At least as much as somebody can be in this job.' She finished closing the gash.
'You're pretty good at that. I should know… I've been stitched up plenty of times. I've even done it to myself when I didn't have help,' I told her.
'Thanks.' She tied off the end. 'I learned how in nursing school.'
'You were in nursing school?'
'Yeah… don't act so surprised. You think I took a degrading job because of the quality people I got to hang around? I needed to pay bills, you know.'
'I'm not. I understand.'
'I was at UNLV. I only had a couple of semesters left is all… And don't ask.'
'Got it.' I understood. There seemed to be no shortage of Monster Hunters with secrets in their past. She finished stitching me up and wrapped clean gauze over my arms.
'That's about all that I can do,' she said. 'You need to get some rest, and you probably need to eat. I saw some food in the fridge. Trip and I will keep watch tonight.'
'Thanks,' I told her. She stood and stretched, then retrieved her rifle and slung it over her back. She paused on her way out of the kitchen.
'Think about what I said earlier. I don't want you getting killed for no reason.'
'I promise I won't,' I replied.
'Whatever… Stupid heroes.' She left the room. 'Sweet dreams, Z.'
I picked one of the many bedrooms on the top floor. The plan was for all of us to sleep in the same general part of the house. Splitting up seemed like a stupid thing to do considering that we did not know how safe we were here from the Cursed One's minions.
It was a small room, and the walls were bare sheetrock, but the bed was soft and I was exhausted and still in pain. I popped a handful of Tylenol and hoped that it would help. There were plenty of stronger painkillers in the ambulance, but the last thing I wanted to be was groggy. It took me a few minutes to find a comfortable spot on the bed where nothing was rubbing a scabbed-over patch of missing skin. That was rather difficult considering the extent of my road rash.
The Cursed One was coming. I knew that. I could feel it in my bones. I knew that he was close, I was not aware of how I knew that, but somehow I knew. Ray was the key. Something in the man's head was the secret that Lord Machado was looking for. Some bit of knowledge gleaned from his own forbidden studies in breaking the laws of nature and bringing back the dead. I would kill Ray Shackleford myself before I let him fall into the hands of the enemy. I did not relish the thought of murdering a human being, but it beat the alternative.
I was asleep in minutes.
My dreams that night were brief. The Old Man did not pay me a visit, and thankfully I did not have to see the world through the lens of the Cursed One's memories. For most of the night I slept like a normal man, not bound by strange visions or plagued with old prophecies and mysteries.
I had a brief nightmare, a panicked, disjointed chase through the halls of the Appleton Asylum. This time the gargoyles were much faster. This time I could not save Julie from them. They took her from me and tore the life out of her with their stone claws. A well of rage and hate opened up inside of my soul. Every bit of anger that I had ever possessed was uncorked and unleashed upon my enemies. I crushed the massive unnatural beings into dust with my bare hands as if they were nothing. My rage continued, until finally in my wrath I destroyed everything around me, leaving nothing but a smoking wasteland of death.
I slept.
I woke up late the next morning, sunlight streaming through my window. I felt remarkably good considering how badly beaten up I was. Despite my hectic schedule over the last few weeks, and my total lack of down time, I felt downright refreshed. Rolling out of bed, I could already tell it was going to be a great day.
A horrible odor assaulted my senses. My bandages were missing and had been replaced by something foul. A green, tarlike substance was smeared all over my arms. It stunk of dead road kill and body odor. I gagged reflexively as it hit my nostrils like a hammer.
'Hey! There's something going on!' I bellowed at the top of my lungs. Considering the weirdness we dealt with in this business, I figured that if you woke up to find yourself coated in strange secretions, it was probably best to alert your co-workers. Unlike most polite jobs, of course.
Trip burst into the bedroom, subgun at the ready, scanning for threats. He must have been right outside the door.
'Something slimed me.' I held up one goo-coated arm.
'Dude, you about gave me a heart attack.'
'What the hell is this?' I shook my arms and some of the stuff splattered onto the sheets. We were probably going to have to burn them later.
'Don't worry. Gretchen checked on you when she was done working on Julie. After she saw your injuries, she made that paste in the kitchen, came up here and smeared it on you. I'm guessing it's supposed to be some sort of salve or something.'
'I didn't hear a thing,' I stated suspiciously. I could not believe that I had slept through that. And certainly not while sober.
'If you haven't noticed, she moves kinda quiet.'
'What's in it? It smells terrible.'
'If I tell you, you're either going to puke or straight up shoot her. So I'm not saying anything. Just remember, she's supposed to be the healer… But according to my knowledge of chemistry, I can't think of a thing that it is supposed to do other than reek.'
'I'm gonna shower. If you see ninja doctor tell her thanks for the slime.' I grabbed my bag and stormed down the hall. At least I had learned from previous mistakes and had packed some extra clothing along with my armor and weapons. A man should always have access to emergency pants.
I found a bathroom, eagerly stripped out of my torn clothes, and jumped into the scalding shower. I had not thought that anything could be grosser than the wight and vampire fluids I had been sprayed with on the freighter, but I had been very wrong.
Under closer examination the stuff appeared to be vegetable-based, except for the particles that I hesitantly identified as ground bones or teeth. Skippy's wife was one weird chick, not that he was exactly a bastion of normalcy himself. As I was scrubbing the filth off under the stream of hot water I realized a few things. First, I should have been in intense pain from the water striking my injuries. Second, I wasn't in any pain at all.
As the stuff was sluiced away, I discovered that rather than being inflamed and scabbed like my arms should have been on the day after such an accident, they were mostly clear, with only smaller spots of scabbing where the very worst of the injuries had been. The gashes that Holly had sewn shut looked like they had been stitched a week ago instead of last night.
Stepping out of the shower I held my arms above my head in amazement. Other than the discoloration and missing hair, the formerly destroyed patches were well on their way toward healing. I turned my arms over, disbelieving what was directly in front of my eyes. It was a miracle. I quickly dried off and dressed.
I found the others in the kitchen. The smell of coffee was strong, and Holly was frying some eggs over the stove. Trip was leaning against a counter, subgun still casually slung and steaming mug in his hands. Gretchen was nowhere to be seen. Skippy's people did not seem particularly social. Surprisingly, Julie was out of bed and sitting at the improvised table, laughing and talking with the others. She had a small bandage on the side of her head, and there was a larger bandage peeking out from under the edges of her shirt. She smiled when she saw me enter, and she looked a thousand times better than when I had brought her here only twelve hours ago. Other than the fact that everybody was armed, and there was a flamethrower sitting in the corner, it looked like a breakfast commercial.
'Good morning, Owen,' Julie called happily.
'Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes,' Holly added. ' 'Bout time you rolled your carcass out of bed. Thanks for all the help with cooking. Both of you.'
'Hey, I'm on guard duty,' Trip said as he patted his H amp;K.
'Whatever. I was wandering around the halls with night vision watching for gargoyles until three A.M. so forgive me if I don't cry you a river. Make yourself useful and grab some plates.'
'Sorry to interrupt the breakfast club here, guys'-I held up my relatively healthy arms-'but what the hell is
