An Emo and a Yautja – The Squeak-quel
Miles away from where she had left her pet human, a limping female Yautja made her way through the darkness of the jungle.
Though she wasn't alone… Following her spoor and foot tracks were members of the black uniformed team she'd seen earlier that day.
She'd had to kill a few to make sure of her egress, but they were no match for her, even in her present condition.
After cutting them deeply and throwing the two human males aside the huntress slipped through the other soldier's sights.
As she limped she thought to herself, about the previous days, and about her encounters with those three bad bloods.
Right now, however, her wounds were bad, and she was not in a good way. Especially since she knew that she was going to have to patch herself up.
Like most hunters she hadn't anyone to rely on for aid, and she had nothing other than what she had brought with her on her small ship.
Recounting this to herself caused her to rumble and groan with a seething rage, matched only by her pain.
Stomping through the woods the huntress' mood was not a positive one to say the least.
Especially as her thoughts turned to the perpetrators of her wounds; the bad bloods.
'I failed… I couldn't kill a single one outright…'
She leapt over a log and created a false trail by breaking some branches and deliberately smearing some blood.
She knew she was being pursued, but these were humans, and these were not human hunters.
They were far too loud, slow, and boisterous to ever catch her, but she didn't want them to be lead to her ship either.
After setting the false tracks she continued on her previous course, and so did her thoughts.
'My Little Jake… is dead… I know it, I can feel it…'
She parted some brushes and passed through them, careful not to break anymore branches than necessary,
'I… I feel like I will die soon too.'
A voice within her shook, 'No… we cannot until we see him again… Until we see and know that he is alive or dead.'
'But… I don't even know how I would find him…'
Tawaya stopped mid stride and slowed.
Her hope flew from her as she leaned forwards.
She looked down her body, her thigh was still bleeding, and her side's sutures had almost all opened. In addition to these, her last fight with a bad blood had given her many more wounds.
She was exhausted and had to get to her ship. She needed to patch herself up and she needed to survive.
'I can find him… So long as he is on this island. I will find him.'
Nodding to herself she continued, dodging low hanging branches and vines, picking up a renewed pace.
"I've got to keep going…"
She clicked her tusks in her mask as a memory flashed through her mind; and it was of her and Jake on the beach.
"Why do you like covering yourself Little Jake?"
He opened his eyes and shrugged his shoulders, responding with his beautifully lyrical voice; "Well, why do you insist on being naked?"
His tone… He was so, so… defiant! Always! Despite her size, and despite his, he had this tone of defiance and resistance.
He had this way of being that was at times puzzling and endearing, or paradoxically submissive and headstrong.
It was funny, because after their brief conversation on the beach she'd then gotten the small human to rub her.
It was strange but she enjoyed his touch in an innocent sort of way.
It was unique as well; no one else had ever touched her like that.
The whole way that she was with him, she realised that there was no one else she'd ever be able to share with like it again.
That moment was… Wonderful… and more than that it happened on her beach…
Then she stopped herself.
'No; our beach'
Then she nodded; nothing in her brutal upbringing or in her brutish culture allowed for such intimacy.
Or for such feelings
But it was something special to her, and she started thinking in a language completely foreign to her kind: 'It was special to 'us'.'
She thought of herself and her pet, her Little Jake, as something more.
The time they had spent together, especially there on that beach was… Different, it was genuinely special to her.
And somehow she knew that it was special to him too, it must have been. She could feel it.
Then her thoughts changed, 'he's not… not a 'pet' he's…'
She struggled with the thoughts, especially with the fact that she was still making sure she was moving the right direction.
But eventually her thoughts continued. 'He's just… My Little Jake…'
She scoffed, 'he really is small… Poor creature…'
Then guilt reared its ugly head within her chest.
'I shouldn't have left him like that… with those strangers to him… alone.'
She shook her head as her emotions from their parting returned; 'I should have held him longer…'
Her chest heaved heavily as she felt knots tighten around her lungs, 'I shouldn't have left him! Damn it all…'
She slowed and punched a tree in aggravation; she wanted to roar as loud as she could, but instead she muted herself and growled lowly.
"Little Jake… my little human… Why did he have to be so fragile?"
Then guilt stabbed her again, 'Why did you have to be so slow to kill the bad blood?'
She shook her head and tried to push her feelings away.
There was still her own situation to deal with, and she wasn't going to get any better staying here.
'I've got to keep moving… I've got to see him again…'
She resumed her course and kept on towards her craft, she still had something to live for.
There was still much left to do… And for some strange reason, a feeling that also drove her was that she didn't want to let him down…
-1-
"We need a trauma surgeon and a cardiovascular surgeon. Blood pressure is low, very low. So is respiration. We may need to intubate."
Above the sound of the attendants a nurse yelled to a fellow nurse down the hall. "We're going to need a crash cart!"
The nurse down the hall began wheeling the cart into the quartered off ER section behind some blue hanging drapes. Announcing and clearing the way by yelling: "Crash cart! Crash cart make way!"
The attending ER doctor arrived and immediately took charge, "Okay, keep pressure, I need coagulants on these wounds."
Pushing his stethoscope into his ears he placed the end onto the bloody chest of their patient and listened.
"Belay that crash cart, we have a pulse." Turning to a waiting attendant he continued, "We need three units of oh-negative, now."
"Okay intubation? Where's my tube!"
Looking from one side to the other the doctor waited and quickly the nurse who'd previously pushed the crash cart prepared and handed the tool to the doctor.
Punctuating the action and indicating the arrival of the item, "Doctor!"
Taking hold of the tubing the doctor began inserting it into the mouth and began directing it into the trachea.
As he did he asked, "Status on the respirator?"
There was a slight pause, the sensors of the heart rate and vitals monitor came on, filling the small area with the beeping and whirr of electric noise.
A nurse then announced "Okay! Respirator standing by"
The statement was repeated by the doctor and the attending team began moving again.
"Tube in" turning to the nurse on the machine the doctor continued, "Respirator?"
"Here."
Clicking on the machine, fresh air began being pumped through the tubing in a steady flow.
"Okay respiration successful," The doctor then turned and after touching the arm of another nurse and pointing he continued, "We need to stabilise and move to surgery, now."
The nurse nodded and headed out from the hanging blue drapes and down the hall.
Yelling after the nurse the doctor continued, "Tell surgery we're on our way now!"
"Scissors, now, you get those scissors ready. These clothes need to be off."
A nurse carefully began cutting the tight fitting blood soaked black shirt and after getting close to the blade protruding from the wound in his chest the rest of the shirt tore and gave away.
Pulling the two sides of the shirt away from the wound and chest the doctor inspected the blade embedded deeply into the lower end of the ribcage.
"We're going to need a cardiothoracic surgeon. Lung's been punctured."
Responding to the doctor's observation a nurse announced "The cardiovascular surgeon has been called.
The doctor nodded, "Brief him and tell him that the lung has been punctured as well."
"We need a decompression needle, clean an area on his chest."
Handing the doctor a four inch needle he waited as a nurse swabbed a square area with antiseptic.
"Okay, inserting now."
Piercing the pale flesh with the long metal needle the doctor heard the sound of some exiting air, but it slowed and stopped.
The doctor looked him over, "Not good, okay…"
"Failure to reflate the lung…"
Looking to each of the attending nurses the ER doctor nodded, "Okay people we're moving him now."
Hitting the locks under the rolling bed the team began to walk alongside the fast moving gurney out the ER triage and towards one of the ER operating rooms.
"I need the surgery team ready and in there stat."
One of the nurses responded, "surgery is in and standing by."
"Out of the way!" was the chorus from the team as they made it to the double doors labeled 'operating theatre'.
Moving through the doors the ER doctor handed off responsibility to the surgery team and briefly answered the few questions that they had for him.
The doors to surgery closed and the team began their work, while at the admissions desk of the ER the family; a man, a woman, and a young lady had just arrived.
-2-
The hospital staff spoke Spanish, and the arriving family was speaking in English initially. But quickly the father began to use the Spanish he knew.
At the appearance of the family amongst the populated ER two suited men approached the admission desk and interrupted the discussion between the nurse sitting behind the counter and the family.
The larger of the two agents began speaking, in English, to the father.
"Sir, please we'd ask you to not stop their work."
The father turned from the nurse and looked between the men.
Government types, he assumed. He had met with a few of them before in his work, but nothing like these two.
"Where's my son." He spoke sternly.
The men quietly looked back at the father.
"Diana, take Clair and go wait over there." He indicated the heavily populated waiting area seats.
Diana, tears in her eyes nodded hesitantly and placed her hands on Clair's shoulders. The girl was crying heavily, tears streaming down her face, causing her hair to cling to her cheeks in unflattering clumps.
Walter pulled out his wallet and removed an identification card.
The two agents looked at each other before turning back to Walter.
"We can speak over here Sir."
The three moved away from the desk to an area away from people and Walter finished removing the red and white card.
"Look I don't know why you men are here, I don't care. But here is my intelligence card, with my clearance level."
One of the agents, the smaller of the two, took the card and looked at it.
Walter continued, "I am not 'name-dropping' but I regularly do business with Director 'Hal' from Defence, as well as Secretary 'Key'. I am also friends with the US ambassador who's been assigned to this country… There are a few others I could name but I won't… I don't think I have to."
The two agents looked at each other unsurely, surprised with the calm voice and the high level credentials of the plain, average, looking man in front of them.
"If you are from what I think you're part of then you'll also know those two men's real names."
Walter shook his head, regretfully, and breathed heavily before looking back to his wife and daughter.
"I want to know, where my son is."
The larger of the two agents spoke first while his colleague returned Walter's card.
"As far as we know he's in surgery…"
Walter nodded and exhaled.
"As for the situation…" The large agent faltered and then the smaller one continued, "At the beginning we thought it was cartel activity."
"Embassies were called and we have allocated agents to ensure the security of nationals…" motioning the agent continued, "We were sent from the embassy's ATF-FBI joint task force…"
The agent leaned… and hesitated.
"Look… Sir… Some other guys are going to be arriving soon. We've been told they're going to have superior authority, and will be taking charge of the situation on the island…"
Walter furrowed his brow. "This isn't cartel?" The men shook their heads as they relaxed. Assured that the man they were talking to wasn't just another 'civilian'.
Reading the two men's demeanour changing Walter now asserted his personality, and his authority.
The control of the situation had shifted from the suited agents to the man in casual dress-wear.
Walter was actually understating his level of authority and clearance, but that didn't really matter at the moment.
Though he was private sector now, Walter had a history with intelligence and agent-dominated communities. All of which now resurfaced in his otherwise calm voice:
"Then what the fuck has happened here?"
Both agents looked exacerbated and felt pressed to answer, both feeling like they were in the presence of a pseudo-superior; "We don't know Sir…"
"Was it political then? Do you know who was shot?"
The one agent rubbed his stubble, audibly scratching the hair as he did.
"Local federal chatter was concerned about a few politicians at the hotel… but, it sounded like they got them out."
"Who was hit then? The police and federal SWAT weren't too chatty…" Walter lowered his voice.
"Even one of my own men is missing."
The larger of the two brought out his phone and quickly ran through it before speaking,
"The man who was shot was an American, we ID-d him as soon as we arrived here, then we ran a check through FBI, his home state, and Interpol, our office then came back that he was clean."
Walter nodded, "No motive?"
"None…"
"And the other men… What else has happened?"
The agents once again looked unsure, "We just don't know Sir."
"In total there were five people injured or attacked…"
The man spoke almost in a whisper now, "Sir… something very strange is going on here."
Walter nodded again, "Thank you gentlemen…"
He quietly turned away from them, "What's the name of the ATF supervisor out of the embassy?"
The two men hesitated, until the smaller spoke. "Karce…"
"Thank you, you've both been helpful." Walter's voice was genuine, and he was glad that the two agents didn't decide to give him a hard time.
The truth was that minus his work, minus everything he'd done, or been part of, Walter was a father, and he loved his children.
Walter turned from the two agents and quickly walked back to his waiting family, assuring them everything was going to be alright.
The smaller of the two agents moved back to the admissions nurse and spoke to him, making it clear that the tourist family was there for the recently admitted young man, and that there would be no problems for them during the young man's stay.
It was several hours later, but the family had since been moved by hospital staff to the waiting area of the intensive care unit of the hospital.
This hospital was the largest on the island, and, thankfully, also the best equipped.
Walter's new friends at the ATF later assured him that the press, as well as the local authorities would not bother them for any reason.
Walter's name, as well as his connections with the US embassy on the island, as well as his own country's ambassador, ensured that there was going to be a press-blackout for the time being.
Until all the 'proper' investigators arrived, and the story was 'straightened out', nothing about the events at the hotel, or the fact that Walter's son was injured, was going to get out if they could help it. Everything else was still fair game but as far as Walter's family went, they weren't there.
There were definite perks to working with politicians and shady defense contractors.
While it was decorated differently; it had nicer chairs, it had wall furnishings, it had warm lighting, and it had free-flowing coffee and other 'comforts' the ICU waiting area of a hospital was still a part of the hospital; and so it smelled like one…
And it felt like one; the air was tinged with the smell of antiseptic, of medicine, and of sick.
It smelt like death, and not the smell that one gets out in the bush hunting, or on a city street.
It was slow death, weakening death; the kind that no one can really do much about, and it requires not only the best on the part of the doctors, but luck to survive it.
Walter and Diana shared a seat and held each other quietly while Clair was curled up asleep in a ball on the couch.
It was about an hour and a half of quiet since the two adults' last spoke, but Diana finally broke the humming silence of the room.
"What are we going to do next Walt?"
Looking upwards and rubbing his wife's shoulder the man looked, for the first time in his life, old.
His voice was tired and his body was tired.
And it culminated in his words, "I don't know."
Diana's voice quavered, "This isn't the first time we've waited for him like this…"
Walter shook his head and couldn't help but let a curt huff escape his mouth.
Dejectedly he responded in agreement, "No… it isn't"
By now the light of the sun had gone down, and the windows became a rich, dark blue.
The city scape outside may have hid the sunset from their view, but it still shone a beautiful orange over the watery bay which the city surrounded.
Walter looked upwards towards the window and thought about the sidewalk down below.
"I almost want to go down the street and see if I could get some blankets or something for you and Clair… But…" he closed his eyes and rubbed his face.
"I don't want to leave until the doctors come out…"
Diana stifled a dry sob as she shook her head, she had heard him but the words didn't quite register, she was too consumed with her own thoughts.
And her own guilt;
"I didn't make enough of an effort with him Walt…"
Walter shook and wrapped his masculine arms around her, touching her tanned and softened skin.
"Diana that's not true… Don't say that damn it…"
His voice came out louder and more forceful than he had intended, and Clair stirred slightly and opened her eyes.
At the same time, coming down the hall was a woman in scrubs.
After the form of the doctor registered through her tired daze Clair shot upwards and pointed with eyes fully awake now; "Mom… Dad…"
Walter stopped mid-sentence.
Diana held her breath and kept her eyes shut.
Clair's lip and chin quivered.
Walter stood and reluctantly let go of Diana's hand.
The Hispanic woman in scrubs cleared her throat and spoke with a lightly accented voice.
"I am Claudia Arroyo, chief trauma surgeon for Hospital de San Vicente." She moved her hands behind her back as she spoke.
"Earlier today we admitted via medical helicopter a young male in his early twenties we identified as your son… we assessed his condition and immediately succeeded in stabilising and intubating him to prepare for surgery."
Diana stood and carefully began to clutch onto her husband. Behind them Clair rose from her seat and adjusted her loose fitting brother's sweater, while they all continued to hold their breath.
"We succeeded in removing a twenty centimetre blade from his chest, and we were able to stop the majority of his internal bleeding."
She brought a hand to her brow and wiped some sweat as she blinked with heavy eye lids.
"We have been able to re-inflate his lung, and after four hours we have been able to effectively address his condition."
"The blade pierced not only his left lung, but also his stomach, in addition to breaking two ribs on entry."
She paused and took a breath.
"Total surgery time was just under six hours and we were able to remove the major pieces of bone from his body and patch the internal injuries."
"So I am pleased to inform you that, at the moment, the surgery has been a success, and that your son's immediate post-operative condition is satisfactory."
Walter was stunned and stood noiselessly while Clair and Diana both let out cries of joy.
Diana pressed her face into Walter's shoulder and Clair gleefully walked towards Claudia.
"C-can we see him?" the girl finally choked out through her tears and excitement.
The doctor turned and looked regretfully at the girl, "At the moment we are cleaning him and preparing a room in the ICU…"
"When he has been moved, and we have assessed him to still be stable we will inform you."
She nodded and then turned to leave down the corridor she came from, just before she escaped from view Walter threw off his daze and blurted out: "Thank you…"
He turned and the three hugged each other tightly, silently hoping that the worst was now over.
-3-
