behind her ear. Locus wouldn't be surprised at all. Her hair was noticeable from a mile away... Or maybe that had nothing to do with the color of her hair... "Liz, I-"

She interrupted him, her voice stern yet quiet, "It's not Liz. Not here." Her eyes were wild with paranoia, "I'm Camille." Locus almost laughed. She looked nothing like a Camille. He frowned again.

Her eyes were different, too. When he looked into them, they weren't the same vibrant green as before. They were a dark color, something in-between brown and black. Contacts. Locus assumed her eyes would've given her away too. That wasn't surprising at all.

Nothing could hide that smirk though. He found himself admiring her face, memorizing her define cheek bones and cherry-shaped nose. He almost took a step towards her, and that's when he shook his head. He snapped out of it immediately.

"I didn't come here to give you your helmet back," Locus snarled, and the girl's eyes filled with a glint of hope. The corners of her mouth twitched up. "I came here to tell you to stay the hell away from me," his voice was stone cold.

Liz's grin vanished immediately, and her gaze drifted to the floor. "I've found comfort in this place. I'm not going to let you ruin it," the soldier hissed. She nodded slowly. Locus noticed her bottom lip quiver.

Without another word, he marched out of the infirmary tent. His heart pounded in his throat, and he desperately gasped for air. A weight had been lifted off his chest, but a new one settled there in the process.