Datasets:

vbrydik

/

eng-male-speaker-0-v1

like 0

It was like playing the old whackamole game.

Now I could make out the layout of the attack point.

It was crude at best and it was completely indefensible.

Who were these guys?

Could they really be that stupid?

I heard a twig snap behind me and I whirled around to take out the enemy.

He'd made it out of the ditch and he was hopping his way over to the command vehicle.

I waved him on and winced when Omak raised his rifle and shot something to my right.

I heard the body slip to the ground and Omak did too, grunting in pain.

Bolting from cover, I closed the distance as fast as I could.

My compatriot was in the open, a dead target for any enemy smart enough to take a shot.

I was just bending over to grab him when he pointed skyward.

It was unnecessary.

I heard the hovering engines, and then a light shone down like a tractor beam.

''Put down your weapons,'' came a speaker's amplified voice from inside the aircraft.

Omak wasn't scared.

In fact, he looked at me and then up at the bird as if to say we could take it.

''No go, buddy.''

I shook my head and dropped my weapon.

Omak took the cue and dropped his as well.

''Put your hands over your heads,'' ordered the voice.

Omak got up on his own, and we both stood there, squinting into the sunlike beam.

The black aircraft hovered overhead for a long moment, and I wondered if they were calling back to headquarters for permission to fire on us.

It didn't look like we'd left anyone alive near the mortars, and no one disembarked from the command vehicle.

Something fell from the black bird and clanked on the ground.

Put the cuffs on, said the voice.

Was this for real?

If they were going to kill us, why didn't they get it over with?

Before I could respond, I saw Omak's hand shift.

I looked over and saw that he was giving the pilot the international screwyou signal.

I didn't want to die, but I sure as hell didn't want to get captured.

Therefore, in the tradition of soldiers supporting their brothers in arms, I gave the same salute.

I said put the... The voice was cut off by a thunderous boom that sent us flying.

Before I blacked out, I saw, with astonishment and fear, the winged menace as it fell out of the sky, careening directly toward us.

Chapter Fifteen

I came to slowly.

First to recover was my sense of smell.

Industrial strength cleaner with a hint of lilac, maybe?

It reminded me of Jane in the cabin.

She would pick lilacs and place the flowers in a chipped stone bowl.

Nature's air freshener after the apocalypse.

At least, that's what I used to call it.

And then Jane would roll her eyes.

If I kept pressing, the result was a playful slap.

Jane, where was she?

How were the kids?

And then I began to hear sounds, muffled at first like I was underwater, but over time the sounds became clearer.

I heard myself moan.

Next, I began to experience pain, not suddenly, but gradually I felt pain.

It spread from my toes, up my legs, gripped my midsection, and then shot out my arms.

I grimaced, which only worsened the pain.

Then I felt something warm on my arm.

There were more muffled sounds.

I tried to speak, but the words sounded hollow and echoed like pingpong balls in my head.

I was tired, so very tired, like I hadn't slept in months.

I let that feeling take over my very being, downward, spiraling further down.

When I regained consciousness, my first sense was the smell of flowers again.

I had the passing thought that maybe I was dead, but that couldn't be.

My brain was as muddled as before, and just for the hell of it, I tried to open my eyes.

They worked, and when they creaked open, the light that assaulted my senses wasn't too overwhelming.

I heard muffled sounds at my side, so I turned my head.

Initially, all I could see was a blur, but it got substantially better by the second.

Hearing didn't clear as well as my vision, but when the view cleared, I almost passed out.

My beautiful Jane.

I tried to talk, tried to say something, but it felt like I had cotton balls in my mouth.

Syllables wouldn't form.

Jane, I tried to say.

This time I heard a familiar voice, light and giggly.

I turned my head toward the sound and I felt a small hand caress my face.

I smiled and was rewarded by more caresses.

Mom, he's awake, came Sybil's excited voice.

Yeah, he's awake, said Andrew.

Awake, repeated Charlie.

I eased my eyes open carefully, the blur clearing faster this time.

There they were, my beautiful children.

My children were the center of my life.

The time I had spent with them was the best investment I'd made in my life.

I tried to reach out to them, but

My arms wouldn't move.

For one brief, terrifying moment, I thought I was paralyzed.

Oh God, not that.

But then Jane was there.

You're in restraints, she said.

Here, let me take them off.

I felt immediate relief, and as soon as one hand could move, I reached out to Jane and then the kids.

Everyone was crying, especially me.

I really had thought I'd never see them again.

Jane explained to me that the doctor was affectionately called Dr. Plato by the HQ inhabitants.

He declared that I was on the mend.

I still didn't like him, but I was exceedingly happy I would soon be able to leave the clinic.

'You've still got some hearing loss, but with some care and the therapy I've prescribed, I'm reasonably optimistic that you'll regain full use of both ears.'

His diagnosis complete, Dr. Plato turned to Jane with that same admiring look that I'd hated the moment we first met.

'I've got to tell you, Jane's been a real help around here.'

If I'm not careful, she may take my job.

I saw Jane blush, and that made me want to jump from the exam table and throttle the asskissing physician.

Does this mean I can leave?

Dr. Plato's gaze lingered on Jane before realizing I'd asked a question.

Sure, I'd recommend a wheelchair ride up to your quarters, but I don't see why you can't sleep in your own bunk tonight.

Thanks, Doc, but I don't think a wheelchair is necessary.

I slipped off the table and almost fainted, but I wasn't going to give the bastard the satisfaction of seeing me fall.