Author: Douglas A. Taylor
Category: Suspense
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Back at HQ, we all just stared dumbly at each other. I think each of us wanted someone to explain what had just happened, to make it all make sense: Prime Commander, Prime Red -- anyone. But Commander Windham was dead, and Shelley had just been captured. Mike was now in charge, and it sounded as though he didn't know much more about it than we did.
"Right, I think the first order of business is healing comas all 'round," he said. His voice was strained; he was obviously making an effort to sound matter-of-fact. "After that, we'll meet in Prime -- in the office to debrief. There's a video that Shelley told me we had to watch if Protocol Black was ever implemented."
"Then let's watch it now!" Toby said angrily. "I bloody well want to know what's going on!"
"No!" Mike was equally forceful. "You know the rules, Toby. First priority after every mission is to heal up, then debrief. We have to defend the Earth against Enclave -- wherever and whenever -- and we can't do that if we're so injured we're about to fall over. Healing comas come first!"
I looked around at the group. Toby appeared reasonably healthy, but I could see that Nicolai and Padma looked much the worse for wear, and Trina's right hand was a bloody mess. That would explain why she had been shooting left-handed; had she been bitten by Kong's oversize canines? And now that my adrenaline was wearing off, my head was starting to pound again, and I was feeling sick and dizzy. Not to mention that I hurt all over.
Wizzit broke the tense silence. "I am tracking Shelley's location. She is currently en route to John F. Kennedy International Airport. There have been some attempts to remove her Prime belt, but so far, none have come close to success. Per her standing instructions, I have taken the liberty of initiating a healing coma. She was already unconscious, so I have set it to maximum depth. She should be completely healed up in . . . thirty-two minutes."
Somehow, knowing that Wizzit was keeping track of Shelley and was taking care of her, knowing that she hadn't been completely abandoned, made me feel a whole lot better. "Mike's right," I said. "We need to heal up. There's nothing we can do for Shelley right now."
Trina didn't speak -- I think she was still crying -- but she abruptly turned, headed for the lounge, and flopped down into one of the comfortable chairs. I did the same and said, "Whenever you're ready, Wizzit." As my own healing coma descended upon me, I saw the others follow suit.
Wizzit had set Shelley's healing coma to be as deep as possible, which meant that she was dead to the world. To the folks who had captured her, it really would seem as if she were in a coma. Usually, though, that's overkill; most of the time when you're in a healing coma, you just feel sort of drowsy and disconnected from everything. In a light healing coma, I could maybe even get up and walk around a bit, although I sure wouldn't want to. And the soft, comfy chairs in the lounge are the best place in the world to relax while you wait for the healing to finish up.
About twenty minutes after I had lain down, my eyes snapped open and I was completely alert. My headache was gone; all my bumps and bruises had been banished entirely. I could smell barbecued beef, and my stomach growled. It wasn't yet dinnertime, but healing comas always make me hungry. Sitting up, I saw that Trina and I were the only ones still here. Everyone else, I figured, must be in the kitchen. As I watched, Trina's eyes opened. Her healing coma must have just ended as well.
In the kitchen, Mike was eating his favorite snack, Marmite and cheese on toast, and Toby had pulled out the leftovers from the ox roast. Nicolai and Padma each had bowls of the leftover grilled veggies, although I could see Nicolai staring longingly at Toby's stacked sandwich. Padma won't eat beef, and it appeared that she had forbidden Nicolai from eating it as well. I felt sorry for the poor, henpecked guy, but that didn't stop me from making my own roast beef sandwich. Trina shuddered at Mike's Marmite, made herself a cup of tea, and put in some bread to toast.
There wasn't a whole lot of talking, but somehow it didn't seem as tense as it had earlier. When Mike took the last bite of his Marmite-and-cheese toast and drained his glass of milk, he stood up without a word, put his dishes away, and left the room, presumably heading for the office. The rest of us picked up our respective snacks and followed.
Chapter 6