Betrayal (Recompense Book 2) by Michelle Isenhoff

Author:Michelle Isenhoff
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2018-02-24T22:00:00+00:00

SIXTEEN

I didn’t think it was possible to wake from a sixteen-hour sleep feeling worse than when I lay down. Every ligament in my body must have shrunk in the shower last night, because this morning they’re tight and inelastic, protesting the simplest of commands.

Eventually I work myself to a sitting position and find Ethan asleep on the sofa, his feet hanging off the end. I don’t mean to wake him up, but my bladder’s been absolutely heroic to leave me undisturbed so long. He hears my first footfall.

“You all right?” he murmurs when he sees the stiff way I’m walking.

“Will be in a minute.”

When I return, he’s on his holoband. He clicks out as soon as I appear. “I’ve got to get back to the old city. I just came back to check on you and take a nap.”

“What time did you get in?”

“Two. They’ve got round-the-clock shifts going at the bomb sites. Will and the others stayed.”

“It’s bad?”

“Bad enough. The hospital was in an old bus station, a parking lot away from the next building. And few people were in the administrative offices on a Sunday morning. It could have been a lot worse.” He reaches for the athletic tape, still unopened on the table. “Want me to help you wrap those ribs before I go?”

“Will it help?”

“Maybe some.”

“Then yes, please.”

I hold my shirt up and he applies the tape. A few minutes later, my torso looks ready for an Egyptian burial. Putting it on wasn’t pleasant. I don’t even want to think about ripping it off.

Ethan hands me a new holoband. “There was a box on the aeropod. You’ll probably want to check in with Willoughby. Make arrangements for all the Military defectors. We have twenty-six of them. Rescue operations should wrap up by the end of the day, for the most part. We’ll go home tomorrow.”

“Not until I see the devastation for myself.” I want to record another video showing what Macron has done—on-site. This cannot go unacknowledged.

“There’s no taxi service to the old city, Jack. You’d have to walk every block of it. Just lie low and recuperate.”

“I also want to visit the surviving hospital and talk to the Berkam boy who saved it.”

“You can talk to the boy when we get home. And the hospital that survived is no longer a hospital. Once it became clear it was a target, the patients were parceled out to houses and smaller buildings.”

“I’m going,” I maintain.

He frowns. “Jack, tomorrow you will have to walk five blocks to catch an autopod to the airport. Get it through your head now. You absolutely are not walking to the old district.”

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