press my patience.”
“How far away is it? Can you tell me that much?”
“It's far, but the ship is fast.”
“So I've heard.”
The video image dissolved into a mess of pixels and DeKirk was gone, leaving Xander to wait in uncomfortable silence for the men with the stretcher, to wait with a dying man and a slumbering ancient predator...
16.
Aboard Oil Tanker Hammond-1, En route to Adranos Island
Marcus felt like he was coming off the worst bender of his life. Except that he hadn't gotten drunk in the last twenty years, since his college days. The lights of the ship's infirmary began to come into focus as he brought a hand to rub his throbbing temple...and felt only a smooth lump of bandage drag across his skin. Making his headache worse was the incessant yapping of the ship's doctor. What's her name...?
Veronica Winters stood in the corner of the infirmary, about as far away from Marcus as she could get in the little room, talking furtively on a satellite phone that Marcus hadn't seen her use before. Usually, she carried the smart-phone that worked via shipboard satellite, or else just the two-way radios. He closed his eyes again, not wanting her to know just yet that he was listening.
“...certain that DeKirk isn't on board. No. If you'll just let me explain...”
She talked very softly, with just enough air behind the words to keep them from being a whisper.
“No, we were headed to Chile, but the course has been changed to go to some island. Adranos something. Listen, if you don't want me to compromise my cover, I've got to get going and try to patch this guy up somehow. I'll initiate contact at this number from the island and give you a sit-rep. Out.”
Marcus heard her stash the sat-phone in her medical bag and then take a measured breath. He opened his eyes. Turning his head, he watched her take a smelling salt packet from a trauma kit. She then turned around to walk over to him, stopping in her tracks as they made eye contact.
Dropping the smelling salts, she nervously approached him where he lay in the cot. He dimly remembered the T. rex , the crushing pain in his hand. He looked down, saw the bandaged stump, and the gauze soaking through with spots of pus. He did his best not to lose it. He wiggled his remaining fingers and toes. Those that were there seemed to work, but he didn't feel good, and that was for sure. The headache. The general feeling of malaise, like something he couldn't put a finger on that was just... not right at all .
His wrist hurt like hell, too. “What medications have I been given?” He stared expectantly at Veronica.
“Oh, good, you're awake!”
“I asked you a question, Doctor.”
“So far...ah...nothing.”
He tried to sit up in the bed, but the sudden movement caused a sharp pain in his temples as his blood pressure dropped, and he eased himself back down. He turned his head sideways to look at her while he spoke. “Nothing! Why?”
“You seemed to be recovering well and I thought it best you get some rest.”
“What? Wait a minute. You mean I haven't even been given antibiotics yet?” He looked down at the bandages over his stump and their muted rainbow of malodorous discharge.
She looked at him blankly.
“This is preposterous!”
“Do you want something to drink?”
“Something to—” He started, but had to stop when a bolt of pain shot through his head. One of his eyes itched and he scratched at it, the finger coming away with a copious amount of viscous, mustard-colored goop.
Frustrated and scared, he held the finger out towards her, taking satisfaction in her shock as her eyes opened wider while she backed up, but at the same time, realizing that he was not in capable hands.
“Where exactly did you study medicine?”
“I…” She broke off as though receiving new instructions from her brain. “Look, I can see now that you've got an infection. It hasn't been that long since you were bitten. Let me give you something for
“How far away is it? Can you tell me that much?”
“It's far, but the ship is fast.”
“So I've heard.”
The video image dissolved into a mess of pixels and DeKirk was gone, leaving Xander to wait in uncomfortable silence for the men with the stretcher, to wait with a dying man and a slumbering ancient predator...
16.
Aboard Oil Tanker Hammond-1, En route to Adranos Island
Marcus felt like he was coming off the worst bender of his life. Except that he hadn't gotten drunk in the last twenty years, since his college days. The lights of the ship's infirmary began to come into focus as he brought a hand to rub his throbbing temple...and felt only a smooth lump of bandage drag across his skin. Making his headache worse was the incessant yapping of the ship's doctor. What's her name...?
Veronica Winters stood in the corner of the infirmary, about as far away from Marcus as she could get in the little room, talking furtively on a satellite phone that Marcus hadn't seen her use before. Usually, she carried the smart-phone that worked via shipboard satellite, or else just the two-way radios. He closed his eyes again, not wanting her to know just yet that he was listening.
“...certain that DeKirk isn't on board. No. If you'll just let me explain...”
She talked very softly, with just enough air behind the words to keep them from being a whisper.
“No, we were headed to Chile, but the course has been changed to go to some island. Adranos something. Listen, if you don't want me to compromise my cover, I've got to get going and try to patch this guy up somehow. I'll initiate contact at this number from the island and give you a sit-rep. Out.”
Marcus heard her stash the sat-phone in her medical bag and then take a measured breath. He opened his eyes. Turning his head, he watched her take a smelling salt packet from a trauma kit. She then turned around to walk over to him, stopping in her tracks as they made eye contact.
Dropping the smelling salts, she nervously approached him where he lay in the cot. He dimly remembered the T. rex , the crushing pain in his hand. He looked down, saw the bandaged stump, and the gauze soaking through with spots of pus. He did his best not to lose it. He wiggled his remaining fingers and toes. Those that were there seemed to work, but he didn't feel good, and that was for sure. The headache. The general feeling of malaise, like something he couldn't put a finger on that was just... not right at all .
His wrist hurt like hell, too. “What medications have I been given?” He stared expectantly at Veronica.
“Oh, good, you're awake!”
“I asked you a question, Doctor.”
“So far...ah...nothing.”
He tried to sit up in the bed, but the sudden movement caused a sharp pain in his temples as his blood pressure dropped, and he eased himself back down. He turned his head sideways to look at her while he spoke. “Nothing! Why?”
“You seemed to be recovering well and I thought it best you get some rest.”
“What? Wait a minute. You mean I haven't even been given antibiotics yet?” He looked down at the bandages over his stump and their muted rainbow of malodorous discharge.
She looked at him blankly.
“This is preposterous!”
“Do you want something to drink?”
“Something to—” He started, but had to stop when a bolt of pain shot through his head. One of his eyes itched and he scratched at it, the finger coming away with a copious amount of viscous, mustard-colored goop.
Frustrated and scared, he held the finger out towards her, taking satisfaction in her shock as her eyes opened wider while she backed up, but at the same time, realizing that he was not in capable hands.
“Where exactly did you study medicine?”
“I…” She broke off as though receiving new instructions from her brain. “Look, I can see now that you've got an infection. It hasn't been that long since you were bitten. Let me give you something for
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