Primal Gambit

Chapter 31: Breaking the Seal

The sky was dun with a thick layer of clouds. The evening sun was drowned out by the grey overcast outside as Doerrman led the professor to a seat next to the kitchen table. Ground level outside the apartment complex was bustling with civvies scattering like ants into their hills. When he sat the emaciated man down he looked into his eyes – a pair that had become faded with mistreatment.

"Val, get the shawl from the couch and bring it here." The world outside was cold – the climate that Arthur had grown accustomed to. The best method to coerce the withered man, Doerrman thought, was to warm him up first. From his belt the warrior unbuttoned a sheath and drew his blade. Part of the professor shrunk back in the chair, staring at the glistening blade and waiting for the man to overpower and kill him. It was what he had been trained to assume – to fear the overlords.

Doerrman put a hand up to calm the man and as Valerie returned with the blanket she saw her counterpart leaning in toward the other.

"This is gonna hurt for a minute." The girl wrapped the shawl around bony shoulders and rushed for the counter in search of paper towels. An abundance of them were placed on Shuke's collarbone, Doerrman asking her for rubbing alcohol. She hustled to the bathroom and returned with an expired bottle.

"I don't think this is sanitary, Rid." She whispered.

"It's either this or vodka, you decide." He replied through clenched teeth. He could not fathom the type of person who could do such a thing to another man – rob him of his right to speak and the right to live freely amongst fellow men. Valerie disappeared then, leaving the room and shuffling for the bedroom.

Doerrman took a paper towel from Arthur's lap and doused it in alcohol, then wiped the blade on it. He then splashed the foul liquid into his palms, letting it slosh around until settled into the confines of his prints.

"Stay still, man. Don't move or it's just gonna hurt more." He stood up from the seat and leaned into Arthur's face.

"Grab onto something, clench your teeth." The warrior advised as he mentally steeled himself to patch up the professor as quickly as possible. He knew it was going to be some of the most stifling pain the professor had ever felt.

Arthur looked up; he knew the pain was going to be comparable to one thing he had experienced in his life before. At the hands of a mad doctor, however, the fear overpowered the agony. He looked directly at Doerrman – it was as if he were communicating through his eyes. They began to water, and through the tears he continued to stare, almost as if to say:

"It's okay."

Time drizzled by like drops of rain, minutes passing like seconds before Doerrman began to saw away. When he finally did so, his wrist moving back and forth rigorously, the professor winced in pain and moaned hoarsely.

"Can't we just take him to the hospital?" She whispered through mucous and tears.

"No. We can't let anyone know that he's in our possession. If we take him to the hospital, people will recognize him. He needs to stay here until we can get in touch with Darwin." Valerie nodded and moved to the kitchen.

"Do you drink tea, Arthur?" She looked back at the captive.

Shuke stared back at her, fearful of her kindness.

"Just make it anyway, Val." Doerrman advised.

Without a moment's notice, the soldier's blade was at Shuke's neck – grittily sawing away infected flesh that the feral had left from the brutal attack. The professor winced, nearly collapsing in his seat from the pain. Luckily for the captive there was not much dangling flesh for Doerrman to slice off, and so he was done in mere minutes – though they passed like hours. The soldier wiped sweat from his brow as he noticed how close the professor was to slipping into unconsciousness.

"Stay with me, stay awake. Val, get your sewing kit and my fishing line from the bedroom. I'm gonna have to patch his neck up to stop it from bleeding. Hurry, he's losing it." He leaned in closer and inspected the man's esophagus. Gore squirted from the open wound but Doerrman was relieved.

"I don't think that thing hit anything important. Seems like it just missed." He lifted himself from the table and moved to the kitchen to wash his hands.

"Damn feral was smart. He wasn't trying to maim you; he was trying to kill you. Val, hurry, he's losing a lot of blood." The warrior watched as his girl ran down the hallway.

A rattled and ethereal voice escaped the void inside Arthur P. Shuke. Through a wheezing and whimpered tone, he jangled the words through the web: "Thank. You."

Doerrman stopped and stared at the man before him. Valerie skidded to a halt in the entrance to the bedroom, slowly turning around in curious wonder. The couple could feel the pain in his raspy voice.

They were frozen in awe. The plan had worked.