The Afflicted Ch. 12

* * * *

Brana sat atop Oppo as he raced them through the passageways of below. He flew at a breakneck pace, but she was too worried about the others to be concerned for her own safety.

Aimée had whisked them back to the West dorm. It had been a tricky bit of jumping. Abby had been immobilizing everyone in the assembly hall, and had needed to stop momentarily to give Aimée a fix on Vickie. Yet, she had done so successfully. Brana had found herself in the West Dorm and slammed down the security gates with only seconds to spare.

With the West dorm safe, Brana needed desperately to assure that the cadets in the East dorm were safe. Riding Oppo, who was an accomplished flier, they had burst out of the West Dorm at a breakneck speed, emerging so fast that the infected people watching the place had been taken entirely by surprise, allowing the cadets inside to lock down the dorm again. They were being pursued, but those flying after them were far behind. If she was to be with any flier, Oppo was the one.

Her heart fell when the turned the corner near the entrance to the other dorm. Bodies were strewn everywhere. Peering about, she was both heartened and devastated to see the bodies of three cadets lying among the carnage. Losing even one was too many. Still, it could have been much worse.

"Brana!" cried a hoarse whisper from a speaking tube mounted in the door.

"It's me!" she cried. "Please tell me the rest of you are all right."

"In a way," said the voice which she now recognized as that belonging to Anders.

"Hurry and let us in," said Brana.

"First tell me that you hate Arnet."

"What?"

"Go on, say it," said Anders.

"Of course I do," said Brana. "He's a villain of the highest order and I pray I'm the one who plunges the dagger into his chest. But what's that got to do with it."

The door clicked open and they were pulled rapidly inside.

"That's how we caught Lissa, there," said Anders once the door was closed. "She bluffed her way in but when we started cursing Arnet's name, Lissa went mental. Once we had her restrained we found a packet of darts in her pouch. They can't say a thing, or hear a bad thing said about their beloved leader, the bastard."

The restrained and gagged Lissa kicked angrily at the sound, as did another girl and two boys who were also tied up nearby.

"That's right, I said it," said Anders with a grin. "Bastard. Arnet is a slimy, pathetic, weaselly bastard."

The captives struggled some more and Brana was actually frightened by the hatred in their eyes.

"Anders, gently," she said. "It's not their fault. What to do with them, though. Hmm, flier, flier, flier, and shrinker. No unusual risks, carry them and follow me."

The other cadets bore up their restrained friends and followed Brana into the sleeping room area.

"We can't lock them up alone," she explained. "They are already half mad from Arnet's contamination. The last thing we would want to do is drive them the rest of the way mad from abstinence. So, Lissa with Pyotr and Imani with John."

The students were placed in their respective rooms and held with crossbows pointed at them before the doors closed.

With a resounding 'thud' the doors shut. The sound was even more final when Brana inserted a special key and turned it - triggering a locking mechanism within that was unbreakable.

"These were designed for both scenarios," explained Brana. "That room is now impregnable. Food and blood will arrive for them via pneumatic tubes for the next ninety days. If I haven't unlocked it by then, the doors will reopen and they'll be left to their own devices."

Brana turned matter-of-factly to the other cadets. "For your own safety, you will also be locked in rooms. Or, to put it another way, I will be locking others out."

"But Brana..." Oppo started to complain.

"It is protocol," she said, cutting him off. I can quote it by heart "In times of strife, such as the Jacinto crisis, cadets are to be secured within dormitory units for their own safety." The statute even references Jacinto, the father of our current enemy. We'll be travelling soon to bring the others here - it is the more secure of the two dorms and I can't flit back and forth between them in this climate."

Oppo contemplated this.

"Brana, you can bring the other cadets here," he said. "But you won't be locking us away for our safety. We'll be fighting, and there's nothing you can do about it."

* * * *

Jeanne Villepreux-Power had begun gathering supplies as soon as she received the images from Abby. She and Pasteur had been analyzing some specimens at Galen's request. She looked up from her microscope with alarm at the sound of a deplaceur's pop.

"Madame, hurry!" cried Abby when she appeared.

Aimée was slumping to the ground, held up only by her friend's arms.

Jeanne rushed to Aimée and reached out with her senses. Punctured lung, severed veins... and a nick to the heart.

"Mon dieu," she whispered.

Her first priority was the heart.

The lungs were obviously important, but wouldn't do any good if the heart stopped beating.

Working with the same efficiency as a battlefield surgeon, she reached in with her mind and began weaving a mesh of muscle across the gash in the heart's fourth chamber.

"What can I do to help?" asked Pasteur over her shoulder.

"Supplies," said Jeanne. "Medical kit, instruments, anything you can think of. We need to leave here shortly."

"Already prepared," said the old man, indicating a large doctor's satchel.

"Should we cut her open?" asked Pasteur. "I could repair things the old-fashioned way."

"Maybe later," explained Villepreux-Power. "But I'd rather not and we need her soon."

Jeanne continued mending Aimée's heart with her mind. It was not pretty, but her only goal for the next five minutes was to keep her alive.

"They're here," said Abby. Fifty people at least just pushed past the guards.

"I'll bar the door," said Pasteur.

Jeanne continued mending and gave a satisfied sigh as the last of her impromptu patch was completed. The heart would need more attention, but at least it would keep pumping.

"We need to go," she whispered. "Aimée. Aimée, can you find the strength to take us elsewhere?"

Aimée's eyes were half-lidded and her eyes were showing clear signs of shock.

"I'll try," she murmured.

"We can't go anywhere she knows," said Abby. "Dr. Villepreux-Power, do you have a place in your mind we could go?"

"Yes," she said.

She envisioned a spot and Abby gleaned it from her mind.

Villepreux-Power then did a last-ditch effort she had only tried twice before. Stretching out with her mind, she grasped hold of Aimée's primary glands. A sudden rush of natural adrenalin, thyroxin, and countless stimulating hormones poured into Aimée's system. Aimée's eyes shot open and she reached out to grab hold of Abby and the French biologist. Abby, in turn, grabbed the wrist of Pasteur who had just picked up his satchel.

The room disappeared and a moment later they were looking at the floorboards of a dusty attic. A narrow beam of from a cloudy sky was slanting through a lone window at the end. Pasteur crossed to it and threw a large blanket over some convenient nails.

The attic, thankfully, had an old bed and it was covered with a cloth. They threw the cloth aside and moved Aimée to it. Pasteur quickly removed Aimée's blouse and began cleaning the wound as Jeanne continued her internal repairs.

"Louis," said Jeanne, "I'll need you to intubate the right lung, it's filling with blood. Abby, I need you to ease her pain as much as possible."

Pasteur prepared a tube and needle and sat by Aimée. He placed the needle against her ribs. Villepreux-Power placed a hand over his.

"Perhaps I should do that," she said.

"I may not be hundreds of years old like other physicians you know, Jeanne," he said, "but this is well within my abilities."

"Of course," she said apologetically.

Pasteur inserted the needle and Aimée gave a gasp of pain. Almost immediately, blood began to flow out of her lungs and into the tube which emptied into a sealed jar at the other end.

Pasteur, satisfied, went back to his kit and set about some other activities that neither of the women could pay attention to.

(It should be noted that Jeanne Villepreux-Power was, at the time, without a mate. Her initial bloodmate had been essentially a marriage of convenience to bring her into the Afflicted. They had not had great love for each other, nor animosity for that matter. The great biologist had been without a regular partner for some time, which hadn't bothered her since her first love had always been her work.)

After ten minutes of steady concentration, Jeanne leaned back, breathing a sigh of exhaustion.

"She is stable," she said. "There is much work to be done, but I need to let her rest for half an hour or so."

"Thank you, Madame," said Abby.

Abby hugged the biologist then took a clean blanket Pasteur had found in a chest and covered both she and Aimée with it. She took Aimée's hand in hers and did all she could with her own gifts to heal her dearest friend.

Madame Villepreux-Power stood up and started to look around the room. She stopped in surprise upon seeing a carefully laid out white surgical sheet on an old dressing table. Upon the sheet were two devices with which she was very familiar. She should have been, for she had helped to perfect them.

The tubing was of a material that mortal man would not see for another half a century; clear, flexible, and sterile. At the end of each tube was a needle. One needle only allowed fluid to pass out; the other only allowed it to pass in.

Two tubes.

The younger-looking woman turned to look at the old man, who stood near the dressing table with a shy grin on his face.

"Louis?" she gasped.

"It seems," he said, "that I have seen enough daylight. It is time that I join your kind, and I can think of no one I would rather do it with than you."

"But Louis..."

Pasteur silenced her objections.

"I can help heal the girl more quickly if I am Afflicted, and if this situation is as bad as it appears, any gift I have will give me an extra tool to help in the fight. Besides, I think we would make very good mates. What do you say Jeannie?"

"Well Louis," said Madame Villepreux-Power, "that is the most odd, unusual, and wonderful marriage proposal I have ever received. Believe it or not, in my day I have received quite a few."

"Oh, I believe it," said Pasteur. "Shall we then?"

"We shall," she agreed.

Abby had watched the entire exchange (via their eyes) and she laid back, continuing to view the events as though living in an exhausted dream.

The two doctors knelt on a blanket placed on the floor.

Jeanne was the first. She removed her top, revealing a magnificent torso with high small breasts and perfect skin. Pasteur removed his shirt and his body stood in stark contrast to his soon-to-be mate. Forty-seven was still old in that day and age.

Pasteur poured alcohol on a cloth and carefully cleaned a spot on her neck as she did the same. They repeated the process on their arms.

At the same time, they inserted their needles into an artery on the other's neck.

"Êtes-vous prêt?" asked Pasteur.

"Yes, I'm ready," answered Jeanne.

Pasteur reached up to valve on the needle in his neck to let the blood flow through the tubing and out through the needle on the other end.

Abby wondered at his reasoning, but then realized that Pasteur was setting aside a supply of mortal blood. Once he was turned, they would be forced to venture outside if they didn't have blood at the ready. Pasteur let the blood flow for some time emptying it all into a large liter flask. When it was nearly full, he shut if off the valve. Jeanne raised the vial to her lips and took a sip, smiling.

She then opened her valve, letting her blood run only long enough to fill the tube and eliminate any air bubbles. Villepreux-Power was first, inserting her needle into a vein on Pasteur's arm. He followed directly after and within moments they had formed an exchange system, each of their blood flowing through the other person and back again.

"Mon dieu," groaned Pasteur as the Affliction began to take hold. For Jeanne, it was very energizing at first. She had heard of such feelings occurring when a new, non-Afflicted mate was taken. Her cells were rejoicing at the fresh 'food' and her system was both ingesting the foreign cells and infecting them. The euphoria only lasted a few minutes, though, as the Affliction quickly latched onto Pasteur's system.

With natural-born Afflicted, Awakening was a gradual event, happening over months. With a fully-grown mortal, the transformation was immediate and startling.

Pasteur suddenly dropped his head and began breathing deeply, almost with a growl.

"It burns," he panted. "So... strong... so... wrong."

"Be strong Louis," said Jeanne in a calm voice. "Remember what is happening. Your body may resist."

"I know..." he said in slow, metered words. "I will... not panic... do not... be... concerned."

Sometimes the blood ritual with a mortal was seamless and quick, at other times they had to be restrained for several minutes if not longer. Jeanne waited, ready to restrain him if needed.

He breathed deeply, staring at the floor and willing his body to not revolt at the foreign invasion. At last, after three or four minutes, he looked up with a smile on his face. "It is so clear. Everything is so clear and wonderful. How easy things seem now."

"I know, dear," she said, "are you hungry?"

"I am," he said. "I am for everything."

"Drink first," she urged him.

Pasteur lifted the flask of his own, mortal, blood to his mouth and began to drink. He was so enamored with the taste he didn't notice Jeanne removing their needles and standing to remove her skirt.

He certainly noticed her when he finished drinking. The refined, highly educated man - one of the great minds of his day or any day - found himself reduced to base animal instincts. Before him stood a mate; his mate. There was only one thing he wanted or needed, and she was that one thing.

As he rose, he stepped out of his trousers and stalked her -his erection already stiff and ready.

He lowered his head to her right breast and sucked hungrily. She gasped with pain and he pulled back. Out of sheer instinct, he had bitten too hard and an incision above her nipple dripped a red stream.

"It's all right," she purred. "It will heal. This is your time, do as you wish."

Over the next two hours, Abby chose to focus entirely on helping Aimée to heal, feeling it was not her place to participate in such a sacred event in two people's lives, even empathetically.

Though she did not enter their minds, she could not help but hear their activities.

She had witnessed, and been part of, some legendary sexual encounters - but none of them compared to the animalistic frenzy taking place in the spacious attic between the two newly mated scientists. She realized the contrast of their professions compared to their behavior perhaps added to the perceived intensity of things - but they were WILD.

Abby finally went deep within and pushed herself into Aimée's mind. She sought out memories of childhood days and carefree times. For the next few hours, the two of them dreamed together - finding peace in memories of many lovely days.

The next thing she knew, she was waking up to the stirrings of Aimée.

"I had the loveliest dreams," said Aimée. "You were with me and we were girls."

"Mm hmm," said Abby.

"I'm so sore," said Aimée. "I've never felt like this before."

Abby sensed the stirring of the other two people in the room. Jeanne and Louis quickly dressed themselves and came to the bed to check on Aimée. The blanket was pulled back. Through two sets of eyes, Abby looked down on Aimée and had to stifle a gasp. Aimée looked dreadfully pale and the wound was still red and angry. For the first time she realized just how close her friend had been to death. Were it not for having an Afflicted healer and the recuperative abilities of her own system, Aimée would have perished within the hour after her injury.

Aimée looked up at Pasteur.

"Hello handsome man," whispered Aimée. "Are you a cadet, too?"

Abby chalked Aimée's comment up to delirium, but she naturally switched her view over to Aimée's eyes.

"Who are you?" cried Abby.

The man standing next to Jeanne was perhaps twenty years old. Strikingly handsome and amazingly well-muscled, he was almost beautiful.

"Why, it's me, Dr. Pasteur," said a voice more resonant and youthful than the day before, but doubtless belonging to Louis. "Oh my, what has happened to my voice?"

"Oh my, Louis," said Madame Villepreux-Power, "I imagined you would fare well through your awakening. But oh, that is a mate.

"What on earth are you talking about?" grumbled Pasteur.

He walked to the dressing table and even he gasped at his appearance in the mirror.

"Well, this is embarrassing," he said. "This is hardly dignified, I'll have to speak with Galen and ask him how he trains his body to appear more mature."

"You'll do no such thing, at least not for a while," said Jeanne.

It was clear by the expressions on the other two women's faces that they certainly didn't wish him to make any changes to his new appearance. He glanced at himself in the mirror a bit longer. Abby could tell he was emotionally torn between being pleased at his transformation, and fighting the feeling that his very pleasure made him vain."

"Well," said Pasteur, turning away from the mirror. "More important things at hand. Let's have a look at our patient."

Pasteur took a seat beside Aimée and examined her closely.

"Overall, you are doing well given the gravity of your injury. However, I do have some concerns about the wound. There is definitely a level of infection that is surprising for an Afflicted. It speaks to how weakened your system is. I wish I could do something about it."

"Why don't you try," suggested his new mate.

"Oh my," said Pasteur. "I am Afflicted. What gift do I have?"

He touched his hand lightly to Aimée's skin and closed his eyes, willing his mind to look in - to look further.

He tried several times and Abby could feel his frustration and growing disappointment. Then, like a dam opening, his gift exploded in his mind.

"There!" cried Pasteur. "I am in! I am inside of her! Can you believe it Jeannie? I'm inside of her."

"Well, I was hoping we'd be exclusive for a little while," quipped Jeanne.

But the humor of the comment was lost on Pasteur as he gained insight into a world that wasn't remotely possible to see from the most powerful microscopes of the day.

"There," he cried. "There are cells that accomplish that. And the skin, it does have bacteria, so much... but much of it is good, too."

Pasteur continued to speak to himself, uttering a blur of exclamations in both French and English as he made more and more discoveries about his glimpse inside the human body.

After two or three minutes of that, Jeanne put her hand on his shoulder and he came out of his revelry.

"My dear," said Villepreux-Power. "Aimée is barely hanging on, and only because of the battle her Afflicted cells are waging. I know we can repair her heart, but there seems to be more going on within her"

"Yes," he said, "let me look."

His senses rushed through Aimée's body and he quickly came to focus on the areas around the wound. Here was where his expertise quickly came to bear. The man who had discovered so much about germs and bacteria was now gifted with the abilities to discern Aimée's problem with extreme detail.