a/n: This chapter was longer, but it seemed to go on and on. So I broke it up. I'll post the next chapter Sunday or Monday. Please review! And thanks for the wonderful feedback!
Chapter Ten: Killing Time
"Jane."
That voice sounded familiar. Low, slightly husky. I tried to place it.
"Jane."
Lake. Dark brown mohawk standing out from a buzzed head, greenish eyes, Navy SEAL. I suddenly bolted upright. Lake recoiled.
"Geez, just what I need, a heart attack," he muttered. I wiped at my eyes.
"Sorry. Must have fallen asleep." I tried to smooth out my hair, which I knew was in disarray. I wish I had an elastic band to tie it back. I glanced at Lake, realizing he wasn't where I thought he was. He was lying on the concrete floor, on the other side of me. I frowned. Before I could ask what he was doing, he spoke:
"I had to use the facilities," he said, gesturing to the luxurious bucket. "Couldn't quite make it back to the cot." He smiled sheepishly. I got up, hobbling to him.
"How long have you been lying there?" I asked.
"Fifteen minutes, maybe."
I was impressed he was able to walk around a little. That was a good sign, right?
I helped him to his feet, which was awkward because anywhere I touched him could hurt. But if it did, he didn't say anything. I wrapped my arm around his chest, careful to stay north of the stitches, and together we hobbled towards the cot. It was slow going.
"You should take the cot," Lake said. I glanced up at him.
"Are you kidding?"
"No."
I laughed. "Lake, that's sweet of you, but come on. You need it a lot more than I do."
We settled him onto the cot. Lake gasped a little, but he tried to hold back any verbalizations of his discomfort.
"How's your leg?" he asked. I looked down at it.
"Better. It's sore, but that's it."
"I figure we wait a day or two," Lake said, "before trying anything." He was talking about escape.
"That long?" I didn't want to stay around Sadick any longer than necessary.
"I can't walk to the door and back without falling," he pointed out.
"Oh." Well, he had me there. Unembarrassed about his weakness, Lake went on.
"Till then, we learn what we can to help—"
I heard footsteps outside the door, and then that loud creak. I sucked in a breath and turned to face whoever it was.
It was a single person. He spoke with the soldier at the door, and then came in on his own.
"Stay close to me, Jane," Lake whispered. I scooted back. But I recognized who it was.
"The doctor," I mumbled.
He came closer. I noticed his eyes immediately went to Lake's stomach, and then moved over his various bandages. Suddenly it occurred to me that the doctor never put any bandage or coverings over Lake's stitches. I wondered why. Wouldn't it stay cleaner?
"That looks better," the doctor said, gesturing to Lake's stomach. He came right up to us, and peered closely at the stitching. "It's seeping. Hmm."
I glanced at the wound, and yes, it was seeping. That grossed me out, but I got past it. Maybe Lake pulled at it too much when he moved.
"Can you bandage it?" I asked. I didn't get the same vibe from this doctor as the other soldiers or Sadick. I figured asking for some things might be all right.
The doctor shook his head. "Sadick wants it left uncovered."
That made no sense to me. "Why?" Wasn't that just going to risk more injury or infection?
"It looks worse this way, for the camera," Lake filled in. Oh. I was a little behind when it came to these things. The doctor dug something from his pocket. It was a small, clear vial. He took out a syringe next, clean and sealed in a wrapper. Lake shifted away from the doctor.
"Get away from me," he hissed. The doctor looked perplexed.
"What is that?" I asked.
"I don't care," Lake cut the doctor off.
"It's an antibiotic," the doctor said. "It's not much. You should have a lot more, but it's all I could bring without anyone noticing."
Anyone noticing? The doctor filled up the syringe. I glanced at Lake, but he was looking right back at me. He wasn't sure if he should trust the doctor. I turned my gaze to the doctor.
"Why are you helping?" I asked. The doctor didn't look at me. He kept his eyes on the syringe, flicking it to get rid of air bubbles.
"Your chance to survive is better with it," he said. He looked pointedly at Lake. Slowly, Lake nodded. "Your hip."
The doctor moved for it, and I found myself turning away as the doctor tugged at the waist of Lake's pants. I heard Lake grunt once, probably from the needle, and that was it.
The doctor turned to me. He handed me the vial and the syringe, which thankfully came with a cap.
"Keep giving him this," he said. He pointed to the syringe. "Fill it to that line, no air bubbles. Every six hours until it is gone." Judging by the size of the vial, there weren't more than three doses left, but I figured that was better than nothing.
The doctor glanced at his watch, and then turned for the door. I stared after him. The door clanked closed before I could say thank you.
"Didn't expect that," Lake said. I looked to my watch. Six hours.
"We should hide this," I said, waving the syringe and vial. I pulled up the thin padding of the cot, and hide them there. "Hopefully that will help you get better." I didn't need to say 'soon.'
Lake nodded.
"Are you still hurting?" I asked. He looked nearly comfortable, his arms by his sides. Of course, he couldn't really move his arms beyond that without some pain, I imagined. His left arm was a superficial wound, but the one to the shoulder would hurt if he moved it.
Lake looked hesitant, but he nodded. "Not as bad as before," he said.
That was good, right? I studied the stitched wound. It seemed pretty red still, maybe from Lake's trip to the 'bathroom.' But if Lake had a shirt on, you might not know the difference.
Of course, that thought instantly reminded me that he didn't have a shirt on. I expected any military man to be in shape, but he was beyond that. He was pretty ripped. I nearly giggled.
I looked away quickly, sensing that Lake was watching me. Great, make things awkward, Jane.
"Tell me about your life back home," Lake said. Thank goodness he didn't comment on my ogling him. I coughed.
"Home? Really?"
"Why not?"
I shrugged. "It's just a little normal for all this." I gestured to the warehouse and our sorry state. Lake smiled.
"Exactly." He didn't relent, his eyes staying on me and waiting.
"Okay," I said. I took a deep breath. I wasn't sure where to start. I thought of my parents. "I'm an only child. My parents work at the local university, in Ohio."
"That's where you're from?"
I nodded. "Cincinnati. I finished school a year ago and decided this was the next step."
"What, being caught in the middle of a coup or captured by a genocidal maniac?" He said it with such a straight face that I nearly missed the humor.
"Neither," I said, stifling a laugh. "I finished school this year, and started looking for somewhere to go."
"What'd you graduate in?" His eyes started to shut, but he sounded alert still. I kept talking.
"Social work."
"You didn't want a government job?" he asked. I heard a bit of a mocking tone there.
"Government social worker? No thanks. Too boring."
He opened his eyes and smiled. "Can't complain about that here."
No, I really couldn't.
"So you left your family, boyfriend, friends—all to come to Africa?" Lake prompted.
"My parents and friends, yes. No boyfriend worth mentioning," I said. For some reason, I felt suspicious in how he said it, but it was thrilling. I tried to ignore it. "My parents were pretty worried. But my friends, well, life goes on. People move, get married . . . you know." I shrugged.
He was studying me, looking for something in my expression. I frowned, and he looked away.
"What will you do when you get back?" he asked. I grinned.
"I like your optimism." He smiled. "I don't know," I said. "I don't know what a person does, after all this." I really didn't. And I certainly hadn't thought about it. There were some experiences that just changed you completely. This would alter my whole life, wouldn't it? If it didn't, wasn't that bad?
"What?" Lake asked.
"What will you do?" I asked. Maybe he could help me figure this out. "Back to the military, or will you leave, or . . ."
"Depends on what the Navy wants," he said. "Probably take a bit of leave time. Visit my family."
You know, until he said that, I hadn't thought of Lake as having a family life. Family was broad—it could mean his parents, siblings, or it could mean his wife and kids. I hadn't thought of him as married, but what if he was? I mean, that would be great, right? Good for him.
No, I was trying to cheer myself up, and it wasn't working. Hey, he was the one who brought up a boyfriend. It was his fault.
"How often do you get to see them?" I asked. Maybe he'd clear this up for me.
"Not as often as I should." Well, that didn't help. "I try to spend as much time as I can with them, but I'm deployed a lot."
I forgot to smile and nod. He wasn't making this easy for me.
"Is it hard, being away from them?" I asked. Lake thought about it.
"Not really," he said. "I have my life away from them. They're getting older though, so I worry about them." My heart leapt. He was talking about his parents! I tried to contain myself and be cool about it.
"What about brothers and sisters? Are they close enough to help, if needed?" I asked.
"I have two sisters," he said. "They're both married, and have kids. That keeps my folks busy enough." He grinned. "It doesn't stop them from razzing me about not being married or whatever, but that's one perk of being away."
If my heart leapt before, it skipped a beat now. It was stupid, I know.
"How old are you?" he asked. That was definitely suspicious.
"Twenty-four," I said, and in the back of my mind I knew I felt delighted at his questions. "I took my sweet time in college." Lake smiled.
Just then, it started to pour outside. The rain hammered against the tin roof. I glanced up, and saw drops coming down. I think dawn was coming now. The rain looked really inviting.
"I'd love to shower in that," I said, more to myself than anything. Lake chuckled.
"Me too."
There were two ways to interpret that. I blinked as it sunk in. Lake looked away, and I think I saw him blush through all the scruff on his face.
I smiled to myself.
