Better to stay in the bubble. Drift along. Ignore the faraway voices having meaningless conversations around her. “How’s she doing?”
A mumbled response followed. She didn’t care. Her body felt relaxed, her muscles heavy, her heart slow and steady. If this was heaven, she wanted to stay. Take up permanent residence. Play Hungry Hungry Hippos with the Big Guy.
Okay, weird choice in games, but who gave a shit? Pass the popcorn.
“Did Jamie say how long?”
More mumbling.
“Alright, keep an eye on her, and call me when she comes to.”
Minutes passed. Maybe hours? Who knew? More voices came and went. Some urgent. Some deep. Some quiet. Some sweet. They were a mishmash of sounds and timbres, a constant buzzing in her ears and a strange accompaniment to her own disjointed thoughts.
“Heart rate, blood pressure, and oxygen saturation are all within normal range. X-rays are negative for rib fractures.”
“What about his head?”
“Severe concussion. Possible orbital fracture. Eve wants to send him for a CT scan to confirm.”
“An X-ray image won’t cut it?”
“No. Eye sockets consist of thin and complex bones. Small fractures don’t generally show up on film.”
“What do you think?”
“I’d like to wait until some of the swelling goes down to see what we’re dealing with before risking a visit to a hospital or private clinic.”
More words were said, but they didn’t seem relevant to her fog-filled brain, so she coasted.
“Sure, but a portable CT will cost about a hundred and fifty grand.”
“Just a matter of time before he cracks his head open again, so if we have the space for one, and someone can figure out how to use it, do it.”
“Roger that. I’ll get Z on it. We can get whatever training and support we need from a technologist online.”
“Sounds good. Send me some names, and we’ll do some vetting. What about Rebecca?”
Hearing her name from a voice she didn’t recognize brought her closer to the surface than she wanted to be, and curiosity rearing its ugly head, she opened her eyes the barest of slits to peek through her lashes.
Three men. Across the room. She recognized the one leaning against the desk, arms and ankles crossed over his scrubs. He had friendly eyes and steady hands. The medic. Jamie.
“She’s in and out,” he said. “She’ll be shaking off the last of the Dexmedetomidine and coming fully awake soon.”
No, she wouldn’t. Not if she could help it.
“She hasn’t eaten in a while, so Summer’s putting together a plate of food for her. Anything on the news about an incursion on Russian soil?”
The other men had their backs aimed her way, but the one with the close-cropped hair and the straps of not one—but two gun holsters crisscrossing his back—shook his head. “There’s a vague rumor about a skirmish involving a Russian military outpost circulating in political circles, but nothing pointing in our direction. How’s Jay doing?”
Jay! A wave of shock flooded her body with adrenaline, and in an instant, her memories came flooding back, along with the fear and anxiety that accompanied them. Big Diomede. Dominion. The Imperium. A firefight. A dirt bike. And a race to the end of the world.
Oh God, Jay had found her, come for her, and then tried to leave her!
“Aside from the dislocated shoulder, it doesn’t appear as though he sustained any internal injuries or trauma, so the primary issue has been systemic hypothermia. After Grant fished him out of the ice bath, his core body temperature continued to drop, hitting a dangerous low and leading to decreased metabolic function. He went into cardiac arrest before we made it back to the mainland, but I managed to revive him with a quick round of chest compressions. From there, we used prolonged active external and internal warming measures to slowly raise his body temp to within normal.”
Oh God! He’d died. For her. The bastard. She was going to kill him. How dare he!
How dare he risk his life for?—
