Vagabonds

Chapter Twenty-Five: Getaway

For a long moment, no one moved, all of them frozen as they stared at the elegant lake house that seemed as much a part of the forest as the trees and ferns. It was beautiful, a thing of layered glass and wood with multiple tiers of decks and a gorgeous open front facing the water. Eliza gaped at it, watching the truck's high beams glitter on the enormous windows, wondering just how wealthy Joe's parents really were.

And then Moose moaned.

With a creak and a slam, Aquila leapt out of the truck bed and yanked open the door.

"I think he passed out when we pulled onto the driveway," Eliza said as Joe, Daisy, and Aquila struggled to extract the long-limbed boy from the back of Old Betty.

"He looks pale," Joe said, edging away from the exposed spines on Daisy's arms.

"He always looks like that." But Aquila's joke was weighed down by the worry creasing his brow and Moose's wordless shudders.

"Joe, where's the key?"

Joe ducked his head, shifting Moose's arm in his grip.

"Um, well, there's no key. There should be a fingerprint scanner by the door."

Eliza rolled her eyes but decided now wasn't the best time to comment. Instead she elbowed up to Joe, taking Moose's arm out of his hands and jerking her head toward the enormous lake house.

Joe nodded and scrambled up the front steps to unlock it.

"We need towels you don't care about," Aquila said, bending his knees to fit his massive wings through a door built for normal-sized people. "And bandages. Lots of bandages."

"Ok, right, yeah, I'll go look." Joe vanished into the shadows of the house as the lights flickered on, washing the interior with a warm, friendly glow.

"Jesus," Eliza breathed, almost dropping Moose's arm. The inside was even more spectacular, with sweeping arches of hardwood and at least three fireplaces in view.

"Moose, stay with us, ok man." Aquila's voice dragged Eliza back to the present. Meeting Daisy's terrified eyes, she helped them navigate Moose's twitching body to a stretch of hardwood floor. "C'mon dude, you're always saying you're the toughest of us."

"I... am... tough... you... jerk," Moose's words were jumbled and slurred, as if he was speaking around a mouthful of soft food.

Eliza and Aquila shared a worried look.

"Let's see the damage," she said, wracking her brain for the First Aid basics she'd learned that year Katie was a camp counselor. With hesitant fingers, she began to peel off the crusty, bloodstained sweater.

Moose screamed, head snapping up so fast that it almost hit Aquila's nose.

"Sorry, sorry," Eliza said, wincing as the sweater stuck. Blood began to ooze out of the reopened wound, pooling on the floor. "JOE!"

"Here," Joe said, dumping an armload of pristine white towels at Moose's feet. "I found these too."

Eliza took the tube of Bacitracin and the huge bottle of Vodka, crystal clear and shimmering ominously. She stared at them, weighing one in each hand, dreading the next part.

With a wince, she lifted her gaze.

"This is going to hurt," she said, staring at Aquila.

Moose muttered something unintelligible, but Aquila nodded, gently pressing Moose's shoulders to the ground.

Eliza opened the Vodka bottle, glanced back to Joe. He was lingering next to a rocking, silent Daisy, both of them wearing twin expressions of wide-eyed dread.

"Here goes nothing."

And then Eliza poured alcohol all over the wound.

Moose's body arced, every muscle tightening like violin strings. Aquila's shirt strained on his shoulders as he held his brother down, mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like a prayer. Moose's jaw clenched so tight that he couldn't even shout, but Eliza could see the pain in his limbs, his fists, the flashing glint of his goggles.

"I'm sorry," she muttered, using a towel to sponge off the Vodka. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

But she wasn't done. Squeezing out a gloppy handful of Bacitracin, she hesitated only a second before smearing it all over the carved-out hole in Moose's upper arm. The boy began to flop and shudder. His hands slapped the floor. But Aquila held him down and Eliza managed to coat the edges of the wound with antibacterial gel. She snatched a nearby towel, wrapped it tightly around Moose's bicep, pressed down.

Finally, everything went still.

Moose was panting, chest moving up and down so fast it blurred. Eliza would have been worried he was hyperventilating if she didn't know better.

"Hey, you okay?" she asked, leaning in close to Moose's face.

Moose lifted his head the tiniest bit, offering Eliza his best effort at a coy smile.

"Peachy," he said, thumping back down. "I knew... you wouldn't be able to keep... hands off me."

For the first time, Eliza glanced at her fingers, pressed against the stained towel. They were covered in blood and Bacitracin, congealing horribly in the webbing of her hands. She forced herself to swallow bile.

"I'm... definitely the most badass... one here," Moose muttered, head drifting to the side.

"We have to keep pressure on it," Eliza said, swallowing convulsively. "I think it's okay for him to sleep. We should take shifts though, to make sure he doesn't go into shock or something."

They all watched her, drinking in her every word, and Eliza felt the responsibility like an iron anchor. They were trusting her? Eliza, who was the reason they were all in this mess in the first place? Who had little to no idea what she was doing?

Her eyes met Daisy's and she saw in them the same guilt. The same terror.

"I'm sorry," Daisy said in that halting, unsure way of his. He folded over, wrapping his spiny arms around shaking knees.

Eliza burst to her feet.

"I need to wash up. Joe, would you please hold the towel on him?"

Before anyone could respond, she was sprinting for the telltale white ceramic of the nearest washroom, kicking the bamboo door shut behind her.