The medical room was bright and spacious. The florescent lights overhead reflected off the green tiles on the walls and cast a weird hue over everything. It looked like the beginning to a horror movie. Something didn’t feel right about the place. The air inside the room seemed to come and go when it pleased and the smell of cleaning alcohol was emitting from the cracks on the cabinet shelves. It was almost unbearable to breathe in. It had to be one of the least inviting places Tom had ever been.
Tom grimaced, leaned back and rested his hands on the surface of the cold steel behind him. He was sitting on top of a medical table in the middle of the examining room. He reluctantly studied all the medical equipment resting on the walls. Each electronic device made him feel uncomfortable. Their flat, dull display screens were blinking on and off at him. The place seemed to be built for torture, but then again, every hospital felt like it was built for torture. They always seemed depressing, as if someone had designed them to smother the happiness out of the human soul; in Tom’s mind it was like drowning, while breathing air. He had never liked hospitals to begin with; they always gave him the creeps. Whenever he saw a hospital off the freeway he would always think of three things: needles, sickness, and death. To put it simply hospitals were a bad omen in Tom’s mind. One would only find trouble in their walls.
Tom lifted a hand and balled it into a fist while suppressing a cough in his throat. He thought back to his childhood and examined his medical history; he couldn’t remember even breaking a bone before in his life. He could only remember being sick. He wondered what that said about him. Was he sheltered and nurtured too much as a child? Did he do all the normal things that children should do growing up? Did these new medical facts make him a boring and predictable human being? Had his whole life been predicable? All he did was teach classes at a high school and grade papers, after all. Was that what he wanted to do his whole life – be some kind of android for the public education system? Did he want to do all that monotonous work only to get to the end of his life and see that he had accomplished absolutely nothing?
Tom looked down at the tile floor and let out a sigh. Right now wasn’t a good time to be having a mid-life crisis. He wasn’t even old enough for that yet. He had to pull himself together. He had other things to think about besides himself. Runt was gone and there was nothing he could do to bring him back. Shark Inc had killed him.
“Are you feeling sick? Do you need to lie down?” asked Brian. He had been studying Tom’s body language ever since Mark had left. The guy looked pale and sickly. Or as pale and sickly as one could look with an intense sunburn. He looked like he had just gotten off of a wild rollercoaster.
“Are you going to throw up?” Brian walked over to the garbage bin and pulled it out from under a table.
“I’m okay,” said Tom. He lifted a hand and motioned for Brian to stop. The last thing he was going to do was throw up. He hated throwing up. “I am not feeling sick, it’s something more than that…it’s … it’s just I don’t like hospitals that much. Most of my family members died in hospitals.”
“Oh,” said Brian. “I see.”
The room got quiet.
Tom studied Brian for a minute. The guy seemed genuinely concerned about his health. It was amazing how some strangers could just give their all to help someone they didn’t even know. Brian was that way it seemed. He was a guy that would stop and help you if your tire popped on the side of the road.
“So what does your father do, exactly? This is a very big house. He would need a very successful line of work to keep up with it.”
“He’s in the trading business.” Brian got quiet and thought for a moment. “Now that I think of it, I don’t think he’s ever told me what he trades. I usually have to find things out from a source other than my father... he certainly does bring back a lot of stuff from his trips.” He fingered a button on his jeans and looked at all the bottles resting on the shelves. They had all been brought from overseas; he realized almost everything in the house had been brought from overseas.
“That sounds interesting,” said Tom.
Brian shrugged.
“I think he might be trading guns and ammunition right now. I saw him loading up weapons onto his big S.Z. ship the other day. It looked like quite a load. I think he might be leaving soon.”
“Wow, what kind of guns does he trade?”
“I don’t really know… the ones he was loading up were in little wooden boxes. They didn’t have labels on them. He puts everything in wooden boxes nowadays. He wants to keep the world out of his business. My dad likes his privacy… but to answer the question, I think he might be hauling assault rifles, but I could be wrong.”
Tom was surprised.
“He trades artillery weapons?” His voice cracked a little.
Brian nodded his head.
Tom looked away and stared at a brown stain on the linoleum floor. It sounded like Mr. Fantas was a warmonger; only warmongers sold guns and ammunitions overseas, and it was illegal to do so. An average citizen would be thrown in jail for life if they were caught by the authorities for giving guns to Aggerton’s enemies. The only one that could conduct gun and ammunition trade was the main capitol, and that was located all the way out in Babington. Tom wondered if Mr. Fantas worked for the government. It would explain a lot. It would mean that he wasn’t a crook.
“Does your father work for the united government?”
Brian laughed at the question. He shook his head quickly.
“My father hates the united government; he hates Babington. If he could, he would burn down our whole civil republic, and start over. He blames most of our society’s problems on the men in power; the politicians and economists. He also thinks that Aggerton City is going to hell fast… he said that it’s corrupt and heartless.” Brian paused and thought about other things he had heard his father say in the past. He could think of hundreds of things.
Tom was staring wide-eyed at Brian.
“My father also says that the country is taxing us too much… he says that it’s almost time for a new world power to rise up. That’s one of the reasons for his trips, but I am not quite sure what he means by it all.”
“Wow, it certainly sounds like he must mean business.” Tom was amazed at how much information Brian was revealing about his father. He was telling him everything about the family business. It was either the kid was just plain stupid or he was really naïve. Did Brian even think before he spoke? Mr. Fantas was sounding shadier by the minute. I hope Lee and Marten know about this, Tom thought.
“He’s always away on business…” Brian leaned against the wall and crossed his legs. He looked sad and distant. “Ever since I was a kid it’s always been about business overseas and in distant lands. He missed almost half of my life. He barely made it back last year to give me my watch.”
“Does your dad want you to take up the family business one day?” asked Tom as he shifted on the table.
“Yeah, he would like that, but I don’t want to.”
Tom smiled. Brian sounded sincere.
“What do you want to be, if not a business man?”
Brian looked up and hummed. He thought for a minute. He was going to say something when the door to the medical room opened, and a man in a white doctor’s coat and a black eye patch over his left eye walked in.
“Sorry I am late, gentlemen. I was having lunch in my room when I got the call.” He walked over to Tom and shook his hand. “You must be the person Brian told me about over the phone. That was some story! I bet it was frightening being in that cab…” He grabbed the bottom of Tom’s right arm. He examined all the bandages and mumbled to himself. Brian had done a good job of wrapping the wounds; just a little blood was seeping through the cloth. He looked over to Brian and smiled.
“Well, you certainly did a good job with this gauze. If you keep this up you might put me out of a job.”
“I learned from the best,” said Brian walking over to the table. He put on a comical tone. “Is he going to live doc? Do we have to put him down?”
“He might,” the doctor laughed jokingly and looked over to Tom. “I need to see how bad everything is, all right? I am going to remove these cloths and have a look, try not to move so much. I don’t want you aggravating anything.”
Tom nodded.
“Go for it. Do what you need to.”
The doctor started to unwrap the cloth from his arm. He got about halfway through it when he reach up and grab his eye patch. He tore it from his face and put it down on the table next to Tom. He was mumbling to himself, and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He was moving much faster now.
Tom looked over to Brian. He wanted an answer to why the doctor was acting so strange. He wanted to know why he was wearing an eye patch if he didn’t need it. Brian caught his stare and shook his head with confusion. It appeared that he didn’t know either. Tom looked back over to the doctor and spoke softly.
“Is everything all right, doctor? Don’t you need your eye patch?”
The doctor looked up.
“What did you say?”
Tom stared at his left eye. There appeared to be nothing wrong with it. The pupil was responding to his movement.
“I said don’t you need your eye patch?”
“Oh, no I don’t need that silly thing…” He looked back down and pulled the white cloth completely from Tom’s arms, he was careful not to disrupt the coagulated blood over the skin. The last thing he needed was for the cuts to break open and bleed all over the place; he began taking off the cloths on Tom’s other arm. This one didn’t have quite so much gauze over it. A deep red blood stain was pooling the gauze.
The doctor was careful not to press too hard and spoke up.
“I was using the eye patch to hide my identity. I know it sounds strange, but some people showed up at our door earlier and Mr. Tash wanted me to put them to sleep.” He took off the first layer of cloth and rested it on the table. “Mr. Tash said to me ‘Dr. Flint, I need you down here, and I need you to hide your identity in some way, we have a problem’ and I said ‘okay’. It was a weird request, I’ll admit, but he’s my boss. I went over to one of my drawers and pulled out an eye patch. I figured it would hide my identity as good as anything else.” He pulled off the second cloth and examined the wound. This one was a lot smaller but it seemed deeper and more swollen.
“That’s an ugly little thing, isn’t it? It’s going to need stitches. Look how jagged it is.”
“You were using the eye patch to hide your identity?” Tom was confused at this. It sounded completely absurd. “How does an eye patch hide your identity? Isn’t that like trying to hide behind a chain-linked fence? I mean everyone can see you. It’s not much of a disguise.”
Doctor Flint was reaching under the table for something. He eventually pulled out a needle and brown thread. He reached back under the table and pulled out an antiseptic with some latex gloves. He slipped the things over his hands and began to work.
“It’s simple psychology, really: that’s why I wore an eye patch. Most people only remember a few things about a person they meet. They pick a defining feature and go off of that image. If that defining feature changes during a second encounter, it’s harder to identify the person. Only because they thought they knew something about him. It’s also one of the reasons why a lot of criminals shave their heads after committing a crime. It helps to hide their identity in a subtle way.” He grabbed the antiseptic and held it over the open cut. He looked at Tom. “This might hurt a little. Try not to pull back; this stuff needs to get into the wound. It will prevent infection.”
Tom cringed as the solution poured over his skin. It felt like someone had set fire to the wound on his arm. He tried to pull back but the doctor held him firmly.
“The pain should pass soon. Just give it a minute. It’s sterilizing the cut.” He continued to hold onto Tom’s arm. Tom clinched his muscles, and closed his eyes. He could feel tears forming in his eyes. He tried to concentrate on something else. After a second the pain subsided and gave way to a dull throb.
“There that should do it,” said Dr. Flint letting go and reaching for his needle and thread. Tom relaxed a little as the doctor started sewing up his cut. He couldn’t feel anything now. The solution had cleaned the wound and numbed the skin. He let out a big sigh of relief.
Brian was watching the whole thing with weary eyes.
“Do you know exactly what did this to you?” asked the Doctor. He finished a stitch and plunged the needle back into the skin. “It looks like someone took a jagged knife to your skin.”
Tom frowned. He thought back to the horrible moment.
“I think it was the rocks and coral under the water that did this to me. It felt like someone was clawing me. I was thrown out of the coast at a rapid, strong currant.”
“Wow, who would have thought that coral could do this to a person?”
Brian was feeling squeamish. He looked down and took in a big breath. The last thing he wanted to do was pass out in the medical room.
The doctor finished up the stitches and tied the whole thing off.
“That should hold everything together while it heals. Just watch it closely… if it starts stinging really badly, or if you get a headache, you let me know immediately. Infection is extremely common with wounds like these. Luckily for you there is a lot of salt in the ocean. That probably kept it moderately clean.”
Tom nodded.
“Thank you for your help.”
He was about to get off the table when the doctor placed a hand on his chest. He chuckled.
“Oh, I am not done with you yet. I need to check your legs and then re-bandage your wounds.”
Tom groaned and leaned forward. He just wanted this examination to end. He wanted to call the authorities and tell them about Runt. He wanted to find some place to rest. He pulled up his pant legs and let the doctor check his wounds. His legs were cut up pretty badly around the thighs and calves, but nothing terribly serious stuck out. The doctor cleaned the cuts and then re-bandaged his arms. It took awhile, but when it was done, Tom breathed out a great sigh of relief. His arms and legs were throbbing with every beat of his heart, but he was glad he was taken care of.
“Thank you, Dr. Flint,” said Brian.
Dr. Flint pulled off his latex gloves and threw them away. He started putting all the medical supplies back under the table.
“It was nothing, really… just doing my job.” When he finished he stepped back and gave Tom some room. Tom hopped down from the table and leaned against it. He was feeling very sheepish.
“Are you okay?” asked Brian.
Tom nodded his head. He was getting a little sick of people asking that question. Of course he was okay. If he wasn’t okay he would let them know. He wasn’t one for concealing his feelings about injury.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Do you guys have a phone around here that I can use? I need to make a call.”
“Yeah, we have one out in the hall,” said Dr. Flint. “I’ll go get it for you.” He was heading for the door when it suddenly opened. Mark stumbled in like an enraged drunk looking for a fight. He was holding his gun in his hands.
“Where is he?” He looked over to Tom and gave him a nasty stare. The room got suddenly tense. Behind Mark were a whole lot of people. They were talking in the hall and pushing each other.
“What’s going on?” asked Dr. Flint. “Mark, why do you have a gun?”
Kaplen walked out from behind Mark and pointed his gun at Tom. His black aviator sunglasses lit up in the light of the room. His dark lenses looked like two television screens. Tom felt intimidated. It was like his immortal soul was leaping from his body. He had a slight smirk on his face.
Tom looked frantically back and forth between Kaplen and Mark. He could feel his heart sink into the pit of his stomach. Sweat started to sprout up from his hairline. Were these men going to kill him? What did he do wrong?
“Don’t shoot him, don’t shoot him!” yelled Mr. Tash from the hallway. He walked into the room and looked over to Tom. “I want to speak to this one.” He straightened his tie and smoothed back his disheveled hair.
Tom backed away.
“What’s going on?” asked Brian.
Tash pointed at his son, and shook his head. It looked as if he were going to punish him like a dog or a small child.
“Step away, son and let your father handle this. Don’t you say anything.” He looked over to Tom. “Why are you here? What have you been doing with my son? What has he told you about us?”
Tom didn’t know what to say. Everyone was mad at him for some reason. He gripped the edge of the table behind him tightly.
“I don’t know what’s going on. I was taken here by Brian.”
“LIES!” yelled Mr. Tash. “You’re a spy!” He walked over to Tom and shoved a finger into his chest. “I bet your working for the cops! I bet they paid you to do this! Are you wired right now? What has Brian told you about us? Tell me!” His blue eyes seemed to leap from his head. Tom could feel his knees go weak and buckle under his weight. His face paled and his stomach felt like it was going to explode in his gut. He didn’t know how to answer the questions. He didn’t know how to tell Mr. Fantas that Brian had told him everything about his line of work. He felt trapped and tired. He began to stutter and looked around the room.
“Speak up, boy!” demanded Mr. Tash. “I can’t hear you!”
“Dad, stop!” yelled Brian.
Tash looked over to his son. He was trying to control his pungent feelings; he wasn’t succeeding.
“You stay out of this! This is my business now. When I am done here, you and I are going to have a long talk about letting strangers into our home. You are in a lot of trouble.” He grunted and took in a deep breath.
Brian got quiet and stepped back. He had hit a nerve in his father.
“I’m not working for anyone,” said Tom as he got a hold of his senses again. His heart was pounding in his chest; it felt like he had just finished running a marathon. “I was picked up by Brian out in the ocean. I don’t want to be here any more than you want me here. If you let me I’ll go home!”
“You’re not going anywhere!” shouted Tash. “Not until I know what the hell Brian has told you about us!” He stepped back and looked over to Mark and Kaplen. “Take this man to the basement and throw him in the chilling chamber. I want to question him… I want to get the truth out of him–”
Tash was cut off by Marten’s cheerful voice; it sounded annoying. The fat man shoved his way through the door frame and past the bodyguards over to Tom.
“Tom it’s you! What an odd turn of events! We were just talking about you at dinner a few moments ago. We gave your home phone a call but no one answered. I figured you were still out with Runt getting the insurance for the boat. You really should get cell phone, you know. It’s good to see you!” He looked around the room quickly for something. He looked back over to Tom, his eyebrows raised. “But where’s Runt? Isn’t he here with you?”
Tom frowned at this. He was going to reply when Tash interrupted.
“You know each other?!” He looked over to Lee. The dock worker was standing by Mark. “Is he one of yours?”
Lee nodded.
“This is Tom. He’s the one who has the map. He’s the one we called just moments ago.”
Tash looked surprised. His jaw hung open for a bit; it looked like he wanted to say something. He looked back over to Tom and stared at him for a moment, he was in complete disbelief. What were the odds that his son would have picked up Tom in the middle of the ocean? It was fate that brought the man with the map here! It was fate that wanted him to have the brass and all its power. It was fate, fate, fate, that wanted him to become a god. This was Mother Nature’s way of handing him the universe. This was her way of saying join me in immortality and eternal life. A charismatic smile began to curve Mr. Tash’s lips. His anger gave way to deception. He put on the mask of good nature and walked over to the table again. He took Tom by the hand.
“I would like to apologize,” he cleared his throat. “I had no idea that you were with these gentlemen here. We were just discussing our travel arrangement when I heard that my son had picked up a stranger on his trip. I feared for his life and safety. Surely you can understand my predicament?”
Tom was blown away by the sudden change in mood. It was liked Mr. Fantas had morphed into something different. He was the adult version of a changeling. Tom didn’t like being around him. He nodded his head and let go of Tash’s hand.
“I understand perfectly why you were scared, Mr. Fantas–”
Tash politely cut him off.
“Please, call me by my first name. I never liked being called by Mr. Fantas… it always reminds me of court. Call me Tash.”
“Okay, Mr. Tash,” said Tom. He was feeling uncomfortable being this close to him. He could practically taste his cologne. “I understand, you were afraid for your son. No harm done. I am a school teacher and we get this sort of stuff all the time with parents. It’s practically in the contract.”
“Well I certainly hope there was no harm done.” Tash leaned over and pushed Marten out of his way. He wanted to get more acquainted with Tom. Marten stumbled backward and nearly tripped over the corner of the examining table. He caught himself and regained his footing. He gave Tash a mean glare.
Mr. Tash stood beside Tom and rested a hand on his shoulder. His eyes were burning with determination. His voice was soft and smooth, liked a salesman.
“I was just talking to Lee and Marten here about the trip you guys were planning. I told them that I would be happy to sponsor an expedition to Liroic’s Island. I told them that I would do it for free.” Tash paused, and squeezed Tom’s shoulder, his gold rings pressed lightly through the t-shirt. “The only thing I ask for in return is that I get one insignificant relic from the Island… that’s all.”
Tom looked at Tash with caution.
“What relic is that?”
“The ‘Brass’,” chuckled Tash. He was acting as if the “Brass” didn’t mean much to anyone. He was acting like he was doing them a favor by taking it off their hands and getting rid of it. “That’s all I want. You and your company can have everything else you find on the Island… but the ‘Brass’ will be mine.” He looked over to Lee and smiled. “We already made a deal that that was mine.”
Tom smiled uneasily. He wanted to pull away from the man and tell him no; giving an artifact such as the “Brass” to a man like Tash would prove catastrophic. The guy could barely control his anger. He didn’t like the sound of handing geological power into the hands of corruption. Why did Lee and Marten make a deal with this man? What was the catch? He looked over to Lee and then to Marten.
“What do you guys think about this whole thing?”
Marten was going to say something when Tash gave him a cold stare. The fat man clammed up. He looked at the ground and started kicking his feet. Tash turned back to Tom, his expression got softer.
“They have already made the deal with me. Their thoughts have been made up. They already promised that I could have the ‘Brass’ in exchange for the services I will render. They shook on it and everything.”
“Well, one of us did,” stated Marten angrily. He looked over to Lee.
Lee ignored him and looked at Tom.
“It’s true, Tom. We made a deal with uncle Tash to take us to the island. He will help us, and in exchange for his help, he will get the ‘Brass’. I hope you don’t mind.” Lee’s eyes looked suddenly burdened. He looked down at the ground. His voice was firm, but his gaze betrayed him. “It was quite the bargaining process we went through to get this deal.” He looked back up at Tom. His emotions were flaring up.
Tom was going to abject; he stopped himself when he saw the hurt in Lee’s eyes. Something bad had happened to the dock worker; something that he wasn’t telling him. Lee was usually a straightforward and competent guy; now he seemed to be holding back with his explanations. Tom kept his peace and looked back over to Tash. The silver-haired man was staring at him. His blue eyes were reading his features like a book. Tash was a hard and unreasonable man; he was a crime lord and couldn’t be trusted with anything; at least that’s what Tom felt in his heart.
“So what do you think?” asked Tash. “Do you agree to the terms?”
Tom shrugged. He had to choose his words carefully.
“I don’t know, Mr. Tash. The man that I would need to talk to about this is dead. He died a few hours ago. He died when our taxi cab was pushed off a cliff”
Tash’s face went flat.
“You can’t be serious?”
“What happened!?” barked Marten suddenly. He came around Tash and looked Tom squarely in the face. “You said something happened to Runt!” His voice started to waver. “Please tell me that this was another person?”
“It wasn’t another person, Marten. It was Runt,” said Tom quietly. His throat was beginning to get sore. “He’s dead.” The room got still. The sound of the lights humming was the only thing heard.
“How did it happen?” asked Lee.
Tom looked over to him.
“Shark Inc, that’s how it happened. They want us dead. They want to get to the island first. A guy by the name of Bob Morgan locked us into a taxi and pushed us over a cliff. Runt didn’t make it. He drowned.”
Marten was getting all red in the face and tears were coming to his eyes. He gripped the bottom of his suit coat and wouldn’t let go. He had known Runt for years; the guy had done nothing to offend anyone. He was polite, kind, and courteous to everyone he met. Why would Shark Inc do this to him? What was their motivation? Was it all for being the first? Was it all for the fame?
“We need to get some answers,” said Marten. “We need to do something!”
Tom shook his head.
“This can’t be,” said Tash out loud. He was trying to play the sympathy card with everyone. He was trying to become their friend. “We need to get to that island first. We need to be the first ones. We need to leave right away!”
“No we don’t, what we need to do before we leave is call the police and fill out a report. This needs to be under investigation,” said Tom. “An innocent man has died because of what has happened today. Justice has to be served; we can’t let Shark Inc get away with this. We need to call the authorities.” He looked over to Dr. Flint. The guy was leaning against the wall.
“Can you show me where the phone is?”
“Yes, Tom, I can show you,” said the doctor.
He was going to leave when Tash stopped him.
“Wait just a minute there, doctor. Have you forgotten the rules we have around here? We can’t just place a phone call like that. I don’t want the cops in my house going through my things. I don’t want to be linked to this murder in any way. I don’t want any of us to leave this room until we have worked out everything.” He sounded almost paranoid. Tash looked over at Tom, his brain was stirring. He shook his head.
“And no one is going to contact the authorities, either. We are going to work things out ourselves. We are going to get to the island first. That’s the only thing we can do.”
“Wait a minute, what?” said Tom. He was sounding a little taken aback by Tash’s assertiveness. This was none of his business. “We need to–”
“I don’t care what you need!” yelled Tash. He was getting tired of being patient with everyone. We wanted things to get done; and he wasn’t going to stand here all night talking in a circle. “This isn’t about you anymore, Tom. This isn’t even about this Runt guy. This is about us making history and changing the world. This is about us getting to the island before that Shark company does.”
Marten was getting sick of Tash.
“We need to call the authorities!”
Tash looked over to Marten. He gave him a hard stare. He wanted the fat man to stay out of the conversation and keep quiet. I should have killed that man when I had the chance. I should have thought about this more. He spoke firmly.
“The authorities can’t do much if they don’t have any evidence to convict anyone, believe me I know. I have been on the other end of an investigation before. If the cops can’t find anything to link this murder on Shark Inc, then you’re helpless. The only thing the cops can do is write a report and file it away forever. They won’t find anything.” He drew closer to his point. “The only way to get back at Shark Inc is to be the first ones.”
Tom didn’t like how Mr. Tash was pushing these things aside.
Lee spoke up.
“Uncle, maybe if we just let Tom call one person, maybe–”
“Shut it, Lee!” yelled Tash. “I am the one making the calls around here, and I say that there will be no outgoing calls. No one will call the cops. I don’t want them around here. We are going to plan to leave for this island as soon as possible.” He turned to Tom, his eyes glowing. “Do you have the map with you?”
Tom nodded his head.
“Good,” said Mr. Tash. “Then it’s settled.”
Kaplen spoke up. His words were oozing with sarcasm.
“I don’t mean to break up the riveting conversation we’re having, but you and Brian are going to be late for the birthday party. The guests will be wondering what’s going on.”
Tash’s face went pale as this announcement was made. He cursed under his breath. Kaplen was right, the guests would be wondering what’s going on. He had to greet them.
“All right, I want everyone to meet in my office at nine o’clock sharp for the briefing.” He looked over to Tom. “Kaplen will show you to your room. Get cleaned up and try and rest. I need us all to be focused for the meeting.” He looked at his son. “Get dressed, Brian and go greet your guests.”
Everyone watched as the silver-haired man left the room. Tom couldn’t believe what was going on. He had just stepped into a nightmare. Runt was dead, Lee and Marten had made an outrageous deal with the devil and the police were never going to hear about Runt’s death. It was hopeless. He couldn’t do anything. What else could go wrong today? What else could God throw at them?
“I’ll show you guys to your rooms,” said Kaplen. “You’ll be sleeping next door to Lee.” The big bodyguard left the medical room. Tom reluctantly followed him. Marten and Lee came up beside him and tried to console him.
When everyone was gone, Dr. Flint turned out the lights.
