Free Intermix Nation by M.P. Attardo Page B

she?
    And isn’t this her salvation?
    “Enough,” Grum says, shaking his head. He
holds his scarred hands up, indicating that Anzares can stop and
that class is over. “Enough,” he repeats, more to himself.
    Anzares spits on the floor and cracks her
neck before walking out the door. The rest of the class quietly
follows. Taj and Lumi look hesitantly at each other, knowing that
Nazirah doesn’t like to be helped. Cato gives them a reassuring
nod. They both shrug their shoulders and walk outside.
    “Come on,” Cato says, helping Nazirah to her
feet and supporting her weight. “I’ll take you to Bilungi.”
    They make the short journey to the
compound’s hospital, which they could both trek in their sleep by
now. The walk is longer than usual since Nazirah is hunched over,
needing to lean on Cato for support. The first day this happened,
two weeks back, Cato picked Nazirah up to carry her. Nazirah
screamed at him and threw a fit. She doesn’t want his help any more
than necessary. This is her burden and hers alone.
    Cato doesn’t try to pick her up anymore.
    Several minutes later, they hobble into the
makeshift emergency room. It’s a small room, narrow, with several
hospital beds lined side-by-side. Thankfully, only one is currently
occupied, partitioned by a sheer white curtain in the far
corner.
    The head healer on duty, Bilungi, is
speaking to someone softly behind the partition. Bilungi is a pure
Deathlander from Rubiyat. She has ebony skin and wears a
perpetually harsh expression. She also has extremely unorthodox
methods of healing.
    Cato gently leads Nazirah to the nearest
open bed, forcing her to sit down. “Healer Bilungi!” he yells
loudly, one hand cupped to the side of his face. “Your afternoon
walk-in is here!” Cato gives Nazirah a searching look. He must be
itching to know why she’s suddenly unable to fight, after a
lifetime of scrapping with nasty Eridians. But Cato doesn’t
ask.
    And Nazirah doesn’t offer.
    She doesn’t know how to explain this
self-inflicted karma – this all-consuming guilt she feels all the
time and the release that comes from the pain of getting beaten up.
She can tell it’s wearing on him.
    “Give me a moment, Miss Nation,” Bilungi
says, her voice muffled behind the curtain.
    Nazirah lies back on the hospital bed,
gingerly touching her swollen cheek and bloody forehead. Her
abdomen burns, and the metallic taste of blood in her mouth makes
her queasy. From Cato’s worried looks, Nazirah knows she’s in bad
shape.
    “You really should have come to see me about
this earlier,” Bilungi says, characteristically ominous, behind the
partition. Nazirah watches Bilungi’s silhouette through the sheer
curtain as she tightly bandages someone’s shoulder with a roll of
thick gauze. She finishes wrapping quickly, hands the person their
shirt, and says they are free to go. Nazirah wishes she were so
lucky.
    Bilungi appears from behind the partition,
looking at Nazirah with her usual mixture of concern and derision.
“That’s the fourth time this week,” she says, as if she doesn’t
believe it. She walks over to Nazirah, inspecting her injuries
methodically.
    “Well, we didn’t have class on Tuesday,”
Nazirah says, trying to make light of the situation.
    Both Cato and Bilungi glare at her. Bilungi
prods Nazirah’s abdomen, causing her to hiss in pain. “You have
internal bleeding,” she says.
    Nazirah and Cato share a concerned look.
Bilungi rifles through a cabinet, pulling out a muddy-looking vial
of liquid. She hands it to Nazirah, who inspects its contents. It’s
slightly chunky, like mud and grass in bloody water. She has gotten
used to Bilungi’s odd range of concoctions and brews, but this is a
first. “What is it?”
    “Drink it and I’ll tell you.”
    Bilungi is a coy old bitch.
    “What if I’m allergic?”
    “Then you die.”
    Closing her eyes, Nazirah tips the vial
back, gagging as the muddy liquid slides down her throat.
Swallowing and