Alyena’s features were awash in uncertainty, but [name_u]Makari[/name_u] trusted her. “I’m not a Healer, Makari,” she said. “You should find Taliya.”
“I can’t,” [name_u]Makari[/name_u] managed. It was true. He could barely keep himself from falling into her arms.
[name_f]Alyena[/name_f] groaned. “You shouldn’t have come to me. I have a job to do, and this is not it!”
“I trust you. You’re real.”
She took a deep breath. “Okay. Okay.” Her fingers traced patters in the air, like [name_u]Makari[/name_u] had seen before when she was overwhelmed. It seemed to calm her down. “Okay. First things first, you need to lie down and stop moving before you lose any more blood.”
“Gladly.” With her help, [name_u]Makari[/name_u] sank to the ground. His head was spinning, probably from blood loss. He wondered briefly why he had sought out [name_f]Alyena[/name_f] instead of a Healer, but he knew. [name_m]Even[/name_m] as uncertain as she looked right now, [name_u]Makari[/name_u] thought that she could fix anything. His thoughts blurred together as he slipped into unconsciousness.
Sorry, this one is very very very long because I hadn’t actually finished the scene yet and I ended up finishing it here. I spoilered everything that wasn’t strictly important, so you can read it if you want but it’s not part of the game. It turns out that my characters are only ever uncertain when their boyfriends are in life-threatening danger. Who knew?
“I’m very uncertain that I know how to solve this problem,” [name_m]Arnold[/name_m] said bluntly. Too bluntly, probably. He figured he was supposed to say something comforting, but that would have felt like a lie.
“That’s fine,” [name_u]Basil[/name_u] grunted, struggling to stay conscious. “Just find someone who can.”
[name_m]Arnold[/name_m] shook his head. “I don’t know that I can do that either, though! There’s no one we can call. Our friends are all off on missions and the Adults are at the Government meeting!”
“That’s true.” [name_u]Basil[/name_u] tried to think, which was difficult, since his brain was so muddled with pain that it felt like molasses. Was there anyone else who could help them? Who had helped him before? Then the answer came to him. “Craig-With-The-Red-Truck!” he gasped. “Call Craig-With-The-Red-Truck.”
“How do I call him?” [name_m]Arnold[/name_m] asked frantically.
[name_u]Basil[/name_u] was forced to admit that he didn’t know. “I think his full name is [name_m]Craig[/name_m] [name_m]Travis[/name_m]. Maybe Google that?”
[name_m]Arnold[/name_m] tapped it out on his phone as fast as he could. “I found it! [name_m]Craig[/name_m] [name_m]Travis[/name_m], freelance mover. Picture of a guy in his fifties, maybe, salt-and-pepper hair, blue eyes.”
“That’s him. Call the number on the website. Tell him [name_u]Basil[/name_u] needs help again. He’s our only hope.”
[name_m]Arnold[/name_m] found the contact page and dialed the number he found there. Someone picked up on the third ring.
“Hello, this is [name_m]Craig[/name_m] [name_m]Travis[/name_m]. [name_m]Can[/name_m] I help you?”
“Hi, I’m Arnold,” he said, quickly and breathlessly. “I’m with [name_u]Basil[/name_u], you know, [name_u]Basil[/name_u], I really hope you know [name_u]Basil[/name_u], and he needs help and you’re our only hope.”
“Wait, slow down,” said [name_m]Craig[/name_m]. “Basil, like, the twelve-year-old from the side of the road? From the fire? I saw him at the airport, too.”
[name_m]Arnold[/name_m] was glad he actually knew the story of Craig-With-The-Red-Truck. “Yes. All of those things. We’re. . . somewhere outside of [name_m]Durham[/name_m], [name_u]North[/name_u] [name_f]Carolina[/name_f], I think.”
“Durham?” Craig’s scratchy voice sounded very confused, which was entirely fair, but not at all helpful. “I’m in California.” [name_m]Arnold[/name_m] swore. “Wait wait wait,” [name_m]Craig[/name_m] continued. “I have a cousin in [name_m]Durham[/name_m], what kind of help do you need?”
“We were attacked by, um, something that has to do with the Magical Government. It’s classified, I can’t tell you anything else, but [name_u]Basil[/name_u] is hurt badly and I’m really worried. I don’t think he’s conscious anymore. And we can’t call 911 for reasons that are way too complicated to get into right now.”
“Okay,” said [name_m]Craig[/name_m]. “Let me think. How about. . . I’ll give you my cousin Melissa’s number, and you can call her, and I’ll also text her to let her know a bit about what’s going on?”
“That sounds great.” [name_m]Craig[/name_m] recited the number, and [name_m]Arnold[/name_m] thanked him profusely and hung up. “It’s going to be okay,” he told [name_u]Basil[/name_u] as he dialed, even though he wasn’t sure he could hear him. “I’m calling Craig’s cousin [name_f]Melissa[/name_f] and fingers crossed she’ll help us.”
[name_f]Melissa[/name_f] picked up on the first ring. “Hi, [name_f]Melissa[/name_f] [name_m]Welton[/name_m] here.”
“Hi,” said [name_m]Arnold[/name_m]. “I’m [name_m]Arnold[/name_m]. Did [name_m]Craig[/name_m] text you?”
“Yes, he just did. I’m already coming to pick you up. Where exactly are you?”
“I don’t know,” [name_m]Arnold[/name_m] admitted. “Some field in the middle of nowhere.”
“Do you have an iPhone?” she asked. “I could track you.”
“I do!” [name_m]Arnold[/name_m] practically shouted, giving her the necessary information.
[name_f]Melissa[/name_f] sounded relieved as she said, “Great, I’ve locked onto your location. I’ll be there in ten minutes. [name_f]Do[/name_f] you think you can hold on that long?”
[name_m]Arnold[/name_m] looked at Basil’s unconscious form. He was losing blood fast. “I don’t know,” he muttered. “I really hope so.” After [name_f]Melissa[/name_f] hung up, the only thing left to do was wait. [name_m]Arnold[/name_m] cradled [name_u]Basil[/name_u] in his arms, trying to convince both of them that it would be okay.
“I care about you,” he whispered, seven minutes in. Basil’s skin was deathly pale. “I kind of only just met you, the real you. Please don’t die.”
When [name_f]Melissa[/name_f] finally arrived, one minute later than scheduled, [name_m]Arnold[/name_m] got up, his legs stiff. He lifted [name_u]Basil[/name_u] into the backseat, and he could have sworn he was lighter than he had been on the return trip from Frosthaven. [name_m]Arnold[/name_m] got into the car himself, and [name_f]Melissa[/name_f] took off towards the hospital.
“We’re going to the hospital, right?” [name_f]Melissa[/name_f] asked. “Or is there an unknown but complicated reason you can’t go there either?”
“The hospital,” [name_m]Arnold[/name_m] confirmed. “Thank you.”
“Of course,” said [name_f]Melissa[/name_f]. “Craig told me about [name_u]Basil[/name_u] when he first met him, but this was entirely unexpected and I’m so glad I’m able to help you guys now.”
After that, they didn’t talk much. [name_f]Melissa[/name_f] was in her mid-forties, maybe, with long dark hair turning silver at the roots. Her car was nice, which made [name_m]Arnold[/name_m] feel bad about getting blood all over it, but the seats were black, so it would probably be fine. They arrived at the hospital in around fifteen minutes, and [name_u]Basil[/name_u] was barely breathing. [name_m]Arnold[/name_m] carried him as gently and carefully as possible. He told the first important-looking, non-busy person he saw, “Classified Magical Government problem. Wounds, blood loss, help!”, which seemed to be the right move because suddenly someone was carrying [name_u]Basil[/name_u] away on a stretcher and asking [name_m]Arnold[/name_m] a bunch of questions that he didn’t know the answers to.
Next word: conscious