Implant by J Grace Pennington

Author:J Grace Pennington [Pennington, J Grace]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-08-14T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

Gordon let it sink in that Doc stood there, then turned away. He stared at Caleb’s head as the blood continued to leak out. The flow was slow and thick now. There was blood on his hands. A lot of it. He stared at it.

Doc swore, and walked up behind Gordon. The big hand pressed his shoulder. “Come on.”

No questions.

Gordon didn’t move. He just stared at his hands.

Doc gripped his arm, hard enough to make him wince. “Get out of here now.” He yanked Gordon to his feet and kept a tight hold as he walked to the door. Gordon moved his feet, staring ahead at the horizon.

First Ray, now Caleb.

His hands trembled. Just like his father’s. Gordon always suspected it was that trembling that caused the wreck on the way to court, but who really knew?

Still gripping his arm, Doc led him to the jeep. He pushed him into the passenger seat, then said, “Stay there.”

Doc strode back inside, reappearing moments later with Caleb’s body in his strong arms. He walked to the side of the vehicle and laid the body carefully in the back, then came around to the front. He settled himself in the driver’s seat, then started the vehicle and turned it back towards the base.

Gordon barely took in the details. He registered Doc in his peripheral vision, the car starting, the motion as they moved south, the blood drying on his hands in the cool breeze generated as they drove through the full moonlight. He watched the blue dome grow larger as they approached. When the car stopped, he made no move to get out. Doc left and entered the dome, then came back out with a shovel, which he laid in the back of the jeep. Then he got back in the driver’s seat and started the vehicle again, this time going around the dome, then further south.

The moon made the scene as bright as day, but blue, like a piece of cellophane over a camera lens. The red ground turned purple, and the silence created a haze around Gordon. He couldn’t see, hear, smell, or feel anything. His hands went numb from staying motionless for so long. He looked down at the ugly, cracked, purple-brown stickiness that covered them. He tried to make himself feel disgusted. He failed.

A breeze touched his face. It caressed him, played with his hair, engulfed him.

Signaling to his heart like nerve impulses to a cell, the breeze washed feeling over him, and he cried. First moisture filled his eyes, then a tear slid down his cheek, and at last a hiccuping sob escaped him.

Doc slammed on the brakes. Without a word, he got out, walked around the back, then appeared on Gordon’s side of the jeep with the shovel. “Come on,” he said.

Gordon obeyed, trying to breathe steadily. Another tear escaped his eye.

Doc led the way to an oasis—just a pond, really little more than a large puddle in the cracked earth, with some grass growing out from it in a three foot radius.

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