Shattered Salvation, Draft 1 CH 47
#48 of Shattered Salvation
draft 1 of Book 4 in the Tristan Series, where The rescue of an old man turns into a race to find a virus that could wipe out all life in the universe
Tristan has to confront how he behaved in front of Alex
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Tristan was horrified. He'd pleaded. Tristan didn't plead, he demanded and he took, he never pleaded. What had happened? He wasn't afraid of Alex, he couldn't be, he was just a human.
His chain of thought was broken by the biochemist raising the wrench over her head, eyes fixed on Alex.
No!
He batted the wrench out of the way and grabbed her by the neck. Her scream was strangled out as Tristan tightened his grip. She'd hurt Alex, she'd wanted to kill him. He wouldn't allow that to happen, he was going to kill her for thinking that.
But he wanted Alex dead, didn't he? He might still die now, he wasn't infected by the virus anymore. He wouldn't heal.
He dropped her and pushed her down to her knees next to Alex. "Fix him."
She had a coughing fit and rubbed her neck. He glared at her through it and when she looked up the fear was clear. Good. She should be afraid.
"I'm not a doctor."
"I don't care," Tristan growled, "you either fix him or I break your neck. He isn't going to die because of something you did."
Confusion became mixed with the fear. "I--"
Tristan growled. When she didn't react to that he reached for her. She bolted. He watched, ready to chase her, but she didn't go for the door, she went to the wall, where an emergency medical kit hung.
She opened it next to Alex and took out vials and bandages. She looked up to him for help, but Tristan didn't move. He couldn't move.
Why had he ordered her to save Alex? The job was over. He wanted him dead. He wanted him out of his life forever.
She pushed Alex on his side and applied a sealant to the gash, then she rummaged through the kit and injected him with a heal booster.
She checked his other injuries, sealed the open cuts and burns. "I can't do more here. I need one of the bed in the medbay to see if he has any internal injuries."
"Go."
She looked at the unconscious man, then at Tristan. "I can't--"
"Go," Tristan growled.
She scrambled to her feet, pulled the strap out of the kit and threw it over her shoulder. Then she grabbed Alex by the shoulders and pulled. It was a strain for her to drag him, but eventually she managed to make it out of the engineering room.
He closed his eyes and allowed himself to relax. Finally, he was gone. He could stop thinking about that man. He could stop worrying about him.
He had to stop thinking about Alex. He wasn't important. He didn't matter.
He looked at the open doorway. He might still die.
Tristan was almost through the door when he stopped himself. He didn't care. He wouldn't care what happened to that human. He was either going to live or die, neither would matter to him.
He growled. If the universe thought he would be undone by something like this, it was going to learn that nothing affected him.
He forced himself to turn away from the door and stalked back into the room. One of the men on the floor stirred. Tristan slammed a foot down on his neck. The breaking of bones was a satisfying sound.
Two more men stirred and Tristan finished them off. When another one stirred he growled and stalked to him. This one he didn't finish off, he couldn't. He was the job.
The target wasn't dead, which was good. Surprising, but good. Tristan grabbed him by the collar and pulled him up. His face was covered with blood from when he'd hit the wall hard. The gash on his forehead had--
Tristan rubbed the blood off. There was no gash.
How was that possible? No one healed this quickly, not unless.... Tristan smiled. He was infected. His smile broadened. Of course he was. The virus was contagious. Extremely so, if the old man's story had been accurate.
It meant he couldn't die. This was perfect, because this man had to suffer for what he'd put Tristan through. It was all his fault. If not for him there wouldn't have been this job. Alex wouldn't have gotten infected and Tristan wouldn't have been inexplicably compelled to use the cure on him, instead of himself.
"Wake up." Tristan shook the man. "Wake up!"
The man groaned. Slowly his eyes opened.
"Good." Tristan pulled an arm back. "This is all your fault." He punched the man in the face.