hand.
“Did I get him?” the elf asked.
“No,” Deke snarled. He fired.
Five .
Deke gathered himself and stood. His chest burned, but he didn’t have any trouble breathing. He replaced the magazine in his pistol and moved down the hallway in the direction the man with the submachine gun had come from. A large pair of double-doors were at the end of the hall. Deke bulled through them in a rush.
The room was brightly-lit from a bank of lights on the ceiling. The light was harsh, actinic. Four men stood around a table, trays and instruments all around them. A small form was on the table, covered in green surgical blankets. There was blood on the blankets.
“Get out of here!” one of the men said. “You’re not sterile!”
Deke swallowed. There was a lot of blood on the blankets. More on the aprons of the men, and on the tools scattered on trays around them.
“Did you hear me?”
Deke shot him.
The others yelped and backed away from the table. There were no other exits from the room except the large doors Deke had come through. He brandished the pistol and the men whimpered and backed against the wall. Sheep. Deke stepped closer to the table and jerked the surgical blankets back.
She was perhaps nine years old, and pale. Or, even healthy she’d have been pale. She was certainly pale now. Her body was lined with incisions and stitches. It looked as though they’d already had their harvest, but they’d taken the time to close her up. Deke looked around. “Where are they?”
“They?”
“Her bits,” he said. “The bits you lot took out.”
“In the tank, of course,” one of the men said, pointing. There was a small stasis unit near the wall, glowing with a full charge. “We had to protect them.”
Deke looked down. He blinked, hard. Several times. He heard his father’s voice in his head.
“Don’t let them fool you, lad,” he’d said, one of the last times Deke had seen him. “They’ll tell you about rights and liberties and what’s right. They’ll sell you a whole load of bullshit, if you let them. But it’s real simple.” He’d taken a swig of his pint and looked Deke straight in the eye. “The world doesn’t care. Nature, she don’t care about your rights. A tornado doesn’t care about your right to life. Viruses don’t care. A wolf, he don’t care about your right to protection. He’s gonna eat you, ‘cause he’s hungry and you’re soft. Don’t be soft, lad. Be the wolf.”
Deke looked at the little girl. Her hand was bandaged. He reached down and pulled the bandage back. Her pinky finger was missing, as was half of her ring finger. Deke frowned. “You’re going to sell her fingers?”
“No,” one of the docs said. “That was by instruction.”
“Instruction?”
“Mr. Johnson. He told us to take off her fingers.” The doc glanced at the others, but they weren’t talking. “Said it’d send the message he wanted.”
Deke blinked again. He holstered his pistol and gathered the small child up. Several tubes pulled free of her arms. Machines started beeping, and his mesh picked up a persistent warning about moving patients. He cradled the girl to his chest. As if she were his own.
“What are you going to do now?” the doc asked.
“Wait.”
“Wait? For what?” Deke said nothing. The doc frowned. “What are you wai—“ he collapsed. A wave of dizziness passed through Deke, and the yak princess whimpered. The doctors collapsed. There was a crash from outside in the corridor. Deke set the girl back down and stared at her. The ork —Deke looked up but saw nothing through the skylight.
>HE’S COMING IN.
Deke inhaled. The world doesn’t care . He opened the stasis tank and looked inside. Everything was sealed and tagged. He searched for a moment before he found the items he was looking for. They were quite small, and the miniature field generator barely held them, but they fit into the now-empty pocket at the small of his back. Deke closed the tank
“Did I get him?” the elf asked.
“No,” Deke snarled. He fired.
Five .
Deke gathered himself and stood. His chest burned, but he didn’t have any trouble breathing. He replaced the magazine in his pistol and moved down the hallway in the direction the man with the submachine gun had come from. A large pair of double-doors were at the end of the hall. Deke bulled through them in a rush.
The room was brightly-lit from a bank of lights on the ceiling. The light was harsh, actinic. Four men stood around a table, trays and instruments all around them. A small form was on the table, covered in green surgical blankets. There was blood on the blankets.
“Get out of here!” one of the men said. “You’re not sterile!”
Deke swallowed. There was a lot of blood on the blankets. More on the aprons of the men, and on the tools scattered on trays around them.
“Did you hear me?”
Deke shot him.
The others yelped and backed away from the table. There were no other exits from the room except the large doors Deke had come through. He brandished the pistol and the men whimpered and backed against the wall. Sheep. Deke stepped closer to the table and jerked the surgical blankets back.
She was perhaps nine years old, and pale. Or, even healthy she’d have been pale. She was certainly pale now. Her body was lined with incisions and stitches. It looked as though they’d already had their harvest, but they’d taken the time to close her up. Deke looked around. “Where are they?”
“They?”
“Her bits,” he said. “The bits you lot took out.”
“In the tank, of course,” one of the men said, pointing. There was a small stasis unit near the wall, glowing with a full charge. “We had to protect them.”
Deke looked down. He blinked, hard. Several times. He heard his father’s voice in his head.
“Don’t let them fool you, lad,” he’d said, one of the last times Deke had seen him. “They’ll tell you about rights and liberties and what’s right. They’ll sell you a whole load of bullshit, if you let them. But it’s real simple.” He’d taken a swig of his pint and looked Deke straight in the eye. “The world doesn’t care. Nature, she don’t care about your rights. A tornado doesn’t care about your right to life. Viruses don’t care. A wolf, he don’t care about your right to protection. He’s gonna eat you, ‘cause he’s hungry and you’re soft. Don’t be soft, lad. Be the wolf.”
Deke looked at the little girl. Her hand was bandaged. He reached down and pulled the bandage back. Her pinky finger was missing, as was half of her ring finger. Deke frowned. “You’re going to sell her fingers?”
“No,” one of the docs said. “That was by instruction.”
“Instruction?”
“Mr. Johnson. He told us to take off her fingers.” The doc glanced at the others, but they weren’t talking. “Said it’d send the message he wanted.”
Deke blinked again. He holstered his pistol and gathered the small child up. Several tubes pulled free of her arms. Machines started beeping, and his mesh picked up a persistent warning about moving patients. He cradled the girl to his chest. As if she were his own.
“What are you going to do now?” the doc asked.
“Wait.”
“Wait? For what?” Deke said nothing. The doc frowned. “What are you wai—“ he collapsed. A wave of dizziness passed through Deke, and the yak princess whimpered. The doctors collapsed. There was a crash from outside in the corridor. Deke set the girl back down and stared at her. The ork —Deke looked up but saw nothing through the skylight.
>HE’S COMING IN.
Deke inhaled. The world doesn’t care . He opened the stasis tank and looked inside. Everything was sealed and tagged. He searched for a moment before he found the items he was looking for. They were quite small, and the miniature field generator barely held them, but they fit into the now-empty pocket at the small of his back. Deke closed the tank
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