The Gender Game 2 by Bella Forrest (positive books to read txt) 📗

pale. Samuel immediately rushed to her, licking her face, trying to get her up. I was close behind him, pushing him aside.

Violet’s pulse was rapid under my fingers, her breathing wheezing and shallow. I slid my hands under her back, pulling her up, and her head lolled side to side, limp. Placing her in between my legs so I could better control her body, I lifted her eyelids and shone a light in her eyes, but her pupils didn’t respond.

I quickly set to unbuttoning her shirt, my mind racing. She had been poisoned, but by something she ate or a venomous creature, I couldn’t tell. I reached the last button, and then I froze. Undressing her while she was helpless… it felt wrong. Granted, I had seen her in next to nothing, but still, I felt a little odd about exposing her like this.

I overrode it. Her life was more important.

Pulling open her shirt, I inspected her skin for bite marks. Finding none, I pulled her shirt back on over her shoulders, and then moved to her pants.

All of a sudden, Violet started to seize in my arms, her body jerking like a broken marionette doll. I wrapped my arms and legs firmly around her. The fit lasted for several seconds, and when it was over, she had white goo pouring from her mouth.

I quickly shucked off her pants, and immediately saw the makeshift bandage encircling her thigh. I removed it quickly. Her upper thigh was swollen, black, and writhing. I recognized that she had been bitten by one of the great black centipedes. I laid her down on the ground on her side and placed a knee on her hip, so she couldn’t jerk away.

Removing my knife from my belt, I quickly sliced the wound open, using the blackened puncture marks as a guide. Violet twitched, but remained unconscious.

Yellow pus and dark blood spilled from the wound. I grabbed my canteen, and rinsed it out, until I could see the orange placenta-like encasement that held the infant centipedes.

All of the centipedes in The Green were venomous, but the greater black centipede’s venom was more insidious if the symptoms weren’t recognized. The venom was at work, dissolving Violet’s muscle tissue and pumping poison into her veins. Meanwhile, the nutrients created by the venom of the sac seeped back through, feeding the growing life inside.

I used my knife and punctured the sac. Translucent centipedes about the size of my thumb slid out of the case, dripping down her thigh and onto the ground. I used the bandage to wipe them off, throwing them as far away as possible. Gently, I grabbed the edges of the egg sack, and pulled it out, taking care not to rip it.

Once it was out, I opened my bag, pulling out my medical kit. I quickly mixed an antiseptic powder packet with some water and spread it over her wound. It dried and hardened quickly, fixing her tissue in place.

As it dried, I found the necessary two pills that would help her system process the venom and extricate it from her body. I forced them into her mouth, poured water down her throat, and stroked her neck until she swallowed them.

I continued to pour water down her throat, working liquid into her, and I kept her in my arms. I told myself it was so I could monitor her better. If she vomited while she was unconscious, she could choke, so I needed to be there to make sure she didn’t.

But deep down, I knew I had her there because I needed to feel her against me. I kept checking her pulse to make sure she was still alive. I fought the urge to talk to her, because I knew the words that would spill out of my mouth would be a mixture of platitudes, begging her not to die, coupled with vicious accusations.

Several hours passed before I felt comfortable letting her go. Her pulse was beating strong and regularly, and color was returning to her cheeks. I forced some more water and medicine into her mouth, replaced her mask, and then laid her down, wrapping her in my polymer blanket. I put some distance between us and sat down, staring at her. She twisted fitfully in her sleep, wresting her hand out of the blanket as if to fend off a blow.

My jaw clenched. How could a creature so dangerous seem so helpless at the same time? Violet was a walking contradiction. It was like there were two Violets—the Violet that was a threat to everyone around her, and the Violet that was a threat to herself.

I ran a hand across my face. I had been nursing Violet for hours, and the run had taken a lot out of me. I was exhausted. Samuel yipped, and crawled over me, whining softly, his tail thumping on the ground, reminding me that it was dinner time.

I opened up a tin, gave him half, and then ate the other half. In the fading light of the sun, I saw Violet’s bag lying toppled over from where I had kicked it in my haste to get to her. Some of the items were out—a few aerosol cans and some food items were scattered across the ground.

Moving over to it, I began to rifle through it and immediately recognized the silver case as the egg. I picked it up, examining its surface. I found a keyhole, and I looked at Violet, and the key she had tied around her neck. It was tempting to open, but then again—I had no idea what was inside, and I didn’t relish the idea of accidentally setting off some sort of bomb.

I set it aside, and began to rummage around. Everything else was for survival, although her bag was missing several important things, like medicine that could save her life. I heard something rattle as I went to set the bag aside. Frowning, I reached into the bottom and felt the cool press of