Chapter 71

Dial M for McCarthy

My phone beeped.

Without thinking, I fumbled around for it. Surprise. It was still on my belt. I unclipped it and lifted it up to my face, thumbing it on curiously. "Hello?"

"Jim!" It was Lizard. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," I said. And wondered why I'd said that. I wasn't fine. I couldn't move. I could barely speak.

"Are you sure? You sound funny-"

"Oh, I'm right here. I think."

"Where's here? Where are you?"

"Um, I'm-" I turned my head. "-at the bottom of the tree. Where are you? I'll come and get you."

"Stay where you are. Don't move."

"Okay," I whispered. "No problem." My voice started to fade away. "I'll just rest awhile."

"Good. You stay there-leave your phone on. Keep talking. Will you do that?"

"Uh-huh. Where are you?"

"I'm still in the ship. The lounge got all twisted sideways and crushed. I'm in a corridor. I think I can-yes, I can climb up to the top. It's quite a crawl, but I can make it." Her voice was very controlled. "Do you hurt anywhere?"

"I don't-think so."

"Can you move?"

"I answered my phone, didn't I?"

"Jim?"

"Yes?"

"Listen to me, I'm going to put you on hold for a minute, so I can put a tracer on you. Don't go away, okay?"

"Okay."Promise?"

"I promise: Can you hurry?"

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing. It's just-I think I do hurt a little."

"Where?"

"Everywhere. It hurts to breathe, I think. It hurts to swallow. Can you bring me some water?"

"Hold on. I love you-" There was a click and she was gone. She was gone for the longest time, and I lay on the shimmering jungle floor and listened to the sounds of things crunching in the distance and dropping through the treetops and thudding softly in the muck. Some of the things were screaming, and somewhere off in the dark emerald gloom someone was calling for help.

"Anyone? Is anyone there?"

"I'm over here," I said. But I didn't have the air to say it very loudly. "Over here."

-sudden bright-insect buzzing in my face, a whisper of brightness that I can't brush away, a distant chorus, a soft wall of voices, can't make out the words, only the meaning, Jimbo, stay awake, we're coming, and then a sensation of being lifted up into the arms of something strong and comfortable, secure and golden-pink, angelic, masculine, a smell of sweat and glory and pine, distant voices muttering incomprehensible status reports of blood-sugar levels and pain thresholds and damping levels, a mess, something about a kneecap-

"Over here! There's someone over here!" The light was in my eyes. A flashlight. I opened my eyes, blinked, and blinked again. It was nighttime. There were lights everywhere. Above it all, the pink shroud of the airship still fluttered and glowed. The great ceiling flickered with golden light.

"It's McCarthy-Jesus Christ!"

"No. Just call me Jim."

"Is he alive?"

"I think so. Yeah. Dead men don't look this bad. Captain McCarthy? Can you hear me? It's Siegel-He's alive! Get a stretcher down here!"

Somehow, I croaked out some words. "Where's… Lizard?"

"Who?"

"General… Tirelli-"

"Sorry, I don't know. They haven't found her yet."

"She's on the phone-" I waved my communicator at Siegel. He took it and frowned. "Sorry. It's dead, Jim."

"It can't be! I was just talking to her. She put me on hold."

"Jim, what time is it?"

"What are you talking about. It's what? Afternoon. We just came down on the treetops and-"

"Jim, it's almost midnight. You've been unconscious. You're all right. Help is coming. Just stay calm."

"But Lizard sent you, didn't she?"

"Nobody's seen her, Jim. Or heard from her."

"But she's still on the ship. In a corridor off the briefing lounge. All twisted sideways. Climbing toward the top. She called me on the phone." It was hard to say it all, but it was important to get it all out.

Siegel hesitated. "Did you get that?" he called to someone. "Check the briefing lounge."

"The lounge was crushed-" I didn't recognize the voice. Someone from the crew?

"Check the corridors," Siegel ordered. "Now!"

"Siegel?"

"Yes, Captain?"

"I'm not… a captain anymore. I'm an… Indian scout. What are you doing here? I saw you get crushed."

"Not quite, sir. Hold on, I've got a stretcher coming. The loading bay is a mess, but the team survived. You trained us better than you thought. We're dropping a rope now. Dr. Meier's got a medical bay rigged. We're going back up into the trees."

"She doesn't have enough duct tape for this-we'll never get the ship airborne again."

"Don't worry. We're okay. Lopez has a comlink working. We've got full network communications. They know where we are. Choppers are on the way. We'll all be out of here by tomorrow night. Can you feel anything when I do this?"

"No.

"How about this?"

"No."

"How about-?"

"Yowp! Yes, goddammit! Don't do that." After the worst of the pain subsided, I asked, "I can't move to see clearly. What was that?"

"Your leg. Your knee, actually. Just lie still, I've got a med-team coming." He held my hand. He shifted his grip upward so he could lay one finger across my wrist. To check my pulse.

"Status report?"

"We crashed."

"Got any more details than that?"

"We're about twenty, maybe twenty-five klicks northeast of the mandala. We've got fifty people accounted for. We're searching for the rest. People are still checking in. Most of the ship is in pretty bad shape, she broke her keel in three places, but a large part of the main deck is actually okay. A little precariously balanced, but the engineers are looking to secure things and see if they can level it off a bit. We've rigged a med-bay, we're working on a kitchen. We've got P-rations and bottled water, so we're okay for tonight. Actually, we're okay for a month, if we have to dig in, but I wouldn't worry about that. There's a rescue mission launching from Panama. In the meantime, we're going to try to keep everybody in the treetops. We don't know how long it'll take the worms to get to us, but we know they've got to be following the trail of debris we dropped. We're putting out probes and prowlers. And we're laying down mines. Two of the spybirds are busted up; as soon as we find the others, we'll launch them. We may have to wait until morning. Hold on, the medic's here-"

I heard a rustling. I managed to turn my head. Somebody in a blood-spattered jumpsuit. He looked familiar. I couldn't see clearly.

He pushed something gently away from my eyes. He studied me impersonally, then began spraying my face with something wet and misty. It smelled of antiseptic and peppermint. A moment later, he was daubing gently at my eyes and my forehead and then my mouth and nose. "Boy, do you look like hell." A quick last wipe with the cotton. "Hiya, sir." He grinned quickly at me. "Is that better?"

"Hi, Shaun. Love your bedside manner." My voice cracked. "Can I have some water?"

"Only a sip." He held a straw to my mouth. He pinched it off quickly. He wasn't kidding about a sip. I barely got enough water to wet my throat, not enough to swallow.

He ignored my protest and began unfolding a stretcher; his movements were quick and professional; he knew what he was doing. From somewhere, he produced a shears and began cutting open my jacket and shirt and began pasting monitors to my skin; one on the wrist, three on the chest, two on the forehead, two on my temples. As soon as they had all beeped green, he began wrapping me in a silvery blanket. I started feeling immediately warmer.

I felt him reaching around under my head; he was locking a neck brace into position.