Bloodlines

Chapter 5


Trampling over the now dead body of the young girl in the red coat hardly entered Three Finger’s awareness as he entered the house. All that mattered was the horrific idea that Lizard was in danger. Slipping around on the trail of thick fluids forming puddles on the steps, he climbed the stairs, though he felt the time taken to reach the top had taken forever. Halfway up, he could hear a familiar voice screaming his name.

Truth be told, only six minutes had passed since Lizard had staggered up the stairs and crawled back into bed. His knuckles and fingers ached from holding his hands in such tight fists for so long, but it distracted him ever so slightly from the raging spasms seizing the entire lower half of his curled up form. He was so immersed in the relentless waves of pain that he was startled quite severely when two hands grabbed him by the shoulders and lifted him into an awkward sitting position.

“FFFUUUUCCKKK!!” He screamed as the next contraction ripped through him with the gentility of a trailer-tractor. Three Finger continued to lift his rigid, aching body, forcing him to stand, and Lizard hardly cared for the gesture, gritting his crooked teeth and snarling at the treatment he was being given.

“Get th-fuck off me!!” he growled, whipping an elbow back into his companion’s chest and staggering away, though in his pain and state of distress, he nearly collapsed and he once again felt arms holding him steady. Quiet chatters of what must have been comfort and encouragement sounded next to his right ear and his determined mate began to carefully guide him away from the bed and out the door.

“Where are we going?” Lizard groaned, miserable. “I just wanna go back to bed… leave me alone…”

Three Finger did not obey the other man’s orders and instead nudged him to proceed forward, down the hall. Lizard’s gait continued to grow increasingly unsteady and beneath his guiding palm, Three Finger could feel a rapid heartbeat. Already competing against the pulse in speed, the pained hunter’s breath suddenly stopped as he doubled over from another intense swell of anguish. Crying out, he tensed his arms and broke free of his mate’s hold and the most horrible wailing burst forth from his mouth as he thrashed his hands and gathered his shoulders tight against his body. With the caution of a poacher accosting a dying, savage beast, Three Finger reached out and took hold of the taught, bent over body, and persisted, leading Lizard into the bathroom. Lizard looked up at the dangling bits of leather still tied to the shower rack and stopped moving with his fellow hunter’s steps.

“What are ya doing?”

He was hardly able to make any effort in resisting what Three Finger did to him next, and soon he found himself hanging from the leather straps by his wrists, legs being lifted in a manner which left his feet resting against the edge of the tub.

“What is this…” the desert born hunter managed to moan as his boots and trousers were removed from his shaking body. “No… cold… fuuuckkkk… just stoppp… please…”

Things got blurry for a second or so. Breathing deeply, Lizard looked down and realized that Three Finger’s pair of mismatched hands had been resting on flaking red thighs. Lizard had not known until he opened his eyes. For Lord’s sakes, had his entire body gone numb? If so, was he going into shock? Heart pumping nothing but ice, he feared the idea of passing out now, and wondered if he was bleeding to death from the inside.

“AAAUGHHGODDD…” Fists clenched again, Lizard realized with both relief and frustration that he could indeed feel what was happening. He could feel everything, and it was making him feel absolutely sick. Distracted by his dread and pain, he felt himself vomit with very little care as to where he aimed. He could not even take pleasure at the possibility of it hitting the stupid fuck who had done this to him.

Three Finger disappeared for only a minute, but he could hear the panicked screams for him to return to the terrified man’s side. When he returned, he saw that Lizard had thrown up a second time, and his shirt front was covered in the foul yellow liquid. Ignoring the pained groans and choked insults, he arranged what was needed for the birth and then used the pair of shears he supplied to cut the stained article of clothing from his mate’s sweating, shivering form. Memories surfaced of the coming of One-Eye, which preceded the death of Three Finger’s mother, but he desperately tried to push the thought away. Even the horrible vision of his first little one dying of thirst and heat tried its best to invade his mind, but the thin hunter focused instead on cleaning the tools he would be soon using. Dwelling on the past would do nothing to help Lizard now. Hearing another howl escape his companion’s clenched teeth, he looked up and saw what he feared seeing. Lizard’s face was the quintessential image of torment, agony, and fear, punctuated by a dreadful sob.

Three Finger wanted to tell him everything was alright, that this was a natural way to feel, but he did not know every word to the statement to help the poor man understand. Deep down, the forest born hunter was not certain that everything would be alright. As a means of comfort to both himself and Lizard, he placed his perfect right hand on the rotund swell in front of him, stroking and chattering soothingly. The figure who hung from his restraints only whimpered, an uncharacteristic trait for him indeed.

During the time which Lizard continued to hang from the curtain rack of the bathtub, he cursed in anger and pain, complaining and moaning through every cramp which relentlessly seized him, encompassing his body like rain in a torrential downpour. Several times the pain told him to tense up and he would immediately feel Three Finger’s hands spreading his legs apart again. The man standing before him was surprisingly patient as he stood by faithfully attending and never becoming irritated.

Then again, Lizard thought, fuck him. He’s not the one having a fucking baby.

Oh god, this is it, he realized, groaning as another contraction faded, though another would be coming within minutes. In just a short amount of time – granted he survived this ordeal – he was going to give birth. Somehow the agonizing reality of it all made the event all the more surreal.

Bony fingers stroked his cheek and he opened his eyes to see the concerned, hawk-like visage staring up at him.

“Just get it out,” he snarled, before giving another sudden scream of pain.

As though directly responding to the order, Three Finger instantly removed the hand from his companion’s face and began to explore between shaking legs. Though Lizard defied him with shouted obscenities, the skinny hunter continued until he had his hand up inside his mate, feeling around with the concentration and sincerity of someone present for numerous other past births. As soon as Lizard could even realize what was going on, the hand was out again and Three Finger was grabbing a cloth and wiping the sweat collecting on his mate’s brow. He looked as though he was trying to think of something to say, though his lack of experience with the English language was keeping words from escaping his lips.

“Heard…” he finally attempted.

“What th’fuck are you talkin’ about now?” Lizard moaned, not even looking at the other man. The dumb fuck was trying to communicate now, of all times?? A deformed left hand rested on the underside of Lizard’s stomach, grasping tenderly as the muscle there went rock hard, the action accentuated by another long, groaning cry.

“Heard.”

“I… I don’t care… just… help…”

“Yeah…” Three Finger quietly exclaimed, remembering the meaning of that word. “Help! Help baby.”

“I cannnn’t….” Lizard wailed, eyes squeezed shut and teeth bared within another wave of torment. “I can’t… OH! OHH FUCK… Can’t… do this…”

Amidst the craggy, ever red patches of skin on Lizard’s sweaty face, there were places which still were not affected by his flaking mutation. Those places were now white, just like the visage of the woman who had birthed Three Finger’s dead daughter. Fingers entwining with one of his mate’s bound hands, the thin hunter tightened his grip for a few seconds in encouragement.

“Help baby.”

Heart hammering inside his chest like a wild animal trying to break free, Lizard clutched the hand back and gritted his teeth. He could either wait this catastrophe out and hope he died whilst in shock, or he could go down in a blaze of glory and show this bastard beside him how a real man did it. His breath came small at first, as he was already exhausted, but he did not care. He was going to shoot the little fucker out of him even if it burst his heart and he bleed to death from that fucking hole that had caused him so much grief.

A piercing howl rose up from him so long and loud that it startled even Three Finger, who remained faithfully by his side as he gave the push ever bit of strength he could muster. His skinny fellow hunter proceeded to kneel in front of him, inspecting the opening where there seemed to be something ripping through him. Something big.

Three Finger laughed in spite of the situation, because very clearly he could see the arrival of a head. Deeming it necessary to give his mate some assistance, he carefully pressed down on Lizard’s groin with the next push and within seconds, the head worked its way out into the world of the living.

When he felt the head escape, Lizard took a very short respite to breathe again and gather what little strength he had left. The feeling of being halfway through sparked confidence in him and when the next cramp took him, he took that remaining strength, tightly gripped the leather restraints, and growled out another scream as he strained harder… harder…

Lizard knew he must have blacked out, but for how long he was not aware. All he knew was that his body felt like hell and there was some sort of noise filtering in through his heavy daze. Something that sounded like screaming… maybe even crying.

Once the pup was fully forced out of its “mother”, it was placed against the chest of its father. Three Finger rubbed his child’s back, cleaned off the face and air passages, and finally gave a swift slap to its behind, giving it the incentive to let loose a very loud, but very healthy squeal. Carefully setting the little one down in a nearby drawer and covering it with a towel for warmth, he turned his attention to the motionless man in front of him. Lizard’s head, drenched in perspiration, dropped against his chest and his breath came out at a volume which was barely audible. Not surprisingly, when his restraints were undone, the exhausted body collapsed against him, wavering in and out of consciousness. Grip firm but gentle, Three Finger carried him back to bed and made sure he was comfortable, tucking him in. The prostrate man only mumbled something inaudible and fully surrendered to his body’s total need for rest. He deserved rest after all that he had been through.

Now that his companion was taken care of, Three Finger hurried back to the screaming newborn in the other room. Further cleaning the little wiggling creature off, he noticed Lizard had given him a son. Perhaps not as useful as a daughter when it came to the survival of the family line, but the forest native could have cared less at this point. The pup was healthy, and that was all he needed to know. Though smaller than One Eye had been as an infant, the little one was not slight or small in any way. The knotted head of this one, though soft like any other newborn’s, was irregularly shaped, further proof that Lizard’s unconscious state was reasonable. Holding the little one close in a carefully wrapped bundle of towels, Three Finger quickly soothed him into sleep, though this would not last long since he was hungry. Testing the unconscious grip of the little hands, the hunter took a closer look at the pincer-like digits, as well as the solitary leg which dangled out from under the cloth. Smirking, he unwrapped the pup and gazed upon the few toes sprouting from the place where a right leg should be. Hopefully with enough patience and effort, he could get his son to walk as though he possessed two legs instead of one.

Lizard did not stir even when the writhing, whimpering pup was placed on his chest. Clearly he had used up every inch of himself to expel the little one from him, and even the sensation of a tiny mouth finding one of his nipples and suckling eagerly went by unnoticed. Ignoring the notion that Lizard may not survive his tribulation, Three Finger sat down on the bed and stroked his mate’s hair, telling himself that the mother of his offspring was strong and could deal with anything. He looked over the unmoving form and traced the scars of the bullet wound in the desert dweller’s shoulder. Lizard had survived before and he would survive again.

To be continued...