Chapter 18 Bonded
“What did you say?” Williams snarled. He was angry his thoughts were being disturbed, yet again, by this weasel.
“Creed, sir. His injuries are too severe. He’s lost too much blood, his blood pressure has fallen dramatically, lips are turning blue—”
“Are you telling me he’s dying?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, revive him! I have a lot more pain I’m looking forward to gifting that traitor.”
“Yes, sir. I understand. However, I regret to say I can only do so much with my limited resources on this aircraft. If you were to order the plane to land, we could get him to a proper facility— ”
“Let me put it to you this way, Dr. Chaunders; if that meta dies before I allow it, you die, too. Are we clear?” Williams enunciated the last sentence slowly, and though missing teeth caused his speech to slur slightly, his meaning was crisp. Chaunders began to shake, visibly.
“Yes, sir.” The sniveling sell-out of a scientist was trying not to urinate in his pants from abject fear.
Williams smiled, the movement causing fresh cracks on his ruined facial skin to break open, and begin to ooze. “On your way, then,” he shooed the terrified doctor as though he were a cat on a countertop.
Moments later, Williams resumed his thoughts; this time with a distinct feeling: his daughter, strawberries and lilies, was near him again. If only she were the real thing. He could feel some peace if he knew his daughter was still with him. Greedily, he tried to snag the haunting memory of her, willing it to stay, to nourish him with its innocence. Everything about the child was beauty, perfection—he craved her.
Chapter 19 I’ll Make You A Deal
Dr. Chaunders was muttering nervously to himself, trying desperately to devise a plan to save Creed, and by proxy, himself. His hands shook as he worked to put on latex gloves.
“Okay, well, let’s play this by the book. I’ll set up an I.V. and start his blood transfusion immediately,” he shuffled through the packages in one of the drawers of his cart looking for the right syringe while he mumbled to himself. Hurriedly, he secured a tourniquet on the right arm of the male, located an engorged vein, cleansed the area with rubbing alcohol wipes and held the needle, poised and ready to puncture the vein.
“Come on, Chaunders—just play this by the book,” he reminded himself, trying to calm his shaking hands.
Just as he was about to pierce the male’s skin, a knife flew passed his ear. The doctor whipped his head around to find Gavil Young snickering with the remaining six mutant soldiers.
“Heads-up,” Gavil sneered.
“Please, let me be.” Chaunders’ hands were shaking violently. He tried to wipe the foggy steam forming inside his glasses, leaving only smudges. He yanked the useless specs off his greasy face and tried to glare menacingly at the metahumans.
“I’ll make you a deal, Mr. Young,” Chaunders offered. “You let me work uninterrupted, when we return to the Facility I will provide you with your choice of medicinal entertainment.”
Gavil raised an eyebrow and licked his lips.
“Any medicinal entertainment?”
“You just name it.”
“How much?” he squinted.
Chaunders sighed heavily. “As much as I can order without raising flags.”
Gavil exchanged glances with his snickering cohorts. “It’s a deal, asshole. You better not try to back out—I know where to find you.” Gavil’s eyes lingered on his dying brother, and though the real reason he came to bother the doctor was to see Creed’s condition with his own eyes, he didn’t mind the promise of drugs once they’d arrived back at the compound.
Lately, Gavil was desperate to get his mind off the shit hole he found himself in living as a pawn in Williams’ games. And if he were honest with himself, he didn’t know how to feel about seeing his brother so close to dying. He hadn’t been lying to Creed back at the St. Paul house. A lot of things had changed since their Retribution Match last October.
“Fine. Now if you’ll excuse me?” Chaunders knew every minute counted. Creed was already on death’s door. Gavil led his surviving soldiers away from them, deep in thought but trying exude confidence.
It was sloppy, but Chaunders punctured the vein and positioned the angio catheter, released the tourniquet and collapsed the vein before slipping the stylet out. He attached the I.V. tubing to the catheter and grabbed the syringe of saline he previously laid nearby to check for a smooth I.V. flush. Satisfied he had a good connection, he carefully laid tape strips over the tubing, gauze over the puncture site, then more tape to secure everything from being jostled.