Lightning Game (GhostWalkers 17)

“Stay close to me,” Rubin said aloud. “If they test the draw of your electromagnetic energy, I can pull it away from you.”

“I planned to do that anyway,” Jonquille said. “Diego? You’ll be right behind us?”

“Yes. I don’t like any of us out in the open like this, although Shylah has the one on the roof in her sights and can take him out if he blinks wrong. Cayenne is hovering above the squirrel man in the tree and he doesn’t even notice the spiderwebs, not to mention Joe has him lined up in his scope as well. Draden and Trap have combed the area for guards and found and sent the location to our men. I’m going with you into the barracks to watch your backs as you try to heal the worst of them.”

“I thought Joe and Wyatt would be helping us,” Jonquille said.

Rubin kept his hand on Jonquille’s elbow, pretending to steady her as they walked along the boat to the very side of it where Gino waited. “They’ll come in if you indicate they’re needed, and Mordichai and Gino will take their places,” he explained. “Remember, they’ve been here earlier, while we were convalescing.”

Ha! Is that what you call it? Diego sneered.

Jonquille started to turn, but Gino had a firm grasp on one arm while Rubin had the other. She was nearly lifted off the boat. Rubin stepped in close behind Jonquille, crowding her little body, her back to his front, Gino solidly in front of her while Diego stepped off the boat and casually filed in after Rubin. They followed the two men, who led them all to the barracks where Sean and his men waited for them.

Just as they got to the barracks and the guard at the door opened it and stepped aside for them, Mordichai moved up in front of Ezekiel and stepped inside while the others waited. He stood still, his gaze moving through the extremely neat, spacious room with the bunks, inspecting the area carefully. He took his time, scanning the ceiling, the walls, the beds and every possible space for potential threats before he stepped aside and allowed the others into the barracks.

Rubin inhaled the smell of death. He glanced at Jonquille. She was frowning. She smelled it too. He pushed right past his guards without thinking, not paying any attention to what Sean was saying in greeting, and walked straight to the bed where a young soldier lay looking up at the bunk above him. He turned his head slightly toward Rubin and gave him a faint smile. His breathing was erratic. Wheezing.

“Little.” Gasp. “Too.” Gurgle. “Late, Doc.”

“You think so?” Rubin didn’t ask permission, he simply yanked back the thin cover and put his hands over the bare chest, an inch from the man’s skin. “Jonquille. Get on the other side.” He snapped the order without thinking.

This man was in a bad way. Really bad. Wyatt had told him to be prepared to lose one or two. Rubin wasn’t going to lose this one, not if he could help it. Jonquille moved into position on the other side of the bunk and did the same, lowering her palms over his chest.

“His name is Leon,” Sean said, coming up behind them. “A good man. A good soldier.”

Rubin ignored him. “Do you see that, Jonquille?” Those idiots act like they know what they’re doing and they don’t. They mess with the human body and then walk away saying it’s all for science.

How do we fix this? Can we fix this?

The heart was struggling because everything going to it was a mess. Leon’s insides were a mixture of animal and human parts, most not fitting together properly. Rubin had no idea how he had managed to live this long. He glanced around the room and saw the others were all watching closely. The others had taken care of him. This was one Joe and Wyatt had said was impossible to save medically.

“Tell us what you need to help him,” Sean said. “Anything.”

“Zeke, have the men set up for an operation immediately. I’ll need Bellisia. Call her back for me. I need a line into him now, Malichai,” Rubin ordered. He looked at Sean. “The other one you said was in bad shape. Where is he?”

Sean indicated across the room toward another lower bunk. “His name is Milo. We’ve been giving him oxygen, but …” He trailed off.

Rubin removed the thin sheet without preamble, opened the shirt covering the man’s chest. He was dotted in sweat, just as Leon was, only more so. Had Sean not been providing oxygen, Rubin doubted if he would have survived another hour. Milo was well aware of it too. He looked at Rubin in despair, shaking his head slightly and lifting his hand barely off the mattress to flutter his fingers toward Leon, indicating for Rubin to help his friend.