An Unauthorized Genetic Experiment: episode two.
Author: Chippewa Livingston
Archive: Please ask
Disclaimer: I claim no affiliation or ownership of characters or material related to Dark Angel.
28. Ticket
Sharp went down like a sack of bricks, but I managed to keep him from smacking his head on the roof. His face was the total blank of the K.O., but he looked happier than he had in the elevator.
I could hear the big military engines idling in the parking lot. Logan said there were troops in the building. My stomach twisted into a tighter knot.
"Help me move him, Asha!" I tried to get my hands under Sharp's shoulders. Maybe the rain would keep her from noticing that I was crying.
A spotlight from the helicopter caught us, and I squinted into it. Two men dashed out, their shapes made strange by the gear they were hauling. Medevac. They were looking for an accident victim, and the body was here.
The first crouched next to Sharp's head, and put fingertips against his throat. Rain sheeted off the man's shaved scalp.
"He's breathing," I pointed out. "No spinal injuries." Hurry.
The man looked up at me. Red moustache, and one eyebrow lifted. "Hey, I'm the expert here."
"We need to leave," I said, sincerely. "Those guys are about to set of lots of fireworks." I shrugged one shoulder to emphasize the military transports in the parking lot three floors below us. Hurry.
His eyes followed my signal, and both eyebrows lifted. "What the . . .?"
"They have orders to blow the building," I told him. Hurry.
"Right." Muscles tightened in his jaw. "Let's load him." His partner looked pale, but the two of them lifted Sharp with a practiced efficiency.
**
I took off a sneaker, and used it to prop the door open. I hoped the rest of the team would recognize it if they ran by.
He was here, and hadn't moved since I'd seen him on closed-circuit TV, about fifteen minutes ago. I made myself look around the bare, empty room before I knelt next to him and listened for breathing.
"Sharp," I said softly in his ear, "don't go anywhere." I smelled blood, and I knew it was soaking into the knees of my jeans.
"Can do." His eyes flicked open, and he offered me a quick, strained smile. Bruises were beginning to alter the shape and color of his face.
"We're going to get you out of here. It's going to suck, but we're going home." Moving him was going to hurt, but Manticore doctors would heal whatever was wrong.
**
Forty-five seconds later, they were strapping Sharp down in the helo, and Asha and I were climbing in after them.
"Jinx!" yelled the medic to the pilot, "Get out of here like they're shooting at you!"
"Hot ell-zee! I love it!" The rotor noise grew deafening, and the ground rushed away from us. "Just like Iraq!"
I crawled across the deck toward Sharp's head. When he came to, he was going to be . . . stressed. Xs don't like restraints, as a rule. Reminds us of our childhood.
Bright light through the windows, and an almost simultaneous wash of noise, then the helo shuddered as the shockwave passed.
"Yee-ha!" shouted the pilot. "What a ride!"
Author: Chippewa Livingston
Archive: Please ask
Disclaimer: I claim no affiliation or ownership of characters or material related to Dark Angel.
28. Ticket
Sharp went down like a sack of bricks, but I managed to keep him from smacking his head on the roof. His face was the total blank of the K.O., but he looked happier than he had in the elevator.
I could hear the big military engines idling in the parking lot. Logan said there were troops in the building. My stomach twisted into a tighter knot.
"Help me move him, Asha!" I tried to get my hands under Sharp's shoulders. Maybe the rain would keep her from noticing that I was crying.
A spotlight from the helicopter caught us, and I squinted into it. Two men dashed out, their shapes made strange by the gear they were hauling. Medevac. They were looking for an accident victim, and the body was here.
The first crouched next to Sharp's head, and put fingertips against his throat. Rain sheeted off the man's shaved scalp.
"He's breathing," I pointed out. "No spinal injuries." Hurry.
The man looked up at me. Red moustache, and one eyebrow lifted. "Hey, I'm the expert here."
"We need to leave," I said, sincerely. "Those guys are about to set of lots of fireworks." I shrugged one shoulder to emphasize the military transports in the parking lot three floors below us. Hurry.
His eyes followed my signal, and both eyebrows lifted. "What the . . .?"
"They have orders to blow the building," I told him. Hurry.
"Right." Muscles tightened in his jaw. "Let's load him." His partner looked pale, but the two of them lifted Sharp with a practiced efficiency.
**
I took off a sneaker, and used it to prop the door open. I hoped the rest of the team would recognize it if they ran by.
He was here, and hadn't moved since I'd seen him on closed-circuit TV, about fifteen minutes ago. I made myself look around the bare, empty room before I knelt next to him and listened for breathing.
"Sharp," I said softly in his ear, "don't go anywhere." I smelled blood, and I knew it was soaking into the knees of my jeans.
"Can do." His eyes flicked open, and he offered me a quick, strained smile. Bruises were beginning to alter the shape and color of his face.
"We're going to get you out of here. It's going to suck, but we're going home." Moving him was going to hurt, but Manticore doctors would heal whatever was wrong.
**
Forty-five seconds later, they were strapping Sharp down in the helo, and Asha and I were climbing in after them.
"Jinx!" yelled the medic to the pilot, "Get out of here like they're shooting at you!"
"Hot ell-zee! I love it!" The rotor noise grew deafening, and the ground rushed away from us. "Just like Iraq!"
I crawled across the deck toward Sharp's head. When he came to, he was going to be . . . stressed. Xs don't like restraints, as a rule. Reminds us of our childhood.
Bright light through the windows, and an almost simultaneous wash of noise, then the helo shuddered as the shockwave passed.
"Yee-ha!" shouted the pilot. "What a ride!"