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.
Chapter 29. Ride
White light. Texan accent.
The smell of burning hydrocarbons, with an overlay of latex and disinfectant, crawled up my nose. Vibrations in the airframe tracking into me, adding energy to injury, and taking it all to the level where I was going to scream. . .
"Easy, kid," shouted a white shape at my shoulder. "You're going home. I figured I'd tell you before the drugs kicked in." Manticore insigna on his (her?) lapel. Home.
The drugs rippled through me like cold syrup. The red haze in the helo flickered in the shadow of the rotors, and I felt light, and even calm.
As my eyes closed, I got a glimpse of Elle.
Rotor noise, and I felt like I'd been body-slammed. I was flat on my back, getting tossed with some very energetic evasive maneuvers. Military pilots don't seem to be bothered by stuff like that.
"Can you hear me?" asked a voice next to my ear.
I rolled my head to look at him, and he seemed to take that as a good sign.
"Jack!" said Elle, and grabbed my ankle. Who is Jack?
"I'm fine," I said. Elle's hands walked up my leg. "Let me up."
"Not yet. You can't get off until we land anyway." He shrugged, and I still couldn't read the patch on his jacket.
"Where are we going?" Elle tugged at my shirt, just above where my belt should have been. Her fingers brushed against my skin, and a piece of plastic went away. The microfilm. I guess my mission was accomplished.
"We're about five minutes from the pad at Saint's. To pass the time, I want to start my evaluation checklist. Okay?" He grinned.
"Uh, yeah, whatever." Asha's fast talking had gotten us a rescue helicopter, which I'd seen from the roof, just before everything went black.
"What's your name?"
Sharp. No, not that name. "Jackson Messinger." That name. The one that matches the stuff in my wallet.
"What day is it?"
"Thursday." What time was it? The dark outside didn't give me any clue. "No, make that Friday. What happened to me?"
"I was hoping you would tell me, Jackson. Who is President?"
I wanted to figure out why my face hurt, and tried to lift my hand against the straps. It felt like the last time someone hit me.
Oh, of course. If Elle said there was going to be a body. . .
Soon, the skids crunched down onto the helo pad, and the engine nose wound down to almost bearable.
"Jackson?" The medic shifted some buckles more tightly against me. "I know you want to get up and walk away, but it makes us look bad if you do that. Just sit tight, and let us do our thing. Okay?"
"Fine." I had to admit to myself that getting up and moving on my own sounded like a lot of work, right now.
So, I got rolled off the helicopter, and under bright lights. It took about 30 seconds for a an oriental woman in green scrubs to decide that I wasn't going to die immediately, and exchange a few words with the guys from the helo.
I didn't listen in, because I could hear sirens, but couldn't see anything, considering that I was flat on my back, and surrounded by people.
A moment later, they could hear sirens, too. The oriental woman pointed at someone, then at me, and said "fourteen."
As the crowd dispersed, I caught a glimpse of the others. Asha looked like she was about ready to make a break for it, and Elle had an X-5's firm grip on the collar of Asha's white suit.
Then I was rolling again.
Fourteen turned out to be a little screened cubbyhole with a bed.
"Just push the button if you need anything."
I thought about that for a few minutes, and decided that I needed sleep more than anything else. The bed was softer than anything I'd been lying on for weeks, if not months, but the smell of disinfectant and other people's bodily fluids kept reminding me that this was a hospital.
I wondered, for a few minutes, if I should go find Elle. We could leave, vanish into the night.
Except that wasn't the normal, human thing to do. What was the normal human thing to do after you get knocked cold and rescued by helicopter from an exploding building? I was going to have to think about that for a while.
I stared at the ceiling, but sleep wouldn't come.
Far away down the hallways, I could hear sirens, and the voices of doctors and nurses trying to treat the unlucky people who hadn't been rescued from the explosion.
Author: Chippewa Livingston
Archive: Please ask
Disclaimer: I claim no affiliation or ownership of characters or material related to Dark Angel.
Chapter 29. Ride
White light. Texan accent.
The smell of burning hydrocarbons, with an overlay of latex and disinfectant, crawled up my nose. Vibrations in the airframe tracking into me, adding energy to injury, and taking it all to the level where I was going to scream. . .
"Easy, kid," shouted a white shape at my shoulder. "You're going home. I figured I'd tell you before the drugs kicked in." Manticore insigna on his (her?) lapel. Home.
The drugs rippled through me like cold syrup. The red haze in the helo flickered in the shadow of the rotors, and I felt light, and even calm.
As my eyes closed, I got a glimpse of Elle.
Rotor noise, and I felt like I'd been body-slammed. I was flat on my back, getting tossed with some very energetic evasive maneuvers. Military pilots don't seem to be bothered by stuff like that.
"Can you hear me?" asked a voice next to my ear.
I rolled my head to look at him, and he seemed to take that as a good sign.
"Jack!" said Elle, and grabbed my ankle. Who is Jack?
"I'm fine," I said. Elle's hands walked up my leg. "Let me up."
"Not yet. You can't get off until we land anyway." He shrugged, and I still couldn't read the patch on his jacket.
"Where are we going?" Elle tugged at my shirt, just above where my belt should have been. Her fingers brushed against my skin, and a piece of plastic went away. The microfilm. I guess my mission was accomplished.
"We're about five minutes from the pad at Saint's. To pass the time, I want to start my evaluation checklist. Okay?" He grinned.
"Uh, yeah, whatever." Asha's fast talking had gotten us a rescue helicopter, which I'd seen from the roof, just before everything went black.
"What's your name?"
Sharp. No, not that name. "Jackson Messinger." That name. The one that matches the stuff in my wallet.
"What day is it?"
"Thursday." What time was it? The dark outside didn't give me any clue. "No, make that Friday. What happened to me?"
"I was hoping you would tell me, Jackson. Who is President?"
I wanted to figure out why my face hurt, and tried to lift my hand against the straps. It felt like the last time someone hit me.
Oh, of course. If Elle said there was going to be a body. . .
Soon, the skids crunched down onto the helo pad, and the engine nose wound down to almost bearable.
"Jackson?" The medic shifted some buckles more tightly against me. "I know you want to get up and walk away, but it makes us look bad if you do that. Just sit tight, and let us do our thing. Okay?"
"Fine." I had to admit to myself that getting up and moving on my own sounded like a lot of work, right now.
So, I got rolled off the helicopter, and under bright lights. It took about 30 seconds for a an oriental woman in green scrubs to decide that I wasn't going to die immediately, and exchange a few words with the guys from the helo.
I didn't listen in, because I could hear sirens, but couldn't see anything, considering that I was flat on my back, and surrounded by people.
A moment later, they could hear sirens, too. The oriental woman pointed at someone, then at me, and said "fourteen."
As the crowd dispersed, I caught a glimpse of the others. Asha looked like she was about ready to make a break for it, and Elle had an X-5's firm grip on the collar of Asha's white suit.
Then I was rolling again.
Fourteen turned out to be a little screened cubbyhole with a bed.
"Just push the button if you need anything."
I thought about that for a few minutes, and decided that I needed sleep more than anything else. The bed was softer than anything I'd been lying on for weeks, if not months, but the smell of disinfectant and other people's bodily fluids kept reminding me that this was a hospital.
I wondered, for a few minutes, if I should go find Elle. We could leave, vanish into the night.
Except that wasn't the normal, human thing to do. What was the normal human thing to do after you get knocked cold and rescued by helicopter from an exploding building? I was going to have to think about that for a while.
I stared at the ceiling, but sleep wouldn't come.
Far away down the hallways, I could hear sirens, and the voices of doctors and nurses trying to treat the unlucky people who hadn't been rescued from the explosion.