Universal Soldier by Robert Tine

Author:Robert Tine [Tine, Robert]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

“Wow, the size of this thing—”

Luc looked puzzled. “That is not supposed to be there?”

Veronica could not help staring at the organ in her grasp, feeling a couple of years of hormone buildup flustering her. Her cheeks were burning bright red. “Ah, no,” she stammered. “This is just, uh, fine. Nothing wrong with that. Far from it.”

“Then continue,” Luc ordered.

“Right,” said Veronica. She switched to his back and worked her way down his spine, over his buttocks, then stopped at a point on the rear side of his leg, midway between his ass and his knee. She probed, exploring one spot with her fingertips. “I think,” she said a little uncertainly, “I think I found something here, on the back of your thigh.”

Luc did not hesitate. He slipped his finely honed bayonet out of its sheath and handed it to her. “Cut it out.”

She shook her head. “What? I can’t . . . I…”

“You must do it.”

“No way,” she said flatly. “You do it.”

“I can’t reach. You have to get that thing out of me; otherwise they will find us. And when they find us, they’ll kill us.” He was not being melodramatic. It was a simple statement of fact.

When it was put that way, Veronica saw that she had no choice but to do as he said. She took the razor-sharp knife and gingerly scratched at his skin, grazing it slightly, opening up a wound no deeper than a scrape.

“Just do it,” he urged through gritted teeth.

“I can’t,” she whimpered. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“Please,” he said, imploring her. ‘You must do it quickly. Cut.” Veronica took a deep breath, steeled herself and jabbed hard with the keen point. Luc jumped when he felt the steel split his flesh. He was surprised to feel pain—but also strangely reassured by it. The pain brought back the fluttering shadows of long-buried memories.

Veronica jumped when he winced. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Then it dawned on her that he hadn’t flinched from a deep bullet wound to the shoulder, but now a jab in the back of the leg was causing him pain. “You felt that?”

“It doesn’t matter. Find it, hurry.”

She had opened an incision in his leg and was trying to scoop out a tiny metal object with the point of the bayonet, using it like a lancet. But the transmitter either slipped away from the tip of the knife or, when she had cornered it, wouldn’t budge. “I can’t get hold of it,” she said desperately. “It’s stuck.”

“Use your fingers,” he said.

Reluctantly, queasily, she thrust her fingers into his leg, poking for the device. His blood was warm on her fingers and it flowed slickly over her hand. “This is so gross,” she said emphatically. “Really disgusting.”

But she had a grip on the transmitter and she gave a tug, pulling the gadget. She tore at the thing and finally drew it out of his leg, a short cord hanging between the transmitter and the wound. She jerked and pulled out a spiky anchor, oily with blood.

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