Kate ran over to the bar and ransacked it. What was she even looking for? She needed a plan. What did David need? Blood. And to get the bullets out. Well, the bullet. The shot to his shoulder had glanced off of him and the one in the leg had gone straight through. There was just one bullet — in his chest. It was buried pretty deep; it must have been the first shot that hit him. She had to face facts: she couldn’t get the bullet out; that would kill him for sure. That left giving him blood. And she could give him blood — Kate was O negative — the universal donor. If… she could get it inside him.
The train lurched, throwing Kate to the floor. They were moving. She got back to her feet as the train jerked forward in gasps and spurts, picking up speed. Out the window, she couldn’t see the other train, the cargo train they had been on. They were taking them in the other direction. Who were they? Kate didn’t care, not right now.
She continued searching the bar. A tube, or— the drink dispenser. She spun the cart around. Clear plastic tubes ran from the taps to black and yellow plastic bags. She ripped a tube out and sized it up. It could work, but the end was flat, it would never puncture a vein. She grabbed a knife and whittled at the end, sharpening it. Would it work? She ran around the car, surveying the rest of the “tools” she had to work with.
Fifteen minutes later, the tube ran from Kate’s arm to David’s. She pumped her fist. The blood flowed. She was so hungry. And sleepy. But she was doing something, and that felt very good.
CHAPTER 66
CNN Breaking News Bulletin // Blasts reported in Western China; Believed to be an industrial accident at an Immari International research facility; Details are still emerging.
CHAPTER 67
Kate awoke to the chime of bells drifting in through a large picture window above the alcove that held her small twin bed. A cool, crisp, clean mountain wind pushed the white linen drapes out over her bed, almost touching her face.
She reached up to touch the cloth, but drew back in pain. Inside her elbow, her arm was badly bruised. Pools of dark purple and black extended into her forearm and crawled up her bicep.
David.
She looked out at the room, some sort of classroom maybe — it was long and wide with a rustic wooden floor, white plaster walls, and wood beams every ten feet.
She barely remembered getting off the train. It had been late in the night. The men had carried her up endless stairs, into a mountain fortress. She remembered now, a monastery, or a temple.
She started to roll off the bed, but something startled her — movement in the room, a figure rising from the floor. He had been sitting so still she hadn’t seen him. He walked closer, and Kate could see he was young, a teenager. He looked almost like a teenage Dalai Lama; he wore a thick crimson robe that was clasped at one shoulder and extended to his toes, resting just above his leather sandals. His head was shaved. He smiled at her and said eagerly, “Good morning, Dr. Warner.”
She put her feet on the ground. “I’m sorry, you scared me.” She felt lightheaded.
He bowed extravagantly, extending one arm out toward the ground as he bent. “I did not mean to alarm, Madam. I am Milo, at your service.” He spoke each word with care.
“Uh, thank you.” She rubbed her head, trying to focus. “There was a man with me.”
“Ah, yes, Mr. Reed.”
Reed?
Milo paced to a table near the bed. “I came to take you to him.” He picked up a large ceramic bowl with two hands and walked back to her, extending it into her face. “But first, breakfast!” He raised his eyebrows as he said it.
Kate reached out to brush the bowl aside, but as she stood, she felt faint. She collapsed back onto the bed, disoriented.
“Breakfast does a Doctor Warner good.” Milo smiled and extended the bowl again.
Kate leaned closer, smelled the thick porridge concoction, and reluctantly took the spoon and tried it. Delicious. Or was it that she was so famished and the ration packs had been so bad? She finished the bowl in seconds and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Milo returned the bowl to the table and handed her a thick cloth like a handkerchief. Kate smiled sheepishly and wiped her mouth.
“Now, I’d like to see—”
“Mr. Reed. Of course. Right this way.” Milo led her out of the room and down a long breezeway that connected several structures.
The view was breathtaking. A green plateau spread out before them, reaching to the horizon, interrupted only by several snow-capped mountain ranges. Smoke from several villages emerged from the plateau below. In the distance, something dotted the sides of the mountains — other monasteries, built right into the steep snow-capped slopes.
Kate had to fight the urge to stop and take it all in. Milo slowed to let her catch up.
They turned another corner. Below them, a large square wooden deck overlooked the valleys and mountains below. Twenty or thirty men, all with shaved heads and dressed in crimson robes, sat Indian style, unmoving, staring out into the distance.
Milo turned to Kate. “Morning meditation. Would you like to join?”