Chapter 9

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Sam eased himself up on his bed. His stomach and shoulder still hurt, but he thought he was well enough to move around without restarting the bleeding, and he couldn't afford to wait any longer. He had to get out of there.

There was no one else in the clinic—or the chop shop, whichever they called it. The doctor seemed to have left. It was a good opportunity to take his leave, he thought.

He crept to the door, and cracked it open. He shut it quickly again. There were ghouls standing outside. They didn't look like sentries, but surely they would know why he was there and wouldn't just let him leave. Maybe it was worth a try. He opened the door again.

There was a resistance when he pushed on it this time. Looking out, he saw why. The woman who'd shot him was standing outside with her hand on the handle. Her other hand was on her sidearm.

"Why don't you go sit down?" she suggested after a moment.

Sam glowered at her, but went back to the bed and sat down, holding his stomach tenderly. The woman followed him in, closing the door behind her.

"How are you feeling?"

"Alright," he said flatly. He would say he'd had worse, but he hadn't.

"Good. The doc says you'll make a full recovery."

He had guessed as much, by the way he was feeling, but it was still a relief to hear.

"When that happens, we've got something for you to deliver to your higher-ups."

He shook his head, vaguely remembering this having been mentioned before.

She looked disapproving. "Come on, now. We've gone to all this effort to keep you alive after you attacked us. It's the least you can do, and it means you get to leave without a scratch. Well...without any more scratches."

"Then I'll do something else for you, but I'm not going back there."

She cocked her head. "Why?"

"Do you need to know my life story? I just don't want to."

"Alright, alright. No need to show any common courtesy, I only saved your life, after all." She watched him for a moment, and he looked at the wall. "Sorry," she added. "About the sarcasm. We all have it. I think cynicism and an inappropriate sense of humor are natural coping mechanisms for living in a world where everyone hates you. You don't hate ghouls, do you?"

"Not any more than I hate anyone else."

"Good thing," she said with a half-smile.

Sam hadn't spoken with anyone but the doctor since he'd gotten to Underworld. He still wasn't sure where he stood there, and this woman seemed to think it was all a joke. He decided to be direct. "You're not going to let me leave?"

"No, not yet."

"Then what happens now?"

She shrugged. "Don't know. I guess we haven't decided yet. My friend Quinn still thinks we should've left you out there. Carol got wind of the whole thing and keeps telling everyone how excited she is to meet you, even though I keep telling her it's nothing to get excited about—no offense. And this new guy Ahzrukhal keeps telling me to send you up to talk with him. Planning some scheme to do with Talon Company, I'm sure.

"There's no 'council of ghouls'. Nobody's the boss here. But I suppose it's up to me, since I brought you in."

"So what do you want?"

She leaned against the cot across from him and folded her arms. "I've been thinking about that while you've been in here. I know I shot you, but then I brought you back in here, so I figure we're even on that count. But now I'm paying all your medical bill, and I think you owe me for that." She paused to let him reply, but he neither agreed nor objected. "Have you got any money?"

Sam shook his head.

"Hmph. Well I can't force you to go back to Talon Company, and quite frankly I'm fine with there being one less Talon merc in the world, anyway. But if you won't do that, I'll have to think of something else. Does that sounds agreeable?"

"Yes." He had not expected this. But he also not expected to survive the attack on the museum. And he did feel indebted to her for that.

"Why don't you come with me the next time I leave town? Quinn is gone and I need a spotter. Always helps to have a human with you when you're traveling, too. Think you can keep from attracting too many mutants?"

"Yes."

"You're not going to shoot me in the back, are you?"

He looked up at her, wondering if it was a trick question. "No."

"You sure?"

He gave her a weary look. "No. I've changed my mind. I think I'm going to."

"You see? You've already got the sarcasm down. You'll fit right in. When do you think you'll be well enough to go?"

He twitched his shoulder. It still hurt, but not much. "A few days."

She looked him up and down. "Let's make it a week. I'll be back. Don't go anywhere, alright?"

He nodded once, and she left him alone in the clinic again.