((Charles Cade Jr continued from ...And An Ending))
Charlie was alive and thousands of miles from home.
She barely remembered the journey, hadn't been more than tenuously conscious for most of it. An aircraft. Straps securing her arms and legs. Blurred faces looking down on her. Hands poking and prodding at her. It was all a haze, probably a doped-up one, given how few sensations ever forced their way through the dull fog. Pain was the most persistent, fear next. Her injuries were severe, the treatment Mina had helped her with barely enough to keep her alive.
Charlie didn't want to die, but as her thoughts grew less clouded, her fears became more and more pronounced. The British soldiers may have removed them from the Program, but they had also abducted them from their country. The British were saviours and captors both, and Charlie hated that she couldn't hate them. She hated that nothing made sense any more. America as the pinnacle was familiar and safe. She'd had everything planned out; she'd graduate high school and straight into a military finishing school, officer training, from there into basic, deployment, joining the army just like she'd always wanted.
Just like the men and women who had snatched them up and forced them to kill one another at gunpoint. For the United States. For the General. Because they were ordered to. Would Charlie have done the same, in their shoes?
She hated the answer.
Charlie lay in her bed, staring up at the ceiling. The bespectacled doctor had told her that she was through the worst of it, but was to stick to bed rest until further notice and was decidedly not allowed to be up and about. She even had to take meals here, forbidden from leaving for even that much. The most human contact she received was from the medical staff and stops by other military personnel, most of whom made a point of offering to bring along anything she wanted, and that she wasn't a prisoner, simply expected to convalesce. Indeed, her dressings were changed regularly and the doctor visited twice a day, sometimes more to check in on her condition. Charlie didn't have the energy, the will to suspect their motives.
She sat up, the site of her wound echoing in angry protest, and rubbed her eyes fiercely with the heels of her palms. She hated that she wanted to go home.
Life, After A Fashion
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 3442
- Joined: Mon Aug 06, 2018 9:56 am
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
((Mina Mashall continued from ...And An Ending))
Mina had spent an awful lot of time watching Charlie since their rescue.
She had spent a large portion of the helicopter ride doing so, sitting at her spot on the bench, trying not to shiver as she remembered how Grant Gault had been dumped unceremoniously. No room for the dead. No help left to be rendered. She had sat and held her breath until the medics actually did take notice and give her some cursory attention, sat in rapt terror that Charlie would slip away too and would be rolled out the side door like so much worthless meat. Mina had been preparing herself to fight someone if that happened,to throw herself bodily at whoever she could reach, but it didn't, so she just sat and watched.
She had been similarly observant in their new abode. It was slightly more complicated because she made sure to visit only when Charlie was asleep, but it wasn't so bad. Charlie was seriously hurt and slept a lot. Mina was generally physically uninjured and was often up at odd hours of the night besides. She had spent some time chatting up one of the nurses, who would give her updates and let her know if the coast was clear. Mina stopped by once or twice or three times a day, never for long, just to crack the door and look in and see how things were going. It had taken her a little while to accept that Charlie really probably wasn't about to die. Now it was just routine. It was very hard to say if it cheered her up or made her feel worse.
This was a day like any other. Mina was on her way back from the gardens, where she'd been sitting pounding snow into slush under her shoes, and she thought she'd check in. She saw her favorite nurse, a mid-thirties woman with a severe black bun, and she nodded to Mina, and Mina nodded back and smiled and gave a small wave. Then she went down the hall, paused at the door, turned the handle, and cracked it open.
Charlie was sitting up in bed, rubbing her eyes. Mina's own widened, and panic immediately surged in her chest. She froze for just a second, just long enough, and she was sure she'd been spotted and even if she hadn't, it surely wasn't subtle as she slammed the door and ran off down the hall, not slowing until she was back in her own chamber despite the looks she drew from those she passed.
((Mina Mashall continued in Road to Recovery))
Mina had spent an awful lot of time watching Charlie since their rescue.
She had spent a large portion of the helicopter ride doing so, sitting at her spot on the bench, trying not to shiver as she remembered how Grant Gault had been dumped unceremoniously. No room for the dead. No help left to be rendered. She had sat and held her breath until the medics actually did take notice and give her some cursory attention, sat in rapt terror that Charlie would slip away too and would be rolled out the side door like so much worthless meat. Mina had been preparing herself to fight someone if that happened,to throw herself bodily at whoever she could reach, but it didn't, so she just sat and watched.
She had been similarly observant in their new abode. It was slightly more complicated because she made sure to visit only when Charlie was asleep, but it wasn't so bad. Charlie was seriously hurt and slept a lot. Mina was generally physically uninjured and was often up at odd hours of the night besides. She had spent some time chatting up one of the nurses, who would give her updates and let her know if the coast was clear. Mina stopped by once or twice or three times a day, never for long, just to crack the door and look in and see how things were going. It had taken her a little while to accept that Charlie really probably wasn't about to die. Now it was just routine. It was very hard to say if it cheered her up or made her feel worse.
This was a day like any other. Mina was on her way back from the gardens, where she'd been sitting pounding snow into slush under her shoes, and she thought she'd check in. She saw her favorite nurse, a mid-thirties woman with a severe black bun, and she nodded to Mina, and Mina nodded back and smiled and gave a small wave. Then she went down the hall, paused at the door, turned the handle, and cracked it open.
Charlie was sitting up in bed, rubbing her eyes. Mina's own widened, and panic immediately surged in her chest. She froze for just a second, just long enough, and she was sure she'd been spotted and even if she hadn't, it surely wasn't subtle as she slammed the door and ran off down the hall, not slowing until she was back in her own chamber despite the looks she drew from those she passed.
((Mina Mashall continued in Road to Recovery))
Charlie's eyes cleared after a moment, and then she stopped. Framed in the doorway was Mina Mashall, looking in on her with the wide eyes of someone who'd been caught with their hand in the cookie jar.
And then she was gone, snapping back from the narrow opening and slamming it behind her before Charlie could even open her mouth to speak.
She called out anyway. "Mina! Hey! Hold it! Mina!" she jerked forward, anger and longing propelling her for just long enough to rise from the bed before the pain ripped through her abdomen, robbing her breath from her lungs.
All energy left her legs and she collapsed back to the bed. She growled something that might have been a curse and might have been a plea.
Charlie was still lying atop the covers when the nurse came by to check on her again.
((Charlie Cade continued in Road to Recovery))
And then she was gone, snapping back from the narrow opening and slamming it behind her before Charlie could even open her mouth to speak.
She called out anyway. "Mina! Hey! Hold it! Mina!" she jerked forward, anger and longing propelling her for just long enough to rise from the bed before the pain ripped through her abdomen, robbing her breath from her lungs.
All energy left her legs and she collapsed back to the bed. She growled something that might have been a curse and might have been a plea.
Charlie was still lying atop the covers when the nurse came by to check on her again.
((Charlie Cade continued in Road to Recovery))