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Chapter 22 - Guts

-H-

My heart was racing, I was nervous, I was scared. Those words didn't quite seem enough to do the pit in my stomach justice. It felt like the massive wolf had curled up in my gut and settled there like a stone. I knew it was just anxiety and nerves and that the wolf didn't really seem to occupy physical space in my body but the image of him curled up there made me laugh a little grimly.

Okay. Let's do this.

Taking a deep breath I crawled up onto the table, feeling the plastic sheeting slip a little and getting it back into place.

-It's time to wake up wolfy.. come on. Come out- I called to him in my head, or in my gut, or into the void or wherever he resided when he wasn't a hulking furred mass.

Nothing. No response. My gut twisted up harder and I felt my eyes getting a little damp. Again I spoke out calmly and clearly in my own head. Again nothing.

A tear fell onto the sheeting. Was he dead? Was I not quick enough? If I had just rushed myself and him to someone who might have a clue what they were doing, could I have saved him? No matter how wild the consequences would have been afterwards? What if. What if. What if. I couldn't let myself run with what ifs, I just had to keep trying. Wiping my eyes a little with my bandaged hand, I tried again. He was there. I was so certain, I felt something. I reached for it, that little feeling that I knew had to be him.

-Come out.. Come on, please. Please- I was begging softly now, I didn't expect to be hit so deeply with feelings like this over something.. or someone, I had only just met.

Through all the strange circumstances we were still strangers. Maybe I just couldn't handle any more loss. Not after the past few days of such monumental loss. Maybe my mind couldn't take any more and I knew it deep down.

My fingers tingled.. then my ass. Looking down I saw claws extending once more, and a quick peek over my shoulder showed a tail. It gave a wag.. but it was slow, weak, I would have almost laughed at the absurd sight but it looked like it barely had the energy to move that small bit.

"You can do it boy.. come on" I spoke out loud, and immediately felt stupid and silly.. not for talking, but for calling him boy like he was a dog. He was more than that.

More tears welled up as he fell out of me. I was crouched on the table on my hands and knees and he peeled out from my chest and face.. and just fell weakly to the table. It was such a heavy slump that I feared the table breaking, I feared that he was barely alive. The massive, limp frame of the wolf slid free of my upper body and all the way down to my knees. How was I supposed to do this? There was no exit wound on his back.. so I needed to roll him over onto his front. The bullet was already out luckily.. but he was already bleeding. I could see blood seeping out along the plastic and pooling along his furred arms as he lay there face pushed motionless against the drop cloth.

Wiping away a few more tears I took a breath and sat up, staring down at him. Our legs were connected still, it was so important to him to keep that connection.. but how was I going to do this? I wasn't even sure if I could flip his heavy body over on my own, let alone without breaking contact with him accidentally. If I could manage to flip him over and stay kneeling on his legs or in his legs or however this fucking weirdness worked.. maybe I could clean him up and stitch him up. Maybe. Then I'd have both hands. If I hopped off the table to work on him properly standing I'd always need to keep a hand touching him.. I don't know if I could manage to do everything one-handed.

I should have planned better beforehand but it was too late, I was in it now and he was bleeding out. Slowly I tried to rock and shift him so he would roll on the table with me.. but I underestimated how densely muscled and heavy he was.. while being limp no less.

"I need your help big guy.. please. I can't move you on my own.."

My voice went unheard, his ears didn't twitch, he didn't budge. His breathing was slow and languid, forced.. I could only hope the bullet hadn't hit his lung. That would be beyond anything I could help. It had hit higher than that, I had to hope it was okay.

Another few attempts to roll him over and another handful of failures had left me panting and out of breath. He wouldn't respond to my touches, my voice, it was all on me. He couldn't help and I was feeling helpless. I had to climb off the table. Carefully I stepped down, feeling the remainder of his body peel from mine, the last of him escaping whatever place inside me he came from. Keeping a hand touching him the whole time I managed to get my feet on the ground. Now what?

The plastic sheeting had blood on it, not a lot but enough to know that his fur was probably hiding much more. Soaking it up and making me cringe at the thought of how much there'd be when I flipped him over. If I flipped him over. I pulled on the sheeting trying to slide him closer to the edge of the table but it almost tore, I couldn't do that. Trying to push and roll him didn't do a whole lot either, he was just a mass of dead weight and I didn't have the leverage or strength to do anything. Helpless. I had never felt so helpless. Maybe standing beside mom's bed watching her get worse, but that I knew there was nothing I could do. This was different. This I knew I had to do something or he'd die. If it wasn't too late already.

My chest and arms hurt.. My vision was blurred again with tears. I knew I was going to need to get something to help flip him over, I knew I'd have to get some rope or something.. but that meant I was going to have to let go of him. I had done all this preparation to make sure I didn't have to but it was for nothing. I had failed. Now I had to risk letting go of him and finding out if he'd die or.. or.. what? I didn't know. What I did know is if I didn't stop the bleeding he was going to die. There was an unknown and a guarantee.. I had to choose the unknown.