Implant Page 9

  “Two and a half,” Gordon muttered.

  “Oh, shut up,” Doc grunted, though Gordon thought he heard a chuckle. “Your leg seems to be fractured. How am I supposed to get you out to the car?” He thumped a finger on Gordon’s head. “No, don’t answer that. I’ll hide you, then run to the lab and swipe a couple ccs of collagen-calcium patch.”

  “A what?”

  “They didn’t have it back in your time.” Gordon heard the scraping of crates being moved across the floor. “Now if you value life and liberty, keep quiet and still. I’ll be back in two minutes.”

  Gordon wanted to grumble that last time he’d said he’d be ten or fifteen minutes, and had been twenty or thirty, but he didn’t. Instead, he tried to count the seconds, but he’d never been good at that. He always counted far too fast. He reached a hundred and twenty in no time, but he had a pretty good idea that it had barely been one minute yet. He winced. His leg hurt more as the seconds went by.

  True to his promise this time, Doc returned only a moment later. Without ceremony or warning, he pulled Gordon’s right boot off, then shoved his pant leg up. He felt rapidly along the skin until he came to the sore spot and jabbed the needle in.

  Gordon fought to keep from howling.

  “There,” Doc said. “Now keep quiet for five minutes while that works.”

  The pain didn’t subside, but at the end of the silent five minutes, Doc felt over the leg again, deemed it safe to move him, and put his boot back on. Then he lifted Gordon with the same surprising gentleness he’d had when dealing with Amy.

  “Keep your head down. I’ll try to keep away from the cameras,” he said, and he pushed open a door at the back of the room, carrying Gordon as easily as if he were a small child.

  Chapter Six

  Gordon kept his face turned towards Doc the whole way to the jeep, trying not to breathe the strong, musty scent of the old brown and blue jacket.

  They made it out the back of the base without meeting anyone—or at least without being spoken to. Gordon couldn’t see if they’d passed anyone or not. When they finally reached the jeep, Doc set Gordon on the seat, climbed in next to him, and started back to the rebel base. Gordon’s leg had numbed a bit, though it still twinged with pain at every bump and dip.

  “So just what was the idea?” Doc asked, his voice even harsher than usual.

  Gordon ignored the tone and spoke quickly, his voice cracking with excitement. “I was looking through the transom and trying to see the entry code when Dagny Dalton went in.”

  “I’ll bet that worked great,” Doc scoffed.

  Gordon’s chest burned with pride. “No—not exactly. But I found something out.”

  “I should hope so.”

  “Doc—there’s no entry code.”

  Doc jerked his head to look at Gordon. “Did you hit your head when you fell?”

  “No—well yes, but that doesn’t matter.” He winced as a jolt sent a shot of pain up into his thigh. “Doc… it’s a biometric access system. There’s a hidden panel above the keypad, and it uses Dagny Dalton’s right handprint.”

  Doc continued staring, despite the fact that he was still driving.

  “It’s true!” Gordon insisted. “I saw him activate the panel and put his hand there, and the door opened.”

  “Biometric…” Doc murmured. Then he turned forward again, still mumbling. “Trick, was it? Trying to fool me?” He jerked his head back to Gordon. “You’d better well be sure about this.”

  “I am! I saw it all as clearly as I see that rock you’re about to run into.”

  Swearing, Doc swerved the jeep. “First thing we’re gonna do when we get back is finish fixing up that leg. Then we’ll talk to Neil about this. It’d better not be a trick.”

  “What other reason could I possibly have been in there?” Gordon groaned as another bump jolted his leg. “Are you ever going to trust me?”

  “Back at you, Mr. Harding. It’s no secret you don’t trust me. Do you think I’d keep on rescuing you if I didn’t think you were our only hope?”

  There didn’t seem to be anything to say to this, so Gordon just slumped back in the seat. At least Neil would be enthusiastic. He could count on that.

  When they reached the base again, Gordon all but jumped out of the jeep, then clutched at the frame and howled with pain as his leg hit the ground.

  Eyebrows sternly furrowed, Doc moved around quickly to support him. “If you’re gonna be involved in secret plans, boy, you’re gonna have to learn to think.” Pulling Gordon’s arm around his own shoulders, Doc half-led, half-carried him into the base and straight to the medical tent.

  “Get Neil,” Doc told a young rebel they passed on the way in. The man nodded and rushed off.

  “Lie down,” Doc instructed. Gordon was only too ready to obey, as his whole leg was on fire now. He let Doc lower him onto the familiar hard cot.

  “How long until I can walk by myself?” he moaned.

  Doc pulled out a pocketknife and, without ceremony, thrust it through the fabric of Gordon’s pant leg. It didn’t touch his skin, but he could feel the warm air as Doc cut the jumpsuit away just above the knee. Only after he’d yanked the fabric away entirely and put his knife back in his pocket did he answer the question. “I’d say about five hours.”

  Gordon widened his eyes. “With a cast?”

  Doc snorted. “What do you want a cast for?”

  Gordon lapsed into silence. He winced, but did not cry out as Doc injected him again, this time intravenously. At first he assumed it was some kind of anesthetic, then he remembered they couldn’t afford that unless it was really necessary. The fact that he didn’t go numb where he’d been injected reinforced his suspicions. Instead, a total relaxation crept over his body, culminating in lightheadedness. He tried to keep guessing, but as he relaxed further, it became harder and harder to make use of deduction, or even remember the anatomy he usually knew so well.

  “Hold still,” Doc instructed.

  Another needle punctured his skin, and burning pain burst in his lower leg. But he obediently kept still, clenching his teeth and fists.

  His head cleared ever so slightly as Neil walked in, sighing and shaking his head. “What is it this time?”

  Doc straightened up. “Broken leg.” He yanked a cloth from his pocket and wiped his hands, then turned to the table to clean the hypo.

  Neil shook his head again. “Not to sound like Doc, but I do tend to wonder if you’re the man to save us when you can’t even take care of yourself.

  In his normal state Gordon would have reacted with irritation, but at the moment, it sounded so reasonable he didn’t know what to say. But he had gotten hurt doing something good this time, hadn’t he? What was it?

  To his surprise, Doc defended him. “Sometimes a guy has to take risks. We can’t all just hide away in holes like you do.”

  “You’re saying this to me?” A flush spread up from Neil’s neck to his forehead, making his red kerchief not stand out as much. “Do you have any idea how much I’ve risked…”

  “Well, why did you choose him if you didn’t think it was a good idea?”

  “Why did I choose him?” Neil cried. “It was your idea!”

  Doc cackled. “My idea? Now that’s a laugh. As if I would have thought up such insanity. It was your scheme, Neil Crater, from start to finish, and you know it.”

  “But you’re the one…” Neil stopped short. He looked over at Gordon.

  Gordon stared back. His head was feeling gradually fuzzier.

  “How did you get hurt?” Neil asked.

  It was as if the argument hadn’t happened. Had it? How had he gotten hurt? He yawned, and felt a rush of oxygen to his brain. Yes—

  “I was trying to find out the password,” he said, each word oozing out like crystallized honey from a bottle.

  “How?”

  “By watching Dagny Dalton enter it.”

  “I left the boy in the shaft like we agreed,” Doc cut in. “An
d like a fool…”

  Neil turned his big eyes coldly on Doc. “I was asking Gordon.”

  Doc shrugged and stomped over to his box of supplies to put away his drugs and equipment.

  Gordon’s brain wouldn’t think. He yawned again. That helped. “But there’s no code…”

  Neil furrowed his thin brows, then glanced at Doc. “Did you give him that vascular tranquilizer of yours?”

  “I thought we weren’t speaking.”

  “Doc, answer my question or so help me…”

  “Yes,” Doc said.

  “I thought I told you to stop using that! You know it’ll have even more of an effect of him.”

  “He can handle it.” Doc’s voice epitomized unconcern.

  “How do you know?”

  “I just do. I’m the doctor, not you, and I say it’s necessary. Besides, he told me that on the way back.”

  “Vascular tranquilizer?” murmured Gordon, feeling very sleepy. Vascular tranquilizer—must relax the vascular muscles—no wonder he was sleepy—probably opened up unused capillary beds—channeling blood from brain—drop in blood pressure—go into shock probably—probably—

  “Not code,” he murmured, feeling his eyelids droop involuntarily, “Biometric—access…” his voice trailed into a whisper.

  He was not aware he had passed out until he drifted into consciousness again. His ears rang, and his eyelids were too heavy to open. His whole body was too heavy.

  As the ringing died down, he became aware of the now familiar sound of Doc and Neil arguing.

  “…doesn’t mean you should go taking risks like that!”

  “I already told you it was necessary. Without the Implant, he doesn’t have the strength to take the bone regeneration pain, and I needed some quick substitute for anesthesia.

  “But you could have killed him!”

  “I already told you he could take it. He was going to go into shock either way, from the pain if I did nothing; from the pressure drop if I used the drug. I might as well have it controlled.”

  “I think you just didn’t want him to feel the pain.”

  “If you suggest such a thing again, Neil Crater, I’m going to ram the whole bottle down your skinny, ungrateful throat. I’m telling you his system couldn’t sustain it.”

  There was a momentary silence, and Gordon remembered Doc’s propensity to know when he was conscious. He opened his eyes hastily, only to meet Doc’s hazel ones very close to his face. Doc was frowning. “You stop doing that.”

  “Sorry,” Gordon stammered.

  Neil all but pushed Doc aside, chattering a mile a second. “I can’t believe we didn’t know that before; all this time we’ve been looking for the code, and…” he shook his head.

  Gordon’s head cleared slowly, a little at a time, but he was more confused than ever. “How long…” he began, but Doc cut him off.

  “About thirty minutes.”

  “And is my leg all right?”

  “Not bad for a closed fracture of the tibia. But don’t try to stand for another few hours.”

  “Gordon…” Neil clutched his shoulder and squeezed. “You’re positive it’s a biometric access?”

  “With Dagny Dalton’s right hand,” Gordon nodded. He nodded a bit too long, trying to shake the fog from his head.

  “This changes things.” Neil let go of him and paced the length of the tent, hands clasped behind his back.

  Gordon laid a hand to his chest. His heartbeat seemed normal. He no longer felt so relaxed.

  “This actually makes things easier,” Neil nodded.

  Gordon frowned. “How?”

  “Don’t you see? We don’t have to figure out how to wrench the secret from Dalton anymore, we just have to get a cast of his hand! I can make a silicon glove that will imitate his handprint for you to wear, and bingo! We’re in!”

  Doc wrinkled his forehead and dug in his pocket for a cigarette. “And you really think Dagny Dalton is just going to let us walk up, say ‘Pardon me, could I cast your hand?’ and get away with it?”

  Neil shook his head as Doc lit the cigarette. “Of course not. I didn’t say it would be a piece of cake, I just said it would be easier. Casting his hand doesn’t require his cooperation—getting information from him does.

  Doc shrugged, and blew a puff of smoke in Gordon’s general direction. Gordon gagged. “I’ve already got cancer,” he snapped. “I’d like to keep from getting any more.”

  Doc grunted, but turned slightly.

  Neil pulled a chair towards Gordon and straddled it, folding his arms across the back. “We’ll have to lure him into a trap somehow.”

  “Good luck,” Doc mumbled, seating himself close to the tent flap.

  Neil ignored him. “The problem is… neither of us can help you. I can’t step out of the force-field, or I’d be dead in a second. Doc can’t be seen helping. And I don’t really want anyone else in on the plan at this point…”

  He fell silent as he thought. Doc smoked, also silent.

  His head continuing to clear, Gordon thought aloud. “I know… but… I just… how can I possibly do this alone? If I lure him away, then what? Shoot him? What if I miss? I can’t fight him. I can’t… drag him anywhere. What can I do?”

  Neil sighed. “You’re right.” He looked over his shoulder at Doc.“You could contribute, you know.”

  “Oh? I thought I was in time out.”

  “And you say I’m babyish,” Neil muttered. “Will you stop moping and help us? You know Dagny Dalton. How can we lure him away? Not any of the other goons, him. Alone.”

  Doc gave a few puffs on the cigarette before saying, “We can actually use the boy’s harebrained escapade to our advantage, believe it or not.”

  Neil and Gordon both stared.

  Doc raised an eyebrow at Neil. “You know now that he’s seen the kid he wouldn’t let anyone else handle the situation, right?”

  Neil turned back to look at Gordon. “I guess… you mean… since he knows he doesn’t have an Implant?” he turned back to look at Doc.

  “Right. That’s what I mean.” Doc flicked the cigarette away. “He won’t want to trust anyone else with such a… confusing and delicate situation.”

  Neil nodded. “Right. Sorry to use you as bait, Gordon, but…”

  “It’s okay.” Gordon swallowed. “I just… don’t send me alone. I know I’ll mess it up by myself.”

  “Planning to fail…” Doc grumbled, but Neil held out a hand to silence him.

  “Be that as it may, he does need someone else with him. We just need to figure out the best choice.”

  The three sat in silence. Gordon breathed slowly, trying to silence the alarms in his mind. Don’t get in deeper than you already are. There’s too much at stake…

  “Caleb?” Doc suggested.

  Neil nodded again and pursed his lips. “Caleb… that might be a good choice. He’s proven himself… he’s strong. More than capable.” At Gordon’s inquiring look, he explained, “Caleb Reynolds is one of our engineers. He’s just a little older than you, but he’s been here since the base’s inception. He helped us get the force-field set up and built in the first place.”

  “So… also smart?” Gordon tried to smile.

  Neil chuckled. “Yes, very smart. I think he’s a good choice.” He stood up. “Let’s call Caleb in and get started.”

  “Now?” Doc stood also, and crossed his arms. “Don’t you think the boy needs some rest?”

  Neil glanced at Gordon.

  “I’m fine,” Gordon began, but Doc cut him off firmly.

  “No you’re not. You need food and rest. We discuss things at dinner.”

  Neil’s facial muscles went taut. “Doc, we’re running out of time…”

  “I said we discuss things at dinner.”

  They glared at each other for a full ten seconds before Neil relented. “Fine. I’ll get to work on that silicon for the cast.”

  He left the tent without a goodbye, and Doc hoisted up his
crate and followed.

  Gordon stared at the tent flap for awhile after they were gone.

  What am I doing?

  He closed his eyes.

  “It was just supposed to be a routine operation… I don’t know what went wrong…”

  Dr. Harding’s hands shook as he tried to butter his bread. He tried once, tried twice, and the third time, his wife took it from him and did it, her face pale.

  Gordon looked from one to the other. “It was an accident though, right?”

  “Of course, Gordon.” His mother kept her eyes on her husband as she handed the bread back. “You know your father wouldn’t hurt anyone on purpose.”

  Gordon watched the strong hands keep shaking as his father lifted the bread to his mouth and took a bite.

  “Then he won’t be guilty, right?”

  “We don’t know, honey.” His mother bent over her food. “Sometimes it’s complicated.”

  “It is my fault, though.”

  “Don’t say that, dear,” Mrs. Harding chastised.

  “It was though.”

  “Finish your dinner,” was all she said.

  Gordon didn’t know if she was speaking to him or to her husband, but he obeyed.

  He hadn’t understood until later. It was a mistake, but a mistake his father should have avoided. Could have avoided. Everybody made mistakes they could avoid, but when doctors made them, they were a lot worse.

  In the end it didn’t matter what the courts would decide. His father’s shaking hands, with the help of a speeding car, had decided the fate of both his parents.

  How dare I think I can help?

  Closing his eyes, he tried not to think anything at all.

  *****

  “Where will we do it?”

  It was a logical question, one he hadn’t yet heard an answer to. Neil replied without a second thought. “One of the old guard shacks.”

  At Gordon’s blank look, he explained further.

  “Before they built the guard towers they use now, they had shacks at strategic points in the area to keep an eye on things. When they stopped using those, they just abandoned them. Didn’t bother to tear them down or anything. There’s a tunnel with an opening right next to one of the shacks, so Caleb can hide there, and you can wait inside.”