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+--- Thread: Hunt the Hunter (/thread-778.html)
- Torri - 05-03-2014
<small>[[Sorry again. I'll try to keep up.]]</small>
Torri struggled to keep Michael going. They were barely three hundred meters when she felt his weight suddenly collapse on hers. A young man lowered a phone from his ear to follow them with his eyes. "You will keep walking, soldier."
She seethed into Michael's ear. The man frowned and barked a string of Arabic into his phone before stalking away.
Another hundred meters and she could no longer support his weight. There was no where to rest, but Torri could not camel back him to base and check his vitals at the same time. She cursed herself for not slapping a vital's patch on his skin.
With Michael on one arm, barely awake, she dug through the folds of the cursed men's robing for her Wallet. It was Military issue from MEDCOM, which meant superior power, secure connections, and medical applications not otherwise capable on standard versions.
Knowing her prints, it sprung to life and she issued voice commands to request transportation. Michael began to speak, but Torri hushed him. "We're getting out of here."
In the interim minutes before the taxi pulled to their location, Michael managed to describe the orders he wanted her to carry out. It was largely information she already knew, but true to form, she implemented the evacuation procedure as written. The information zoomed toward base and she slipped the Wallet back in the pocket as a taxi pulled to the curb. She breathed a sigh of relief. Screw inconspicuousness.
Michael first, Torri followed him into the back seat.
"Where to?"
the driver frowned at them in his rearview mirror.
The words were on the tip of Torri's tongue. The 'Mecca Custody Base front gates' when a shrill pitch from the car's radio sprung into their ears. Torri's heart jumped into her throat.
Born in the era of fallout shelters and school air-raid drills described by terrorized family memory, the emergency broadcast system punctuated their eardrums for a few short seconds. A mechanical voice followed, describing the outbreak of violence at the airport in the wake of the Ascendancy's departure. Torri's jaw clenched. He was here. She glanced at Michael, and for once, was relieved to see him unresponsive.
She watched the driver carefully. He was already glaring at them, and Torri suddenly realized how awful it must be to be walking around in her present attire. Shit. Take a risk and ask to be driven to base and neither of them make it? Or get Michael the treatment he needed and figure out what to do after?
The driver's expression was almost as if he could hear the string of blasphemous curses to rattle through her mind.
"Take us to the closest hospital."
She finally said.
((Continued at Wounds))