The Tribes, Chapter 22

The ride out to the farm was a blur to Bray. He was glad that Amber had gotten Ryan to do the driving. He had planned to drive and had even tried to force the large farm boy out of the way, but between Amber’s voice of reason and Dal’s threat to sedate him, he had been convinced to let someone else behind the wheel. Once on the road, it didn’t take Bray long to realize that he probably would have crashed the ambulance before going more than two blocks. Just before the ambulance pulled away from the ship, Tai San had leapt into the back with her supply of herbal medicines.

Bouncing down the farm lane, Bray didn’t even wait for Ryan to pull the ambulance to a stop by the house. He opened the passenger side door and jumped out of the still moving vehicle, stumbling and falling as he tried to keep his footing. He tucked himself into a ball, rolled and was back on his feet in an instant.

Seeing Bray leap from the ambulance, Luke and Lucy ran from the breezeway to meet him. “Thank God you’re here,” Lucy gasped, tears streaming down her face.

“How’s Jack?” Bray cried breathlessly as he ran towards the house.

Luke caught up with Bray and stopped him. “Bray, it’s real bad,” Luke warned. “He started to develop trouble breathing not too long ago.” Luke looked away and sadly added, “I don’t think he has too much time left.”

“Then let me at him,” Bray screamed, breaking loose and dashing to the house.

Luke stayed with Bray as he entered the farmhouse and led him into the back bedroom where Jack was laid out on the bed. He looked even smaller than usual. Nearing the bed, Bray gasped when he got a good look at Jack.

A heavy, blood-soaked bandage ran from his right shoulder to halfway down his chest. But, it was Jack’s battered face that held Bray’s attention. His left eye was swollen almost closed and a deep purple. Traces of dried blood from his nose still snaked across his face. Jack’s right eye was half open and staring lifelessly up at the ceiling. Jack’s bony chest slowly, shudderingly rose, paused and then fell as if exhausted by the effort. His breath came in irregular, ragged gasps.

Bray fell to his knees by the side of the bed, sobbing as he clenched Jack’s cold hand in his own. He tried to will his life force through Jack through their physical contact. He felt a hand on his shoulder and shrugged it off.

“Bray, you have to move if you want us to help Jack,” Dal said gently as Selene moved to the other side of the bed. Ryan and Luke each took one of Bray’s elbows and gently, but firmly moved him away from the bed. He didn’t resist until they tried to move him out of the room. He willingly backed up against the wall and watched as Selene and Dal examined Jack.

Selene peeled Jack’s left eyelid open and shone a penlight into it. “This eye reacts to light,” Selene said. “But, it seems a little slow.”

Dal nodded as he peeled Jack’s other eyelid fully open. He felt sick seeing that Jack’s right pupil was fully dilated and unresponsive. “Oh sweet Jesus,” Dal said softly. “His right eye is blown.”

“Blown?” Bray asked anxiously. “What’s that mean? What’s wrong with his eye?”

Dal turned to face Bray. “It means Jack has had a massive head injury and there’s a hemothingy, um, it’s like…”

“A hemothingy?” Bray shrieked. “That’s the best you can do? Shit! You don’t even know the right terms!”

“Okay, so I don’t know the right terms off the top of my head,” Dal retorted. “It’s like a clot that causing pressure on his brain. That’s why his breathing is labored and his right pupil is unresponsive.”

“Okay, okay – so you know what’s wrong with him,” Bray said, hope growing within him. “That means you can treat it, right?”

“That depends,” Selene said slowly.

“On what?” Bray cried. “You know what’s wrong.”

“We know what’s probably wrong,” Dal explained. “But, we don’t know if the bleeding has stopped or if he’s still bleeding inside his head. We don’t even know if his skull is fractured or not.”

“So what are you telling me?” Bray asked, looking from Jack’s still figure to Dal and back.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that even if we can do something to relieve the pressure in his skull, that Jack still might die,” Dal explained gently. He looked past Bray to Ryan. “Ryan, get the stretcher in here, we have to get Jack off this bed.” Ryan bobbed his head once to show that he understood and quickly left the room.

“And then what?” Bray demanded. “That’s not all you’re going to do, is it?”

“And then, we’re going to try to get his breathing stable,” Dal said. “Once we do that – IF we can do that, we’re going to see how Sasha is. Don’t forget he’s hurt, too.”

Bray opened his mouth to complain again and then snapped it shut guiltily. He had forgotten about Sasha in his panic about Jack.

“He’s got a nasty cut to the head,” Lucy said gently. “And, his right arm is broken. I think he might have a couple of broken ribs – or at least bruised. I gave him some stuff we had for pain when we splinted his arm.”

“Okay, that’s good,” Dal nodded. “One of us will check on him in a bit.”

From the kitchen the sound of the stretcher being maneuvered across the tile floor indicated Ryan’s return. Bray bit down on his lip as he watched Ryan, Dal, and Selene lift Jack’s limp body from the bed and transfer it to the waiting stretcher. Dal guided the stretcher into the kitchen, saying he wanted as much light as possible.

“Where was Cat?” Bray asked, suddenly remembering that the burly former slaver had claimed he was going to shadow Jack and Sasha and protect them in case of trouble.

“He didn’t come back with them,” Luke said. “Sasha barely made it here as it was and from what we gather, Cat was still back where they had been attacked. Ben and Morgan are out looking for him now. You’ve gotta remember that poor Sasha was on the verge of passing out from the pain.” He shook his head in wonder. “I don’t know how he managed to make it back here.”

In the kitchen, Bray found Dal working a large metal tube with a curved flange into Jack’s open mouth. Selene and Amber stood nervously by at the head of the gurney. Selene had a plastic tube in her gloved hands.

“Go ahead, Selene,” Dal encouraged. “You should be able to see the vocal cords.”

Selene timidly approached closer and looked into the scope. “Yes, yes I can,” she replied in a small voice. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“You’ve got to,” Dal said. “You can do it – you practiced it on that dummy Sasha brought from the hospital enough times.”

“But that was different,” she protested. “This time it’s real.”

“If we don’t get Jack tubed, he’s going to die right here,” Dal said insistently. “You can do it, Jack would trust you.” He looked her straight in the eyes. “I trust you.”

Selene bit her lip and nodded. Bray watched fearfully as she slowly eased the plastic tube into Jack’s mouth and down his throat. Finally, she gave a little smile. “I did it,” she said in wonder. “I really did it.”

“Good, see I said you could,” Dal praised her. “Amber, get the tube taped in place and let’s get it attached to the bag.”

“What are you going to do now?” Bray asked fearfully.

“Not us – you,” Dal said, looking over his shoulder. “I want you to count slowly to three, and then squeeze this bag. You’re going to take over Jack’s breathing for him.”

Bray backed away, his face a mask of fear and uncertainty. “I can’t do that,” he protested.

“Of course you can,” Amber said encouragingly. She took his hand and placed it on the plastic bag she guided his movements as she showed him how to squeeze the bag, slowly count to three and squeeze it again. “That’s all you need to do,” she said.

With Bray squeezing the respirator bag, Dal backed off to a corner of the room to talk to the others. Bray glanced anxiously in their direction, straining to hear what was being said. It seemed to him that Amber and Tai San were urging Dal to do something he didn’t want to do because he kept shaking his head as he argued his case. Finally, they all looked over at Bray and made their way to his side.

“Look Bray,” Dal said, taking a deep breath. “I’m going to be straight up with you – the odds are against Jack. The only chance he has is to operate to relieve the pressure – and I’ve got to be honest with you, it’s a real slim chance. The odds would be against the patient even if it were Jack doing the operation.”

Bray stared blankly at Dal as his ominous words sank in. Finally, he licked his dry lips, “What will happen if you don’t try the operation?”

Dal’s large brown eyes filled with tears as he looked around the room, his soulful gaze lingering on Jack. Then, he met Bray’s pleading eyes squarely. “He’s going to die. He won’t suffer any pain,” Dal hurriedly assured Bray. “He’ll just slip away.”

“I think Dal should give the operation a chance,” Selene said.

Before Bray could agree, Tai San spoke up. “It is possible that Jack will die even with the operation,” she said. “It is also possible that he can live and the operation will still be a failure.”

“That’s crazy,” Bray cried, squeezing the respirator bag again. “How can the operation be a failure if he lives?”

“He could be brain damaged, Bray,” Dal explained sadly.

“We have to take that chance,” Bray insisted. “We can’t just quit on him – not after all he’s done for us. We owe him a chance – even if he has to be spoon-fed for the rest of his life. We owe him a fighting chance.”

“Okay,” Dal nodded. “We’re going to have to move Jack back to the ship.”

Amber shook her head. “I think that’s too risky,” she said. “The longer we wait, the more damage that could be happening inside his head.”

“She’s right!” Bray cried. “We shouldn’t wait.”

“Bray, I’m going to have to cut a flap in Jack’s scalp to expose his skull,” Dal said. “Then, I have to drill a hole in his head to relieve the pressure. I could probably do it here, but I think the ship’s hospital is the best place for this kind of risky operation. We have better equipment there in case something goes wrong.”

The discussion went on for nearly fifteen minutes with Dal insisting the safest place for the surgery was in the Queen Mary’s hospital. He pointed out that they could try using the X-ray equipment to give them a better idea of where to drill the hole. He knew the equipment worked because he and Jack had been experimenting with it with good results. In the end, Dal’s reasoning swayed even Amber.

While Dal prepared Jack for transfer to the ambulance, Amber enlisted Luke to help carry Sasha out to the vehicle and lay him out on the bed built into the back of the hearse-style vehicle. The former minstrel had been pretty well drugged by Lucy and still unable to carry on a coherent conversation. As she was climbing out of the back of the ambulance, Amber heard the roar of the go-cart’s motor. Glancing around the side of the big ambulance, Amber saw the lights of the go-cart bouncing as it raced down the farm lane.

“How’re Jack and Sasha?” Ben asked anxiously as he leapt from the cart.

“Sasha’s going to recover,” Amber said slowly. She opened her mouth and then closed it silently – there really wasn’t much that could be said for Jack. Instead, she changed the subject. “Any luck finding Cat?”

“Yeah, but not good,” Ben said. “He’s dead,” he shook his head slowly. “You can’t begin to believe the punishment he must have taken.”

“Or the punishment he dished out,” Morgan said. “I’ve never seen anything like it – he used some kind of weapon for a while and then must have switched to his bare hands. He either killed all the Brothers, or scared the rest of them off, because they just left their dead where they fell.” He paused and wiped a hand across his face in wonder. “We came back to get the truck so we could bring him back for a proper burial.”

The conversation at the rear hatch of the ambulance must have penetrated Sasha’s morphine-addled mind. He called out, “The fog comes in on little pussy cat feet they say,” Sasha said, his voice slurred and in a singsong cadence. “But, they don’t know our Cat – he’s not like the fog tippytoeing on little pussy feet. He appears like thunder from nowhere…” Sasha’s voice trailed off.

The three turned at the clatter of the stretcher as it was pulled through the kitchen door. The entire farm community stood in stunned silence as it passed them. All of them were shocked at how small and fragile Jack looked. No one moved as the stretcher was carefully loaded into the back of the ambulance.

Cat had had a difficult time keeping close enough to Jack and Sasha to be able to help them in case something happened to them, but far enough back so that they didn’t discover his presence. He camped cold each night so a fire or the scent of his food didn’t betray his presence. Part of him wanted to just wander into their camp and announce that he was joining them as their personal bodyguard. But, he wasn’t sure either of them would appreciate him inviting himself along on their scouting trip. So, he trailed them and resolved to remain hidden unless they were in danger. For three days, Cat remained hidden watching from the woods as Jack and Sasha scouted around.

It didn’t take Cat long to realize that Jack had some kind of plan in his head. Jack’s first stop had been the steel girder bridge a few miles above the farm. He had watched nervously as Jack clambered all over the steel girders like an orange-headed monkey. He dangled from underneath the deck of the bridge, scrambled back onto the deck and crawled around on the roadway for a while before climbing up onto the girders to inspect something.

Their next stop was another smaller bridge further up the road. Once again Jack clambered all over the bridge, even going so far as to wade into the water under the bridge. Then, the two scouts spent the better part of the rest of the afternoon crawling around in the grass on either side of the road coming off the bridge. Cat was forced to backtrack to avoid discovery as Jack and Sasha rooted around. They had walked nearly a mile back towards the first bridge before Jack seemed satisfied and motioned for them to return to their go-cart.

By the beginning of the third day, Cat understood that Jack was going to do something to the bridges leading to the farm side of the river. He didn’t know if Jack was capable of making explosives or maybe he knew where that kind of stuff could be found. What Cat did understand was that Jack planned to force The Leader and his followers to stay on the far side of the river. At first, he couldn’t understand what good that would do – the road on the far bank would still take them into The City.

As he watched Sasha and Jack examine an old timber covered bridge, Cat suddenly realized that Jack wasn’t trying to keep The Leader out of The City. But, he could force The Leader to take another route – a route of Jack’s choosing into The City. Everything became clear to Cat – Jack was going to make the bridges impossible to use and force The Leader into an ambush at a location of Jack’s choice.

Cat began examining the far side of the river with a more critical eye. High, steep banks lined the road on the far side of the river. To Cat’s experienced eye, those banks made perfect points for ambush or just harassing actions. Cat silently approved Jack’s strategy – it gave a smaller group a clear advantage in a war of attrition. Seeing that the two scouts had camped down for the night, Cat sank to the ground and quietly opened a tin of cling peaches and settled in for a cold meal.

Hawk listened intently to the Seeker’s report. Gull’s second-in-command tried to remember the Seeker’s name – Norman, Norbert, no – Albert, that was his name. Albert had spotted two strangers at the old covered bridge and watched as they inspected it. From what Albert reported, the strangers had camped on the far side of the approach to the bridge.

“Good, good,” Hawk smiled wolfishly. “We’ll take them in the morning.”

“Why not take them tonight?” Lou Moran asked.

Hawk snorted and offered Moran a look of contempt. Moran liked rushing into things – if he had his way, everyone at the forward post would just charge across that wooden bridge screaming bloody murder and give away any chance at the element of surprise. Moran’s way the strangers would either escape entirely, or put up a fight and that’s the last thing Hawk wanted. He wanted the prisoners intact and as healthy as possible so that they’d last longer in Gull’s torture chamber.

Hawk received as much pleasure as Gull did from the frightened pleas and pain-filled screams of their prisoners. Seriously injured prisoners couldn’t take much punishment and weren’t nearly as much fun to torment.

“We’ll take them in the morning,” Hawk insisted. He looked over the mixed group under his command. Besides Lou, there were three other Enforcers. He had five white-robed soldiers, three green-robed Seekers, and two yellow-robed Providers who knew better than to question his authority. Moran was the fly in the ointment. He was either questioning Hawk’s decisions or else trying to make it look like he shared authority with Hawk. “I want them both in one piece and as uninjured as possible,” Hawk warned. “Anyone has a problem with that decision, just let me know and you can share a rack in the chamber with these strangers.”

Hawk took the better part of an hour to work out a plan in his head. He needed at least some of his fifteen-man party on the other side of the bridge when he moved to capture the strangers. He ordered Lenny, one of the other Enforcers, to pick four others and make their way across the river, hide in the bushes and attack on his command, and only on his command. Hawk was disgusted when Lenny chose Lou as one of his raiding party.

Lenny quickly sent two of his party back up the road to bring a canoe back so they could cross the river. Hawk nodded a silent approval of Lenny’s quick decision – well, it was a provisional silent approval dependant on the two returning in time with a canoe. If they failed, then Lenny would have to pay the price. Failure simply wasn’t an option for any Enforcer. Lenny seemed to have luck on his side – his people returned almost three hours later with a canoe.

Once Hawk saw Lenny’s team off at the river’s edge, he assembled the rest and gave the order for them to move out. They’d make their way onto the bridge and be ready to ambush the strangers at first light.

Cat woke with a start. He had fallen into a deep sleep and cursed himself for it. There was a strange odor in the air. Sniffing, Cat caught the aroma of bacon frying. Glancing up, he saw the first, faint rosy streaks of dawn were just beginning to smear the deep, dark blue of the night sky. He figured Jack was going to leave early in order to get back to the ship today. His mouth watered at the tempting aroma of the bacon. He sighed and pulled a piece of cold jerky from his pocket and promised himself that when he got back to the ship that he was going to eat a whole pound of bacon by himself.

He worked his jaws, trying to soften the hard jerky so he could really get down to chewing it. Cat’s jaws stopped working when a movement caught his eye. He stared down at the bushes by the edge of the river – it was possible that the scent of bacon had attracted an animal or something. For a long time, nothing happened and then, Cat saw the flash of movement again – a flash of bright yellow. His hand automatically dropped to the hatchet at his belt and jerked it loose. He stifled his first impulse to scream out a warning – it was possible that Jack and Sasha were just being watched and he didn’t want to precipitate a confrontation if it wasn’t necessary.

“You think we can get to the go-cart and get it started without them catching on?” Sasha whispered, squatting next to Jack.

“I doubt it,” Jack whispered back. “I was stupid not to stay closer to the go-cart, or just head back last night.” He stirred the bacon around in the frying pan. He tilted his head towards his backpack. “Reach in there and you’ll find this thing that looks like a big syringe,” he said softly. “Pull that out and keep it handy. When they make their move, pull the plunger back and then push it in as hard and fast as you can – try not to breathe any of the dust that comes out.”

“What’s in it?” Sasha asked.

“Oh, a little of this and that,” Jack said. “Mostly quicklime and cayenne pepper.”

“Shit! That could blind someone,” Sasha hissed.

“Yeah, that’s the whole point,” Jack agreed. “ One of them at any rate – the cloud of dust will make it hard for anyone sprayed with it to breathe for a while, too.” He concentrated on not looking up. “There’s some guys hiding on the bridge – I heard someone trying to stifle a cough – and some more over in the bushes.”

“Yeah, I caught sight of their colors,” Sasha acknowledged. “You do know they’re Brotherhood?”

“Yeah, I know,” Jack whispered. “Wish I’d brought a couple of cans of hairspray with me.” He saw the silent question in his friend’s eyes. “Spray it over a flame and it makes a great flame thrower.”

Sasha shook his head in wonder. “I don’t know whether to be more worried about those guys out there or you,” he whispered in awe.

“Me, definitely me,” Jack assured him with a forced grin. He thought for a second. “You think you can get the go-cart started up on the first try?”

“First or second for sure,” Sasha assured him. “You want to try to make a break?”

“Yeah, fuck waiting on them like scared rabbits,” Jack said, his voice taking on a hard edge. “Let’s show those freaks we’re two bunnies who can fuck right back.” He carefully slid the frying pan off the propane camp stove and reached down to the flame adjustment knob. Looking over to the go-cart, Jack raised his voice. “Do me a favor and get the other frying pan from the bag on the cart, will you?”

Jack waited as Sasha forced himself to walk casually over to the go-cart and pretend to look for a second frying pan. He gave Sasha time enough to pump the carburetor plunger a couple of times. When he saw Sasha’s hand reach stop moving, he gave the flame adjustment knob a sharp twist making the flames shoot up. “Now!” he screamed as he straightened and hurled the propane camp stove towards the bridge.

Sasha began to race toward the driver’s seat when Lenny’s team broke from the bushes and moved to cut off Jack’s escape. Jack didn’t waste any time straightening, the hot frying pan in his left hand. He swung the pan in a wide arc sending the scalding bacon grease flying towards the lead attacker.

In the bushes, Lenny was sorry he had picked Lou to be on his team. The asshole kept moving around and urging Lenny to make the first move. Lenny lost count of the number of times that he had to tell Lou to be quiet and wait for Hawk’s move. Lou kept caressing the old fashioned wooden billy club that he’d picked up somewhere. He heard the small stranger with the orange-red hair tell the other one to get another frying pan from their go-cart and figured that Hawk was simply waiting for them to sit down to their breakfast before making his move. Suddenly, the guy by the camp stove did something to make the flames shoot up wildly moments before hurling it towards the bridge opening.

Cursing, Lenny knew that he didn’t have any choice now – he had to move. Leaping up, he screamed for his team to cut off retreat to the go-cart. He raced towards the little guy as he straightened for his dash to the go-cart. He was so intent on catching the stranger that he didn’t notice the frying pan swing upwards and caught almost all of the hot bacon grease in the face. Lenny dropped to the ground with a scream as he furiously wiped at his burned face. He had been lucky not to catch any of the scalding grease in the eyes. Rolling on the ground, he watched helplessly as Lou dashed past him – the billy club raised high over his head. Lenny managed to roll onto his knees and glance over at the bridge where Hawk was wildly slapping at the flames that licked at his crimson robes.

Sasha watched in horror as a Brother armed with a club raced towards Jack. Without thinking, he leapt from the cart screaming and raced to intercept the crimson-robed attacker, knowing that he’d be too late.

Cat, his hatchet still tucked into his belt, burst from his hiding place and raced into the fray bellowing curses. He tried to judge the distance between him and the nearest of the attackers – nearly fifty yards separated him from them.

Jack crouched, making himself as small a target as possible, both hands gripped tightly around the handle of the cast iron frying pan. He tensed his legs and arms, ready to spring at his attacker and swing the frying pan at the same time. As weapons went, the heavy frying pan was almost as good as any other type of small club, and potentially deadly. His coolly analyzed his target areas and chose the attacker’s knee as the best initial target. A good disabling blow was what he needed to give him time enough to get to the go-cart so he and Sasha could escape.

Cat watched the ambush unfold in sickening slow motion. Jack leapt forward swinging the frying pan with bone-breaking force. His crimson robed attacker twisted his body slightly and took the force of the blow in the meaty part of his thigh as he brought his billy club down in a violent arc that connected with the side of Jack’s head. The diminutive inventor’s mouth dropped open as his eyes rolled up in his head. He dropped to the ground in a heap. The attacker didn’t even bother examining Jack, he knew that Jack was out of the fight. Instead, he turned to face Sasha, his club raised once more.

By the time Cat reached the fight, Sasha’s right arm hung limply by his side at a crooked angle. The crimson-robed attacker swung his club again, hitting Sasha in the ribs. Before Cat could reach them, a white robed Brother rushed him from the bushes. Cat paused long enough to bring his booted foot into the Brother’s crotch, making him double over in agony. As the attacker went down, the burly ex-slaver kicked out again, catching the Brother squarely in the face. Spinning away, Cat renewed his bellowing and charged the red-robed Brother attacking Sasha.

Lou was about to bring his billy club crashing down on Sasha’s head when a one-eyed wild man charged into the clearing and grabbed the club in an iron grip. Lou tried to yank the club away only to have it ripped from his grasp. He back-pedaled; throwing his arms up to ward off the wild blows the one-eyed man was raining down on him.

As soon as Cat drove the red-robed attacker off, he flung the billy club into the river and rushed to grab Sasha under one powerful arm. Lifting Sasha off his feet, Cat rushed forward and scooped up Jack’s limp body, carrying them both to the go-cart. He noticed that Sasha was bleeding from a gash in his head.

“Can – can ya drive this thing?” Cat gasped, setting Sasha down and carrying Jack to the other side.

“Where’d you come from?”

“Never mind that!” Cat gasped. “Ya okay enough to drive this thing?”

“I guess,” Sasha said, his teeth clenched in pain.

“Then, get the hell outta here,” Cat ordered as another white-robed Brother jumped onto his back. “Go, go, go!” Cat bellowed as he reached over his head and peeled his attacker from his back.

Sasha awkwardly maneuvered the cart with his good arm, crying out in pain when he tried to use his right arm. Pressing his foot down as hard as he could, he craned his neck to look back. He saw Cat methodically raining blows down on his attacker as several others circled him. Tears burned Sasha’s eyes as he drove off. He doubted he’d ever see the burly ex-slaver again, but he also knew he had to get Jack to safety. He stole a look over at Jack and was frightened at the way Jack’s head rolled limply from side to side as the go-cart swerved down the road.

Once Cat was sure Sasha was going to get away, a savage calm came over him. He used his fists like pile drivers, smashing the Brotherhood soldier’s face to a spongy pulp. He was aware there were other Brothers warily circling him, looking for an opening. Laughing maniacally, Cat pulled the hatchet from his belt and waded into their midst.

Once he had the flames that had engulfed his robes put out, Hawk examined his burned leg. Ugly red blisters ran up the front and side of his calf, but none of the skin seemed scorched. His leg hurt like hell, but he thought he could still use it. Looking up, he was astounded to see that the first two targets had disappeared. Half of his raiding team was already on the ground as a one-eyed insane man lashed out with a hatchet with one hand and groped wildly with his other. Hawk slipped a long-bladed knife from his robes and limped towards the stranger.

Cat brought his hatchet down hard on the skull of a crimson-robed Brother whose face was horribly burned. He realized this was the one Jack had scalded with the bacon grease. As his hatchet connected with Lenny’s head, Cat heard the sound of cracking wood and discovered that the hatchet handle had broken. He didn’t care – he dropped Lenny and searched for another victim. He found one wearing green robes and used his bare hands to inflict damage while ignoring the blows the green-robed Brother rained down on his face and head. Cat concentrated on slamming his fists into his attacker’s chest over and over, feeling ribs break under his repeated blows. Suddenly, a burning pain blossomed in his lower back – like someone had struck him hard. He was going to ignore it when he felt something hot, sticky, and wet pouring down his back to his leg. Turning, he found another crimson-robed Brother standing there holding a knife.

“Who the fuck’re you?” Cat demanded, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “Ya think that fuckin’ knife’s gonna stop me?”

“The name’s Hawk,” Gull’s second-in-command announced. “I’m the one who’s going to take you down, asshole.”

Hawk was shocked by Cat’s reaction. Instead of showing fear or even anger, the ex-slaver threw his head back and laughed uproariously. It was as if Hawk had told him a joke. Angered, Hawk thrust the knife into Cat’s belly and found his hand gripped in both of Cat’s massive hands. Cat slowly began to squeeze, exerting all of his strength into crushing his enemy’s hand.

Hawk’s mouth opened in a silent scream – he could feel each bone in his hand and wrist being crushed. Worse, he could hear the cracking and snapping of bones. He frantically clawed at Cat’s paw-like hands, trying desperately to break the ex-slaver’s grip.

“Oh, fuck no, you ain’t getting away that easy,” Cat snarled. “I heard about the kind o’ things yas like to do. How’d ya like it if someone done the same to ya?”

Multicolored flashes of light exploded behind Hawk’s eyes as Cat savagely butted his head into the Enforcer’s. Stunned, Hawk fell backwards. He thought he felt hands clawing at his robes. Shaking his head, Hawk’s vision cleared in time to see Cat kneeling between his legs, his own knife held in the ex-slaver’s hand. Cat clumsily shifted his weight, kneeling on Hawk’s thighs and pinning him to the ground. Hawk gasped as Cat’s free hand gripped his balls tightly.

“Oooooh!” Hawk screamed as he saw the knife flash – he didn’t intend it as a primal scream of fear, it just came out that way. His mind had formed the words ‘Oh fuck!’ By the time sound came out of his mouth, though, it came out as a high-pitched scream of fear. He felt the burning pain as the knife slashed at his groin.

“Did all the others scream like that?” Cat demanded, awkwardly crawling onto Hawk’s chest. “Or, was they all too wore out to make a sound by the time yas was done?”

Hawk’s head rolled from side to side, his mouth open in a silent scream. He couldn’t believe the burning pain filling his lower belly – it felt like he was on fire. Cat roughly grabbed his face and held his head still as he jammed something towards Hawk’s open mouth. When he tasted the metallic taste of blood and felt the oval shape, Hawk understood in horror that the big ex-slaver was feeding him his own testicles.

“There, chew on them while ya bleeds out, ya bastard,” Cat said, staggering to his feet. He looked around for another opponent and was surprised to find the clearing empty of living opponents. Those who had survived had clearly fled in terror. Cat turned slowly to stare down at Hawk, who was still sprawled on his back unable to get to his feet. He stood swaying for several minutes – his brain was getting sluggish. The corners of his mouth raised weakly as an idea struggled through the fog filling his head.

Cat fumbled with the buttons of his black cargo pants and managed to fumble his penis out. The big ex-slaver strained for a long time with no results. Then, his bladder finally rewarded his efforts and a heavy stream of urine; clouded dark with blood gushed out all over Hawk’s face. When the stream finally tickled down to a few drops, Cat tucked everything back in place and managed to rebutton his trousers. He swayed over Hawk, who was still vainly trying to spit his severed testicles from his mouth.

“Piss on ya if ya can’t take a joke,” Cat croaked.

Cat’s breath was growing more and more labored each gasp for air seemed to drain more and more of his dwindling energy. He staggered drunkenly to the bridge abutment and eased his weakening body to the ground. Leaning back, Cat surveyed the carnage he’d created and nodded in satisfaction. He hoped Jack was okay. He figured he should say something profound and tried to think of something when his head lolled to one side and his chest stopped heaving.

About an hour later, Lou crawled from his hiding place, cradling his right wrist. He couldn’t tell whether it was just sprained or if Cat had broken it when he tore the billy club from Lou’s grasp. His head and face ached where Cat had managed to hit him with the club. He quietly reentered the clearing staring around in wonder at the results of the ex-slaver’s rampage. He squatted by Hawk’s body, and couldn’t help giggling a little. Both of Hawk’s cheeks were bulging out, giving him a chipmunk-faced appearance. When he discovered that Hawk’s cheeks were bulging out because his testicles had been shoved into his mouth, Lou vomited all over his own feet.

Staggering around the clearing, Lou finally came across Cat’s body, sitting against the bridge abutment. He stood there for a long time looking down at the individual who had single-handedly killed so many brothers. Suddenly, he began kicking Cat’s face in a frenzy, screaming and heaping curses on his corpse. Lou didn’t stop until he had worn himself out. Then, looking furtively around the clearing, he slunk away.

Sasha was amazed that he managed to make it all the way back to the farm without passing out and running the go-cart into a ditch or worse, into the river. There had been a couple of times when it had been close and he’d been forced to slow to almost a crawl to overcome the dizziness that had threatened to rob him of consciousness. The sun was just beginning to cast long shadows when Sasha finally turned the go-cart into the rutted farm lane. He managed to bring the go-cart to a stop without crashing into anyone or anything and between gasps of pain give Lucy and Luke a brief rundown of what had happened. Sasha watched as Jack’s rag doll-limp body was tenderly carried into the house before allowing himself to give into the darkness that had been threatening him for most of the day. His pain faded as the dark fog enveloped him.

*****

A little wet rough tongue was licking at his nose. Opening his eyes, Jack found that he was staring directly into the twinkling black eyes of a ferret. He lay there stunned as he realized that he wasn’t staring at just any ferret – he was staring at Fido. He sat up quickly, sending Fido tumbling into his lap. The sable colored ferret danced around in a circle, mouth open and head cocked to one side in a delighted ferrety invitation to play.

Fido wasn’t really the ferret’s name – his official designation had been K-9, which was the reason Jack puckishly christened him Fido. K-9 had been one of the lab animals in his Dad’s research facility. Pretty much having free reign of the facility, Jack had spent a lot of time helping care for the lab animals and had openly adopted K-9, who was quickly referred to by everyone as Fido, as a pet.

But, Fido was dead. Jack remembered staring at his furry friend’s lifeless body. He hadn’t been allowed to touch him. The vaccine that was supposed to stop the virus in its tracks had been tested on several of the lab animals – rats and ferrets alike. It had failed.

For the first time since opening his eyes, Jack looked around. He was in the middle of a field of clover. Just him and Fido. He thought hard and the memory of a terrible pain in his head came back to him. Reaching up, Jack rubbed his head and was amazed to find that it didn’t hurt.

“Is this what it’s like to be dead, Fido?” Jack asked the ferret, scooping him up and hugging the warm, furry body close to his chest. Fido’s only answer was a little ferrety shrug and a gentle nip on Jack’s finger, as if he couldn’t be bothered with anything other than playing.

“Who said you were dead?” A familiar voice asked from behind him. “What did I teach you about drawing conclusions without all the evidence?”

Turning, Jack’s mouth fell open when he found that his father was there. He hadn’t been there just moments before. Jack didn’t even try to contain the tears that flooded his eyes. Leaping to his feet, he dashed to his father and hugged him tightly.

“I thought I’d never see you and Mom again,” Jack cried, the tears streaming down his face. “But, if I’m not dead … what or where am I?”

“I like what you’ve done with your hair,” his Dad said, ignoring Jack’s question. He affectionately ruffled Jack’s orange-red hair. “The color really suits you.” He reached down and stroked K-9’s head. “I see K-9 managed to find you.”

“His name’s Fido,” Jack grinned.

“Okay, Fido found you,” his father agreed. His father stepped back and regarded Jack quizzically, his eyes sad, amused, and proud all at the same time. “Your mother and I are very proud of the things you’ve accomplished. We’re both glad you found someone special to share your life with.”

Jack was speechless for several moments. “You know about Bray and me?”

“Bray’s a fine young man,” his Dad said approvingly. “According to your mother, Bray is a real hunk – I guess I’d agree with her. He is unquestionably a handsome fellow.” Jack’s father studied his son’s blushing face. “Hey! No need to be so embarrassed. Love is always good and we can tell he loves you.”

“And I love him,” Jack admitted. “I wish you could meet him – he’s so … so….”

His father laughed. “I remember the feeling – that’s the same way I felt about your mother.”

“Where is Mom?”

“Come on, we can’t stand around here all day,” his father said, once again ignoring Jack’s question. Without waiting, he turned and began walking towards a cloud that seemed to actually be touching the ground. Jack hurried to catch up and together they entered the cloud. Everything turned white. The three, father, son and ferret were surrounded on all sides by a calming, soothing whiteness. Jack felt like he could stay right there in the center of the cloud forever.

And then, the cloud was gone.

Looking around, Jack found he was once again alone and standing under the steel and glass canopy of a European train station. Old-fashioned steam engines sent billowing clouds of steam and smoke as they stood waiting to discharge or take on passengers. Some of the trains were pulling out of the station, their shrill whistles splitting the air. Jack wondered where his father and Fido had gone, and if he’d see them again.

“They vill be beck,” a gentle voice with a heavy German accent said from behind him as if able to read his thoughts. Spinning around, Jack found himself facing Albert Einstein. The great scientist – one of Jack’s boyhood heroes – stood grinning from under his shaggy white mane, dressed in a shabby stretched out cardigan, baggy trousers and bedroom slippers.

“You’re Albert Einstein,” Jack whispered in astonishment.

“Ach! Please, don’t speak my name mit so much awe,” the physicist humorously chided. “How can anyone be in awe of a man who forgets to put on his socks and goes out of the house in bedroom slippers?” He smiled puckishly, his youthful blue eyes twinkling and waved for Jack to follow him. “You haff never visited a Bahnhof in Europe, I and correct, yes?”

“Um, yeah – I mean, no I never did,” Jack answered.

“Ach,” Einstein shook his head sadly, “you haff missed one of life’s great joys. Nothing is quite so enjoyable as sitting at the café in a train station, sipping a Viennese coffee and eating a freshly made apfel torte mit sahne – um, let me see – oh yes, that would be whipped cream.”

Einstein led the way to the café where a table with a starched white tablecloth was waiting for them – steaming mugs of coffee and sinfully rich pastry already set out. Jack started to ask how everything was already prepared for them, but the famous physicist insisted that they enjoy their repast without talking. Shrugging, Jack took a bite of the apple tort.

*****

Bray stared sickly at the crosshairs projected onto Jack’s white scalp. There was an ugly purple bruise almost directly above his ear. With his bright orange-red hair shaved off, Jack looked even more helpless than before. Dal gently turned Jack’s head to one side and directed Selene in making the final adjustments to the X-ray machine.

“Is this going to work?” Bray asked nervously.

“I dunno,” Dal admitted. “It should – and it has before when Jack and I were practicing with it. Selene and I are following every step of the procedure checklist Jack and I made. So, yeah – it should work.”

Dal guided Bray into the other room where Selene was already waiting at the control panel. Staring through the small, heavy-paned window, Dal took a deep breath and gave Selene the signal to start the x-ray machine. Bray jerked when the machine’s shutter closed with a sharp clack. Selene softly assured him that was a normal sound. Dal hurried into the other room and gingerly removed the thick x-ray plate.

“Now, let’s see what we have,” he announced in a worried voice.

Bray paced for twenty minutes as Dal went through the procedure of developing the plate. When Dal finally appeared with the film, Bray almost physically pounced on him demanding to know if the time-consuming process had been successful. By way of answer, Dal slid the x-ray onto the light box and flipped the lights on. Jack’s skull showed up in sharp detail. Dal placed his finger on a bright white spot about the diameter of a golf ball.

“That’s the cause of Jack’s problems,” Dal said, his voice strained. “It’s a big mother of a clot and this hazy area all around it,” Dal’s finger roamed around the film, tracing the area he was talking about. “That’s blood.”

“So you can help him?” Bray asked, trying to control his rising panic.

“We’re going to try,” Dal said. “But, you have to remember none of us has done this before. We could be doing as much harm as good.”

“Okay – but, if you do nothing?” Bray wanted to know.

“He’ll die,” Dal said flatly. “Probably by this time tomorrow.”

The words hit Bray like a hammer blow. Biting his lip, he turned and hurried from the room. Dal didn’t follow him – he returned to the small medical library he and Jack and built from books scrounged from various hospitals and began reading over the procedure and making notes. Twenty minutes later, the hospital phone buzzed. Answering it, Dal heard Bray’s voice asking him to come to the First Class lounge.

By the time Dal and Selene reached the lounge, the rest of the Tribe had already assembled. Briefly and quickly, Bray explained the situation facing them and Jack. As he spoke, everyone shifted in the chairs to look at Dal. Bray ended by pointing out that even if Dal tried the surgery that Jack could die. He looked around as if he was going to say something else, then abruptly snapped his mouth closed and sat down.

Peter stood and looked around. “When my life was hanging in the balance, Jack took the chance and operated on me – even though he’d never done it before,” he said. “He was scared, but he did it anyway to give me a chance to live a little longer.” Peter paused and wiped his face. “I think Jack deserves the same chance.”

Brandon struggled painfully to his feet and moved from the shadows where he normally sat, hiding the scars that disfigured his face. “Pete’s right,” he said. “I might look like hell, but that’s better than the alternative that faced me.” He looked straight at Dal. “Jack’s been training you, so that means he trusts you and thinks you’re as good as he is. I figure that’s as good an endorsement as you can get nowadays.”

One by one, each Tribe member agreed. Jack deserved the same chance he had given so many others. Their words both encouraged Dal and chilled him. He was glad to know each believed in him, but at the same time he was terrified of the awesome responsibility of having someone’s life resting in his hands. In the end, he announced that the surgery would start in an hour and left the room.

*****

Professor Einstein was right, Jack decided as he licked the last of the whipped cream from his fork. The sweet, rich pastry covered in a mountain of whipped cream had been the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted. The mathematician with the wild mane of hair delicately dabbed his mouth with a napkin and leaned forward over the table.

“It vas as gut as I said, yes?”

“Oh yeah!” Jack exclaimed. “Better even – I’ve never tasted anything like that before.”

“Gut, Gut,” Einstein nodded happily. “I hoped you vould like it.”

Jack twisted in his seat to watch the trains. “Where are those trains going?”

“Oh, here and there,” Einstein said vaguely.

“Would one of them take me to where my mother and dad are?” Jack asked.

“The trains are not for you,” Einstein snapped vehemently. “You haff no ticket,” he shrugged. “Not yet, at any rate. That may change.”

“Where are my folks?”

“Around – they are around,” Einstein said.

Jack twisted in his seat again, studying the platforms hoping to catch a glimpse of his parents. “I don’t see them anywhere.”

“You haff done an excellent job of preparing for a peaceful and prosperous future,” Einstein said gently.

“Thanks, that means a lot coming from you,” Jack said, blushing again.

“That is not a compliment necessarily,” Einstein admonished.

“Huh? But, you said that humankind can’t prepare for peace while preparing for war,” Jack protested.

“Yes, precisely,” Einstein agreed. “You divide your energies and neither task gets the full measure of attention they so desperately need to be successful.”

“But, I don’t understand,” Jack said in confusion. “You were a pacifist.”

“Yes, you are correct,” Einstein admitted. “But, I was also a realist. There are times when even a pacifist must take up the sword for the greater good when Evil marches across the world. I advocated dropping the atomic bomb on Germany to stop that evil little man that Mr. Prime Minister Churchill once called a heartless little guttersnipe.” Einstein laid a gentle hand over Jack’s. “Why do you resist using all the tools at your disposal to stop The Leader?”

“But, I was trying to find ways to stop him!” Jack protested.

“No, what you were trying to do was stop him from reaching you and your friends,” Einstein corrected. He reached out and tapped Jack’s forehead. “You haff the intelligence to put an end to his reign of evil, not just keep him away from you.”

“But, how can I do that when I’m dead?” Jack cried.

Einstein grimaced and slapped Jack’s forehead. “Stop being such a dumb head,” he snapped. “You are not yet dead – you are just not yet free in your movements in either plane.”

“So where is this place?” Jack demanded.

“Nowhere, everywhere, somewhere in between,” Einstein shrugged. “It really doesn’t matter. Wot does matter is that presently, you are neither alive nor dead.”

“Then what or where am I?”

Einstein looked around fondly. “In a place where time and place have no meaning. But, none of that matters now. Perhaps here you vill stay, perhaps you vill go ahead.” He shrugged again. “Perhaps you vill go back – but, that has as much to do mit your friend as it does mit you.”

“My friend?”

“Ja, your friend who has no trust in his ability to do wot he must,” Einstein said.

“Who? Bray? What does he have to do?” Jack cried.

“Not Bray, son,” Jack’s father said from the other side of the room.

Jack was on his feet and across the café, throwing his arms around his father, overjoyed to see him again. Pulling back, Jack looked around expectantly. “Where’s Mom? Why can’t she come with you?”

“She’s busy right now,” Jack’s father explained. “Dal needs her help, so that he can help you.” He sighed. “What he really needs, though, is some confidence in his abilities.”

*****

Dal stood over the operating table, feeling like a fraud in the surgical garb, the gloves, mask, cap and gown. He stared at the left side of Jack’s shaved head and nervously reached out with a grease pencil to mark the incision line. He tried desperately to remember the illustrations in the medical texts he’d been studying. Suddenly, he heard a woman’s voice in his head giving advice. Impulsively, he moved his hand and drew a large ‘U’ above Jack’s left ear. He gulped again, handed the grease pencil to Selene and called for the scalpel.

“Okay, this is it,” Dal said, glancing around at Amber, Tai San, and Selene. He pressed the blade against Jack’s scalp and traced along the line he had just drawn. Amber moved quickly to blot up the blood that appeared along the incision.

*****

“What’s Dal got to do, Dad?”

“Operate, a pretty delicate operation, but straightforward,” his father explained. “You’ve taught him pretty well and even though it’s tricky, he should be able to pull it off without too much problem.”

“Dal’s great at working with tools,” Jack said confidently. “He’s even better than I am.”

“He probably is if you say so,” his father agreed. “But, he’s scared and doesn’t have any confidence at all in himself.”

“And Mom’s helping him?” Jack asked.

“As best she can,” his father said. “But, she can’t help his confidence.”

“Can I go to them?”

“I think he’d like feeling your presence close to him,” his father said. “He might feel more confident. And, I know your mother wants to see you again.”

“Ein moment,” Einstein called. “Remember Jack, you cannot prepare for war and peace simultaneously. Sometimes one must be done to protect the other. If that is the case, do not let the war come to you. Take the fight to them.” Einstein tapped Jack’s forehead. “Use that brain of yours – it’s a good one.”

Jack turned to follow his father and was immediately surrounded by a dense fog again. Coming through to the other side, the diminutive inventor discovered that he was suddenly among familiar surroundings – the Queen Mary loomed high above them at her berth. Jack spun around excitedly, taking in the sight of the busy Market and the circus atmosphere over there.

“You and your friends have done a great job here, Jack,” his father said proudly. “I’m impressed,” he went up the catwalk behind them and examined the waste treatment canals. “You are harvesting the lilies, right?”

Jack hurried up the catwalk steps to stand next to his father, stammering in excitement as the words spilled from his mouth. “We sure are,” he babbled. “The plants are harvested, chopped and diced, and then put into those tanks over there….”

“You’re harvesting methane,” Jack’s father said in amazement. “Excellent idea, Jack! How’s the yield?”

“We’re making enough to run the remaining boilers on the ship and provide all the power we need,” Jack said proudly. “Of course, everyone pretty much had a hand in making this work. Ryan increased the size of the waste holding tanks, which makes them so much more efficient. And Dal, well Dal has been all over the place making improvements here and tweaking things there.” Jack looked around as his excitement wore off. “Where’s Mom? I thought we were going to see her and Dal.”

“That’s right,” Jack’s father nodded as the parking lot filled with dense fog. When the fog dissipated, Jack found himself in the ship’s operating room. His mother was standing by the head of the operating table, whispering to Dal. He started to run to her side, but his father laid a restraining hand on his shoulder. “Not so fast, she’s busy right now.”

“Can Dal hear her?” Jack asked.

“No, not really,” his father said. “To him, her advice more like he’s remembering something from the medical books. She’s been having a hard time getting through to him, though, because he’s so scared.”

“I don’t know why he should be,” Jack said blithely. “He can pretty much do anything he puts his mind to.” He moved around the table to get a better view of the surgery and stopped dead in his tracks. The color drained from his face as he looked up at his father. “That’s me,” he whispered in shock. “I remember something happened, but I can’t remember what it was.”

“That’s the way it works,” his father said softly. “It makes the transition easier to deal with.”

“So I am dead,” Jack whispered.

“No, darling,” his mother said. “You’re in between life and death, and Dal is doing everything he can to keep you here.” She laid a tender hand on Dal’s shoulder, knowing that there was no way for Dal to feel the reassuring gesture. “He’s really very talented … he’s got a wonderful natural talent. He just needs confidence in himself.”

Jack moved closer and could see that Dal had already drilled several burr holes through his exposed skull. His mouth moved silently as he looked helplessly at his parents.

“Jack, it looks more serious than it really is,” his father said calmly. “You took a pretty bad blow to the head. The blow caused a bleed that’s put pressure on your brain. Dal clearly thought a single burr hole would relieve the pressure.”

“Makes sense,” Jack croaked.

“A clot has formed, Jack,” his mother explained. “Unless that is removed as well….”

“The pressure won’t be relieved,” Jack finished. “So, Dal’s got to open my skull and remove the clot.”

“That’s it, kiddo,” Jack’s mother said.

“He doesn’t have to go into the brain?”

“No, he doesn’t,” his mother assured him.

Jack suddenly brightened. “Well, that’s no problem then,” he said in relief. “Dal’s a whiz with tools. This is just mechanical surgery.”

“You tell him that,” his mother said. “He’s terrified that you’re going to die because of what he’s doing.”

“Dal, will you just relax and have faith in yourself and stop being such a jerk!” Jack said. “This is all straightforward stuff – drill some more burr holes in a circle, then thread the wire saw through the holes and open the skull.”

Dal looked around the operating room, his big dark brown eyes filled with doubt. He began to shake his head, as if he couldn’t continue.

“Don’t you even think about quitting, Dal!” Jack shouted. “I trust you, so you should trust yourself – there’s nothing to this surgery, Dal. It’s just like taking a plug out of a watermelon – it’s simple, you can do it.” Dal’s frightened eyes traveled around the room and finally came to a stop, staring in Jack’s direction. They focused as if he could actually see his friend. “You can do it, Dal. I know you can,” Jack said, encouragingly. “Go on, go on.”

*****

Dal stopped the surgical drill and looked around at the others in terror. He’d already drilled five holes in Jack’s skull and even though a lot of blood and fluid had drained, there wasn’t any change in his friend’s condition. He knew from the x-ray and the books he had read that the blood clot was pressing down on Jack’s brain and that it would have to be removed. But, that meant that he’d have to actually saw open Jack’s skull and expose his friend’s brain. His mouth went dry at the thought of doing that.

Each of the others seemed as frightened as he felt. Their eyes clearly said what they were thinking – they wouldn’t risk going any further. For a brief moment, Dal thought he saw Jack standing on the other side of the table, smiling encouragingly. He could almost hear Jack’s voice telling him to go ahead.

*****

“He can see me,” Jack shouted happily to his parents. “Go for it, Dal!” Then, a new thought struck him. “If Dal finishes the operation … that means I can’t stay with you and Dad.”

“That’s right, kiddo,” his mother said. “But, that’s the way it’s supposed to be.”

“But, I don’t want to leave you again,” Jack said, feeling frightened.

“We’ll be here when it’s really your time, Jack,” his Dad said gently. “There’s so much more you can do here – important work that will change the lives of a lot of people.”

Tears filled Jack’s blue eyes as he shook his head – he had lost his parents once, he didn’t want to lose them again.

“Jack, think of how Bray will feel if you leave him,” his mother said. “He’s a beautiful young man and he loves you. I think that losing you would kill him, son.”

Wiping his tears away, Jack nodded and began encouraging Dal again. Dal moved slowly, uncertainly at first as he drilled four more burr holes and then threaded the wire saw into the holes. As he worked, Dal seemed to grow more confident. Ten minutes later, he was lifting the circular plug out of Jack’s skull to reveal the golf ball sized clot.

*****

“There it is,” Dal whispered. “Selene, could you irrigate the area please, let’s make sure there isn’t any bone dust or chips in there.”

Nodding, Selene flushed the opening with sterile saline solution, moving her hand quickly out of the way so Dal could remove the clot. She watched in wonder as Dal gently lifted the gelatinous blob from the inside of Jack’s head. She instinctively glanced over at the monitor and almost screamed in her excitement. Every one of Jack’s vital signs jumped from the near death levels where they’d been hovering to the normal range. The readings were in the low normal range, but all that mattered to Selene was that there were in the normal range.

Dal searched the opening for signs of bleeding, mentally admitting that he didn’t know what the hell he could do about it if he found any. To his delight, he couldn’t find any more signs of bleeding. Deciding not to push his luck any further, he had Selene flush the opening with saline solution once more before carefully fitting the piece of skull that he had removed back in place. Once that was done, he felt like he was in familiar and very safe territory. All he had to do was pull the U-shaped flap of scalp back in place and place the sutures.

Once the last stitch was pulled tight, Dal stepped back to let Amber pack the incision with heavy gauze pads before swathing Jack’s head in bandages.

“You did it, Dal,” she said in praise.

He shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said doubtfully. “There were times that it felt like someone else was there with me, telling me what to do.”

*****

Bray’s face drained of color when he saw Jack wheeled from the operating room. His head was swathed in bandages and looked like it was twice as big as normal. Both of Jack’s eyes were black, giving him a cadaverous look. Fearing the worst, tears welled up in his eyes as he struggled to find the words to ask Amber how much longer his lover had left.

“Well, the worst part is over,” Dal said coming out of the operating room. “The operation went as smoothly as any of us could hope.”

“He’s going to live?” Bray asked hopefully. “What about brain damage? You said…”

“There’s no way to know until Jack wakes up,” Dal said cautiously. “And, I’m far from being an expert – hell, I don’t think anyone is in this world – but, I’d say that from the way Jack’s vitals perked up as soon as the clot was removed, I think he’s going to recover.” Dal guided Bray to Jack’s bed. “Now, make yourself useful and help us move him from the gurney to the bed. Then, you can sit with him for a little while. After that, I want you to get something to eat and get some sleep yourself.”

An hour later, Ryan and Lars appeared to escort Bray back to his stateroom for a shower and change of clothes before taking him to the dining room. Ryan made it clear that Bray had a choice – he could go with them under his own power, or Ryan could carry him to his destinations.

For the next three days, the routine remained the same – Bray sat by the side of Jack’s bed, holding his hand and talking to him, moving only when Ryan and Lars appeared to force him to leave long enough to clean himself up and get something to eat. As soon as he finished eating, Bray hurried back to Jack’s side, watching nervously as Selene, Amber, or Dal appeared to change Jack’s IV bags, check his catheter, and change his bandages. He always had to quell the urge to hit Dal when he took a pin and gently pricked Jack’s fingers or cheeks. Bray knew Dal was just testing for responses to pain – a sign that Jack might be closer to finally waking up.

It was late in the afternoon of the third day and Bray was once again watching as Dal poked at Jack’s hand with the needle. The first two pokes didn’t bring any response at all, but then he turned Jack’s hand over and poked his index finger.

“If you don’t stop jabbing me, I’m going to jab you and see how you like it,” Jack croaked. His voice was weak and wavering. Screaming with joy, Bray looked up to find Jack’s eyes open and couldn’t believe his eyes when the corners of Jack’s mouth turned up to give him a weak smile.

Dal’s usual taciturn demeanor evaporated and he joined Bray in shouting. The noise the two of them made brought Amber running into the room fearing the worst. For a long stunned moment, she stared open-mouthed from Bray and Dal, who were jumping up and down to Jack. And then, she realized that not only were Jack’s eyes open, they were turned in her direction and he was smiling weakly at her. Overcoming her initial shock, she rushed to the bed and rained kisses down on Jack while adding her screams to the din filling the room.

Once the excitement had subsided a little, Jack insisted on being told how Sasha was doing. Tears welled in his eyes when he heard about his friend’s injuries, asking Bray to make sure the former minstrel had everything he wanted from the ship’s stores.

Naturally, the word spread quickly through the ship that Jack had awakened and it wasn’t long before there was a steady line of visitors bearing hand-made cards and gifts. Most were disappointed when they found a stern-faced Selene refusing to allow them into the room. She explained that Jack needed his rest and had to have as much peace and quiet as possible.

To Dal’s delight, Jack’s recovery progressed rapidly. He didn’t show any signs of being mentally impaired – other than an inability to recall being hit in the head. But, other than that, his mind seemed as active as it had ever been. Physically, he was weak and had lost a lot of weight, but he claimed that he’d soon regain all of his lost weight and more if Selene didn’t stop forcing him to eat every hour on the hour.

During the late night hours, about the only time Jack was totally alone, Jack tried to remember the hazy, indistinct memories that hovered at the edges of his recall. He had a vague memory of holding Fido again and of his parents. There was another dream he recalled that involved a train station and Albert Einstein. No matter how hard he tried to make the images take hard focus, they just got more and more indistinct until Jack finally decided they had either just been part of a strange dream or random memories from the past that somehow got jumbled together in his head.

Ten days after his surgery, Dal removed the stitches and waited nervously as Jack examined the incision in a hand mirror. Jack held the mirror at several different angles as he examined the horseshoe-shaped incision. Finally, he nodded in approval.

“You did a fantastic job, Dal,” he said. “That’s not going to leave a real big scar, either. I’m glad you were there for me.”

“I was scared shitless,” Dal admitted.

“Well, I don’t know why,” Jack snorted. “You’re the best person on the ship when it comes to using tools. You just need to have more confidence in yourself.”

Dal blushed, his dark skin growing even darker. “Maybe you’re right – but I hardly understood those medical texts. I wasn’t sure I was doing the right thing. You’re the natural when it comes to understanding those manuals.”

Jack flashed Dal a huge, dimpled smile. “Now that you’ve got the stitches out, move aside and let me get a real shower. The sponge baths Bray’s been giving me are okay, but they just don’t equal a real shower.”

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” Dal said.

“And, since I’m going to be in the shower a while do me a favor and have someone bring me some clothes. I don’t want to go up to the dining room in this gown with my butt hanging out for everyone to see."

Dal shook his head uncertainly. “Jack, maybe you should rest for a while longer,” he said.

Jack’s face became gentle. “Dal, you did a good job – I don’t think anyone could have even come close. Now, it’s time to have some confidence in your work and let me get back on my feet,” he said, swinging his feet over the side of the bed. “Will you be a friend and get me some clothes while I take a shower, or are you going to make me walk half naked through the ship?”

“You’d do it, too, wouldn’t you?” Dal asked.

Jack grinned, “You’d better believe it.”

To be continued …