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1600 Hours. Burbs MSP. Wednesday November 15, 2045.
It started out as just another one of those days, wake up, say bye to Shark, go to the Clinic and try to staunch the flood of wounded that showed up every day.
I had been working all morning and was damn tired. The seemingly endless stream of people who had shown up for monday sick-call were as long and diverse as their afflictions. Public sick-call was monday, wednesday and friday; tuesday and thursday were set aside for major procedures, emergencies, and operations. While this sounded organized, and in theory it was; in practice it didn't work out that way.
Raven and Shark had given me a bit of help setting this place up and now it was starting to pay off. Yes, Shark too. He may be a killer-for-hire with enough knowledge about destruction to terrify a normal person, but he also knows a lot of other things. Ares had not just taught him how to shoot and kill. As a Dragoon, one of their missions was Gurellia operations. That entailed raising a guerilla force from indigs, and they often needed basic medical help. Things like sanitation, cleaning, village lay-out, and construction methods were all things the Dragoons could teach a village before they used the young men in combat. 'Use' being synonyous with 'expend.' He'd been the one to suggest that the Clinic be set up along the same lines. I couldn't hire people to work here, as all donations went towards supplies. He said I had to train them, then I would raise a cadre of technicians around me and eventually they would branch out and set up other clinics elsewhere.
The fatigue and noise of the clinic came back and interrupted my revire. I needed a break, so I looked over at Liz, the big boned brunette. "Hey Liz, take over for a minute."
"Sure thing babe," the middle aged lady said.
So I walked in back, towards the bathroom and washed down. I felt grimey and my feet hurt. I wonder what Shark is doing? He occupied my thoughts more and more. I turned on the water faucet, and let the water get cold. After a second I put my hands under and within a second or two my fingers began to go numb. I cupped some and splashed it up on my face. A little ran down my neck; I rubbed it behind my neck to keep it from running any further. "Ahhhh," I sighed, it felt good.
With as soaked rag held on the back of my neck, I plopped up onto the counter behind the sink and slumped down to rest. My thoughts went back to running the clinic. Shark joked about it once and a while, sometimes calling me "Guerilla-medic" in bed. Then he'd smile that big teethy smile. A nice smile, but one that showed he'd been in too many fist fights and Ares didn't have a good dental plan for braces. I was also looking forward to Saturday, that was training day. As much as possible I tried to hold classes in the morning for people about household sanitation: boiling water, cleaning clothes, sweeping, refuse disposal, etc. Then in the afternoon I taught a class for those at the Clinic to build up my talent base. The reason I was excited though was that Shark had started coming to class. He applied himself dilligently and I have no doubt he'll be a top notch medic in no time.
As the rag started to warm up, Nic bust in and the door almost bust me in the face. I jumped up, hit my head on the cabinets behind me and might have let out a little "Ah!"
But Nic didn't care. He was a smart kid, boy, whatever, that should have been in high school. I was teaching him during the day to be a nurse. "Sorry about that Zona," he said as his eyes got googley. I knew he had a crush on me. "But Shark is out front and he's been shot."
It seems like every other time Shark is here he's been shot, but I wasn't thinking that as I ran out the room. "Is it bad?" I called to Nic, and ignored his answer of "He says he's ok."
When I got to the main waiting room, Liz and Butch were trying to get him to lay down on a stretcher. Liz looked him in the eye, standing nearly nose to nose with him, "You need to lay down Mr. Sharkman." She pointed at the gurney and Butch tried to take Shark's arm and put him on it.
Shark was having none of it. "Listen, I work for a living. So don't call me Mister. And you buddy," he said turning his visor at Butch. "Hands off the hardware. I'm just here to see Zona." He was getting really exasperated at being over-helped and pandered too. "There are plenty of people who need more help than me."
"But you've been shot!" Liz said. She was a bit protective becasue she knew he was my Output.
"Don't get yer panties in a bundle, this happen's all the time," Shark said. Butch gathered his strength and tried to help Shark on the gurney again as I was walking in. "Ok, that's two," he said pointing at him. Butch looked scared and I stepped in between them.
"What seems to be the problem here," I said in a loud voice just to get control of the situation.
"These two are trying to treat this bullet wound ahead of everyone in line." Shark smiled at them and then at me. Ass.
"Liz, Butch, help the other people. I'll take care of him." They both moved off and I looked at Shark. "Let me see it."
"Right here?" He said as if amazed as he looked around. "Out in public?"
"Ok, ya big baby, follow me." I got his sick little joke, but tried to ignore it.
He followed me down the hall to one of the check-up rooms. Once inside he took a seat on the twenty year old padded examination table. The room was a shade of yellow and brown that is brought on by age and extreme use, much like the rest of the Clinic. I stood in front of him and opened up his jacket, I could see a bit of splatter on the front. "Take off your jacket." He did. I started to look. Bullet wounds can be hard to find, espically with armor and layers of clothes like he wears. I ran a hand around his stomach and over his chest, feeling no blood I reached around his back. There one hand came away slick. "Found it," I said.
"Oh, let me taste." He grabbed my hand and was licking the slick red blood off my finger tips before I could pull back.
"Ugh, gross. Stop that!"
"I can't. It's DEE-lightful!" He said with a child-like glee as he reached back with his other hand to wipe off some more. I was getting nervous until he smiled a little. He was really going to work on my hand, then his other hand was at my face. His index finger pressed past my lips and into my mouth. I was about to hit him hard when I realized the blood had a sweet sugary taste, so I licked his finger clean.
With a smask and a pop I pulled his finger out of my mouth and asked, "So what's all this? Chum."
After one last lick of my palm, he answered, "Corn syrup and food coloring. Fake blood. Looks good on photo too." He then took my other hand and began to slowly kiss the fingers and lick them. I then realized where this was going. He paused for a second just as I was warming up, "I know you hate Wednesday's and now that we've got this semi-private room it'd be a shame to let it go to waste."
What can I say? It's hard to say no to him.
After we'd had our little risky fun he was holding me close and asked, "So what's the lesson this weekend?"
"CPR and Heimlich. Pretty easy stuff."
"When do we get to sucking chest wounds?" I rolled my eyes at that. "Really, I like sucking chest wounds." I couldn't help but giggle a little. Ass.
After a while of standing there with him I started to feel like I was neglecting work, which I was. "Shark, I need to get back to work."
"Ok, I'm ready again."
"NO. To-the-clinic-work."
"Oh," he said. "I had my hopes up, amongst other things."
I smiled and squeezed him tight; I could tell he wasn't lying. "There's always later."
"Not always, but probably today." He got serious all of a sudden, and I can't say I really liked that last comment. "What time do you get done?"
"Eight p.m."
"Then I'll pick you up at twenty hundred."
"Sounds good," I said and kissed him on the cheek. "I'll be waiting out front at eight p.m."
"Wait inside the building, it'll be safer. Even though the Clinic is neutral territory and no one thinks of doing damage here, the sidewalk could be fair game. Otherwise, I'll be prompt at twenty hundred." He smiled and sorta laughed to himself as we carried out our little joke. Then we turned and walked out. As we got out back to the main lobby he said in a lound voice, "There. All better." He twirled around to display what a great job of bandaging had been done. I hadn't really done anything. "Now I just gotta get a new jacket cuz this one's all bloodied up." He said this to the crowd that kept their eyes on him for some reason. Then he turned and waved, "See ya later." And with that he blew me a kiss and left. Ass.
1955.
Shark pulled up five minutes early in the big Suburban. The thing looked more like an armored car than a S.U.V. He must have added more armor or reinforced the frame. Oh well, boys will be boys. As it came to a stop I grabbed my bag and walked out. He was at my door and opened it like a gentleman. That was odd, cuz he believed in equal opportunity; he treated everyone like shit. Or at least that's what he said. "Why thankyou," I said as I climbed up in. He shut the door and went around the front, climbed in and put it in gear.
"So how was your day?" he asked.
I thought for a second and settled on the truth, he wouldn't have asked if he didn't want to know. He never asked on account of pleasantries. "Well, it got lots worse after you left."
"That can be said of most parties after I leave." That sounded ominous I thought. "Did I ever tell you about Stevie Wonder and the DOTFA?"
"Mind if I finish?"
"No but remind me. It's a killer."
"Ok, well it got worse kay. This little girl was brought in by a neighbor who found her beaten to unconsiousness on the kitchen floor. This was down in the slums of Burnsville, and the girl looked real bad. Eye swollen shut, cuts, bruises, lacerations, signs of being choked, signs of malnutrition and dysentry." I was just staring out the front window as he took turns seemingly at random. "It was awful," reality snapped back and I looked at Shark. He was gripping the wheel so tight I thought it would snap. "So tell me about your's."
"Over dinner. That's where we're headed now, well after a clean up and a shower. That is if you don't mind. I've got reservations for twenty-two hundred at The Calamari Cruiser, a new sea food joint straight out of RedNeckopolis. Should be good."
"Actually that does sound good, but who eats dinner at ten at night?"
"We do hun. But tell me more about this little girl."
"In months past I wouldn't have asked why you want to know but now I'm curious."
"I asked first."
Damn I hate it when he won't argue. Doesn't he know women live on that sort of thing?!? I chuckled to myself and then began, "She is at the Clinic now. In good condition, Alice is watching her. They've got my cell phone number, etc."
"That's good. Is she conscious?"
"Yeah, said she fell down the stairs. Of all the excuses, that one is the worst. I think the people that use it know that, and that is why they use it. Sort of a call sign. But she also said that her sister should have been home too, but the neighbor didn't see her."
"Interesting. Did you get their addresses?"
"Yeah they all live in the Woods of Burnsville, Hwy 5 and something."
He cut in, "I know where that is. Slumland."
"Yeah," I agreed nodding. "Apartments 335 and 337 are the neighbors and girls, respectively. In building 111."
"Good. Any mention of gang territory, activtey, wars, et cetra."
"Nope none."
"Huh," was all he said as we pulled into my apartment parking lot. He got out and started looking around like the paranoid realist (not delusional - people really were after him) that he is. I looked around too, I try to learn from him but have yet to out spot him. He got to the door first and went in, he held it open with his back hand, but kept on moving as soon as I got in. Now don't get me wrong I like to be protected, but everywhere we go it feels like a military operation. I just want to start shouting, 'Hut, Hut, Hut-hut.' I chuckled at the thought. Shark gave me a wry glance and then led the way up the stairs.
We got to the door and again he went in like he owned the place. I walked in behind him, shut the door, and locked all three locks. He was off checking the other rooms, the closets, behind doors, and finished in the kitchen. "Why don't you relax?"
He plopped into a kitchen table chair and smiled. He really liked to be asked that question. "I am relaxed, usually I clear rooms with hand grenades."
I chuckled a little and he continued, "If somebody wanted us hurt, we'da gotten it when I opened the door. So really all I'm doing is making sure there is nobody here waiting for us to let our guard down."
"Oh," I was really surprised and I'm sure the shock showed on my face. He'd never explained it to me, I suddenly felt much less safe and could feel myself looking down the deep pit of paranoia. Shit! It was rubbing off on me. Ass.
"Well why don't you change and we'll get ready to go."
"Yeah, I'll shower and be ready in a sec." I said as I slid out of my slacks. "You want to shower too?" I asked walking out of the room, feeling his eyes on me.
"Nah, I showered before I picked you up, I'd been on the street." He answered in a nonchalant tone. "What the hell!?!" he said to himself, snapping his head around like a puppet. "What am I thinking? Yeah, be right in!"
I listened to the sound of thunk, clunk, and smack as guns, clubs, knives, and other assorted sundry tools of mayhem he always carried hit the apartment floor. Then the loud crumpling of the armored clothes he wore could be heard coming off, then all of a sudden a lound wooden Crack! "Holy crap what was that!" I asked.
He stumbled into the bathroom and climbed in the shower, he set a gun on the soap dish, then turned to face me. I bust out laughing, "Agh hahahahaha! Ha! Ha!" The red line on his forehead right down the center of his head was hellarious.
"What?" he asked as I doubled over in the shower and rested my hands on my knees I was laughing so hard.
"Agh ha ha! The Ha ha! Line on your forehead!" I don't know why I thought it was so funny. Maybe because he had Gyro-balance, or maybe because he was just so careful about everything else that he would fall over while rushing into the shower for a piece. Like I was going anywhere. Ass. He started to laugh too and stepped under the water with me.
He finished towling off and went to get dressed as I was drying my hair. Now I'd have to decide what to wear.
< Omitted for brevity. >
With that all decided I walked over to the closet and pulled out a long, silky, black dress. The simple straight cut was loose and airy, it also showed off the goods. Then I pulled out a silver colored blouse to go with; no frills or lace, just smooth.
When I walked out I got the desired response, his jaw hit the floor and I got the feeling I'd gotten the dawgs barking again. "Z. You look de-vine," he said while standing and taking my hand.
2200.
Shark pulled up infront of a large circular building, easily four or five floors high, with towering windows on the first floor. The ceiling on the first floor was about sixteen feet high, which only left room for two or three more floors. The exterior was a dazling royal blue, that was combined with glass and metal to create a sparkling exterior, even in the false light of the evening. The top floor displayed a ring of cobalt blue glass that was maybe executive/owner's offices. Constructed in a large semi-circle around the back half of the building was the parking garage surrounding it like a band shell. It was a full four stories high, which left the owners office poking above it with a good view of star city.
The line of cars waiting for the valet were a long line of expensive sports cars, limousines, and the like. Our beaten up old Suburban was already drawing stares. I wanted to curl up and pretend I wasn't there, but when I looked over at Shark defiantly staring down the onlookers, I straightened my back.
Finally we were at the front door, and a valet stepped up and opened the doors for Shark and I. Shark headed around the front of the car, tossed the keys to him and said, "Don't strach it now, ya hear?" He tapped his hand on the hood where a pair of bullet holes resided, the valet was in shock. When he got around to me, he took my hand and we walked towards the door. Waiting for us were a pair of stewards who opened the large polished Hellboria wood doors. They eyed Shark over (and me) but decided he was crazy or mean enough to get in. Inside there were two large gentlemen standing in opposite corners of the room, I think one had a gun, when the steewardess approached and asked for our reservation.
"Table for two. Under Devonshire," Shark said as he looked over at me and smiled.
Once we left the entrance, we walked past the kitchen and Shark turned in with an approving nod from the stewardess. She gave us a short tour of the kitchen and we met the chefs. One I noticed had a big dragon tattoo on his right forearm, and suddenly I knew how Shark pulled off getting seats here. I'd read about this place in the NewsFAX and knew it only catered to the rich and powerful. Shark is the latter, but not the former. The article had also said a great deal about its security, and I knew Shark was packing like normal. But after this brief revelation, she finished the tour and took us to the elevator. The lift was circular and in the center of the building, as it went up to the thrid floor, you could see through the glass walls that the interior of the restaurant was as spacious and well decorated as the exterior. The furniture all looked to be made out of hard Hellboria wood, with brass fixturing all around.
Stepping out onto the third floor, I immeadietly noticed it was rotating slowly. Besides that the walls were lined with acquatic tanks containing what looked like exotic and tropical fish. Even the floor was transparent and allowed us to view the fish that were below us. The tank below was part of the one on the side, so it was possible to see down there without the refractive surface or waves distoring the scene.
After a long walk around the upper floor, we were led to our table and seated. We sat in a booth facing each other, but Shark moved around to be beside me. I have a feeling that broke most rules of etiquette, but that is another thing Shark hates: Dumb rules that don't make sense. We sat and talked about the restaurant both bathed in the cool aqua blue glow of the agua's cool blue glow. It gave Shark a funny blue look, and his visor seemed to shimmer through the cool shades of blue. During our conversation the Maiter'de walked up, "Would care to enjoy a bottle of wine?"
Shark looked at the man who was staring down at us across the length of his nose and said in French, "Yes please. Make it a bottle of Segal Merlot." This stunned the Maiter'de.
He gathered himself rapidly like any good buttler (I guess) and responded likewise, "Right away."
Not a minute later he came back out and poured elegantly into our glasses. "So tell me about work now," I asked as I sipped the wine.
"Nothing fancy, put togther a team of guys from around for a job of sorts. One will be a permenant hire." He crewed on a piece of the complimentary bread, then continued. "The four guys we're recruiting are all real good. Top operators. Pros. Blah, blah, blah. No BS, all balls. I've heard of some of them before, read about others, they're all legit." He then leaned back and got into the I'm-about-to-tell-a-long-story posture.
"The first guy, called 'Griz' is older than me and with three times the experience. He's been a shooter since he was nineteen, and he's gotta be pushing forty now. All business from what I hear, just cleans his weapons and goes to target practice. Used to be with FMC, on their Omega-teams. Short gray crew-cut, the works. He's great to work with. The man is like a encyclopedia of trade-craft.
"Yartholemew Drexeltrowoski, or 'Alphabet' is next. Nobody really likes to pronounce his name so we call him Alphabet. He is a cronic horn-ball and I've heard when he's in the field for a long time he takes on a light hearted view of masturbation." Shark went on to regale his tale despite the crowded restaurant. "He'll casually stand up and announce, 'I'm going to go pound my pork.' or something to that effect. In the teams, whichever team you're on, there is usually a strict rule about inter/enter-team sex. Bad for morale, cohesion, etc. But apart from that he's squared away and a real pro. Tons of innitiative, thinks for himself, doesn't follow a rule unless it makes sense. Really my kind of guy.
"Gale Blackhand. The only female on the list and definetly the smallest physically, though she's every bit as cunning, sneaky, and effective as the other three. Normal physique, not even that attractive, she succeeds where other fail because she's a blender. A natural at just about everything, espically blending in. Most guys like me can't usually blend into a crowd, or if we're acting as a personal protective agent, we tend to draw attention to our charge just by being by them. She on the other hand, does not. She tends to get looked over as a secretary or personal assistant; that is, until she starts shooting.
"Last is Hillings. No nickname for him. He's an Atlas of a physique. I mean, this guy is more fit than me. When he's not shooting things, planning to shoot things, or maneuvering to shoot things he's working out. Push-ups, pull-ups, chin-up, toe-ups, or other more diabolical exercises of his own devising. He's got muscles on muscles and less body fat than a skeleton. Also, a real pro, yadda-yadda.
"I don't know which will join us. Have to make an offer and see which shows interest."
"Yeah, sounds like Raven will get a good new member to the crowd. I'll keep my fingers crossed."
"Good idea, cuz on another note. Kid is choosing the three or four replacements for Zig and Zag. He'll probably choose, then begin setting up a secondary base much like the Row House so that our opposition, whoever it is at the moment, won't know exactly which house we're in. So we'll be seeing less of him in the future." I shuddered at the idea of the Murder Machine, no matter how much I changed, I hoped he would always bother me just a little.
Our waiter came by not much after this and took our orders. We dined on a huge plate of Jumbo Shrimp (which I find to be a terribly good oxymoron) with some Cajun Gumbo as an appetizer. I'll say I ate more than I should have and almost had to have Shark carry me out to the truck when we were done. On our way out, Shark detoured through the kitchen again and said hello to his good buddy the cook.
"Hey Shit Bag!" the cook shouted as Shark came in. Shark took a few steps towards him and I began to fear that a fight would ruin our nearly perfect evening out.
"What the fuck do you want you no load, pencil neck, squid?" Shark retorted as the rest of the kitchen crew dispersed. Shark and the cook were about the same size, except the cook had about a one-hundred pound spare tire girdling his midsection. In his gigantic hands, which were attached to a pair of pop-eye forearms, he held a butchers chopping knife. Shark approached undaunted.
"The last time I saw you," the cook continued, "You were still a beardless, geeky, cocksucker!"
"The last time I saw you, you still debauched the young seamen, with semen. I see you haven't changed!" Shark said as he gestured to the other cooks.
The big cook then THUNK'D the knife into a chopping block and the hostess backed out of the kitchen going for security I would guess. Then the cook stuck his hand out and Shark grabbed it, they slapped each shoulders in some macho attempt to knock the other down and broad grins crossed their faces.
"Cookie, let me introduce to a wonderful lady, but you better keep your damn hands off her, this is Zona." Shark motioned to me and I walked over, a little embarassed first by their juvenile strutting, and then by his very nice introduction.
Cook stood at attention, heels togther, bowed at the waist slightly, then held out his hand to me. I took it, afraid of him doing something stupid, but he didn't and he warmly and gently shook my hand, which was utterly enveloped by his. Shark looked at me and motioned to Cook, "This is Sergeant Major Ret. Darren Juilfs, Chief of the Boat on the Ares Warship Sparta. We were togther back in '37 for the better, or worse part, of the Korean Incident."
"Pleased to meet you Sergeant Major," I said. "Do you always have to do your greetings like that? I thought you two were going to kill each other."
"Ah, no mam." Darren said somewhat embarrased like, "We don't announce our presence to our enemies. We just blow 'em out of the water." His smile was big and almost goofy, but I had learned another thing about how these strange men lived.
After a few more minutes of catching up and bullshitting, during which security came in with weapons drawn, Shark and I said our good-byes to the Master Sergeant and left. On the drive home, Shark told two lewd and grotesque stories about their days on the ship and a incident on leave in Tokoyo, but I laughed uncontrollably despite the nature of the stories. It was well after midnight by the time we got home to my Apartment, and slipped into bed for a few hours of sleep before work at the clinic tomorrow.
Thursday and Friday came and went just like wednesday except neither contained anything to do with Shark. I called the Row House, but no one there knew where he was. I didn't want to call Kid, and he had left no message about what he was up to. He had done this before so I didn't worry too much. I knew he'd be back in time for class on Saturday, so I just went about my day to day stuff comfortable in the knowledge I'd see him then.
1000 Hours. Burbs MSP. Saturday November 18, 2045.
"Liz, I'm worried." I said. We were sitting in my office during the ten o'clock break in class.
"About Shark?" She asked, knowing she was right.
"Yeah." I said and held the coffee mug while leaning back in the chair.
"I noticed, your lecture sucked, and you hardly gave a coherent demo on CPR."
"What should I do? It's not like him to miss class, nor is it like him to not tell me he'll be out of town for a while."
She shrugged.
"The last thing he said to me was Thursday morning. He kissed me as I came in to work at 0600, and said bye." I must have looked really sad or worried cuz Liz came over and sat next to me.
"Oh, hun. That's just a normal 'bye in the morning' bye. Don't worry. He'll be back." Her smile was very comforting. I was never more glad to have a real counselor like her around. "Now how about you cancel class, the Burbs won't hardly notice, and go home and relax. Go see some friends or take a hot shower. Shark will probably walk in then," She said with a smile.
I took her advice and went to the Row House, where I took the shower, then curled up on the couch in a blanket. About thirty minutes later, Kid Stealth came in and sat on the love seat that was positioned perpendicular to the couch like is done everywhere. At least I could tell where he was looking, with Shark you couldn't tell. He sort of stared at the fire as he was leaning with his back into the arm of the chair. His legs were over the other arm, the big scary metal legs, and he sort of clicked out the six inch tallon. I started to get the shivers, because I know he does it just to scare me, but I wasn't leaving. I was there first.
Sitting as we were, he had his back to me and I was a little behind him, but he could tell just where I was, it was like he had eyes in the back of his head. Then he said something to me.
"What?" I asked. He almost never talks to me, so I hadn't picked up the first part of it.
"How's it going I asked," he said.
"Oh, ah," I stammered. "Ok, sorta."
"Do you know what Shark asked me to do once?"
"No, what?" I was a little afraid of his answer. These were some of the few words Kid Stealth and I had ever exchanged.
"Once he came to me after a job which was pretty close. By pretty close I mean we almost both bought it on this one. I mean it was close! A few feet either way, and a few seconds the other way, and I wouldn't be here now. No matter how much you would like that, we made it out as ususal and The Man got what he deserved." Kid's monotone voice had a deep timber to it. Having his back turned to me, I knew that he could open up a little more and not feel threatened. Men find eye contact very intimidating because it is a sign of confrontatoin to them. I was missing it right now, becuase I like most women see it as a sign of connection, not confrontation. I hated The Murder Machine's gaze because he used it for the purely male reason.
He had paused, so I thought I should say something. "Kid, I don't..." Pause. "I think... um." I was at a loss for words, He had read me pretty true.
"Zona," he cut in. "Despite what you think of me, I said I would do this for Shark. It was a few months before he met you, but that doesn't change anything. Shark asked me to pass on a letter to his family in the event he should ever not make it back from A Run. His real family is still around and I will pass this letter to them when the time comes. Raven also probably has something for you from him." He paused for a second, and I could feel the tears starting. "Now you better not start crying." My head snapped up. He wasn't even looking at me. "Shark wouldn't want to see it. Neither do I. He just hasn't communicated for the past two days. But since this mission is a close one, and he is with eight other highly skilled Solo's I wanted to keep you up to speed."
The tears had dried up and I was staring at the back of his head amazed. Then he got up and left.
Burbs MSP. Saturday November 25, 2045.
The next week was a complete hell. I didn't see Shark once nor did anyone hear a word from him. On Monday I had tried to locate Raven, and see what he knew. But everyone at the Row House said Kid Stealth was in charge because Raven had left for a conference in the Sanoma Valley in California. He'd said he was not to be disturbed. So instead of fretting away all day, I worked eighteen hour days at the Clinic. For once it seemed like I was making progress at things in the burbs. I had recruited three new nurses, and after Saturday's class things really felt good. It wasn't until I got in that night that I was back at the Row House that things turned to detrius. Sitting in one of the big, high backed reading chairs, things just seemed to collapse around me and I couldn't help but start crying. The book didn't hold my attention, and I couldn't stop thinking about Shark being shot on a distant battlefield. I would never know where, and we would never say a proper good bye. Legs had walked into the room at some point during this and had come over beside me, and rested her arm on my shoulder. Then Drexle and Axle ran by towards the garage. I vaguely noticed this, but paid little attention.
"Shit Zona, don't worry. Shark is one of the best. He won't go easy." This was an attempt by her to chear me up, but I didn't want to hear he wouldn't go easy. I wanted to hear HE WOULDN'T GO! By GO she meant die. Then Kid Stealth walked in and stood at my feet. He stood there a minute, and I could just feel the evil glare Legs was giving him. I didn't want to look up at him. I would have to crane my neck back, and look at his giant form, all the way up to his six foot four head to hear the bad news.
"What are you crying for?" was all he asked.
I tipped my head back, and met his eyes. He was looking down at me and I truly felt small right then. I wanted to tear him a new asshole: about having a heart, about having compassion, about any of these but I didn't think they would work at all on him. I sniffed back a little, and then wiped a tear away, "Tell me about Shark."
"You better freshen up, the funeral," he paused to build the suspense and I hated him for it. His expression was blank and the deep brown of his hispanic eyes didn't show an ounce of kindness. It almost seemed like he was enjoying this. "Will not be held this time. Shark and the others are coming back momentarily. Their HMMWV is rolling in from Shakopee now." Legs smiled, and I hugged her. Kid Stealth walked towards the garage.
2300.
Legs and I got out to the garage where we were met by Drexle and Axle, as well as Lak and Kid. No one else was there, but the door was open and Kid was at the end of the driveway looking in both directions. He cradled a large rifle in his arms and paced back and forth a little. Drexle and Axle also both were towards the front of the garage and carried assault rifles. "Legs, I'm going down to the sidewalk to wait."
"Ok, be strong."
I walked down there and stood next to Kid Stealth. He didn't say anything and neither did I. We just waited.
2315.
Apart from the time spent at Area 12, these were the longest fifteen minutes of my life. They stretched onto infinity before we saw the Solo's vehicle come into view about six blocks down and flash their lights three times. Kid pointed the rifle that way and flashed the Tac Light four times. As it got closer I could see it briefly as it drove under a streetlight or infront of a bright bill board. Then I could hear metal grating on metal, and with the wind in my face it was only a second or two before I smelled the burning rubber and hot metal. Kid then retreated about halfway up the driveway. He took my arm and pulled me up there too. I don't know why he wanted to go, but felt it would be counter productive to walk back down to the sidewalk.
Half a minute later, their HMMWV pulled up with a loud grating noise, a bang, and a grinding. All four tires were flat and ran on the rims. The Kevlar body and cabin looked like a sponge it was so riddled with bullet holes. All the windows were shattered and the front window was kicked out. The roof pintle had a smoking twisted fifty-caliber on it. I could barely see Shark's face at the wheel, mostly by his visors, and I made out the forms of several others inside. Each looked like they were in the Drone Zone, that point soldiers get to when their mind shuts off input from their physical body and they keep going despite the pain. In this day and age, they have drugs to help, but the look on the solo's face is still the same.
Kid, Lak and Legs walked up to the HMMWV's passanger side. I walked up to the driver's door and opened it for Shark before the engine had shut off. I pulled open the handle and jumped back in surprise. An ocean of metal casings poured out from inside the Hummer and clinked around the driveway. Shark looked through the busted window and smiled. He stepped out and got on both feet, then I jumped him. I guess I hit him a little too hard as I wrapped my arms around him, because he stumbled back into the Hummer and grunted. "Wuuw! Easy there." He said and regained his balance.
"God! Where have you been? It is so good to see you again!" I said still holding him despite the dirt and grease and probably blood that he was caked with. His dark forest camo fatigues were Ares coloring and his web gear was torn, tattered, and severly used. The flak jacket he hand on looked shot in a few places, and his face was black with smoke, dirt, and grime. He had on a little black chook, and heavy four-barrel gatling carbine hung between us. "Are you hurt? Is anyone else hurt? Can I help?" I fired off in one quick burst.
"Yes, yes, and yes. Bear and Alphabet are on the floor in back with pretty major wounds. Gunshots. Hillings lost an arm to an RPG blast, but we cauterized it. He needs major help, but should be behind the passanger seat, and is basically operable. Everyone else just has concussion, light fragmentation, and gunshot knicks."
I stepped back, amazed that he could even deliver this message. I looked down at my tanktop and jeans, both were covered in blood. But now I had work to do. "Ok," I said to him. "Drexle!!" I shouted, "bring two litters ASAP!" Then I unloaded everyone into the garage as a triage area, and from there the kitchen to operate on everyone that needed it.
0500.
I slipped into bed with very little on. He was laying on his side, because the top shoulder was the one with the wound. Shark just groaned a groan that was somewhere between pain and exhaustion. "Ah, is my big Sharky tired?" I probed while slipping in between his arms and kissing him on the nose. Another groan, he really didn't like Sharky. He thought it was too cutesy.
"I'm so tire'd right now I couldn't roll over. Every part of me hurts, and the parts that just hurt, really hurt." His face had that slack exhausted look to it that came out once in a while, but he did put his arm around me. I could feel it quiver as he strained his muscles to make it move where he wanted. "I haven't hurt this bad since the explosion. I couldn't roll out of bed." I rubbed his back a little.
"So where did you go?" I asked, we were face to face.
"You really don't want to know," he said between a long groan as I continued to rub his back.
I then got really sorta mad. "Listen here you! If you don't fess up, I'm outa here. I can't live like I have for the last week. I was worried shitless about you! I pushed everyone so hard at the clinic they're ready to bust, and if you don't give me the whole story." I paused. "I don't know what I'll do, but I won't like it."
Shark let out a long groan, and tensed up. "That's a pretty tall order, but I can't say no." His whole body sort of shook as his muscles and nerves worked to relax. "Last week thursday, friday, and saturday I hunted down that abusive fellow and attempted to negotiate with him. He wasn't convinced by my arguments that he should get some counceling and seek professional help. On saturday night, he again kidnapped the little girl that was hurt. In return I killed him. The little girl was returned to her parents. Happy?"
"No! What about this week???" I prodded.
"Oh, not really that important. Half-pint, Boomerang, Pick, Griz, Hillings, Alphabet, Bear, Gale and I went out west of Shakopee to dish out a little justice to a crime lord and his personal army. The week long gurellia war culminated in us driving into his compound with the HMMWV. When the smoke settled, the dust cleared, and we counted the bodies. over one hundred enemy dead confirmed killed. That doesn't include the previous engagements which I estimate put there losses at two hundred-fifty. Just over fifty percent. Plus the crime lord is dead. We lost one arm, actually Hillings did, but I think I can swing a deal to get Jiovonazo to regrow that." He looked at me for a long time after that. Or he dozed off, but his breathing didn't change so I just stared at his visor. "Happy now?"
"Yes, very," I said as I had come up with a plan. "You still to tired to move?"
"Unngggghhh," was all he said.
"Well let me take care of that," I said as I rolled him over on his back. I straddled his stomach and leaned down to meet him face to face. "Let's see if you like this little thing that Spydr showed me." It took a second but it sunk in. A look of surprise spread across his face.
A minute later he'd forgotten and was shouting my name. But he definitely was not to tired to move.
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