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1200 Hours Local. Northern Barrens, MSP. April 10, 2046.
Driving through the uncharted streets of the North Barrens was nerve wracking. It was a form of urban decay that made decent people sick. Huge tracts of land north of MSP had been overrun with people and turned into a hell on earth. Piles of trash and refuse clogged the streets, while rusted and burned out hulks of vehicles lined them. Cheap mud and brick houses with tin rooves were the predominant style of architecture. Electricity was minimal, and fires burned in steel drums everywhere: in schools, in libraries, in old government buildings, and offices. All these buildings had been looted down to the metal frames on the windows and taken over by urban displacees.
Both occupants hated driving through it and hated it more when it wasn't for business. This was pleasure, because both Shark and Zona were going on vacation. Their old 2001 Chevy Suburban rumbled through the littered streets and crushed all that was in it's way. The brush guard on the grill and the under carriage proved just as useful for smashing through car wrecks and steel drums as it was for breaking through under brush. Zona looked over at Shark who appeared about as unrelaxed as humanly possible, "How's it going?"
He looked over, smiled a quick smile, and then got his eyes back on the road. "I'm dead reckoning. We've got a half tank of gas. It's six hundred miles to South Dakota and I'm out of cigarettes. But on the bright side if I keep a heading of 315, northwest, we'll get out of the Barrens eventually." The analysis was delivered in a flat tone as if he were talking about a mission.
"Is that good?" she asked, not too sure that it was.
"Could be worse. We've got diesel in the back for about one thousand miles and certified cred to trade for more if we need to from Nomads, Raven gave me a few names of groups he said would be 'respectable' but by and large things could be a LOT worse." He then delivered one of his patented Sharky grins, took his hand off the shifter and patted her thigh.
"I still think you're working too hard for this to be a vacation. Can't you just relax a little?" Her nervous smile was only half hearted at his display of confidence.
He grinned as he continued to scan the building's windows and busted out doors with his visor. "I look at it as a bonus. In the past, people just got on a plane and flew to Tahiti or the Bahamas; their vacations meant little because they didn't have to earn any more than the cost of the plane ticket. We on the other hand," he said taking her hand in his own, "will have earned this by fighting for it and burning some of Earth's final gasoline for it." She smiled and moved the survival bags between them onto her seat and slid over into the middle, where she curled up next to him. Then they tried to enjoy the smell of diesel fuel in back, burning refuse and tires otside along with urban decay that wafted through the slightly open windows as they cruised towards their destination.
1900 Hours Local. Northern edge of the Barrens, MSP. April 10, 2046.
The Suburban actually rolled down a road now. They could see the plains out ahead of them, intermixed with the last remaining buildings of the Barrens. The decay was giving way to nature, that small part of it that wasn't polluted or burned out. As Shark continued to scan for threats his eyes met an unusual sight, a GAS STATION sign. He looked over at Zona, "See that?" he said pointing. "It's a gas station."
"You going to refill just before heading out?" She asked.
"Quit reading my mind babe. But yeah, you bet," he said with a smile and they both chuckled at the mutual little joke between them. "Get out the shotgun, and shoot anyone who comes towards the truck after you hail them and they don't stop. I'll stay in sight of the truck from a window if I go inside, which I don't plan to do, and I'll keep the radio open."
She nodded her head as she reached for the twelve guage rifled pump shotgun under the seat. She pumped it, making sure that a sabot slug was loaded in front of a 00-buckshot round then adjusted in her seat. Wearing body armor to go on vacation would hopefully sweaten the pot as Shark put it once they got to the country. Finally she clicked on her radio and adjusted it in her ear. "Comm check," she said.
"I read you, chhhk." Shark chuckled again as he said it. Hopefully that wouldn't become a habit he thought.
The gas station was on the right hand side of the street so Shark pulled up after doing a one-eighty in the street. This put the Suburban furthest from the station office, gave Zona a clear view of the street, and put the gas nozzle up next to the pump. As he pulled in an old fat man with a gray beard walked out. He had on some greasy blue pants with suspenders and an oil-stained white t-shirt with a pack of cigarettes in the chest pocket.
"What can I do ya for?" he shouted above the mild breeze that was blowing in from the north.
"Diesel. Got any?" Shark called out as he dismounted the Suburban and shut the door.
"Yeah, I got some," he said waddling over towards Shark. "Want me to run the pump?"
"Nah, but feel free to watch the meter." Shark stood a full foot taller than the man, but didn't try to intimidate him. That would be bad manners in what was no doubt this guys territory. He then looked around for a price up on the sign.
The station manager noticed and said, "The Diesel is 500 Ny per gallon today. A bit steep, I'll be the first to admit, but I've run the competition out of town." A small smile crossed his face at what he obviously thought was witty.
"Ok. You take Arasaka Script?"
"Sure, they're pretty stable, but that'll make the price 525 Ny a gal."
"Deal." Shark held out his gloved hand to shake, which the old man took and vigorously pumped.
"Nice doin' buidness with ya son," he said as he handed Shark the pump nozzle. Shark then took the nozzle and opened up the Suburban to begin fueling. The whole time he never let down his guard as he kept looking around for any sign of an ambush or attackers waiting in the shadows. As the 25 gallong tank topped off, and some gas ran out and down the side of the truck Shark released the handle and put the nozzle back on the pump. He pulled out a wallet and without showing the contents to the guy, he pulled out fourteen one-thousand nuyen bills.
"There, that should cover all the damages and buy two packs of smokes." Shark handed the bills over with his right hand to open up his jacket and show off the Ares Predator.
"I'll go getcha the packs and sum change," the old guy said as he turned and sauntered off.
2200 Hours Local. Western Cargill Sector (old Minnesota.) April 10, 2046.
"Let's stop at one of those Corporate Rest stations," Zona suggested. "I'm getting tired."
"I'm not so sure about that. They have cameras, and those are no doubt connected to a computer, and thus a Decker could find the pictures of us. I'd rather not let my enemies know where I'm going to be all alone and exposed. But, I'll pull into the next grove of trees we pass."
"Deal."
But Shark never found any trees, they'd all been replaced with wind generators or fences. At least this far south, he knew there were trees in northern Minnesota, but they were a long way from there. So instead Zona just drifted off to sleep. He planned on being to the Black Hills by 0200 Hours, where he would then park the truck, camouflage it, stash the extra gas and then wake up Zona for a short hour hike. That would put them far enough away from the truck that he could hide their trail and make camp. No one should be out at this hour to stumble across them anyway.
1500 Hours Local. Black Hills, South Dakota. April 12, 2046.
They had been hiking for two days through the ruggedly beautiful hills and valleys of the Black Hills. Zona was keeping a diary on the digital camera and snapped shots of the scenery while they walked. They talked as they walked and ate trail mix. The days were four hours of climbing with a two hour break (for sex) and then four more hours of hiking before they'd stop to make camp for the night. They cooked over an indian fire (a fire in a pit to keep the light emission down) and ate steak the first night. The food was vacuum sealed and ready to serve even without refrigeration. All their garbage was policed up and packed out with them, not so much because they subscribed to the 'Leave it as it was'-theory, but because Shark didn't want anyone to track them by their garbage. Even the butts of the last two cigarette packs went in the garbage bag.
All their gear and food was carried on their backs, in modular frame packs that adjusted to the curve of their back for comfort. The packs were a dark khaki. Shark wore khaki light monocrys pants with snacks in the cargo pouches, and a matching light monocrys lined fatigue shirt. He had on two turtle necks uder it as well as polyproplyene long johns for layered warmth. His reversible night-camo and desert-camo parka was rolled up in his pack. His belt had a survival knife and a pouch with five mags of ammo for his rifle in it. Zona wore a pair of light OD cargo pants and a heavy wool sweater over long johns. She kept her hair pulled back in a pony tail and it bounced along as they hiked. Her shotgun ammo was much heavier than Sharks rifle ammo, so he carried most of it and her pack was much smaller too, but they were just both being realistic. Each also carried water, but Shark carried twice as much.
Assorted supplies were divided between them: cooking kit, water purification tablets, catalyst tablets, First Aid kit, some rope, survival gear, fishing kit, space blankets, tent, tarps, saw, fire-starting tools, maps/compass, and hatchet. Overall it was not quite the bare minimum for survial but it was close.
Shark was walking point with a heavy auto rifle he'd bought from the Mechanic a month or two ago, and Zona carried her shotgun slung on her back. The clean air and open country was definetly getting to him, he thought. Getting up at the break of day, around 0645, and then going to bed just after sundown, at say 2000, was a schedule just like with the Dragoons. Now that was like work. They were on the uphill leg of a huge hill that had deep run outs and gullies in it from the spring rain. Below was a plain that flattened out until the next hill some quarter mile away with a small s-bend river running through it. The contours on their hillside ran basically north south with their immediate terrain repeating itself as you continued up and down the river. Light tree growth was just beginning to bud in the deeper parts of some woods, there was still snow on the ground.
Shark climbed to the top of another gully and bent down to lower his hand to help Zona up, he grunted and she pulled and then sprang in his arms as she reached the top. With one hand she pushed down his rifle and snuck in for a quick hug. "Shark, this is wonderful," she said as they looked over the valley towards the sun in the south.
"Yes it is, and you make it better." Staring out over the terrain and just enjoying the moment for a minute Shark and Zona felt alone on earth. Nothing of life or industry could be seen to the limit of their vision. Shark nelt down and then sat after gently laying down the rifle, being careful of the muzzle and dirt. Then he set his hands on Zona's waist and helped her down. She sat on his lap and they embraced, letting the seclusion be their privacy.
Until a few minutes later when clucky, out of tune, gas engines were heard by Shark in the distance. He layed his hand on Zona's chest, felt the wool of the natural sweater, and they seperated for a moment. Zona read the look of concern in his face, "What's the matter?"
"I dunno, but I got a bad feeling about this." He reached over and took hold of his rifle as he stood up. She likewise reached for her shotgun and took his hand as he waited for her. Then togther they headed up the remainder of the hill and gully. At the crest Shark let out a short "Shhh" and let go of her hand to motion her to the ground. She did so. He then crouched over and headed to the top, where he peered over. Looking north, nearly straight ahead, he saw another valley just like the one they were in. Off to the east, his right, he saw a large dust cloud and could make out several large bus size vehicles adorned with spikes, poles, and fences screens for God-knows-what-reason. The dominant color besides rust and brown dust was a Navy blue seal. To the west he saw a wide, low dust cloud, with no large buses and a large red sun-burst seal. The western force looked like infantry, while the eastern force looked much more mechanized. I hope those SunBursts have got vehicles or a good trap...
As he watched he saw combat joined. The crack-boom or heavy caliber cannons and machineguns echoed over the country side and the yells from the infantry charge could be heard. Not much of the battle could be seen because of the massive clouds from the Dakota Desert. Then their ambush appeared. A score of motor bikers came rolling along the ridge line adorned in the SunBurst of the western force. As they come up a gully from south west of Shark they saw him and Zona. Shark dove for Zona and pulled her behind a low rise in the hillside. The wash out was little cover. "Stay here. Keep your head down, and shoot anyone that comes close," he shouted. She nodded and pumped the shotgun. He grabbed his rifle and stood up to full height, but far enough back so the rise shielded all of him except the head. In rapid succession he fired off all ten shots from the bolt action magazine and took down nine bikers.
As return fire started to build and dust was being kicked up in his face and all over Zona, he ducked and reloaded. "Whew, they're getting close."
"Too close!" She shouted and pointed at his waist. He looked down and saw dark brown appearing. Obviously he'd been shot and didn't notice it.
"It's just a scratch." He said, smiled, and then darted up and over the main rise in the ridge. Machinegun and submachine gun fire erupted as he went up and over. She listened to his war cry and the report of the heavy rifle. She couldn't take it sitting down. She layed prone over the small rise and pumped out three shots at bikers headed up towards Shark. They were only thirty yards away from him. She hit one and dropped him off his bike, he got up and started to draw out his pistol. She rolled on her side and pumped again. Pumping the action is difficult when prone, but she did so, and them got him back in her sights. She fired again, and he went down again. At fourty yards she was hardly scratching him. But she pumped again, and then fired again as he got to his feet. A red cloud sprouted out of his chest, just below the neck, and he crumpled to the ground. She then looked over at Shark and saw him roll to avoid a bike, then grab the next as he went by. Well, not really grab she thought, his claws were sticking out of the guys back. Shark levered him up in the air and then dropped him down. Another group of bikers were coming up the hillside from below, the same spot the first group had come from, but this time they were alarmed. They'd seen all twelve in the first group wiped out and were now slightly above angry.
Some form of Rebel Yell echoed off the hillside as they gassed their engines and headed straight for Shark. He jumped back over the hilltop and towards the major battle to make a reverse slope defense. They couldn't shoot him until much closer range, but that didn't stop them from hosing the hilltop for morale purposes. As the first crossed over, his chest exploded and Zona watched him curl backwards off his motorbike. The next three over weren't touched, but the fourth fared the same fate as the first. One biker threw a hand grenade over the hilltop as he approached it, either not caring about his buddies or more interested in what seemed to be the oppositions ace-in-the-hole. The explosion lifted a Nomad up in the air and dropped him down out of sight. Zona was scared because she couldn't see him or help him, then she was grabbed and thrown down the hill from behind. The huge hands tore the shotgun from her grasp and she lost her balance. As she started to roll another set of hands grabbed her and threw her to the ground.
This time when she landed she rolled to sitting and looked up at her attackers. Two ugly nomads in dusty brown leather garb faced down at her. Both wore the SunBurst. Both were tan and weathered from a life outside on the road. The taller was bulky, not in a body builder sense, but in a HUGE-FARMHAND way. He had sweaty black hair that clung to his unshaven face like the rest of the grime. The smaller was freakish in appearance from a major bruise/beating on the right side of his face. He was also as dirty and dusty as his companion. Neither seemed particularly friendly or well intentioned from the looks on their faces. Each carried an old assault rifle, and a few magazines of ammo on his belt. Now Zona was really scared.
From the other side of the hill she heard an explosion, a few screams and more gunfire. "He's finished hunny," the big one said and her head snapped back around to look at them, each now a few feet closer.
"Yeah, he heh. But we're not," the little guy added as he slung his assault rifle and went for his pants.
Zona then did something she hadn't done in a very long time. She became mad. Not Angry-at-Shark-for-getting-drunk-and- pinching-Spydr's-ass mad, but Stark-raving-furious-at-the-scum-that-get-away-with-living-on-earth mad. She thought about the hand-to-hand lessons Shark had given her, the various vulnerable spots a man has, and determined neither of them would walk away from this encounter. So she made to crawl away in the sitting position and put one hand behind her back and drew out the mono-blade stiletto Shark had insisted she carry.
"Now don't you run sweat thang," the big one intoned, "It won't change nothing."
She let out a wimper despite herself as the terrain went up behind her and made crawling difficult. The big one, who was on her left, then grabbed for her left leg and lowered his rifle muzzle to the ground. She pushed off with her left arm and slashed his across his forearm, nearly severing it from his body, then jumped into him and burried the blade in his groin. He screamed; he screamed loud. She screamed as the blood flowed out and over her wrist. He slapped her across the face and sent her spinning to the ground. The second one, standing there amazed, was covered in a splatter of blood from her mouth and his pal's groin.
The big one's scream filled the air and she couldn't think. She saw stars as his pig-like-squeal of a man bitten by a shark, tortured scream raised another octave. Then the little one stepped down towards her. A solid kick sent the knife spinning away and she let out a pained grunt. He grabbed her by the shoulder, sat his weight down ontop of her, and pressed his face to hers. "You aught notta done that. Now I'm gonna make this hurt," he said as he licked her.
"Not as much as you think, you piece of shit!" She shreiked as she brought her arms up sideways in a chicken wing. She then dug her fingers into his eyes and gouged her nails across his eyeballs. Blood flowed and she felt the eyeball liquid on her left thumb. He reeled back while sitting on her mid-section in a howl of pain. She started, and jumped a little at his reaction. She was amazed it worked. She was terrified she had done it. She wanted to try and help him, but then he slammed his arms dowon on her head in a double fisted bash. She crashed back into the earth and her head spun. His hands worked over her body as she lay there dazed.
His hands locked around her throat as any carnal intent passed from his mind. She gasped for breath while grabbing his arms. She couldn't break his hold, he was too strong and had the better position. She did the next trick she knew. She brought her knee up into this nads and sent them on a one way ticket to his throat. His face turned a light shade of blue but he kept on choking her. She kicked again, his face went blue. Again, wack, he screamed then went purple. Wham, again he squealed, then she hit his elbows and broke his grip. He reached for his groin and doubled up. She stood quickly and went for her shotgun.
Two blasts later, she stood in abject silence in the valley over two headless bodies.
1545 Hours Local. Black Hills, South Dakota. April 12, 2046.
Shark crawled towards the top of the small hill because Zona was on the other side. Were it not for her he might have been content to lay there under the hot sun and become a Vulture treat; he sure looked and felt like one now. He crawled along using his left arm for guidance and strength while the right went towards keeping his stomach in. Working his head left and right to make sure there were no more around he let out a soft groan. Oh, my head hurts! he thought while shaking it lightly, he couldn't see out the left side of his visor nor could he hear out of his left ear. Systems showed both as INOPERABLE. He could feel the blood on his face.
Crawling along he felt the bone jarring grind of broken ends rubbing togther and the white hot stabbing pain that resulted. The rifle dragged along beside him from his sling; the barrel was pointed back and the flip covers protected the scope. It was in much better shape than he was. But he kept pushing with his legs to kept up his pace towards the top of the hill and Zona.
Cresting it he saw her and they met eyes. Her pink hair blazed floursecnt in the afternoon sun. She had grabbed both of their packs, her shotgun, and a pair of old Kalashnikov assault rifles. There was blood all over her sweater and running down her mouth. But she was on her feet and appeared ok. He collapsed with relief.
Zona saw Shark crawling up the hillside just after he had made eye contact with her and passed out. Horror filled her mind. Oh, God. Please say he's not dead. She dropped both packs and ran towards, dropping each rifle as she ran. Sliding to a stop beside him, she checked his pulse. Weak but there, good. Her hands started to move over his body and tried to catalog his wounds. Shit. Seven gunshot wounds, fragmentation, and lacerations. She broke a revive capsule under his nose. He started to come too. "Shark, can you hear me? Please answer. Say something," she gasped sitting there beside him.
A rough cough and a spit of blood meant he was awake and it was followed by a, "Yeah, I'm alive. Not by much, but alive."
"Let me give you this painaway."
"No, no, I don't need it," he said and started to laugh at his own twisted joke.
She didn't laugh, and just gave him the injection. The followed it with a hypercoagulant. "What do we do now?" she asked as his breathing became normal once the pain of the wounds was lifted.
"Well, we don't stay here for one. I recall seeing some outcroppings of rock back a mile or two, maybe there was a cave in them. We'll have to hoof it cuz the sun is setting."
"You'll never be able to make it, you're too hurt."
"I'll be the judge of that," he said as a painful cough wracked his whole body. "Yes, I will make it. Nothing can stop me," he said with a smile. "Unless more of these jokers show up or I get hit by a meteor that is."
She couldn't help but smile too. Zona reached for his hand and grunted as they struggled to get him standing. "Now get the packs and gather the weapons." She did so quickly but continued looking over her shoulder to make sure he didn't fall to the ground. Once she had gotten both pair she hustled back to his side, smiling. "Give me my pack and an AK."
"You can't carry all that, you're hurt," she said with a frown creasing her pretty face.
"You can't them by yourself either." Shark then just stared at her to signal the argument was over. She acquiesed and handed both items over. She continued to carry the two ammo belts taken from the Nomads though. "Now lets go."
Zona waited a second and looked back down into the valley where Shark had held them off. Bodies and motorbikes were scattered everywhere. Organs, arms, legs, and various bits of gear littered the red dusty ground. Just then she noticed the smell from down below, where the large battle had taken place. Burning flesh, coupled with burning plastics and diesel combined to make a odorific horror. She looked on last time at the bikers Shark had slaughtered, counted twenty and then followed him.
"What was that delay for," Shark asked while limping down to the river.
"Nothing." Zona said as she caught up and fell in behind him. Her thoughts turned to how much damage he could do and why it really didn't scare her. He was just good at making people dead that needed to be dead.
1630 Hours Local. Black Hills, South Dakota. April 12, 2046.
Walking in the small stream at the bottom of their valley for a mile would hopefully throw off any persuers Shark had told her, but she was still worried. He was pushing himself too hard, but she couldn't think of anything better to do. She kept looking down at his feet, his boots were full of blood and he was leaving a strong trail. "Shark, you're bleeding more. We need to stop."
"Not til we have shelter. Just give me another shot." He stopped and she kneeled down and gave him a shot in each leg.
As she stood up he wavered a little, and she grabbed hold of him. She then realized just how damn heavy he was. With sixty pounds of gear, he was a full hundred pound heavier than her. If he was going to fall, she couldn't stop him, only try to make sure he landed easier. He rested his good arm on her shoulder, "Thanks."
After this short break, they started moving again. Shark's limp was becoming more pronounced, but ten minutes later he stopped and pointed to the north east side of the valley and up into the rocks. "There." She looked where he was pointing. "There's a cave up there, we can check it out and go there if it looks ok."
"Over my dead body," she said out of the blue. She stepped up the slope from him so she was looking down at him. Some small amount of anger showed on her face. "I'll go up THERE. YOU stay here, I'll be right back," she said waving her finger at him. She shrugged out of her pack and the AK, then took the shotgun and climbed up the rocks. Five minutes later she was up there at the cave, and she entered it keeping her barrel pointed at the cave mouth. No bears of shit came out and she flipped on the shotgun's light. It extended back in about twenty feet, and the roof was two sides of the giant rocks that merged togther. A small amount of sunlight crept in from the top. The floor was about seven feet wide, and narrowed down to nothing by the time you were thirty feet in. But the floor was flat, and rocks had been moved in, as well as branches, dirt, and soil. Obviously this wasn't the first time it had been used for this. She stepped out of the cave entrance which was about five feet high, and headed back down to Shark.
When she got down there, he was looking really bad. His normally tan skin was starting to turn pale, and he was leaning heavily on a sapling. "How's it look," he asked as visible relief showed on his face.
"Just fine," she said, "though the climb might be rough."
"I'll make it."
"Give me your knife and I'll cut some boughs for a bed before you head up." He complied and she swiped off about a dozen branches. "Ok, now, let's go." Shark just nodded weakly and headed up ahead of her.
Zona was really getting worried as he entered the cave and sat down. She spread out the branches and then unrolled a thermal ground pad for him to lay on. His head was towards the entrance and he was far enough in to be out of the wind. He turned his face towards her as he layed down. "Thanks, love." She then nelt down beside him and looked him over. She was on his left side and rested her right hand on his head to wipe some of the blood and sweat away.
His wounds were terrible and without the augmentation of a twenty-first century solo he surely would have been dead. His visor looked damaged and blood was trickling out from under it and his ear. The shot through the abdomen had nearly removed his whole stomach, and would have had the bullet not gotten lodged in the Intestinal Recycler. The trio of buck-shot in his right shoulder had slammed into the shoulder blade and ridden down it beneath the skin but above the monocrys sheathing his body had; making a very messy and debilitating if not fatal wound. Another bullet had entered from his left side, shattered a pair of ribs, and then crossed over his stomach and exited just above the diagphram. Another bullet had grazed his bicep and passed through his calf, these bled a lot, but the bullets did little tissue damage as they passed in and out cleanly. There was the wound at his waist he'd taken first too. Easily the worst would was his chest; the bullet entered the front, piercing the perctoral, shattering two ribs and puncturing a lung before it broke another rib on the way out. It exited by ricocheting off the left shoulder blade and tearing down the back in a long bloody wound. Lastly fragmentation damage in the form of tiny, sharp, splinters of metal wire were lodged along the front and right side of his body from the two explosions he ran through. Small, infected, red spots of skin showed where they had entered the skin but gotten no further as a result of the monocrys body shell. Miscelanous bruises, cuts and dings dotted his hands, knees, and feet as a result of crawling around in combat, but these were minor by comparison.
Covered in blood and bruises, and scraps of clothing from head to toe Sharkman looked like a corpse to Zona, she didn't know what to do other than she had to help. "I dodn't know where to start," she said pleadingly. "I'm not a field medic." There were just so many wounds she thought.
Zona looked down at Shark, both of them covered in blood. "I'm afraid you're going to die," she said softly, begining to cry as she nelt over him. "Is there anything else you want me to do?"
"Sit on my face," he said with a bit of a chuckle that made his wounds hurt and blood ran out of his mouth.
"Damnit!" She said with a bit of squeal and a sniffle, "Is that all you ever think about?"
"No, I think about dying on a daily basis, but that don't bother me," he answered honestly and winced in pain. (Not at the honesty part, but the wounds.) "What does bother me is that you may never sit on my face again." Pause for a bit of pain. "Now don't you give up on me damnit." He paused to take a deep painful breath, somehow still conscious. "My time's not up yet. I've gotta to live to be over one hundred. Very few people die past the age of a hundred." Blood colored his teeth as he talked, Zona noticed and it started down the side of his cheek. "Now use your head," he said through gritted teeth, getting stern, "and put all that knowledge to work so we can get out of here and make like a screwdriver."
Zona smiled a weak smile as she looked at his shot and broken body. She wasn't used to performing medicine without the technologies of the mid-twenty-first century. Working on Sharkman with fewer tools than a U.S. Civil War Physician. She thought about all the things that modern medicine had fixed (at least in a hospital setting): infection, contamination, blood loss, disease, and even annoying things like healing time. Then she thought about how she would deal with all of them out here. Shark had metal splinters, wood bits, dirt and grit in his wounds. In a few short hours they would start to become infected and fill with puss. Hopefully his bodies cybernetic additions like the cyber-liver, bone-marrow booster, platelette-generators, and medic nano-bots would help to overcome all these problems. Between the horrendus medical conditions, the state he was in, and the cybernetics he had she calculated the odds. Sixty percent in his favor. Not very good. She looked down at him, his visor fixed right on her face. "I won't quit. I'll do what I can and get us out of here," she then took his hand and squeezed it.
She went to his pack and got a needle, dental floss, gun cleaning kit, and a bottle of whiskey. Taking the barrel rags from the gun kit and dousing them in whiskey whe started to wipe down the wounds to disenfect them. Sharks body tensed and trembled, then he relaxed as he passed out without a sound. Zona stopped as he went under and whispered to no one in particular, "Sorry." Next, she doused the needle and floss in alcohol and started picking out fragments with the needle and closing up the gaps with the needle and floss. Last, she went to work on the large open wounds. She used a pair of tweezers from the gun kit and a brush to clean out as much dirt and grit as she could. Then she closed them with the floss and needle too. She applied bandages from the First Aid kit to try and stop bleeding but she could only apply pressure to two wounds. She pressed the stomach wound and the chest wound. Eventually it all seemed to stop thanks to a pneuma hypo of hypercoagulant she found in the kit.
She sat back and admired her work, feeling a grim satisfaction that he still had a pulse, albeit a weak one. The log in the cave was not very comfortable, it was wet and cold. Now she began to know how Shark had felt all those times in the few stories he had told her. She looked down at herself; covered in blood and whiskey, she was a mess. Blood and dirt caked her hands and she was soaked to the bone in sweat. She decided to start a fire and try to move Shark closer so he wouldn't die of hypothermia after she saved him from gunshot wounds.
Walking down to the small stream with the pot and the shotgun, she quickly filled it and the canteens. Walking uphill to the cave with the fifteen pounds of water got her sweating again and left her out of breath. She put the pots down and went back out for wood. When she came back from that trip with a load of twigs and the better part of a small tree, it was getting late. As she entered the cave she heard Shark groan. Throwing down the twigs and tree in the low spot of the cave the scurried to his side, dropped to the ground and took his hand. "What's amatter?" she said with urgency and concern in her voice.
"It hurts like fuckin' hell," he grunted out, "That's what's amatter." Then he tried to smile, but that hurt too, so he just groaned.
"Well, try to lay still, I'll build a fire," she in as soothing a voice as she could manage. After sitting by his side for a moment she got up and began breaking the twigs into small pieces. Then she looked at the large tree branch and wondered how to cut it up. She went to the large pack of Shark's and dug out the folding saw.
"What are you looking for?" Shark asked between breaths.
"The saw, to cut up the wood."
"Use the vibroblade. You'll save energy." He took a few more deep breaths, then hacked up some blood and spit a grimy ball up into the air. It splatted just off to his side. Then he continued, "Just don't touch the blade, it'll hurt bad. I know." He smiled as if at some joke in his mind.
She was not at all eager to use one of those weapons of death. They vibrated at a high frequency set to the harmonic resonant frequency of the blade, which caused it to become white hot. She reached over though and took it off of Shark's belt. Holding it in both hands she stared at the blade, as if mezmerized. She then took her hands off to find the switch. Regripping it in a way that she could activate the switch, she got a good grip on it. Then she flipped it on. She felt the teeth rattling high frequency buzz, but couldn't hear it. The frequency was much too high and the blade began to glow white immeadietly. A little cry of surprise got out and then she "Ahhh'd" at almost in wonder.
"So that was your first time? Was it good for you too?" Shark asked in a bemused voice.
"Shut it," she said, and started to cut up the wood as Shark chuckled a little. In under a minute it was all hacked up and stacked in a nice, ready to burn, pile. "Not bad for a little girl," she said mockingly.
"Remind me not to piss you off, I'd hate to have you chop my wood..."
She laughed out loud, "I'd never do that, love." She then crawled over and sat beside him again and looked over at him. The left side of his visor was busted so he couldn't see her with his head facing straight up at the ceiling. She cupped his head in her hands and gently turned it a little. "That better?"
"Anything while looking at you is better."
"Now tell me how to start this thing."
"Ok. Take grass, leaves, dry bark or pocket lint and make a small pile. Gather a little bundle of small twigs, real small dry ones. Then get the pocket sparker out of the survival kit. Arange the larger twigs in a TP over the little bundle of kindling. Start the kindling with the sparker and then add the little twigs as it burns. The kindling has to start the little twigs burning, which in turn start the bigs one. If it doesn't work, get more kindling and try again. In case it rains anytime soon, I'd collect a large pile of kindling. You can start wet wood, but you can't start with wet kindling." All of this was delivered in about two minutes between breaths, and while gritting teeth as waves of pain passed.
In two tries Zona had a fire burning, and with it hope they would make it out of there. She checked Shark's wounds, and her dressings. Using a rag and some of the boiled water, she wiped away the puss that was building up under the stitches. She wiped them all down with Alcohol to Shark's protestations and pronounced her work good. After that she got out the space blanket and curled up next to Shark on the far side of the fire, to keep him warm. As dusk went to darkness outside, she felt him go to sleep. Being exhausted from the fights, the
In the days that would follow she would nurse him enough that he could feed a fire on his own and boil his own water. Then she shot a deer and would skin it while Shark directed. Finally she would march off on her own to retrieve the truck and drive it back in to get Shark out. But that is another story.
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