TH Ch 8
Doctor's Orders
Vaas paces back and forth, trying to stop his teeth from grinding together. The cocaine withdrawals are getting to him; he wants a quick fix but he knows he needs to stay sober until the threats have been eradicated.
The towers have been activated by someone; it's now easy for the enemy to call in reinforcements and tear these islands apart. If he finds out who's responsible, he'll personally pay them a visit with six bullets for their skull. They just made things a little bit harder for the pirate.
The remaining privateers have gotten bold; trying to take over the village that he grew up in? That takes balls. Unfortunately, these city folk privateers didn't fare well with an unforgiving jungle and natives who utilize guerilla warfare. When the natives marched to the temples with heads on spears, Vaas couldn't help but feel prideful.
That white powder Dominique gave is Grade-A Amanaki Mushroom powder, a byproduct of the native mushroom that's been exploited and manufactured. Someone is trying to drug some of the locals in order to loosen the reigns of Vaas' control. It won't do to let that slide.
He recently discovered the identity of the jefe: another white man who had connections to Hoyt and some Colombian cartels back in the 80s. An American at that, to add more to the disgust. The fact that the guero knows his stomping grounds is a threat; Vaas needs to be on his guard at all times. He sent some of his men to guard the villages and train the women, but it could only do so much. The enemy knows him; it's difficult to get too close.
To top it all off, his captives' leashes are being a little too slack; never mind that the Doctor, Cook, and Nurse have served their purpose and helped his island get healthy and well-fed, the Doctor and Cook aren't to be trusted alone.
The Doctor has a little fight in her; she could prove to be trouble and despite Vaas' yearn to kill her, he knows as well as she does that he needs her. She's the only one with the valid medical experience and her use of plants and potions rival that of Dr. Earnhardt; killing her would be suicide. He must let her live, but he can't watch her forever. She's always in the village, tending to an injury here and an illness there; he'll ask Raoul to keep close watch.
The Cook, however, is a tricky one; she may seem docile and submissive, but Vaas can see she's potentially dangerous. She's been in the jungle, learned of the plants for spices, toxins, and the like. She can easily poison his food if she wanted to. Her hanging around the Doctor makes Vaas nervous; he senses a conspiracy in the works.
The Nurse isn't something he worries for; he's neutral, indifferent, and always running errands for the Rakyat. He's calm, collected, and logical; Vaas can count on him not doing anything stupid. On top of that, he has the finest weed in his possession; Vaas never got so high in his life. He's a man with taste; he likes that.
The only non-threat is Dominique; he doesn't understand what kind of person she is. She turns from a damsel in distress to an unwilling confidante to…his bed mate. He shares a bed with her every night these days, always watching her, trying to figure out who's the person he's sleeping with. So far, she's predictable; she hates when he invades her personal space, she's afraid of him, and outside of her obsession with hair and appearances, she's plain. She lacks the Doctor's defiance, the Cook's slight danger, the Nurse's indifference. She's a blank canvas waiting to be painted on, and Vaas wants to be the first artist to lay his brush.
When he saw her scars, however, he learns someone has laid their brush on her already.
Her back has a few; deep marks that were made by a knife of sorts. Like…a butcher's knife.
Her front has the worst of it; someone was stabbing and slashing at her, someone wanted her dead and he doesn't know who.
The most consistent scars are where her organs are…
She's a survivor.
He wants to ask her about her scars and wounds, but he stops himself. It's the past; he doesn't want to dwell on the past like he did before. Right now, he's worried about the present, he lives in the now. All of the ties to the past are slowly being severed…
"So, what's the game plan, boss? How are we going to handle the towers being activated?"
"I'm thinking right now. We need to…fuck!" he feels a sharp pain in his chest.
Blood blossoms through his bandages.
He swears.
"Hello, Doc. How are you today?" he makes conversation with the doctor. She's busy dabbing a wad of gauze with a disinfecting salve and swipes it on his chest. He hisses in pain and notices the soft twitch of her lips turning upward. She gets a kick out of his discomfort, the bitch.
"Fine, Vaas. I saw to it that your men are healthy and treated a few for STD's. I trust you'll tell your men to practice safer sex?"
"You tell them. They never want to listen to me when they're out in the whorehouses. I'm not their fucking Mama. Let them learn on their own." He waves his hand dismissively. The Doctor ignores him.
"Have you been engaging in…strenuous activity?"
"Stren-you-us activity," he sounds it out and clucks his tongue, "I don't even know what that word means."
"Have you been overworking your body, doing anything that could possibly weaken the tissue struggling to heal and cause it to tear?"
"It's none of your fucking business, doc."
"It actually is. If you tear the tissue again, it will not heal and heighten the chances of infection. When that happens, there's nothing I can do. You'll die slowly of necrosis because you didn't follow the doctor's orders."
"Look, bitch." His eyes narrow into slits, "I have to rule this fucking kingdom and stop fucking outsiders from coming in and killing us all. You don't know that you just came on an island in the middle of war, and shit's hitting the fan. You're not just going to be helping a kid get over a cough…you're going to be tagging bodies." He stands.
"I can't rest. I need to keep bitches in line and let people know I'm not to be fucked with."
"Right." She scribbles something in a notepad.
"Are you and your friends planning to fuck me over?"
She freezes.
That's all he needed to know.
"What gave you that idea?"
"I just got a feeling. Normally when I capture someone and leave them to their own devices, they try something very fucking stupid. Like the fucker that gutted me."
"I'm not…"
"Don't bullshit me, doc. I may not be the smartest, but I know when someone is trying to fuck with me. Believe me, hermana, now would be the time to come clean. Because, I will find out, and you won't like the fucking consequences." His face is in hers now, dagger pressed against her throat and locking eyes with those pitch black orbs. They look so calm, so mysterious. What secrets does she hide?
"I'm not trying to fuck with you. If anything, I want nothing to do with you." Her tone is sharp, unemotional, final.
She's not one to back down; he can respect that.
"Besides, you can't kill me. You need me. I'm the only doctor here. Killing me would be a suicide mission."
"You forget I'm fucking crazy, right? Isn't that what you say about me behind my back like a chicken-shit? You think I'm loco?"
"You may be ruthless and temperamental, but you know better than to croak someone who has saved your men from dying and is a reliable asset. You're crazy, alright. Crazy like a fox."
Time seems to stand still. He gives her the look-over, and chuckles, tucking away his dagger. He lies back on the table and notices her exhale deeply.
She's got a good poker face.
"Are you going to bandage me or not?"
She sighs.
"Lift your arms up for me, please."
Vaas lies in bed, high as a kite and flipping through his porn magazines. He wishes he had television; this old temple didn't have electricity or outlets.
The Cook had prepared a delicious feast tonight; the children's bellies are full and the parents are calm and serene. Peaceful nights like this set him on edge; there's always something under the surface, something ugly and decaying ready to come through the cracks and distort the image. It reminded him too much of him and Citra when they were young, carefree…
Before Hoyt stepped into the picture.
He exhales, the smoke curling around the magazine pages.
He laughs.
He wants to enjoy his high but he can't; he's still on edge regarding the head honcho, the captives, the aftermath of Hoyt's fuck-ups. He can never rest until everything is dealt with…
His mind wanders off to Dominique.
Is she to be trusted? He's sharing a bed with someone with more than enough reasons to smother him with a pillow when he sleeps. She won't do it; she's too scared of him to even try. But there's something about her that's different, something that he can't place his finger on.
Those scars…
Her nightmare…
"Stop, please…Jason please STOP!"
Is the Jason she knows the same Jason he knows?
He remembers the very deep looking scar over her chest; that was the wound that was meant to kill…
That'd be something Jason would do.
Did Jason attack her?
His mind ran rampant: how did she know Jason, what happened between the two, how did a damsel like her survive?
He'll know in time. For now, he wants to kick back and enjoy his high…
"Vaas! Vaas!"
"What the fuck is it? This better be a good one, because you know what happens if you fuck up my high for no fucking reason."
"Vaas…someone went into the vault. A cellphone is missing."
His eyes widen.
"What the fuck did you just say?"
"Someone broke into the vault and took out a cellphone."
"Who was the last person in there?"
"Francis and Akobo, but they have nothing on them. I checked."
"Who was watching the vault last?"
"Fargo and Burka, sir."
The gears are turning.
"Where are they?"