Capítulo 16: Chapter 16

"Caroline?" He called her name and heard a muffled cry. He climbed the stairs and searched the rooms until he found her. A dish towel was stuffed in her mouth, and her limbs were tied spread-eagle to the bed. She was still clothed and shaking violently as she saw him.

"It's okay, honey," he whispered as he untied the knots and freed her. She jerked the towel out of her mouth.

"It's not okay! I'm Oh my God, you're bleeding!" She grasped him by the shoulders, and he let loose a string of profanities before she released him.

"Sorry!" she exclaimed, her eyes darting over his face and shoulder.

"Do you see an exit wound?" he asked, turning around to show her his back.

"Yes. There's a bloody spot on your sweater, and it's torn."

"Goodyou won't have to dig out a bullet, but you will need to clean the wound. I've lost too much blood. Grab my medkit from the bathroom. Use QuikClotit increasesclotting."

Lincoln sank off the bed and onto the ground, leaning against the edge of the mattress. His head was already spinning.

"Tell me what to do," Caroline said.

"You worked at a vet's office It's all the same." Those were his last words before he passed out.

***

Caroline was paralyzed with fear. It rooted her to the bed for far too long. But when she got herself back under control, she had an idea. She ran to the bathroom and got a cup of clean water and soap, along with the medical kit he kept on the counter. She rinsed the wound with soap and water after she cut his sweater off. Then she dressed the wound with the QuikClot gauze she found in the kit and secured it with bandage tape. Then she kept him upright and in a seated position and waited for half an hour, checking his vitals. His pulse remained steady and strong, so she took a chance to leave him alone for a minute.

When she went downstairs, she saw the bloodand the bodies.

The three men who had broken into her temporary home and ambushed her and Lincoln were lying dead in the kitchen and the family room. The solemn sanctuary of this empty house seemed to have changed. It was violated by violence and death, which now settled like a black shroud over the once peaceful refuge. In that moment Caroline felt a surge of hatred inside her. How could they do this? These men How could they take her home, her safety, almost take her and Lincoln's lives?

She was glad they were dead. These weren't survivorsthey were predators. Parasites. She wouldn't mourn these men; their stories were over. All that mattered now was getting them out of the house and taking care of Lincoln.

She dragged the bodies outside one by one and down the upper deck stairs and left them in a pile by the creek, where the scavengers could handle them. She didn't have the time or energy to dig graves. Her back ached and her muscles cramped with the effort, but when she was done, she wearily climbed the porch steps and headed back to the guest room.

Lincoln was still okay, as far as she could tell. But she couldn't just sit there, watching him and worrying. She had to stay busy, so she returned to the first floor and mopped up the blood. There was no saving the expensive white carpets. Pink stains remained, despite her scrubbing for what seemed like an eternity with a cocktail of different cleaning solutions.

When she was finished, she sank down against the door leading to the porch. Her back was knotted with pain, her clothes were stained with blood, and she suddenly had no strength left.

Tears ran down her cheeks as she struggled to cope with what had just happened. If Lincoln hadn't killed those men, she would've been raped by now. Probably dead. And he had almost died protecting her. She wasn't sure how long she sat there, exhausted, crying, frightened. Finally, she dragged herself back upstairs to check on Lincoln. He was sleeping, the soft rhythmic sounds of his breath were calming. She lay down beside him, curling her hand through his before she let sleep claim her. For now, this was comfort.

She woke a while later, darkness thick around her.

"Caroline." Lincoln's rough voice stirred her more fully awake.

"I'm here," she whispered and squeezed his hand.

"Water," he rasped.

"Hang on." She left the guest room and fumbled in the master bedroom until she found the camping lantern and then turned on the water and filled him a glass. Then she returned and put the cup to his lips. He drank the water greedily.

"You okay?" he asked once it was empty.

"Yeah, how about you? I did my best to patch up the wound."

Lincoln checked her work. "Not bad."

More than ever she wished she had actually been a vet rather than an advertising specialist. She would have felt more useful. With the internet gone, her job was obsolete. Her specialty was useless.

"Lincoln." She studied his face, his piercing eyes and the proud chin covered by his thick beard.

"Yeah?" He looked at her, the light from the small lantern creating shadows on his face, making him look world-weary.

She kept her hand curled around his. "Thank you for saving me."

"You're mine, honey, and I protect what's mine."

She didn't argue with him this time. In a way, she did belong to this man. In that same way, he belonged to her. Not as lovers or friends, but something else. She couldn't quite find the right word. She felt like she understood what ancient men and women felt when they dwelt in the wilderness when those ancient forests were still young and the hills were full of a thousand dangers. Those men and women had formed a bond that kept them together. They'd survived by sharing their strengths and trusting one another.

"I kept your upper body elevated, but I think you can lie down in bed tonight," she offered.

"That would be nice." He started to get up, and she threw his good arm over her shoulder and helped. They walked back to the master bedroom, where she removed his boots and his pants. She blushed when she saw his briefs, but he didn't say anything. Then he collapsed into bed, and she covered him with blankets.

Afterward, she undressed and climbed into bed beside him, tucking herself against him, careful to avoid touching his shoulder. Three days ago she would have fought this moment of intimacy, but now she craved it.

"I'll handle the bodies tomorrow," Lincoln said, sighing heavily in the darkness.

"I've already handled them," she replied, listening to his breath.

"You didn't have to?"

"I did. Rest. I've taken care of it."

He chuckled and then cursed. "So you're giving the orders now, huh?"

"Consider yourself temporarily relieved of duty, Major."

He snorted a laugh and then winced.

She didn't like admitting that she felt safer when he was in charge, but it was true. He knew about surviving in the wilderness. She would be glad when he was up and feeling better. Until thenshe would take care of him.

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