Birdhouse

6

"You don't have to take care of me. I'm just fine," Dylan says confidently. There's something about the look on his face that forces Alley to believe him. Somehow, after everything that has happened to him throughout the night, her brother really does seem okay. "Falcon is the one who needs your help."

"Falcon?" Ally repeats the name with a tilt of her head. "Is that, like, a last name or something?"

Dylan shrugs.

Ally sighs.

"I know it looks really bad, but can you at least try?" Dylan pleads.

Glancing up at the sky, Ally thinks about how much time has passed since her brother made that phone call. She hadn't believed his story about the dying man. Maybe if she had believed, they'd have more choices right now. But hours have gone by. It's a miracle that he isn't dead. A miracle, or something else. Whatever the opposite of a miracle is.

"Alright," she breathes, her hands already starting to shake. "I'll do what I can. But when I say hospital, we go to the hospital. No arguments. Got it?"

Dylan nods quickly, jittery and excited. He turns from Ally to open the door, the two of them slipping inside to face the impossible situation that awaits. It's dark in the fort and it takes a moment for her eyes to adjust. In the meantime, she turns to shut the door.

"Um...Ally," Dylan says softly, tugging on her arm.

"What is it?" she whispers, confused. Her eyes search the dark and land on the figure of the stranger—just a blur of shadows for a few seconds—until her eyes adjust. That's when she sees the man on his side, no longer moving.

"Is he...?" Dylan can't finish the question.

"I don't know," she answers, stepping around her brother to get closer. Crouching in the blood by his side, she checks Falcon for a pulse.

"Uh—be careful!" Dylan warns.

Ally ignores him, pressing her fingers against Falcon's neck. At first, she feels nothing. Her fingers press harder, deeper, and it's there. A pulse. Feather-light but present, nonetheless. "He's alive," she says, relieved.

Dylan sighs and smiles. "Cool," he says. "So...now what?"

"Now we make sure he stays that way," she answers, turning away from Falcon to the mess of supplies scattered all over the floor. "Did you raid mom's medicine cabinet for all of this?" she asks, surprised that there were so many bandages in their house. Unfortunately, it would take more than a few Band-Aids to save Falcon from bleeding to death.

"Yeah, but she won't notice. For a while," he adds sheepishly.

Ally turns around and stares at her brother, focused and no longer at odds with what she knows needs to happen next. "Do you think you could go back home and raid her sewing kit?"

Dylan swallows. "What for?"

"I'm going to make him a dress."

"What?"

Ally rolls her eyes. "To suture the gaping holes all over his body. Duh."

"Oh. Right. Su...uture..." Dylan chuckles awkwardly. "Um...so I guess you need a needle and some...some kind of string stuff?"

"It's called thread. Just grab mom's sewing basket, the matches on the mantel, and the bottle of vodka from the shelf in my closet."

"There's a bottle of vodka in your closet?"