by Josh Hayes
Marb chuckled and rolled his broad shoulders. “Is that so? As a matter of fact, I might have something I want to say…”
He stepped forward in a blur of motion and swung.
Already moving, John caught the man’s thick forearm with both hands and twisted, using his momentum to pull the bigger man off balance. He twisted Marb’s arm down and around, while simultaneously putting a hand against the man’s shoulder and pushing back. Gravity did the rest.
Marb shouted in surprise as his feet left the deck and flipped backward. He landed on his back with a dull thud and gasped for air. A weak groan escaped his lips as John let go of his arm, and he rolled onto his side.
John stepped back. A buzz of conversation rippled through the crowd he’d forgotten was still there. Most seemed to be fixated on Marb, others eyed John with a mixture of suspicion and admiration.
“Oh, damn,” Tim said, surprised.
Bella bounced up and down several times, pointed at the fallen man and laughed. She tried to speak but the works jumbled to together and deteriorated into more laugher. She clung desperately to Michael’s chair, holding herself more or less upright.
“Hey, you c-can’t d-do. Back away f-from him.”
A bearded man, standing at most five and a half feet tall, stepped away from the crowd with a pistol clutched in stubby fingers. His expression seemed more terrified than confused. Small beady eyes darted between John and Marb, as if he was trying to decide whether to help his friend off the floor or defend him. The brown shirt he wore stretched at the seams and was tucked haphazardly into a pair of pants he had obviously outgrown about twenty pounds ago. The shirtsleeves were rolled to just below the elbow, showing off ridiculously hairy forearms.
He took another step forward. “B-back up!”
He raised his left hand slowly. “Easy, buddy. Just stay cool.”
“B-back—”
As the man spoke, John flipped the catch on his holster and drew. He had the pulser leveled and ready before the man had any idea. Several of the on-lookers backed away. The man, however, didn’t seem to know what to do. He stood frozen, fat hands trembling, eyeing the man on the ground as if he waited for instructions.
After several seconds, the man stammered for the right words, “You…you can’t do that…”
Bella moved away from the chair, doubled over in laughter. She dropped to her knees and slapped the deck in front of her.
John, for the life of him, didn’t understand what the hell was so funny. He didn’t think it was anything he’d done or said. Granted, he was no expert when it came to women and what went on in their heads, but this was something else entirely. Maybe she’d truly just lost her mind.
“What’s so funny?”
She waved him off, shaking her head. It took several deep breaths to break the cycle then, spoke between breaths. Her voice trembled, struggling to keep her laughter under control.
“Oh…oh…that’s the…funniest thing…I’ve…seen in months.”
Now Tim stepped forward and raised a hand, his tone steady and calm. “Take it Easy, Oak. Everything is going to be all right. Marb is fine. Just relax.”
This seemed to confuse the man even more. John could almost hear the man’s internal monologue, deciding which thought to believe more, that his friend was okay or that he needed help.
“M…M…Marb?” Oak mumbled. Short, chubby fingers flexed around the grip of the pistol as concerned eyes scanned over his friend on the floor.
Marb groaned again, only it sounded more like anger than pain. He rolled over to push himself up and glared up at John.
Red faced with anger, he said, “You’re fucking dead.”
Oak moved closer, slipped the pistol into his waistband, and reached down to help his friend to his feet.
Marb smacked his hand away and said, “I’m fine.”
Oak gasped in surprise and jerked his hand back. He cradled it to his chest like a child who’d just touched a hot pan and frowned. For a brief second, John thought he saw the man’s lower lip protrude and quiver.
Bella, who must have seen it as well, laughed harder. “Oh, I can’t take it…where’s Carter? I can’t believe he’s missing this!”
A grin crept across John’s face as Bella gasped for air between bouts of laughter. He wasn’t sure which was funnier, the big man’s surprise and confusion, or the girl’s laughter.
She had a strange innocence about her. Something he wouldn’t have attributed to the girl who’d blown a skiff right out of the sky on their first encounter. She was full of surprises.
Satisfied the threat had passed, he gave Marb another look, then holstered his pulser.
Marb stood and brushed himself off. “This isn’t over.”
“Hey, I’ll be here all week,” John said.
John saw a flash of confusion cross the man’s face, quickly replaced by determination. He wondered if Marb even understood the reference.
“Oh, I seriously doubt that. In fact, I’d be willing to bet I’ll be throwing you out on your ass here in the next hour. So, don’t go too far.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Marb’s words seemed to strike a chord for Bella, who immediately stopped laughing and pointed a finger at him.
“If you’ve got fight with him, you’ve got a fight with me too, Marb.”
“Big words from a little person,” Marb retorted, then jabbed a finger at Tim. “Say them when your brothers aren’t here to protect you.”
“Stop,” Michael said, his hoarse voice barely more than a whisper.
They turned to him. He sat slouched back in the padded chair, his injured leg stretched out in front of him. He worked his tongue around his mouth and swallowed hard. He looked up at them, head tilted slightly forward. He spoke slowly, words slurring just enough that it was noticeable. He had to force a breath every few words.
“I’m vouching for John, Marb, he isn’t any concern…of yours. If you have a problem…with that, you know who…you can take it up with.”
Marb scoffed, “Well see, that’s where you’re wrong, Michael. Everything that has to do with the security of this place is my concern, and that most definitely includes armed outsiders. Even she knows that.”
He lifted his head, indicating somewhere behind the skiff.
“Take it up with her then.” Michael said, “But he’s staying with me and he’s keeping his gun.”
Marb returned Michael’s stare for several moments, like to cage fighters waiting for the other to flinch. John wondered who would break first, though he thought he knew.
He should have been a gambler.
Marb narrowed his eyes and spoke through clenched teeth. “We’ll see.”
He turned and shoved his way through the crowd. Some objected, others cursed, but none stopped him, and he paid them no attention.
Oak, still confused, simply stood there with a stupid expression on his face, like he didn’t have a clue what he was supposed to do now. He looked like he was on the verge of being sick or crying, neither would have surprised John; the man was obviously a few cans short of a six-pack.
Finally, the gorilla of a man turned and, without a word, walked away like nothing happened. He shuffled around the edge of the crowd, keeping his eyes low.
Tim slapped John on the shoulder. “Well, mister, I don’t know who the hell you are, but I like ya. Anyone who can put Marb on his ass like that is all right in my book. Feel free to stick around as long as you like.”
John shrugged. “The bigger they are…”
Tim raised an eyebrow.
John shook his head. “Forget it.”
For every way this world was like his own, there were five more ways it was not.
Bella clapped her hands together. “That was so great! Did you see his face? I bet he hasn’t been put down like that in years. God, I wish Carter had been here.”
“Well, I’m not sure I did myself any favors there. Hate to make enemies on the first day of school.”<
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She shook her head and waved both arms enthusiastically through the air. “Oh, forget about him. He’s all talk. And his friend there, well, I’m sure you saw. Doesn’t do much without Marb’s say so.”
John laughed and nodded. “Lucky for me. That guy looked like he could tie me up in a knot with one hand behind his back.”
“Shoot, he’s not smart enough to know what a knot is. And besides,” she turned to face Michael, “who does that ass think he is anyway?”
Michael shook his head, opened his mouth to say something, then closed it and took a long, weary breath.
“Ass,” Bella muttered.
“Where’d you find the chair?” Tim asked as his brother moved back around behind it.
Tom grinned. “Where do you think?”
He turned the chair slightly, revealing a brown leather jacket draped across the back.
“Oh, shit.” Tim ran a hand through his blonde hair. “Damn, brother, that’s gutsy move right there.”
Bella craned her neck and when she saw the jacket let out a long, “Oh.” She half-heartedly suppressed a smile, and turned to John, who raised his eyebrows curiously.
She jerked a finger at the crowd and whispered, “Marb’s”
“Nice,” John said with a grin.
“Come on,” Tim said. “Let’s get out of here before he realizes what happened.”
THREE
John followed the siblings through a maze of corridors filled with large supply cases and equipment, all stacked haphazardly along the walls. There didn’t seem to be any organization to it at all. Food bins were stacked atop ammo crates, and medical supplies were packed in with electronic components. Everything looked very temporary.
They had just made their third turn when Bella started jumping up and down; throwing a fit because she’d left her tribarrel in the skiff. She and Tom went back and forth about it for a minute, until finally he relented and agreed to go back and retrieve it.
She’d given him an enormous grin and said, “Oh, thanks, Tommy!” Then reached forward, wrapped her arms around him and squeezed.
“Okay, okay, sis, damn. Enough. It’s no big deal.” He said, finally pushing away. He rolled his eyes and started back toward the hanger.
“Don’t forget to plug it in!” Bella called after him. He answered with a wave.
They all watched Tom as he walked away and when he was out of earshot Bella turned to Tim and whispered, “You know you’re my favorite.”
He grinned and went back to pushing Michael down the corridor. “I know.”
They turned down another corridor and made their way to a nondescript down at the end.
“Ah, finally,” Tim said.
The door hung open several inches and John could hear mumbling coming from within.
Tim grunted. “I hope he’s not having one of his days.”
Bella leaned forward and listened for a moment, then grinned. “Sounds like a good day.”
She pushed the door open, waited while Tim wheeled Michael through, then she and John followed.
A short, thin man stood with his back to the door, focused on something on the counter in front of him. From behind, he appeared to be bald on all but the very left side of his head; strands of thin grey hair were combed over in a fashion that did nothing to cover anything. An untold collection of tools and whatever else he could fit into the pockets of the lab coat weighed it down significantly.
The room reminded John more of a modern, stainless steel kitchen than an infirmary. The cramped space was jam-packed with equipment, and storage containers, all surrounding a single examination table in the middle of the room. Cables and wires snaked around the floor to various modules and terminals. A cluster of data monitors and what appeared to be scanning and diagnostic sensors hung from the ceiling above the table.
Like everything else John had seen so far, the technology and equipment around him seemed temporary and second-hand. In a world so advanced it just didn’t make sense that so much of their equipment was old and run-down.
A loud crack echoed through the room and the man’s hands jerked away from whatever he’d been working on.
“God damn it! God damn it!” He shook his right hand vigorously before sticking his index finger into his mouth. He pulled it out a second later and inspected the tip. He winced and sucked in a breath before shaking it out. “Stupid piece of—”
“Hey, Doc, got something for you,” Tim announced.
Without looking up from his work, the man waved an irritated hand and said, “Just leave it on the table, thank you. I’ll get to it later, if there is a later, anyway.”
Bella giggled. “Well, see you later, Michael, hope you get better soon.”
“Doc,” Tim repeated.
The man gave an exasperated sigh and turned. “Honestly, I’m extremely—oh.”
If the man would’ve had eyebrows, they would have risen. His skin was pale, almost chalk white, and not at all smooth. His right cheek seemed stretched toward the back of his jaw ending in a mangled mass of scar tissue. Only a small portion of his right earlobe remained. That and a small pen-size hole were the only indications that he still had an ear.
His right eye drooped, the very top of the socket covered by skin pulled down from his forehead to the side of his head. A pair of clear goggles, wrapped around his head, made the eyes underneath look three times their normal size.
He looked down at Michael and made a tisk-tisk sound, then said, “I always do miss the best parties.”
He set the device he’d been working on aside and knelt down to examine Michael’s leg. “Well, nothing is ever simple with you, is it?”
He squinted and cocked his head at the plyform dressing. “Wasn’t your trip just supposed to be a quick in and out?”
“Yeah,” Tim said, “It’s been one of those days.”
“What happened,” the doctor asked, “decide you didn’t want this one?”
“Give me a break, Doc. It’s been a . . . rough morning,” Michael said, rolling his head to the side.
“Indeed.” Irving said. He reached down and inspected the plyform dressing. He ran his fingers over the dressing and leaned from side to side, examining it from different angles.
He looked up at Tim. “What is this?”
“Don’t look at me, that’s all this guy.” Tim jerked a thumb at John.
The doctor noticed John for the first time and lifted the goggles to his forehead. Even from across the room John could see that his irises were different colors, one bright blue; the other dull grey.
He stood slowly and said, “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”
Finally, someone who doesn’t want to rip my head off, John thought. He offered his hand. “John McNeal. I crashed the party.”
“Indeed,” the doctor said again, giving John’s hand a hard pump. “Irving Smithe. That’s Smithe not Smith, if you like being healthy you’ll remember the difference.”
The scared molted flesh on his face stretched when he smiled, changing from a dull pink to almost white then back again.
John grinned, “I’ll remember.”
“He’s from the other side.” Bella offered, hopping onto the counter behind her. Two small containers toppled off as she made room to sit and clattered onto the floor. She crossed her ankles and smiled, seeming not to notice the commotion.
“Is that so?” Irving said.
She nodded. “Yep, came through this morning.”
“I didn’t know your people could get through on their own.”
“Oh, trust me, we can’t.” John admitted. “It just kind of happened.”
“Your lucky day, then.”
John laughed. “That’s not exactly what I’d call it.”
“Uh, Doc?” Michael leaned his head back to look up at Irving.
“Oh, for the love. Yes, yes, here,” Irving said, moving back to the chair. “Help me here, would you Tim? Let’s get him up onto the table.”
Together Ir
ving and Tim lifted Michael out of the chair and onto the exam table. John pulled the chair away and backed out of the way. The doctor reached up to the control panel above the table and tapped a few buttons. Two spider arms unfolded from recesses behind the panel and extended into position just above Michael’s chest.
A flat orange beam emitted out of the one; green from the other. They swept back and forth along Michael’s body.
“Now, what did you do this time?” Irving asked. The beams finished their scans and automatically folded back in their recesses. A transparent hologram flickered into existence, Michael’s organs and skeletal and muscular structure overlaid in various colors just above his body.
Red indicator markers flashed above Michael’s wounded leg and words that John couldn’t read because they were backward to him, scrolled in the air beside.
Irving made the tisk-tisk noise again and shook his head. “Well, that’s not supposed to be there.”
“Got tagged running from some Rats during our exfil,” Michael said.
The hologram rippled as Irving reached through to inspect the plyform. “Not fast enough, I’d say.”
“Slowpoke,” Bella chided.
“So,” Irving clapped his hands together once, “let’s get this bandage and these pants off and take a proper look, shall we?”
Michael groaned. “Doc, I don’t really think that’s—”
Irving shushed him, already working on pulling his jacket off. Tom stepped up to help. Bella giggled as the doc finished with the jacket and Tom started on his boots.
“Oh, yeah, take it off.” Bella said, crossing her arms and grinning.
“Shut up, B,” Michael said.
With the jacket off, John got his first clear view of the harness that had saved his life; it didn’t look that impressive. Charred nylon straps held the device in place on top of his shirt and the steel front panel showed signs of fire damage. Michael was damn lucky his clothes hadn’t caught fire.