The gesture brought a tear to Summer’s eye.
CHAPTER 17
Summer was about to knock on the door to the medical bay, when it opened on its own, bringing Doctor Liz Blackwell face to face with her.
“Hey Doc,” Summer said, wondering what kind of reaction she’d get.
The doc’s eyes locked onto the makeshift bandage on Summer’s cheek. “What happened to your face?”
“Got into a fight.”
“With who?” Liz asked, escorting Summer inside, leading her to the edge of an examination table.
“Not a who, Doc. A what. Tripped over some stupid pallets and landed on one. I came around this corner and boom. Never saw them until it was too late.”
Summer put her pack on the floor before she spun and sat down. The paper down the middle of the table crinkled under her weight, sliding a few inches to the rear.
Liz peeled the bandage back with a gentle hand. “Is this why you’re so late? Did you lose consciousness?”
“Uh, yeah. Lost consciousness. That’s what happened. How did you know?”
“It’s my job to know these things. Did you clean the wound before you dressed it? You had water with you, right?”
“Nah, there wasn’t time. I was kind of being chased.”
“Chased? I thought you said you tripped and fell. Then lost consciousness, which is why you’re late.”
Summer stuttered a bit, then answered in a hurried tone. “Well, they were chasing me, but I’d lost them for a bit before I fell. Don’t think I was knocked out for very long. I was able to run inside this old cannery and hide in one of the machines. Had to wait until they left.”
“Frost’s men?”
Summer didn’t want to admit her run-in with Frost’s people, not when she was on their side of the No-Go Zone. A better version of the facts was needed—something that everyone would believe and never bother to check.
“No, some ugly Scabs. Took forever before they left. Thank God they’re not too bright. It’s easy to hide from them, if you know what you’re doing. For a while there, though, I thought maybe they could smell me.”
“Smell you or the blood?”
“Both, I guess. My next shower rotation isn’t for a few more days.”
“I’m just glad you’re back safe and sound. I know the Professor is worried sick. You need to go see him when we’re done here. I’m sure he wants to talk to you.”
“I will. Promise.”
“Looks like you’re going to need some stitches. I’ll keep them small so they don’t scar. A pretty girl like you never wants that.”
Summer appreciated the kind words, but the last thing she thought of herself was pretty. Plain was more accurate, if she had to judge herself.
Besides, worrying about your looks after the world ends is pointless. And dangerous. Pretty girls are bigger targets when you have a run-in with men like Frost. It’s better to look scary or even repulsive, so they think twice about wanting to put their hands on you. “Thanks, but I really don’t care about a scar. It’ll make me look bad ass. Like Krista.”
“Speaking of Krista, she’s out there looking for you.”
“For me? Really? Not one of her teams?”
“She went with them. She’s not happy with you at the moment.”
“So what else is new?” Summer quipped after a roll of her eyes. “I’m pretty sure she has it in for me.”
Liz worked quickly to apply a cleaning agent to the gash with a cotton swab.
It stung like hell, but Summer didn’t react.
Liz put down the gauze. “The Professor will fill you in on the rest, I’m sure.”
“Rest of what?”
Liz didn’t answer, her hands beginning work with a needle and thread. “Let me know if the pain gets to be too much.”
“I’ll be fine, Doc. Do what you need to do,” Summer said, holding firm as more pain hit. Each stitch pulled at her skin, but she wasn’t about to flinch. Not even a little. Only girly-girls flinched. And that she wasn’t.
“That ought to do it. Good as new,” Liz said when she was done a few minutes later. She applied a fresh bandage, pressing gently along the edges where it was sticky. “You need to keep this clean and dry. In fact, I want you stop in every day so I can check for infection and apply some ointment. It’ll help with the healing process.”
“Cool. Thanks,” Summer said, hopping off the table. She grabbed her pack and put it on the table. The zipper was still open from her encounter with the kids. She pulled out the glass picture frame and held it up. “This is for you. I found it when I was out.”
Liz took the frame. “It’s gorgeous.”
Summer pointed at Liz’s desk. “Figured you could use it for that photo of your dogs. I know how much you miss them.”
Tears came to Liz’s eyes, then a smile to her lips. She hugged Summer. “Thank you. I just hope you didn’t put yourself at risk finding this for me.”
“Wasn’t really looking for it when I found it. But the second I saw it, I just knew I had to bring it back for you.”
“Well, you didn’t have to.”
“I know, but I wanted to. You always take good care of me, so I wanted to let you know how much I appreciate all you do. For everyone around here.”
Liz gave her another hug. “I love it. Thank you.”
When the doctor let go, Summer asked, “So how mad is the Professor? You know, on a scale of one to ten.”
Liz hesitated. “I’d say about a nine.”
“Whoa, that’s not good,” Summer said in a matter-of-fact way.
“You’ve put him in a tough spot.”
“I know. I screwed up. Again. But this time, it really couldn’t be helped.”
“Just tell him the truth and I’m sure it will be fine. Krista is the one you need to worry about. But like I said, the Professor will explain it all to you.”
Summer kissed Liz on the cheek. “Thanks for the repairs, Doc.”
“Anytime. Now don’t forget, come see me every day until that heals.”
“I will. Promise,” Summer said as she turned and walked to the door.
Today hadn’t exactly gone according to plan, but at least she didn’t have to worry about running into Krista in the hallways—for a while at least. There were still plenty of things to do before that woman caught up to her. Important things.
After a short walk, Summer stood in front of the door to Alexander Morse’s lab, her eyes face to face with his name stenciled on the placard, just below Nirvana’s Infinity Logo.
Morse was Engineering Chief and in charge of both communications and technology, two areas of expertise the silo desperately needed.
Summer ran her fingers through her hair, trying to control some of the crazier strands, then gave up. She didn’t know why she even bothered, but it seemed like the right thing to do before knocking three times. She couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when he saw her gift.
“Come in. Door’s open,” Morse said, his deep tone filling her heart with glee. Some men’s personality and body type matched their voice, but in Morse’s case, they didn’t. He sounded like a big, powerful man, but in reality, he was a total cupcake. A feeble grandfatherly type. The kind that smells like mothballs and too much humidity.
When she entered, she found the round-cheeked, gray-haired black man standing, with the aid of his walker, in front of one of his many grease boards that had been attached to the walls around his work area. Each board contained a combination of handwritten notes, diagrams, and calculations.
The board in front of Morse at the moment featured rows of mathematical equations, none of which Summer understood. He’d written them in red marker ink, unlike the other boards that contained blue ink.
The right-hand side of the red-inked board also held a column of numbers—nine to be exact—with three letters scribbled above them as a column header: E. O. D.