CHAPTER 58
Robinson was sitting upright on the floor. He was still wheezing, but the heavy coughs had mostly subsided. Every so often he would feel his head spinning. It was a mild reminder that the compsognathus poison hadn't worn off yet. Robinson rocked forward and staggered to his feet. His eyes felt dry. He blinked and rubbed them. As he scanned the bunker he noticed that he couldn't focus properly on anything. Whether it was near or far it was a struggle for his eyes to clarify any image. They began to hurt as he struggled to see.
While shuffling toward the bathroom he tripped over Shelly who was still hunched on the floor. "Shit. Damn it. Sorry." As Robinson continued toward the restroom he spotted Dallas huddled in the far corner near the folded cots. He had his head tucked between his knees. As Robinson passed him he clenched into a tighter ball.
Robinson paused for a moment. "I'm sorry, kid." He didn't look at Dallas when he said it. He just stared at the floor and then proceeded on. Although he wasn't looking, he sensed that Dallas shifted away from him.
In the bathroom Robinson flicked on the light and a pair of bulbs above the sink came on. He recoiled at the brightness as his eyes throbbed in pain. With a hand over his brow he approached the mirror and leaned over the stainless steel wash basin below it to get a close look at his face.
His eyes were bloodshot and dilated. The one on the left kept going lazy and straying to the side. His face looked like it had been mauled by a dozen rabid dogs. Bite marks and gouges streamed blood all over him.
"Jesus." Robinson turned on the sink and splashed handfuls of water at his tattered skin.
As he shut off the faucet he suddenly felt the entire pot of coffee he'd drunk hit him. Without bothering to shut the door he swiveled around to the toilet and drained his bladder. Exiting the bathroom, Robinson went to the supply shelves and rummaged until he found a bottle of rubbing alcohol. Being careful not to get it in his eyes he rinsed his wounds.
"Shit." He winced at the burning sensation that overtook his skin.
From across the room the phone began to ring.
"Christ." Robinson dropped the bottle and went for the receiver. He almost tripped as he snatched it up. "Yeah. Hello? I'm fine. No. No. I said I'm fine." He paused while the person on the other end spoke. "The kids are fine. No no. Neither of them is injured, just shaken up." The person on the other end mentioned Mr. Brown. Robinson cupped a hand over his mouth and the receiver and spoke softly. "This isn't the time to discuss that." He let the other person speak again. "Page? Use your damned imagination." He glanced around the bunker uncomfortably. He didn't want Shelly and Dallas to overhear anything that was going to upset them any further. "Look, we can sort this out later." He paused again. "Alright. Just make sure they're careful. This place is crawling. Yeah, ten four. We'll be ready." Robinson hung up the phone. He saw that Shelly had gotten to her feet. "They found your friends," he said to her.
"Are they ok?"
"They will be. They're organizing a rescue party."
"What about us?"
"We're safe in here. They'll come for us as soon as they can. For now we just hang tight." Robinson shifted as he felt another wave of coffee hit his bladder. "Jeez." He stumbled back into the bathroom and shut the door this time.
Shelly waited until he came back out and watched as he grabbed a cot from the corner of the bunker.
She asked, "what are you doing?"
Robinson unfolded the cot in the middle of the main room. "Taking a nap. I need to sleep off this poison." He could see that Shelly didn't like the idea of him being asleep. "Nothing is going to get through these walls. This building is practically a bomb shelter. I just need some rest." He pointed to the rows of canned food on the shelves. "Make some food or something. We'll be here a while."
As Robinson flopped down on the cot Shelly turned to the shelves. She really didn't feel like eating, but maybe cooking something would keep her mind occupied. She glanced at Dallas. He hadn't moved, and he looked like he didn't want to be bothered. As she pulled out a portable butane stove she heard Robinson stirring.
He slammed his fist on the cot with a huff. "Damn it." A moment later he got up and shuffled back to the bathroom.