Sam took her eyes from the knife just long enough to check her position. The deck was a good thirty feet up. Falling to the ground was as likely to be fatal as landing in the sea, but could she climb down the side?
“Don’t bother looking to see who is there. You cannot shout for help. I made sure nobody was near before I came up.”
“Then you did not check well enough.” Torvold appeared at the top of the stairs, holding his axe.
Jorge spun to face him. “What are—”
“Ah, Jorge, my grandfather was a very wise man, else Eric the Red would not have chosen him as foster father to young Leif. My grandfather told me to watch and listen well to a man who has lived when all with him have died. If he is telling the truth, I might hear good advice, and if he is lying, I should be very careful. I listened to what you said, and I have watched you, ever since you come back with the tale of the hunters. I also went to the farm and looked for scraps of bone and skin. I did not find them, but I did find blood. What did you do with poor Charles and Piracola? Did you stab them and dump their bodies in the sea?”
“No.” Jorge took a step back. “All right, yes, but there are too many of us. I was just—”
Without warning, he leapt at Sam, knife slashing for her throat. Sam threw herself aside at the last moment. A line of fire burned across her left shoulder. She hit the ground and rolled away, but suddenly the deck was no longer beneath her. Her hips went over, leaving her legs dangling in midair. Jorge loomed above her, lifting his foot, ready to kick. Sam’s toe touched on a strut. It gave just enough support to let her move and avoid him, although at the expense of slipping a few more inches off the deck. She flailed wildly and grabbed his ankle, stopping her slide.
Now Jorge was the one in trouble. His arms stuck out straight as he struggled to regain his balance. His body arched back. He jerked his ankle free from Sam’s grasp, but when his foot came down it was not on the deck. Jorge pitched forward and fell. He hit the sea with a splash.
Sam could no longer find the strut. She was scrabbling, trying to reach anything to pull herself back to safety. And then Torvold was there, clasping her wrist and hauling her onto the deck.
Still on her knees, Sam looked over the edge, at the water below. Jorge had surfaced and was frantically swimming for the embankment. Would he be able to pull himself out? The question was irrelevant. Sam saw a shadow flow under the surface of the waves, changing shape, moving in with lightning speed. Did he sense it coming? Jorge looked up, desperate, imploring. He did not get a chance to cry out before the sea boiled red.
* * *
The cut was not deep, little more than a scratch. Sam felt foolish at the amount of attention she was receiving over it. She sat on the edge of her bed, with Babs kneeling behind her. Liz and Madison were also in the room, both watching and offering far more advice and sympathy than was called for.
Babs had insisted on washing Sam’s shoulder, and was now dabbing at it with a bloodstained cloth. “It’s a clean cut, but could do with a stitch or two. How are our supplies?”
“We have needle and thread, but it’s not surgical grade, and we’ve been out of anesthetic for a long time.”
“Hmmm. Still might be a good idea.”
“I’ll be fine.” Sam had gone through the experience of having a wound stitched before and was not overly keen on repeating it.
“You’ll need to take this off and get it washed. It’s soaked in blood.” Babs picked at the band Sam had wrapped around her breasts. The binding had been necessary when she was passing as a boy, and she had kept it for comfort when running and jumping.
“The boob-tube bra.” Doubtless Madison was trying to be helpful, although the name meant nothing to Sam.
“I’ll do it later.”
Sam was already feeling overexposed. The precautions she needed to take aboard ship had become deep-rooted habits. The last person to see her bare chest had been her father, when she was still young enough not to need the band.
There was a knock on the door. “Can I come in? I have to talk to Sam.” The desperate voice belonged to Ricardo.
“Yeah. She’s decent,” Madison called out before Sam had a chance.
The door opened. Ricardo burst in and fell to his knees before Sam. He gave vent to a long stream of Spanish that made as much sense as Madison’s English. However, Sam had no difficulty working out it was an emotional apology. Ricardo’s tone said it all. Kali followed him in, but hung back by the doorway.
“It wasn’t your fault. You aren’t responsible for what Jorge did.” Sam finally got a chance to fit a word in.
“He is my brother.”
“But he’s not you.”
“Charles and Piracola…he…I don’t understand how he could do it. Yes, in the past, Jorge has killed people. I know it. But only when there was no other way.”
He would say that. Sam kept the thought to herself.
“He tried to kill you.” Tears rolled down Ricardo’s face. “I’m so sorry.”
Sam reached down and hooked the shoulder of his shirt. She urged him to his feet, then wrapped him in a hug. “I’m sorry for you, too. I’m over the scare, and the cut will heal. But you’ve lost someone you loved. And you’ve not just lost him, your memories will be tainted.” With all his faults, her father had left Sam with nothing but fondness when she thought of him.
“Why did he do it? Why?”
What should she say? Before Sam could work out an answer, Ricardo returned her hug, which sent a stab of fire though her shoulder. She gave gasp of pain and Ricardo jumped back, hands held up.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
Kali came forward and put her arm around him. “Everyone knows that. Now you have seen that Sam is not seriously injured. You should leave her to be tended.”
Ricardo nodded, then looked at Babs. “And I’m sorry for Charles. I know you were close. I can’t believe Jorge would have done that. We were a team. We were all friends. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t blame you. Nobody does,” Babs said. “You should take him home, Kali. See if you can get him to calm down.”
“Yes.” Kali urged Ricardo to move. “Come, my love. We should go.”
The door had barely closed when there was another knock. Catalina entered. Her eyes fixed on Sam, but when she spoke, it was to Liz.
“I’ve been to a clinic in the tower, to see what was there.” She held up several items. “This is what the machines thought we needed.”
“Fantastic. What have you got?” Babs held out her hands eagerly.
“I’m not sure.” Catalina stood by the bed and switched to looking everywhere except at Sam. She held up a short tube with a lever at the end. “The writing on the side says, Blow mist with no feeling.”
“Spray anesthetic. It will take away the pain,” Liz translated.
Sam felt Babs move. “Here. You do it, Cat.”
After a moment of hesitation, Catalina took Babs’s place on the bed. Sam bowed her head, bracing herself for the touch of Catalina’s hand on her bare skin. She heard Catalina suck in a breath. “Maybe I should have got more.”
“Use what you’ve got. We can go back to the clinic,” Liz said. “That was good thinking.”
Sam heard a hiss, and felt a fine rain on her shoulder. Instantly, the burning vanished, but then Catalina’s hand brushed the back of her neck, and she had to clench her teeth.
“Sorry. Did that sting?”
“No.”
In fact, Sam could no longer feel anything. She heard the hiss of the spray again, but her shoulder was numb. However, the rest of her was not. It took all Sam’s self-control not to react as Catalina’s hands moved over her neck, arm, and back. Did Catalina have any idea the effect her touch produced? Sam tried to pretend she was somewhere else while the conversation carried on around her.
“I was given these by the machine in the clinic as well,” Catalina said.
“What are they?” Liz asked.
“I’m not sure
. There’s a jar of paste and cloth strips, with glue on one side.”
“The paste might be antiseptic.”
“That would be a good thing?”
“Very.”
“Any idea what antiseptic would be in ancient Greek?”
“I couldn’t begin to guess.”
“It says the sticky cloth strips have Defense against cleanliness.”
Liz looked surprised, and then her expression cleared. “Washproof sticking plasters.”
“Sticking plasters?” Madison sounded confused. “You mean Band-Aids?”
“Same sort of thing, dear. I very much doubt that Johnson & Johnson had a supply contract with the aliens.”
“These look like suture strips.” Babs waved something around. “Not as good as stitches, but they’ll help.”
Sam kept her head down. Finally, Catalina stuck a large cloth strip across the length of the cut. Sam flexed her arm. Thanks to the spray, her shoulder was completely free of pain.
“So, Sam, how do you feel?” Liz asked.
“Much better. Thank you.”
“Would you like us to leave you alone now?” Liz’s voice held a touch of humor.
“Yes, please.” Actually, Sam wanted Catalina to stay.
“You can shower, get clean clothes, and we’ll see you at dinner. It says the dressing is washproof, but if it comes off, let someone know and we can redo it.”
“Yes. And thank you.”
They left. Catalina did not even glance back as the door closed. Left alone in her room, Sam buried her face in her hands. She had been trying to work out what to say to Catalina, but did Catalina want to hear it?
* * *
“Okay, folks, listen up.” Floyd stood by the fountain in the common room. “Here’s the plan. If anyone has any objections or suggestions, now’s your time to speak up.”
Sam looked around the room. Everything felt very serious.
“I think you all know bits of what I’m going to say, but I want to tie it together, so everyone sees the whole picture.” Floyd held up one of the swords from the Barn, currently deactivated. “The only thing we have that stands a chance of hurting the Minotaur are these plasma blades. For the name, you can thank Liz.”
“That doesn’t mean I have a bloody clue how they work,” Liz said. “Cat found out about them in a book. It says there’s nothing they can’t cut. The plasma bit just stops Sam and Horatio from arguing over whether they’re falchions or cutlasses.”
Floyd continued. “Although they can’t agree on the name, Sam and Horatio both have the experience to use them well, but it means they’ll have to get in close and personal with the Minotaur. Even with their training, they won’t last long, without help from the rest of us. So next up…”
He put down the sword and held up a coil of the same thin rope Sam had taken with her on the expedition to Old Town. It was, presumably, alien technology since even Madison had no idea what it might be made of. “We have this. And fortunately, we have lots more back in the Barn, a whole bale of it. To date, the only thing we’ve found that can cut it are the plasma blades. It’s super light, but won’t break, and won’t stretch. Yaraha is going to put his fishing skills to use and make it into a net. If you’d like to volunteer to tie knots, go see him. As I said, it’s lightweight. So light it can be carried by…” He glanced at Madison. “Not drains?”
“Drones.”
“Right. We’ll have four people, each controlling a drone. Those four will need to practice, so they can work together. With luck, they’ll get the Minotaur wrapped up, but even if they don’t, it won’t be able to pay so much attention to Sam and Horatio. On top of that, two others will be armed with rifles. They won’t do the Minotaur any damage, but they will get its attention. When I finish here, we’ll go outside and find out who’re our best marksmen. We don’t want anyone hit by crossfire. And as a final point, I’d remind everyone not to leave this equipment lying around when you’re not using it. The last thing we want is for the caretakers to blow our plans by tidying stuff away.”
Floyd walked to the rear wall and chalked a large circle on it, then drew another, much smaller circle close by and connected the two with a double line. He finished by putting several small hash strokes across the twin lines and a cross on the larger circle, directly opposite.
“Liz and Cat have been able to view the control room using the surveillance cameras in the tower. This is our entrance.” He tapped the cross. “The terminal Liz needs is in here, and that’s where the Minotaur is.” Floyd tapped the smaller circle. “It never leaves this little room, and it’s way too cramped to tackle it in there. We need to lure it down the flight of steps in the hall to here.” He tapped the bigger circle. “A loud noise ought to do it, but we want the Minotaur to move into the middle of the room and not chase people around the edge. So finally, we need someone to volunteer to be a decoy, to make the Minotaur chase them down the hallway and out into the open room.”
“Me.” Torvold stood up. “I will taunt the mother-lover.”
“Okay, Torry, but I think the word you want is motherfucker.”
“I know that. But I was being polite. There are ladies present.”
Floyd briefly covered his eyes with his hand. “Right. Last couple of roles. Babs will stay with the Okeechobee Dawn.”
“I’d rather come with you guys. I want to do my bit,” Babs said.
“We can’t risk having you hurt. Getting us away will be enough.” Floyd smiled at her. “Kali won’t be coming with us either.”
“My mother was working in—”
“I know, Kali. You’ve told us. But you’re what, eight months gone now? You can stay and help Babs.” Floyd’s expression lost all trace of humor. “So last thing before we go for target shooting. The seaplane can only take seven, including Babs. If—and it’s a big if—if we all survive the battle with the Minotaur, three people won’t be able to get aboard. But that doesn’t mean you’ll be left to drown when Atlantis goes under. Once we’ve dealt with the Minotaur, Liz will be able to get into the control room. And, well, she’ll be staying there, but the rest of us can leave.”
Liz was staring at her feet. She clearly did not want to meet anyone’s eyes. Sam could not blame her.
Floyd cleared his throat. “She’ll give us two hours to get back here, which should be long enough. Those who haven’t got a place on the seaplane can set off in the Inflatable and get out of range of the whirlpools. Between Liz’s graph and what the Greeks wrote, we expect Atlantis to make one final jump to 2025 before the spaceship departs. After this happens, whoever’s in the boat will be able to use a compass, and ought to make land in a few days. However, there’s no saying which year they’ll be stranded in. So the only fair thing is to draw lots.”
“No.” Ricardo spoke up. “I volunteer for the Inflatable. We all know what Jorge did. You say it wasn’t my fault, but I am his brother, and I know he acted for me, in part.” His eyes were fixed on the ceiling. “Just look after Kali and the baby for me.”
Kali was clearly about to argue but got drowned out by Torvold. “I volunteer too. I will go in the Inflatable. For centuries, there were Vikings living in Greenland, long before this Columbus fellow. If they are there, I can show them the outboard motor. My name will be bigger than Leif’s. He will be jealous.”
“I also volunteer,” Yaraha said. “The year meant nothing to Piracola. It means nothing to the land.”
Floyd looked between them. “You three are sure about this?” They all nodded.
The door opened. A caretaker scuttled in and started cleaning the chalk diagram off the wall.
“Okay. That’s our cue to go outside and see who’s the best shot.”
Everyone gathered on the lawn. Floyd held up a rifle. “I know several of you have used an AK-47 before, but this is a bit different. It’s called an FN FAL.”
“An F-ing fal? Sounds serious,” Torvold said.
“No, it’s…ah, never mind, buddy. The AK is eas
y to use and maintain, and we have boxes of ammo in the Barn. Just about every Joe who’s turned up since World War Two has had one. The FAL packs more punch. It still probably won’t hurt the Minotaur, but it should do a better job of distracting it. However, we don’t want anyone getting shot by accident. So let’s see how you do for speed and accuracy.” He held the rifle out. “Who wants to shoot first?”
Madison stepped forward. “I’ll give it a go.”
Floyd trotted to the far end of the lawn and placed five sweet potatoes on a low wall, then returned to Madison. “Right. See how many you can hit, taking no more than three seconds between shots.” He pointed to the FAL. “You’ll want it in semi-automatic mode. The—”
“It’s okay. I know.” Madison raised the rifle. Five shots rang out with barely a pause. All of the potatoes were gone.
Floyd was silent for the space of a dozen seconds, then drew a deep breath. “So, you’ve shot one before then, Maddy?”
“Dude, I’m from Texas.”
* * *
Sam threaded the cord through and pulled the last knot tight. She shook out the corner of the net. It felt light as fine lace. “I think my side’s done.”
Yaraha was also finishing off. “We just need to attach a drain in each corner.”
“Madison said they’re drones.”
“What does either name mean?” He smiled. “Whatever they’re called, we can do it first thing tomorrow, and start practicing. I’ll let Liz, Cat, and Rico know.”
Sam stood and stretched. Her shoulder felt sore. Fortunately, it was on her left side so would not affect her swordplay, but she wondered if she should get someone to look at it, and maybe spray on more of whatever it was in the tube. She flexed her arm again. The fire was definitely heating up. Hours bent over the net tying hundreds of sheet bend knots had not been good for it, but maybe a night’s sleep would sort things out.
Isle of Broken Years Page 29