Page 6 of Healer (The Outlander Book Club… in Space! #4)
Yes.
Yes, I do.
Her words rang in my ears, chilling and with such foreboding that I shuddered. Agnes collapsed against my chest, and I wrapped my arms tightly around her, heedless of the merihdat blood that drenched us both.
Larger predators existed in this part of the jungle, where the thick foliage aided in camouflage for their hunts. While the merihdat's corpse didn't appeal to me as food, I knew other beasts didn't possess my repugnance.
I shifted Agnes, slipping an arm beneath her knees, and lifted her effortlessly.
She weighed nothing. Only the racking sobs that shook her body gave me an awareness of how tightly I held her.
That and the discomfort from the cut in my bicep.
I ignored the pain, not even reaching for the Medi-unit. My kind healed quick enough.
I headed toward the river, moving us away from the carrion and the stench of blood and death. The air near the water proved sweeter and fresher, hopefully devoid of predators.
Yes. Yes, I do.
She wanted to die.
Why?
Why would this courageous, spirited, beautiful woman seek death so greedily that she would welcome her demise to sharp fangs and claws? It would not be a peaceful way to go. I'd seen warriors ripped apart by lesser beasts. Their screams of agony still echoed in my memory.
What did Agnes fear so greatly that she considered death a better option?
We moved along the river until I found an eddy with a large flat boulder at the edge.
The water wasn't deep, only up to my knees.
Settling Agnes on the stone, I found a small piece of fur in my pack that I dipped into the cool, clear water.
Agnes gasped at the first touch of wet fur on her skin, her wide, frightened gaze meeting mine.
"I need to wash the blood away," I said softly.
She nodded, issuing a hiccupped murmur in reply.
I moved the fur along her arms and legs with gentle strokes. The water around us swirled with a dark green tint momentarily before the current pushed it onward. Her dress appeared to be a lost cause. The fabric was so thin I feared it would fray should I try to clean it.
Her hair proved another issue, the almost silvery blonde-brown tresses were dotted with bits of blood and gore. Cupping water in my hands, I wet the strands, using small amounts of sand to scrub away the more difficult bits.
Under the massage of my fingers against her scalp, Agnes seemed to relax, the heavy sobs devolving into silent tears.
Yes. Yes, I do.
I knew her reasoning might be deeply personal, something buried deep within the recesses of her soul.
I also recognized she might feel her reasons none of my concern. Still, as a healer—as someone who dedicated his very existence to prolonging life—I needed to ask.
"Why do you want to die?"
Agnes didn't respond for a long while. I kept my fingers in her hair, willing a desire to understand... a desire for her to embrace life with my every touch. Finally, she issued a heavy sigh punctuated by a faint sob.
"I'm sick."
Out of habit, my hand went to the Medi-unit hanging on my belt.
"No." She whimpered, grabbing my wrist with trembling fingers.
"If you are sick...." I began, but she shook her head forcefully, chilly water droplets from her wet hair hitting my chest.
"That can't help. You said so yourself. The Medi-thingy can't do anything about illness in my DNA."
I felt myself frown and lifted my chin so she couldn't see my expression. Younglings in the Alliance underwent a scan while in the womb, and any genetic anomalies were corrected before birth.
Earth medical technology lagged eons behind, but I'd make it a point to keep up with advancements in medical science through their primitive internet. I knew humans were just beginning to research Intrauterine Fetal Gene Therapy techniques.
"What kind of sickness resides in your DNA?" I couched the question as a healer even though deep down, my warrior’s heart raged against anything that would dare harm her.
The protectiveness I felt over this tiny human was... surprising.
Agnes took several minutes to respond.
"I have what's called Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis." She said the words as though they tasted vile. "It's sometimes called Lou Gehrig's disease."
"I have not heard of this," I admitted. Granted, I spent little time studying Earth's diseases since most were easily cured with our medical technology. Injury tended to be the prevalent issue with most humans the Bardaga rescued, and I'd spend hours studying methods of repair for human anatomy.
Agnes leaned down and cupped a handful of the cool water, splashing it over her face.
It did little to reduce the redness of her eyes and nose, but it washed the tear tracks from her cheeks.
Unable to help myself, I cradled her cheek in my palm.
Her shimmering grey eyes met mine, and whatever she found in my gaze seemed to loosen the tension within her.
"Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis is a genetic mutation that affects a person's motor neurons... the nerve cells in the brain and spinal cord that control voluntary muscle movement and breathing."
Agnes recited the words without emotion, but her gray eyes wavered with fear and something that might have been longing. I stroked my fingers over her cheek, nodding for her to continue.
"As the disease progresses, motor neurons degenerate and die. When the neurons stop sending messages to the muscles, it causes the muscles to weaken and waste away.
She looked down at her hands, opening and closing her fists several times, followed by a grunt and angry shake of her head.
More water droplets hit me in the chest.
"Eventually, people with ALS lose the ability to initiate and control voluntary movements such as walking, talking, chewing... even breathing.”
Her grey eyes found mine and held. Behind the differing hues running the gamut from dark grey to silver, I saw resolve and strength take hold, but also resignation, which squeezed into a tight band around my heart.
"Right before the aliens abducted us, I'd started feeling the tremors and atrophy in my arms and legs. My prognosis indicated that I'd be bedridden within a year... on a ventilator within two."
"Does it affect your mind?" I asked, knowing that the decline of her brilliant, beautiful mind would be the greatest loss.
Agnes barked a short, hateful laugh. "That's the worst part. Most people with ALS remain able to reason, remember, and understand. They are aware of the progressive loss of function and keenly aware of what their loved ones have to endure to care for them."
"You don't exhibit these symptoms now." While Agnes held most human females' small, fragile stature, she'd proven strong and capable, traipsing through the jungle without complaint, even with those pitiful shoes.
Anges flexed her hands, watching the motion of her fingers with a critical eye.
"It's because those aliens put me in the machine that made me physically twenty again.
I still feel stiffness in my joints. Before.
.. the first time I felt it, I thought perhaps it was just because I was training to be a surgeon, but now… now I know better."
"Perhaps what you feel is a side effect of your recent capture. The Garoot Healer should have cured you of disease," I offered an alternative explanation... and hope.
Agnes' full lips quirked into a rueful smile.
"After going through the machine, I suspect that it restores one's cells back to the moment of optimal health, but it doesn't inherently change a person's genetic code.
ALS is hardwired into my DNA. I was born with this ticking time bomb.
I just didn't realize….” Her voice trailed off as her eyes focused on the movement of her hands.
"And because of this sickness, you wish to die," I murmured, understanding settling into my soul. I might not like it, but I understood. I'd seen warriors felled in battle, screaming for death suffering from less injury than the symptoms she described.
"ALS is a horrible way to die." Her eyes clouded over with memory. "There's so much pain." A single fat tear fell from her lashes. "It not only destroys your life but the lives of those around you. My husband left me when I started showing symptoms."
"Your mate left because you were sick?" Fury twisted in my gut. I found myself wishing to visit planet Earth for the first time in all my long years on the Bardaga. Simply to find her worthless mate and make him suffer for causing her pain.
Agnes nodded, raising her gaze to mine. "I never told Emmy or my other friends. I don't want them to know I'm sick."
"Why not?"
The smile that curved Agnes' lips seemed wistful.
"Because I know how wonderful those women are.
I know they'd rally around me and want to take care of me.
I don't want that for them. I don't want that for myself.
The hike when we were taken... it was my last hurrah with the girls.
A way to say goodbye. I planned to check myself into a long-term care facility where no one would have to watch me deteriorate, and I…
. I could end it when the pain got too bad. "
My heartbreak at what this wonderful creature endured broke from my lips in a deep sigh.
Agnes lifted her hands between us. I let my gaze wander over the smooth, milky skin and slender fingers.
"The stiffness has progressed just in the last few weeks."
I took Agnes' hands in mine, letting my fingers probe the muscles and joints. Her hands didn't differ much from mine at the surface level, normal to my palpations. But this disease ran deeper, written into the very code that made her human.
To cure her would mean re-writing her genetic code—a difficult procedure but not undoable, especially now that we had a Garoot Healer aboard the Bardaga.
"I will heal you," I vowed.
Agnes started, jerking her hands from my grasp, and eyeing me cautiously. "You said your Medi thing didn't work on a genetic level," she reminded me with a hint of accusation.
"It doesn't," I admitted. "But there is another more appropriate technology aboard the Bardaga. Altering your genetic code will be difficult but not impossible."
Agnes glanced at her hands, then at me, tears falling from her lashes in a torrent.
"Please. Don't give me false hope," she whisper-begged.
I wiped the tears from her cheeks, smiling gently. "I swear on the goddess Valana. I will heal you of this affliction."
Her voice escaped in a moan as she threw her arms around my neck, sobs once again overtaking her. But this time, instead of accompanying sorrow, Agnes laughed.
I let my arms steal around her waist, holding her tightly, praying to every god I knew existed to make my words to her true.