“I think it’s still in there.”
“That’s unfortunate. You’ll have to get it out.” He filled a vial with diluted blood and put into some kind of appliance. Next, he turned his computer screen to face him.
“What are you doing?”
“Rendering his DNA.”
“Why?” We didn’t have time to waste.
He stared down at his computer as various images popped up on the screen. “To help him,” he said, absentmindedly.
A hysterical scream was bubbling its way up my throat and I bit it back. Digging my nails into my palms, I tried to maintain a calm voice. “Jack is in real danger of dying. We’ve already wasted too much time. We need to do something now.”
“Please calm down, Miss—” He did something on the computer screen. “There you are. O’Donnell. Some of your DNA is mixed up with his. I need to separate the two of you.”
Initially, it was a shock to hear that he had my DNA on record, but then I remembered he’d drawn a vial of my blood the day he was supposed to tag me. What was he up to? I eyed him suspiciously. “Why do you have my DNA stored in your computer?”
He looked away from the screen and studied me with a thoughtful look again. “Nanotechnology—the single most useful piece of science that came into the Dome. I found it in the memory banks after the bourge forced me to work for them. I wanted to concentrate my research in it, but they said no. Said it posed a threat—end of the world kind of stuff.” His eyes looked heavenward as he shook his head, and then he turned his attention back to his computer. “Although I know that was just an excuse. The real reason is that the Holt regime didn’t want technological advances that would undermine their nuclear control over us. And for that reason alone, we’ve endured three hundred years of tradition unimpeded by progress.”
“What is nanotechnology?”
“Manipulation of matter at the atomic and molecular level. It’s pure genius.” He gave me a mischievous smile that I didn’t return. I had no idea what he was going on about. His smile faded as he saw my blank expression. “They’re miniscule robots capable of self-replicating. They’ll do whatever I program them to do. I’ve even taught them to communicate with each other.”
“How is that going to help Jack?”
“They can be programmed to repair internal damage.”
“Is that safe?”
He shrugged. “It can’t hurt. As I’ve said, it’s still in the experimental stage.”
Was he serious? “Doc, this is someone’s life we’re talking about. Someone who means a great deal to me.”
He went to a refrigerator and took out packs of liquid and brought them to the table. He wasn’t even hurrying. “Do you have a better idea?”
“Yes! Come with me! Fix him!”
“You’re trying to save the Pit your way, I’m trying to save it mine. If I was discovered in cahoots with a criminal, they would treat me no better than you. All of my research would be lost, and so would the Pit.”
That caught me off guard. I hadn’t pegged Doc as the hero type. “How do you intend to save the Pit?”
“Bio-warfare is just one possibility.” He pointed to the computer screen. “For instance, right now I’m using Kenner’s specific DNA in order to make a…cocktail, if you will, of nanoparticles capable of self-replicating for cellular repair. In laymen’s terms, they can make tissue and skin. I’ll combine those particles with nanorobots—the brains behind the operation. This is the first opportunity I’ve had to try it out and if it’s successful, the door opens to a world of possibilities. After all, the Holt regime has gone to incredible lengths to prevent the bloodlines between bourge and urchin from getting mixed. Three hundred years later, there must be a gene or two I can isolate specific to them and use it to design a virus.”
I raised both hands as if warding off any evil from the technology. Maybe I had made a big mistake coming to him. “I came here desperate for your help. You have to believe me—Jack is nothing like President Holt. He honestly wants to free the Pit. I’m not going to experiment on him.”
“Relax. I didn’t say I had isolated a gene, I said I was trying to isolate one.” A message appeared on his computer and he made some adjustments to an appliance as he continued to talk. “I’m also applying the technology to weaponry. Your injury from wearing a bulletproof vest gave me an idea. Using the self-replicating properties—”
“Hey Doc, I heard voices—” Jeffrey said as he walked into the room, but pulled up short at the sight of me. He drew his gun.
My heart banged against my chest as I pulled the pistol from the waistband of my shorts. I suddenly couldn’t remember how to use it.
“Drop it,” Jeffrey said, inching closer. “Where’s the other one?”
“It’s just me.”
“The other one is hurt,” Doc said. “She broke in and threatened to shoot me if I didn’t give her medical supplies for him.”
My eyes widened at the lie.
“Did she hurt you, Doc?”
“No, I’m fine. You got here just in time.”
Jeffrey was standing within arm’s reach of me now. He was such a slight man. I almost felt large beside him. He looked at the gun I was holding and my eyes followed his. It shook in my trembling hands.
He laughed. “You don’t even know how to use that thing.”
He dropped his gun to his side and stepped in closer. As I watched him reach for my gun, an image of Jack lying on the cave floor bleeding to death flashed through my head. If I was caught, it was the end for him. I couldn’t let that happen.
Fuelled by desperation, I swallowed my fear and hit Jeffrey in the head with the pistol as hard as I could. He had been so sure I would just hand over my weapon that he wasn’t expecting it. He put a hand to the side of his head and I hit him again. Falling, his own gun still in hand, he staggered toward me. I kneed him with every bit of strength I had and heard a whoosh of breath escape him before he fell. His limp body crumpled at my feet and I used my foot to prod him. He didn’t get up. I kicked his gun across the room.
“Stop!” Doc yelled at me. He rushed to the fallen man’s side. “Jeffrey? Can you hear me?”
There was no response.
For a moment all I could do was stare at Doc, completely astounded by his behavior. “I didn’t threaten to shoot you!”
He ran to the refrigerator took out a compress. “I told you I wouldn’t let you jeopardize my research.”
At least I understood his desire to protect his secret. Hadn’t I been pretending to be someone other than me, all in the name of self-preservation and saving the Pit? Doc’s actions weren’t so different. Although, I’m not so sure I would sell someone out in order to save my own hide.
He returned to Jeffrey’s side, placing the cold compress on his head. Jeffrey moaned and tried to sit up.
“Jeffrey? Are you okay?”
“My head.” He moaned again.
I took a step back, ready to run. Doc saw and gestured for me to halt. He went to a cabinet, took out a syringe, and filled it.
“Don’t try to get up,” he said to Jeffrey. He plunged the syringe into his arm and Jeffrey’s body went slack. “That should keep him quiet for the night,” he said. “Jeffrey’s not much of a soldier, which makes him the perfect assistant. If the bourge ever discovered I was working with contraband technology, I would be killed.”
“Maybe I did come to the wrong person for help.”
“I’m the only person who can help.” He walked past me and returned to his computer. “Look, if I wanted your husband dead I’d simply let him die. Even if the bullet hasn’t damaged any organs, blood loss and infection will kill him. What I’m doing right now is putting a surgical team together capable of f
ixing him. Consider it a gift. I’m rooting for you both to set the Pit free.” I was desperate to believe him. He really was my only chance of saving Jack. “With Jeffrey out of the way, you can go to the supply closet and get a bag to carry everything.”
I hesitated, not sure if he had any other tricks up his sleeve. He was completely focused on his computer screen. I tried to think of someone else who could help me, but it seemed futile. Even if a medic from the Pit had been spared the Cull, she would be penned inside a corral, unable to leave. Doc really was my only hope.
Slipping out of the room, I stood silently in the hallway straining to hear if anyone else was in the building. It was quiet. Feeling confident we were alone, I went in search of the supply closet.
The closet was full with bed linens, towels, bandage supplies, and other things. I found some survival packs and opened one, removing the things I didn’t think I’d need to make room for a blanket, bedroll and Doc’s medical supplies.
Doc looked up at me as I came back into his office. “Good, you found it. I’m almost ready.” I set the pack on the counter as he walked toward a refrigerator and started taking bags of liquid out of it. “By the way, the soldier they brought in today is fine. I pulled a handmade quill from the side of his neck. I’m still analyzing the substance that was on it, but it’s some kind of tranquilizer. I’ve already told the general that I suspect it was the so-called heathens, not you. Unfortunately you remain on his wanted list. He didn’t take kindly to being shot.”
“The general is alive?” That was surprising. He had been bleeding all over his desk the last time I saw him.
Doc carried the bags to the counter where I waited with the backpack. “He was shot in a medical facility. I was given no choice but to help him.”
He set the bags down and turned to the appliance he had been using and took out a vial.
“Why is it the bourge can’t see the heathens?” I asked.
He raised his eyebrows at my question. “Because the heathens are masters of camouflage. I think what you really want to know is why we can see them.” I nodded. He filled a syringe with the contents of the vial, and placed it in a hard case. “A funny thing happens to the human body when it’s thrown into a cave and deprived of light—eventually, it learns to see differently.”
I looked at his face to see if there was any malice in his expression, but his features were emotionless. “I think I understand,” I said. “Both meanings.”
“Everything is ready,” he said. “I’ll run through the procedure with you.” He showed me how to use the IV and everything else I would need to save Jack’s life. It was a lot of information to absorb and I was scared I was going to forget everything in my overwrought state. He picked up the hard case—the one I saw him putting a syringe into—and handed it to me. “The very last thing you’ll do is inject this near the site of the wound.”
I looked at it warily. “That’s the syringe with the surgical team,” I said. If Jack responded well with only the IVs, I promised myself I wouldn’t use it. It was a last resort.
“Precisely. I’m very interested in hearing the results.”
He handed me the case and I carefully packed everything into the bag. The IV fluids made it heavy. I shrugged it over my shoulders, secured the front strap and headed toward the window.
“Thank you, Doc,” I said as I hoisted my leg through the opening.
“Good luck. And try not to get caught.”
I hit the pavement running and ducked behind the hedge. I surveyed the area for soldiers. Nothing. I crept to the next building.
The sound of breaking glass sent a jolt of terror right through me. Looking back, I saw Doc at the window. The sudden shrill alarm hurt my ears. People in the street started shouting and soldiers raced toward the medical center. I realized Doc had created a distraction.
Keeping to the shadows, I crept away into the night.
Chapter Sixteen
I followed the markers I made for myself with ease and it scared me. I knew it would be smart to erase them now, but I had already been gone longer than I anticipated. Jack was my priority.
“Jack,” I whispered when I entered the cave. There was no answer. I knelt down beside him. “Jack.”
I shook him gently, alarmed by how cold he felt. Holding my breath, I pressed my ear against his chest. My own heart started beating again when I heard the faint drumming of his. But it was weak and his breathing was shallow.
Concentrating on the IV first, I found a solid stick and jammed it into a crack in the stone wall. I hung an IV bag and tested the weight. It held. Now came the hard part: inserting the needle. Putting on the gloves, I sterilized the back of his hand, found a vein and carefully inserted the needle. There was a bit of hesitation, but it easily slid in once the skin was broken. I looked for the flash of blood into the needle that Doc said would happen if it was in the vein. There wasn’t. I took it out and tried again. Several tries later, I ran out of veins on the back of his hand and started looking on the inside of his arm. It was frustrating, but I finally got it into a vein and it held. I attached the IV. Doc told me the area would swell if the needle wasn’t in right. I waited, but nothing happened. I assumed I had done it right.
Taking a deep breath, I continued to the next step—getting the bullet out. I probed inside the wound for it, trying really hard not to think about what I was actually doing. If I did, I knew I would lose my nerve. My finger finally grazed the bullet. It was in deep. Not wanting to use the scalpel to make the wound any bigger, I attempted to get it with the forceps. Despite several attempts, I couldn’t quite get the forceps in far enough to get a grip on the bullet. Reluctantly, I picked up the scalpel.
It wasn’t a pretty cut, but it allowed me to get the forceps in deeper. After a few agonizing moments of fumbling for the bullet, I grabbed hold of it. As the bullet came out, so did a lot of blood.
“No no no no no no no!” I tried to stop the bleeding, but the blood kept coming. “Stop!”
Flipping the backpack upside down, I emptied the contents onto the cave floor, found a sterile compress and ripped the package open. I put as much pressure on the wound as I could, but the blood kept pumping out. When the bandage was soaked, I threw it down and reached for another one. It soaked through in less time than the first.
“Jack!” I yelled.
He didn’t respond. I pressed my ear against his chest again. I couldn’t hear his heartbeat.
I couldn’t hear it.
I shut my eyes in an attempt to block out the sheer terror and concentrate on Doc’s instructions. I cleaned the wound with sterile water, surprised to see the flow of blood slowing down. Something told me that wasn’t a good thing. Wrapping my hand around the hardcover case, I opened it and took out the syringe. Doc’s little surgeons: my last resort.
Removing the protective cover from the needle, I inserted it close to the wound, just like Doc told me. I prayed for the second time in my life—to a God I only found a few hours ago—that the little surgeons were as smart as Doc said they were. They needed to revive the dead.
Blood and fluid wept from the wound and I covered it with a new bandage. I stopped breathing as I held the bandage there, straining to hear a breath from him. The sound was faint, but it was there.
“Do your job, robots.”
I laid my head on his chest, listening for a heartbeat. It was there, but barely. And he was so cold. I affixed the bandage over his wound and spread out the bedroll. Carefully, I rolled his limp body enough to get the bedroll under him and covered him with the blanket.
Nervously I checked the IV. It seemed to be working the way Doc had shown me. I checked the bandage again. There was a bit of blood soaking through, but not much. Resting my head on his chest, I listened to his heartbeat. No change. I rocked
back on my heels. Two seconds later, I repeated all of my checks.
Despite the blankets, Jack didn’t seem to be warming up. I slipped under the covers and hugged him close.
“As soon as you’re warm, I’ll go out and erase our tracks like I promised,” I said out loud. Irrationally, I waited for him to respond. He didn’t. “I know you didn’t want me to go back there, but I had no choice. You’re hurt and I didn’t know how to help you on my own.”
He felt so cold. I nestled my face in the crook of his shoulder and neck and placed my hand over his heart. It seemed a little stronger.
The night stretched on, and the need to erase our tracks grew more urgent. There was no doubt in my mind that they would resume their search in daylight. But the IV was close to empty and I remembered Doc said not to let that happen.
Sitting up, I changed his bandage again. The wound was still wet with blood and fluid, but it wasn’t actively bleeding anymore. Was that a good sign or a bad one? I recalled that the doctors in the Pit used a needle and thread to close a wound. Should I have done that? Doc hadn’t mentioned it. No, he said the nanorobots would make new skin.
Placing a hand on his face, I checked his temperature. He was still cold, but maybe not as cold. I listened to his heartbeat. It seemed steady, stronger. How many hours had it been since I gave him Doc’s cocktail? Eight hours? More? He was still alive and seemed to be doing marginally better.
I needed to cover our tracks, and soon. Already the first hint of daylight was flooding our small cave. I changed his IV, hooked an empty flask to my belt loop and stuck the pistol into my waistband. For a moment I stood at the cave entrance and listened intently. The night was quiet, with the odd sound from an animal—at least I thought it was an animal.
I climbed down, paused to make sure I was alone, and headed toward the bush where the bike was hidden. Covering up the markers I had made for myself was going to be the easy part. Erasing the tracks from the bike was going to be more difficult. Could I smooth them over with my hand? Or use a leafy branch from a tree?
Worlds Collide: Sunset Rising, Book Two Page 16