G.U.A.R.D. Book #4: Tracked

-24-

    Grayson wasn't totally right. We went to a station before going to a base. Point 57 was three hours away. Knuckle Sandwich was mostly the same, but a small section had been quarantined for us. The moment we touched down, we were swarmed by paramedics. Petrov was still alive, but hanging on by a thread. My pain seemed worse, if that was possible. The doctors unhooked my stretcher from the jet's contraption, and, immediately, Kit screamed. One of the doctors close to her fainted. She struggled against her stretcher's straps, clawing like a wild animal.

"Bailey," I said, head hurting and body shaking.

The doctors wheeled me away.

"Wait," I said. "She's a meta, and she's scared."

"We were briefed," one of the paramedics told me stonily.

I caught a glimpse of one of the doctors holding a syringe full of liquid. I hoped it was just a sedative and nothing more.

I was taken inside and behind a curtain, where the doctors took no time in relieving me of my weapons and cutting open all my clothes. It was so unexpected I wasn't able to do anything about it. They put stickers on my bare chest and a clamp on my finger. They also pushed my arms through the sleeves of a hospital gown, then poked an IV needle in my arm. It was all very efficient and very overwhelming. It took me about a minute to process all that happened, and the next, I was in a drug-induced sleep.

----

My eyes opened to dark brown wood planks. Two fans with adjoining lights hung down from said ceiling. I glanced around, only half-aware of where I was, but calm due to the drugs. My fingers grasped the scratchy hospital gown, and I became aware I wasn't wearing any underwear. Well, that's great.

I took off my oxygen mask.

Grayson and his blanket were in an intimate cuddling position on the wooden flooring. There weren't any beds besides my stretcher in the curtained-off area we resided in. I wondered what time it was.

With a frown, I looked under my blanket to see the calf on my right leg bandaged, and the thigh on my left leg treated equally. The pain wasn't great; just a small pound every time my heart beat. Wow, they must've given me strong painkillers. Maybe that's why my face felt weird.

I heard a deep breath on my right, then it let out in a sigh. Putting the blanket down, I glanced over the side again. It sent mini sparks of agony down my legs. Grayson lay on his back now, staring up at the ceiling. His eyes met mine.

"Hey."

I lay back down, involuntarily groaning. Grayson grabbed the bed's railing, staggeringly lifting himself up. His hair was a mess. The guy leaned against the railing, looking at me. Bags were under his eyes.

"Sleep terribly?" I asked, words a little slurred.

He gave a nod, sighing, "Yeah. How are you feeling?"
"Better. Are we still in Knuckle Sandwich?"

"Mm-hmm. They said they'd move you guys within the next two hours. You've only been under for forty-five minutes. Gave you stitches. Didn't give me any details."

"I feel really weird."

"Drugs do that to a person."

I glanced down, fingers curling around a piece of the blanket. "Why are you still here?"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Why did you sleep on the floor? Why did you agree to come with Alek to a warzone? Why try to save me?"
He grabbed the railing with his left hand, straightening out the arm and leaning on his right elbow. He stared at me like an adult would a child.