ICE STATION: CONTINUED
Part 3
Rebound arrived at 10 am and asked the head nurse where Gant's room was.
"Oh, it's on the 3rd level. Room 304. Are you a relative?"
"No, not really. I'm a close friend." Rebound replied.
"It's wonderful that more people are coming to visit her. Her sister has come in a few times and a young man who refuses to remove his sunglasses has been here for almost the whole week."
Oh yeah, that sounds like Scarecrow. Rebound thought as he went to the elevator and pressed "3". It dinged and the doors shut. He whistled to the tune playing on the radio and tried not to think about the Wilkes incident.
The elevator dinged and he stepped out onto the third floor. He quickly found room 304 and turned the handle on the door. He saw Schofield sitting in a chair by the bed, fast asleep. Then he saw Gant lying in the bed with her eyes open, looking at Schofield.
"How long has he been here?" Rebound closed the door, then went to an empty chair to sit, chuckling at Gant's jump at the sound of his voice.
"I don't honestly know. Maybe three hours." She turned and smiled at Rebound. "So, you're still hanging around with this loser?"
Rebound grinned. "Yup. And he's anxious for your return. Did you know that he's been visiting you every day?"
"He told me he's visited, but he didn't tell me it was every day." She glanced over at Schofield. "So how is Mother?"
That was a drastic subject change Rebound thought, but decided to let it slide. "She's pretty good. Her new leg is bothering her a bit, but she's the same old motherfucker." They both laughed.
"Oh Rebound, is that really how you feel about me?" Gant and Rebound looked up at the door and saw Mother standing there. She grinned, then sort of limped towards the bed. "So how is Dorothy doing?" She sat down on the bed and hugged Gant. Gant quickly glanced at Schofield, making sure he was still asleep. He wasn't. His eyes were wide open and he looked confused.
"Dorothy?" He mouthed and Gant looked away. "Hey Mother! You made it. What about your ex-husband?"
"Aw, the bastard called at the last minute saying she had a birthday party to go to. Birthday party, my fucking ass!" Mother huffed, much to the enjoyment of the others. "So… how are you, Dorothy?"
"I'm fine, getting better every day."
"Okay, will someone explain to me why you are calling Fox 'Dorothy'?" Schofield asked impatiently.
Mother glanced at Gant and Gant gave her a pleading look. "It's a little joke. Wizard of Oz stuff. I'll explain later." Mother looked over her shoulder at Schofield. "What time did you get here?"
Schofield yawned and closed his eyes. "Um, about five. I couldn't sleep. For some reason, I can sleep here, but I can't sleep at home."
Mother glanced back at Gant. "Must be something in the air… or the people."
Gant rolled her eyes.
Schofield looked from Mother to Gant, then back to Mother. "Okay, what drugs are you on, Mother?"
Mother grinned, shaking her head in mock pity. "You're a great guy, Scarecrow, but you're a little slow on the uptake."
Gant jumped in, eager to change the subject. "So, why are you guys all here?"
Rebound looked over at Schofield, who was reaching into a large briefcase and pulling out the files.
"Well, we'd like your opinion on choosing new team members." Schofield pulled out the files of the three definites and three optionals and handed them to Gant.
"Whoa!" was her first reaction. "Who is this guy?" She held up the picture of Brendan Curry.
Schofield mentally cursed his decision.
Gant quickly scanned Curry's bio and looked up. "He sounds like a good addition." She went through the other two and okayed them. When she came to the three optionals, she stopped. "Okay, so… what's the deal with these 'optionals'? With the three new members, we'll have… what? Six people plus Andrew Trent if he agrees to join USMC again."
Schofield turned sharply at her calculations. "That's seven. You forgot to include yourself."
"No, I didn't. Sir, I'm not-"
"Call me Shane, Libby." He sighed.
"The doctor said no strenuous activity for at least a week. If your team gets called for a Recon mission in the next week, I won't be able to join you."
Schofield cursed under his breath. She was right.
"I'm sure you'll be up and around by the time another country has a disaster." Rebound said reassuringly.
"I hope so." Gant sighed.
Officer James Lowe of the Constitution opened his eyes and winced. A bright light was shining in a window and his eyes gradually became used to it. He scanned the room and saw he was in a hospital.
He recalled the explosion. He had been standing on the deck of the ship and looked into the water to see something rapidly approaching the ship underwater.
"What the f-" Before he had been able to finished, he had been violently thrown off the deck and into the ocean as the Constitution blew up.
He had blacked out for a time, and when he awoke, he saw that he had drifted to land and there was a crowd of people uttering Spanish all around him. Lowe had looked down at himself and saw his navy uniform was charred as well as the skin underneath. His hands were burnt beyond recognition and it was then that he realized it would have been better if he had died.
A large Chilean had walked up to him and exclaimed, "Ay, Dios mio!"
That was the last conscious image in Lowe's mind before he had blacked out again.
Lowe lifted his hands slowly and saw they had been bandaged. A doctor came into the room and took his pulse and temperature.
Lowe struggled to speak. "Excuse me, but do you-"
"No hablo ingles, senor. Ay, lo siento. Un momento." The doctor rushed from the room then came back a few minutes later followed by a large barrel-chested man. When he spoke, his words were impeded by a strong Spanish accent.
"So you are awake?"
Lowe nodded. "Can you tell me what happened to the ship?"
The Spaniard looked confused. "Ship?" He turned to the other doctor. "El esta enferma!" He said a few more words to the doctor before turning back to Lowe. "Tell me about the ship."
"I need to speak to someone from the U.S. Navy. Por favor, senor."
The Spaniard laughed. "Que Asco! Your accent is no good, senor. I will try to contact someone in the navy. In the meantime, you try and rest. You are burned very bad." With that, the Spaniard left and the doctor gave Lowe some morphine.
"Senor Lowe… senor!"
Lowe opened his eyes to see the Spaniard holding a small cell phone.
"Senor, there is a phone call from the U.S. Navy." He handed the cell phone to Lowe, then left the room.
"Hello?"
"Jesus Christ Almighty!" A gruff voice exclaimed from the other end of the line.
"Excuse me?"
"Is this Officer Lowe?"
"…Yes."
"Jesus Christ Almighty! This is like talking to a fucking ghost!"
"Who is this?"
"This is Commander Waylon J. Riggs of the Navy SEALS. We need to talk to you right away." The gruff voice had lost its jubilant tone and was replaced with seriousness. "When do you think you can get back to Washington?"
Lowe glanced up and noticed the Spaniard hovering near the door. "Excuse me, senor? When will I be released?"
"Oh, soon, senor. Maybe two days. You have been in here for two weeks."
"TWO WEEKS?" Lowe exclaimed. He must have been unconscious for a long time. He uncovered the mouthpiece of the cell phone. "He said in two days, sir."
"We'll have transport for you when you get out." Then the line went dead.
