Isolated (Evan Arden 4)

He speaks, and I look to Eddie-boy, who shrugs at me.

“He’s surprised you weren’t ripping your clothes off,” he says, translating.

“What the hell does that mean?”

More Russian words are exchanged, and Eddie-boy smirks.

“Apparently, some hypothermia victims tear off their clothes,” he says. “You were a little delusional but not quite that far gone.”

“Well, there’s a plus.” I don’t bother to hide the sarcasm.

I’m handed two hot water bottles and a jacket to wear. It’s not easy to get the jacket over the sling, but I manage. Eddie-boy thanks the medic for me, and he gives me a tight-lipped smile before gathering up his stuff and hauling it out of my sight.

The captain of the sub speaks in my direction, and Eddie-boy, the communications guru, translates.

“He says your life isn’t a meadow.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Ah, I think he’s glad he’s not you.”

I look the man over briefly. He seems to be good-natured enough, and he wins me over when he offers me a cigarette from his pack. I inhale deeply, and Eddie-boy waits for me to finish before he speaks again.

“So, did you win?”

“Not really,” I admit. “As far as anyone knows, I’m dead. I need to keep it that way.”

“For how long?”

“Forever.”

Eddie-boy stares into my eyes for a long time. It’s very possible that this is the last time we will work together or ever see one another again, and he knows it.

“Well, let’s get some food into ya,” he suggests, his voice rough with emotion. “I kinda thought I’d lost ya for a minute there.”

The food is meager but warm. I down about a gallon of water along with it. My leg is sore, and my arm hurts like a bitch, but I feel a lot warmer after getting something in my stomach. Eddie-boy brings me an extra blanket and drapes it around my shoulders. He also hands me a backpack.

“Everything ya had on ya is in there.”

I open it up and try to hold it with my left hand while I reach in with my right. There isn’t much—the transmitter I had used to call Eddie-boy, some ammo, matches, and my cell phone. A wad of cash has been added to my things as well. I don’t have to count it—I know exactly what’s there. I’d given it to Eddie-boy before this whole tournament shit started.

Always have a contingency plan.

“Is there someplace I can plug this in?” I ask as I pull out the phone. I want to hear Lia’s voice even though I know she’s going to be pissed off. I’m not about to tell her over the phone about anything that’s been going on, but I still want to talk to her.

Eddie-boy looks at the captain, points to my phone, and then translates my request.

“Da,” the captain says.

I plug it in, but nothing happens. I give it a few minutes to warm up, but after an hour, there’s still nothing. I bang it on the counter a couple of times, but the action is fruitless.

“Fried?” Eddie-boy asks.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“I’ve got a sat phone you can use.”

I shake my head. At this point, I’ll be home in three days. Lia will have been back from her trip for the past five days and will undoubtedly be pissed off at me. A couple days can’t make that much difference. It will be easier to talk her down when we’re face-to-face anyway.