2
I don’t know how many hours passed, but they worked on her for a long time. We could hear the murmur of their voices, and twice shouting erupted, the chaos and then the breathless silence that accompanied the use of defibrillators. Twice techs went by with bags of blood; all of us had to bank our blood on a regular basis. Especially Ken, because he has a rare blood type.
Dr. Nambu was the one who came out to tell us when the surgery was done. He looked almost as worn as Ken. “They’re going to try the regeneration tanks,” he said.
“When did they test the tanks for something this serious?” Jinpei said. His eyes were red-rimmed and swollen, his cheeks chapped from wiping at his tears.
“They haven’t been tested,” Dr. Nambu said quietly, slipping his hands into his pockets. “We don’t even know if it will work. But it’s the only thing we have left.”
“The surgery…?” I said.
“They did what they could. She’s too weak, they kept losing her on the table, and finishing the work they need to finish to keep her alive will kill her.”
Jinpei began to cry again. Ryu put his arm around him. I wished he’d shut up. My nerves were shot, I was scared to death, and listening to his sobbing was just making everything worse.
“Go get cleaned up,” Dr. Nambu said to us. “It’s going to be at least an hour before we know anything more.”
I glanced at the others. Ken’s uniform was ruined. Blood, stark against the white of his chest and thighs; brown blood flaking off his gloves; even a dried copper smear across his cheek. Jinpei had blood under his fingernails and on his knees, and even Ryu had spots of it on his boots.
We walked down to the locker room, all four of us silent, walking as if we shared a heavy weight. Ken still hadn’t said anything, not even to Jinpei, and so the task sort of fell to me. I sat down on one of the wooden benches so I’d be at eye level with the kid.
“She’s gonna be fine,” I said, wondering what I was going to do if I was wrong. “Remember that knife cut I got, all the way to the bone, the one on my arm?” I pushed up my sleeve. “Not even a scar after half an hour in the regen tank. That’s what they’re going to do for her.”
He nodded miserably. He didn’t look like he believed me. His hair stuck out in every direction, all of his cowlicks still rebelling against the idea of his helmet. For once, he looked more pathetic than comical.
Jun was his mother, his sister, his everything. Someday he’d probably grow up and fall in love with a woman just like her. And he could do a hell of a lot worse.
“Come on,” Ryu said to Jinpei. He was back in his corduroy pants and his favorite green shirt. “Let’s get you changed and then we’ll walk down and see her.”
#
The door swung shut behind them just as Ken reappeared from the showers, his jeans on but only haphazardly buttoned. His skin was red, like he’d turned the water on too hot, and the bruises were stark beneath his eyes.
“It wasn’t your fault,” I said.
He glanced at me. “I was with her. I was supposed to be watching her back. If I’d done my job, she wouldn’t have been shot.”
It irritated me when he played hero like this, when he tried to carry it all on his shoulders. “You’re only one person,” I said.
He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. I knew what he was thinking: But I’m Gatchaman.
He tossed his things into his locker, but rather than slamming it shut, he paused, leaning his hands to either side of it, his head dropping between his shoulders. Delayed reaction, I thought, but then I noticed the taut line of his back, and that his fingers had curled in, the knuckles whitening. He was literally holding himself up. He shoved away from the locker, bravado squaring his shoulders, but his legs gave beneath him, and he sat down hard on the bench. I heard his teeth snap together.
“Ken?” I said.
“I’m fine,” he said, but what he meant was, Go away. Don’t look at me when I’m like this. Don’t see that there’s something wrong with me.
I knew, because I had done it to him.
Maybe I was especially aware that something was wrong because we were already in danger of losing Jun. Maybe my senses were just ready to see the sickness. Or maybe I had known now for a while, and I just hadn’t wanted to admit it to myself.
The muscles shifted in his back, in his arms, and his hands opened and closed, like he was trying to hold onto something ephemeral. I remembered my own double vision, the blackouts, the dizziness, the flashbacks. He had asked me more than once what was wrong, and every time I had sworn it was nothing, go away, leave me alone. And he had respected that.
“I think you should see a med tech,” I said.
He stood, carefully, but his legs held him, and he let his arms drop to his sides. “I’m tired,” he said. “That’s all.”
“That’s what I told you when the shrapnel in my brain was killing me.”
He stiffened a bit, then shook his head. “I don’t have any old injuries like that. I’m fine, Joe. I’m just worried about Jun. I’m going to go sit with Jinpei and Ryu to wait.”
I knew I should go with him, but I couldn’t take any more of Jinpei’s crying. Which left me with nothing to do except take a shower.
I had just turned on the water when Jinpei burst back through the doors to tell me Jun was going to be all right.
#
I stood under the hot water for a long time, trying to wash my fears about Ken down the drain with Jun’s blood.
When I was clean, I walked back out to the med sector, passing through a pair of checkpoint doors. G-Town’s security was as tight as Crescent Coral’s had been, but my thumbprint opened most of the doors. The only person who had higher clearance was Dr. Nambu.
I had to check several of the med chambers before I found the right one. The facility is arranged kind of like a honeycomb, with a corridor that leads in, and separate chambers organized around it. Jun was suspended in the regen tank in chamber five, her eyes closed, her hair floating around her in a dark cloud. The med techs monitored her breathing and other vital signs, and one rose when I walked in.
“She’s doing great,” the tech said, her smile genuine. She had short, wavy auburn hair and rectangular librarian glasses with black frames. “In fact, she’s healing faster than we thought she would.” She touched my arm, as if to draw my attention to one of the monitors. “You can see the healing progress here.”
I could feel her looking at me as I studied the image.
“Dr. Nambu sent the others to sleep for a while,” she added. “Jun will be in the tank for the rest of the night.” Her hand on my arm again. “You should get some sleep, too.” Looking at me, the invitation there: I could come with you.
She was pretty, but I wasn’t in the mood, and the last time I slept with one of the employees, Nambu read me the riot act for over an hour. I didn’t have the energy to go through it again.
I heard Nambu’s voice, as if my thought had summoned him, and I glanced back at the door through which I’d entered. He disappeared into another of the med chambers. I hesitated, wondering if I should tell him that something seemed to be wrong with Ken. I wasn’t a snitch, and I’d have killed anyone who told on me when I was sick, but…
Maybe I could just sort of see if Nambu knew anything. I wouldn’t tell him anything, I’d just play it cool and see what I could learn.
Decided, I glanced one more time at Jun’s serene form and headed out the door. The chamber into which Nambu had gone opened at my thumbprint, and I shoved my hands into my pockets and sauntered inside.
Ken was lying on a stainless steel examination table, his shirt cast onto one of those uncomfortable plastic chairs, electrodes glued to his abdomen, chest, neck, and temples. His eyes were closed, and an array of monitors blinked and flickered around him. Dr. Nambu stood on the far side of the room, his back to me, studying a series of monitor readouts.
I knew immediately that I was seeing something not meant for my eyes, and I instinctively backed up, catching the door against my body before it banged into place. I slipped back through the opening, as silent as I’d been taught to be, and still Ken’s eyes slid open, bluer than the heart of a flame, touching me, sending a shock of guilt through me.
And then the door slipped into its frame, and I was retreating, half expecting him to come after me.
He didn’t.