The Broken and the Dead (Book 2): The Merciless and the Dead
Page 22
“Please, take him to the school!” The Doc said.
She joined Amy in protest but eventually they relented and just followed the underling as they carried Tucker in the air like a rock star body surfing at a concert.
They took him up the ramp and into one of the Da-Nah vehicles, it was the first time either of them had been inside and they were surprised at the height and roominess of the thing. Amy commented that she had forgotten they were built for the exceptionally tall Da-Nah, not the underling. The underling carried Tucker up a second ramp and then through several rooms into a smallish room on one side. The laid him on, or rather in, a table about nine feet long. The sides curved upwards like some kind of candy dish or something. The table top was quilted in a silvery colored material and Amy felt it she found it silk-like and cool to the touch. Screens shimmered into existence in front of them. Clearly medical scans were being performed, strange readings were being displayed. Doc Mary was trying to figure some of them out with little or no success.
There were several different underling involved, why? No clue. One or two would stand around then they would paddle off only to be replaced by other, equally interested, equally silent underling. Amy whispered to the Doc
“Say, any idea what’s going on?”
Suddenly there was a new display on top of the others which caused a flurry of underling activity.
“Holy Crap.”
Mary said as a full 3-D of Tucker’s skeleton was displayed. One of the underling was spinning it around at least two axes of rotation. Mary turned and asked us
“What the Hell happened to him?”
We told her about the explosion and she told us that he had hairline fractures that looked like a spider web running from the sphenoid to the temporals, superior and inferior, and that it reached nearly to the occipital. Of course I knew she meant his head bone was broken because she was pointing at the bits as she went along.
“He most certainly has a severe concussion and it appears that he might actually be in a coma.”
She watched the display and rattled off more interesting trivia:
“Broken left clavicle, left humerus, right radius, two breaks in right ulna.” She took a deep breath “Multiple fractures on the right side phalanges, sternum is split in two and separated. At least three ribs on right side are broken, probably has a punctured lung. Right femur has deep stress fractures and his right patella looks like someone hit it with a hammer.”
We didn’t get a chance to say anything because that is when another layer was applied to the display, his skeleton was suddenly wrapped in ligaments, after that arteries and veins with pale clouds revealing locations of internal bleeding. Layer by layer he was built up from the inside out, organ and tissue. Doc Mary was making my head hurt with her biceps tendon and glenoid this, ruptured spleen and blunt splenic trauma that. When the underling at last wrapped skin around the old guy, Mary stopped. No one said anything so I did,
“So how long till he gets back on his feet because I’m not going to cover his guard duty for long.”
Mary turned and looked at us, she answered us all,
“Guys look, Tucker shouldn’t even be alive. In fact he may actually be brain dead, I have no idea without a brain scan I can read.”
She sighed, “He is a wreck and IF he wakes up, and that is a big if, he won’t be the same. Not just because of all the broken bones either, several of which will leave him crippled, but because severe brain trauma of the types he has suffered, well, let me say that brain damage like this can have dramatic effects.”
Amy quietly asked “Like what?” Mary put a hand on her shoulder,
“Given the location of the injuries and how extensive they are, it is unlikely that he will, umm, be fully functional”
Amy leaned against the bulkhead and Karen said
“He will need help?”
“More likely he will be vegetative, I know he was your friend but it seems Mr. Tucker is already dead, his body just doesn’t know it yet.”
I could tell by the way she said those things that it was hard for her to say them but she felt it necessary to get us ready.
She looked at me, “How about you Johnny? You okay?”
“Me? I’m fine, just tired and hungry I guess. Think we can get some food?” I asked.
But the truth was I was not okay, I had just learned to hide everything, to not acknowledge pain and loss anymore. I wanted to run, get out of there. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I wanted to pick out curtains with the old crocodile, it’s just that I had gotten used to him. No matter how scary the world was outside, no matter how mean or violent, we had something to respond with of our own: John Tucker. We left the vehicle to the underling, the young Da-Nah and Tucker's still breathing corpse.
Day 44, Richmond Benedictine Preparatory School Lobby, 12:30 P.M.
Doc Mary had caught a couple hours of sleep before lunch, she seemed pretty much out of it when we woke her for lunch but after a cup of coffee she was pretty much aware of things. We had a lot to decide, most importantly what are we going to do now? So we had a staff meeting, Amy, Doc Mary, Karen, three underling and me.
Amy seemed defeated, we all saw that but for now there was nothing we could do about it. We had three choices, back the way we came, maybe keep our promise to Ethan and Krista Tanner. Second option: do what Tucker had told us to do, Galveston. Hook up with survivors there. Third: Go somewhere else and do something else. Frankly I didn’t care, I was sick of all the bullshit and just wanted to spend more time with Karen. The underling saw each and every option as the best option by far. They would listen to us then write out their consensus positive opinion, regardless of what the current option was.
Finally Amy, Karen and Mary came up with a plan. First back to North East to see if we can find the Tanners in Sutton, West Virginia. Then West across the Mississippi after that a sharp left to New Orleans and finally follow the coast to Galveston. They hoped to find more survivors on the way. It was also decided that we would abandon the Humvee and the old reliable F-150. From now on we would be traveling in style in a pair of 150 foot long, bleach white hover-hotels.
The rest of the day was spent sorting and loading all that remained of our equipment and supplies. We decided that since either of the Da-Nah vehicles could actually carry every single one of us, Mary and I would be in the first one with 6 or 8 underling. Everyone else in the second with Karen and Amy. That night Karen and I slept in our very own alien bedroom. Whoop-de-do.
Day 45, Richmond Benedictine Parking Lot, 7:30 A.M
It had been strange to sleep inside the alien vehicle, although the beds were tremendously long they really were rather narrow. But to tell the truth when sleeping next to my wife narrow was a good thing. She was still dozing and so I got up to use the facilities, our friends the underling had been kind enough to make labels for the many interior doors. I went in and stared at an alien toilet for the first time. At least it was porcelain white that was the only familiar attribute. There was a central channel that sloped from about my mid-thigh to the ground where a wide, flat “bowl” was located. There were two ramps, one on either side of the channel. But I had no clue exactly how this thing was used, luckily for me the bodily functions of very young Da-Nah is just as urgent as those of their human counter parts.
A young Da-Nah ran into the room, looked at me and said “buzz-clicky-click-hum” then straddled the channel and with its knees on the adjacent ramps it evacuated its bowels. Quickly. Really quickly. The little thing made more sounds, climbed off and pressed a button on the front that I hadn’t even noticed then buzzy-clicked at me some more then ran out to play. “Thanks!” I called after it.
I walked towards the front of the vehicle, there were underling snuggled up with and without Da-Nah youth. Some were just starting to stir others deeply sleeping. When I passed the room where Tucker still lay he was not alone. Doctor Mary Young Deer was standing near him, each of her hands lay on something that looked a b
it like a track ball.
“Hey Johnny.” She said without taking her eyes from the displays hovering virtually in front of her.
“Hey Doc” I said. “He is still alive?”
She chuckled “Yeppers, check it out.”
She showed me how the two spheres were used to pan through his body in real time, every layer, skeletal, arterial, tendons, and muscles. It was all right there.
“Johnny, I don’t know how they are doing it, but they are re-growing the damaged bone.”
“No way” I said and crowded in next to her. Sure enough at the worst damaged places I could see bright white bone being deposited, lacey at first, then a honey comb, eventually I was sure it would be entirely new bone.
“Look at this” she said.
“What am I looking at?” I asked.
“An appendix” she said.
“So?” She laughed.
“They are growing him a new one.”
She was laughing.
“Why?” I asked.
“No idea, I don’t know if they scanned you or chase and saw you had one or if they knew about it from his genetics somehow”.
“Will he be okay?” I asked.
“I don’t know Johnny, I really don’t know.”
Once breakfast was over, and Karen had joined Amy in the second vehicle we started on our journey. I gave Doc a driving lesson which took all of about 60 seconds. The damn thing was pretty forgiving. A major discovery was that we could adjust the force exerted below the vehicle so that while we still left a trail, all it really did was bend the grass over instead of powdering every rock and tree they came across. Once we were able to explain where we were going the driving was done by the underling. That let me and the Doc explore the rest of the vehicle.
There were sleeping chambers and supply rooms filled with cases and cases of equipment. They started to open them but afraid to actually try them out made it a futile exercise. We decide to go upstairs and explore, as we walked by what we now referred to as sick-bay, we checked on Tucker. First thing we had to remove two very young Da-Nah who were sitting on his belly, one was peering in his mouth most intently. The second was very patiently waiting for something, exactly what I had no idea but he/she was certainly waiting for it. I picked them up and set them on the ground and they promptly ran off.
“They can’t weigh more than ten pounds” I said.
I shook my head but Mary didn’t answer me. She was staring at the display and moving the control spheres.
“Johnny, check this out.” “Now what?” I asked.
“Apparently the bone they are replacing is hollow.”
“Like a straw?”
“No, more like a honey comb. I guess that they figured out it wouldn’t support his bulk or the strain of the muscle attachment.”
“Great.” I said.
“Don’t worry, they fixed that.” She said.
“How?” I asked.
“Metal fibers, strands or something that are being used to strengthen the bone.”
I thought about it for a couple of minutes.
“How are they getting them in there?”
“No freakin’ clue. But there is this drip.”
She tapped a bag that contained a pale blue liquid, it was thick and oily, like corn syrup and it shimmered when it moved in the bag, like there were tiny almost microscopic, metallic threads suspended in it.
Day 45, Command Area Vehicle 12-3, 1:00 P.M.
“Insistive-Query-Composite :{
Locative-Da-Nah-Supreme Director 1,
Conjunctive (Director-Enumerated-List [3, 6, 8, 10, 13], Non-Responsive),
Communication-Protocol-Failure,
Protocol-Original-Required};
Every 1/20th of a Planetary Rotation, Director 12 had sent the same request for information. Every 1/20th of a Planetary Rotation he sat in silence, a growing fear inside him, gnawing at him, leaving him feeling cut off and alone. The Supreme Director had required all communications intended for other Director 1’s had to be approved by him. To cross the Supreme Director was not something one did lightly or more than once. Only Director 8 had the courage to do it and she was now not responding to communication requests either. His technicians had reported a fairly large group of Indigenous Life Aggressives was slowly making their way in his direction. According to the high altitude observation there were at least three of the heavily armored tracked vehicles and a number of smaller ones either acting as escorts or were weapons platforms on their own accord. He looked at the three fingers on each hand, they were long and beautifully shaped both his primary and tertiary mates said they were his best feature. Now they were trembling, shaking like a leaf on a tree in a storm.
He weighed his options once more, he could stick to the defensive protocols put in place by the Supreme Director and wait for the sixty ton M1A1 Abrams tanks to enter his compound blasting his vehicles and killing his Da-Nah with their 120mm projectile weapons. Not to mention the deaths of the Da-Nah from the Pods of Directors 16 and 18 who were subordinate to him. If he did that he would have to hope his Defenders and his technicians would prevail. But he had seen the visual recordings and knew the metal vehicles were very dangerous and very deadly.
His other option was to run, disperse his Pods at least until the Aggressives had gone past them. To do that was to face the wrath of the Supreme Director. He moaned audibly and flashed confusion, the scent of extreme stress filled the room. He made a decision, he decided to try and contact the Supreme Director again.
“Insistive-Query-Composite :{
Locative-Da-Nah-Supreme Director 1,
Conjunctive (Director-Enumerated-List [3, 6, 8, 10, 13], Non-Responsive),
Communication-Protocol-Failure,
Protocol-Original-Required};
Day 45, Kroger Parking Lot, Sutton, West Virginia, 9:30 P.M.
It had been a lot faster getting back to Sutton than it had been going the other way. It had been a dicey thing, making contact with Ethan and Krista Tanner. Tanner had actually opened fire on us but we hadn’t even noticed, whatever the alien material was it was nearly sound proof. Luckily Amy had stepped out onto the catwalk of the second vehicle, she heard the gunfire and started waving frantically in the direction of the shooter. Ethan luckily recognized her and ceased fire. We met up with them and proceeded to load their gear in the second vehicle because Tucker’s unresponsive form was in the med Bay in the first. So we traded Mary for Amy. I hoped for Karen but apparently Amy was still holding a grudge about us being married.
Amy insisted I take her to check on Tucker while Karen, Lucy and Gina helped the underling load up just about everything that was left in the Kroger. For the second time that day I ended up removing Da-Nah youth who were perched on the unresponsive Tucker. Apparently it was something all little Da-Nah found to be a lot of fun, sitting on his belly and chest, one was sitting on his belly and was playing with Tucker’s chest hair, tying it into tiny little knots. Another was walking down his left leg like it was a tightrope. Then there was my little friend who just seemed to like to sit on him and dangle his feet. I was pretty sure it was the same one as before.
Once we chased off our illegal Tucker-Trespassers, I showed Amy how just touching the two control spheres would make the virtual displays pop into existence, how we could look at everything from his skeleton all the way up to the major organs and skin. I didn’t say anything but I could clearly make out metal threads in the long bones and joints and what looked like a mesh in the shattered side of his skull. There was always at least one or two underling with Tucker, and they were always doing something or another. Sometimes they would adjust the position of tiny nozzles on the end of jointed flexible rods about the diameter of one of those big fat pencils that little kids used when they were first learning their letters. Other times they were interfacing with the virtual displays, replacing the clear tubes filled with strangely colored fluids that served the purpose of drip bags or just poking at him with odd looking crys
tal or glass rods without any discernible purpose. I don’t know why, but I honestly felt that the underling were going to fix him, now just what or who he would be when he finally was awake? That was something I could not predict.
Day 46, Command Area Vehicle 80-3, 1:00 P.M.
Director 1 of Pod 83 waited for an answer from any of his subordinates, he waited in vain. He had prepared a final status report to go out to the other Director 1s. He wondered if there were any left at all. The Southern Continent was a disaster, Local Indigenous Life Aggressives had been augmented by the arrival of three submersible vehicles that had provided a number of trained and well-armed Aggressives. Their projectile weapons were eclipsed by un-crewed remotely piloted vehicles and sub-sonic flying warheads that traveled just meters above the surface, the devastation they caused was unbelievable. But the defection of their underlings was the most shocking event.
The underling had sabotaged drive systems and communications, but their vilest treachery was in the theft of the Da-Nah young. The pride of his people, the precious gift of the siblings, stolen, ripped from their arms. He was crushed, broken in spirit and in heart.
He heard the rapid fire of their projectile weapons, and knew he didn’t have long. His Defenders had fallen; one to a missile, one to one of their tracked vehicles and one lay impaled on sharpened metal girders at the bottom of a ravine. It had been rammed by a large transport vehicle to force it into the gruesome trap. His technicians had done all they could, but the day was lost. He was the last Da-Nah on the Australian continent, he heard them in the ante-chamber, the Aggressives. Rising the calmed himself, suppressing all color from his skin, and all fear from his scent. He stood in front of the access panel and released the lock and the door slid open. A room full of Aggressives waited for him, a stocky one with very short hair and an illustration of a marsupial on his wrist slowly drew his knife. The humans crowded in, each wanting their own piece of vengeance, each one of them exacted it in blue blood and white skin and the sound of agony most alien.