“Just keeping things in perspective.”
― Joss Whedon
Abel laid the Dermal Mender down on the stainless steel table with a clatter. There was blood everywhere. Everywhere. After Edwards had been shot in the chest by Seth, he and Mack dragged him to the nearby Medical Bay. They doped him, although that was hardly necessary due to his constant use of chemicals and illicit drugs. They had to dig the bullet out, finding it had fragmented. Abel didn’t enjoy digging around in the Doc’s chest, but it had to be done. After they got the fragments out, they used the Mender to stop the bleeding and seal the wound. It wasn’t pretty, but it got the job done.
Mack sighed. “He’s getting worse, Abe.” Mack was splattered with blood. He tried to wipe it off his sleeves, but it just smeared.
Abel nodded, rubbing at the thumb-sized hole in his mesh vest. The vest saved his life, to be sure. But it still left a throbbing pain that would surely get worse before it got better. He wasn’t totally sure that he didn’t have a cracked rib. “I know, I know,” mumbled Abel. He glanced at the Doctor who was still laying on the operating table, doped into sleep. “I’m still not sure if the psychosis is a result of his substance abuse, or if it’s related to the Alliance and The Project.”
“It’s both.” Mack’s voice was firm. “You read the same case files I did. He was a part of The Project. He ‘perimented on himself, and when he unlocked something that he didn’t want to set loose, he started pumpin’ drugs into himself. That’s what caused the delirium.”
“Dementia,” corrected Abel. “It’s Dementia.” Abel frowned. “Either way, I owe him my life for gettin’ me out of there when he did.”
Mack groaned. “I was the one that saved your ass, not him.” Mack narrowed his eyes at Abel. “You were going to talk to the reporter. You know, the reporter that was really a Blue Sun Agent who planned on blowing your head off?” Mack paused, grabbing Abel by the shoulder. “The Doctor was a convenient opportunity.”
Abel shrugged Mack’s hand off his shoulder. “Yeah, yeah.” He rolled his eyes. “We’ve been through this before. You’re the big damn hero.”
Mack shook his head. “The Doc is a good guy. But he’s crazy as the day is long, Abel. He thinks he’s still working for the Alliance. Takes orders from voices that he hears in his head. Hell, he convinces himself that he knows everyone. He’s convinced himself that he knew your family, Abe. He tells stories like he grew up with your parents. Now he claims he’s good friend’s with Baron Fairchild…”
Abel smiled. “He met Fairchild once back in the day…”
“Yeah, once, Abel. But—“
Suddenly, there was an alert on the devices hooked up to the Doctor. The two looked, seeing right away that his blood pressure was dropping significantly. He was going into tachycardia.
Mack moaned. “His skin…”
“He’s goin’ pale, Mack.” Abel started rummaging through the assorted medical devices at his disposal. “Going into shock.” Abel paused, and looked at a vial. He frowned and started rummaging again. “Hypovolemia.”
Mack looked panicked. “What the hell do we do?!”
Abel looked at Mack, his combat medic training kicking in again. “We get fluids in him, and then we’ll need blood. Lots of blood.”
Both men turned and started to tend to Doctor Edwards. Neither of them noticed the small frame of Clare (The Young Miss Assistant) moving on the other operating table behind them. She sat up, her bonds obviously cut.She smiled and lifted her knife, point down.
NEXT: CAPTAIN AND QUINN, AGAIN