Through the night, I watched Cyler. I kept hard pressure on the wound in his leg and tried to decrease the bleeding as much as possible. Eventually, a seamstress from the Walker Zone came forward and offered to stitch Cyler up. It was a long shot, but we removed his pants, and I watched as she carefully sewed the three-inch-long gash back together. We disinfected his wound with alcohol but also kept some to give him for the occasional times he’d woken up in pain.
The train remained mostly quiet, aside from Cyler’s brief whimpers of pain. I could sense that the earlier excitement of leaving Galla was now entirely extinguished by the attack. The women and children were rightfully scared, but I felt too distraught over Cyler to even briefly remove my eyes from his weak frame, despite the overwhelming exhaustion that consumed me.
Each minute ticked by slowly. Whispers about Cyler’s condition annoyed me, and I kept wiping his brow to remove the sweat from his forehead. Eventually, he began to have uncontrollable tremors. The seamstress and I had to hold him down to keep him from re-opening his wound and tearing the amateur stitches.
Although I didn’t know Cyler well, it pained me to see him suffer. For reasons I didn’t understand, I ached to take his pain away, and I spent each moment comforting him. Despite his rough exterior, Cyler Black had become a friend, a friend that I wasn’t willing to give up on just yet.
The tremors came in waves, each one increasing in severity. I gripped Cyler's hand and whispered words of encouragement.
Finally, as the sun rose on the last day of our travels, Cyler’s fever spiked as we arrived at a beautiful village framed by trees and full of homes made of wood. There were dirt roads and a crowd—mostly men—eager to meet us. Some cheered, and some had curious expressions, but I stood on shaky knees, ready to announce that we needed help. Once the train came to a complete stop, I slammed the sliding door open and screamed for a doctor. My voice was hoarse and weak, but it was loud enough to gather the attention of our welcoming committee. Hot air hit my face, and immediately I was greeted with looks of shock and concern.
“It’s Cyler, quick, we need help! Hurry!”
Three men pushed their way through the crowd and boarded the train.
“What happened?” a red-headed man asked while feeling Cyler’s forehead and looking around the main cabin. “Are you hurt, too?” he asked.
I looked down at myself and saw that blood stains completely covered my dress and skin. The exhaustion, fear, and overall emotional turmoil of the past few days consumed me like a relentless fire. The last thing I saw was the red-headed man’s concerned expression before I welcomed the darkness. As it flooded my vision and relaxed my senses, I fell into a deep sleep.
Chapter Ten
The first thing I heard when waking up was the sound of Cyler’s angry voice.
“How long has she been asleep, are you sure you didn’t find anything wrong with her? Do we need to call a neighboring healer?” He spoke fast and choppy. His grave voice made my heart hurt, and for a moment, I almost forgot about all the events that led to that moment.
But, memories flooded me, and I realized that I wasn’t in my basement in the Stonewell home but somewhere Cyler was wounded. I shot up in bed and rubbed the sleep from my eyes, determined to figure out where I was and if he was ok. The last thing I remember was pulling up to Dormas.
Once my eyes focused, I turned to see a room full of men staring intently at me. I was wearing a flimsy nightgown, and their intense focus made me pull the soft blankets up to my chin.
Cyler grinned and limped his way over to the bed. He plopped down with a grunt and placed a hand on my knee. “You had me worried, babe.” The flirty nickname made me cringe, causing laughter to fill the small, dark, room.
“Last I remember, you were the one they stabbed. What are you even doing up?” I scolded.
A red-headed man that I vaguely remembered grabbed my wrist and checked my pulse.
“Cy refused to rest until he knew you were okay,” he said kindly. I jerked my hand away from his cold fingers, earning myself a scowl from him. His hair was a red-brown, and his beard matched. Framed by thick lashes, his dark eyes looked kind. He was striking with thick lips and perfect, white teeth.
“How long have I been asleep?” I asked.
“Two days,” the red-headed man answered.
“I’m Maverick, by the way.” He held his hand out, and years of practiced politeness urged me to shake it. As soon as our fingers touched, he gripped my wrists and went back to checking my pulse which was racing at all the attention focused on me. He was a sneaky one.
“Any longer, and I would have been dead,” Cyler whispered. “Thanks for taking care of me and the other Walkers, Ash.”
A toned, but slender blond man with intriguing blue eyes in the back corner spoke, “What I want to know is why they left the women. If the attackers wanted to take away our resources, why spare them? I don’t get it.”
“That's Kemper,” Cyler explained nonchalantly.
“I don’t know,” I said, answering the blonde’s question. “They had to have used transports to catch the train. I increased our speed to try and outrun them, but they never attempted to board the train again.”
The one Cyler called Kemper nodded as he absorbed what I told him.
“They got what they wanted. 26 Walker men were taken captive, not to mention a small fortune’s worth of gold,” Maverick said while releasing my wrist and tucking it under the soft covers.
“What do they want with the Walkers?” I asked.
“They’re newly vaccinated, non-disabled men. They want what we wanted.” Cyler sighed.
“You did the right thing, though,” Kemper added. “Increasing your speed to outrun them and get everyone here safely was the right thing to do.”
My stomach growled loudly, causing Kemper, Maverick, and Cyler to look at me. I grinned sheepishly.
“If you just show me to the kitchen, I can get started making . . . uh? What time is it?”
“Noon” Kemper said simply.
“Ah, well then I can get started for lunch, then. Do you have any preferences?” I casually asked while removing my covers and placing my feet on the wooden floor. I heard quiet moans and looked around the room, confused. None of the men met my eye, and I looked down to see that my nighttime slip was nearly see-through, revealing my chest and an eyeful of my bare back.
“You aren’t lifting a finger, babe.” Cyler broke the tension. “I want your pretty, little head back on this pillow and relaxing for the rest of the day,” he ordered.
“I’ll bring up some lunch in a few,” Kemper offered.
“Thanks, that would be great. I-I don’t want to impose, though. Just some crackers would be sufficient.”
“Ah, fuck. Don’t be one of those martyrs. We aren’t here to feel sorry for you. We find a problem and fix it. As of now, you’re hungry. Kemper has offered to fix it. Let's move on,” Cyler said forcefully. His brash nature never ceased to amaze me.
The sound of a metal click caught my attention, and I looked to see Maverick clicking an ankle bracelet onto Cyler’s injured leg.
“Just a precaution–it reads his vitals and will let me know if the infection comes back. We have him on round the clock antibiotics, but you can’t be too careful. It also serves as a tracking device. So, if you leave this bedroom–I’ll know. You need rest. Stay here for the day,” Maverick said with a cheery smile. I could sense that he enjoyed having the upper hand over Cyler, and Cyler’s expression hinted that it was rare that he released control.