Fathom by L. Standage (spanish books to read .TXT) 📕

his late fifties, tall and wiry, smiled and sat down in the chair. He looked like a tough old sea captain with his weathered gray eyes, a scrubby, rusty-gray beard, and a head of short, fine hair.

“You must have been very frightened, giving up the vessel,” said the stranger next to me. “You’ve had quite an ordeal.”

He had an accent too—clipped and meandering. Irish by the sound of it. More foreigners?

“Who are you?” I asked.

“My name is Dr. Eamon O’Dell. You can call me Eamon. I’m the physician who tended to your wound.”

“How did I survive?” The pictures in my head became more vivid and frightening as I grew more alert.

“Well, for starters, you were very lucky. A bullet to the shoulder from a nine millimeter wouldn’t kill most people. With proper doctoring and hospitalization, recovery is quite attainable. But we couldn’t take you to a hospital. Too many questions.” He looked around with amusement. “And you’re coming along a sight faster than most other folk would.”

“You’ve had some special treatment, Liv,” said Sam. “These people had special medicines they said would make you heal faster.”

I looked from Samantha to the Irishman, perplexed. The smell of the flower next to the bed seemed to be calming my heart, but not my mind.

“Why did this happen to me?” I asked.

“I’m sorry to say you were in the wrong place at the wrong time.” He frowned. “I don’t know why Linnaeus can’t just leave well enough alone.”

“Linnaeus?”

“Doran Linnaeus. We believe he is the man behind all this. Wealthy man, Scandinavian—you may have met him.”

“I think I did.” I thought back on the rich man, whose fingers had carved their prints on my jaw. I looked down at my arm in the sling and moved my fingers a little. “Why did you heal me?”

He raised his eyebrows as though my question was both ridiculous and a bit insulting. “My dear lass, that’s what we do! You were in grave need. Surely you didn’t want to be taken to one of our hospitals?”

I could only stare at him like a dead fish and think about the healing bullet hole in my shoulder. “Umm...”

He continued. “This has all been a most unfortunate occurrence. I hope it won’t keep you from any future visits.”

I shook my head.

“Then let me give you the best assurances I can. You’ve been through a lot, but we will make sure you, or any other innocents, will not be affected by it.”

“They shot at me and Samantha. How can we be sure they won’t come back?”

“Trust me, lass, they’d never believe you would linger around after what happened. But assumptions aside, they won’t come after you because they weren’t shooting at you. They were shooting at us. You were caught in the crossfire.”

I studied Dr. O’Dell’s earnest face. He seemed pretty calm about having escaped certain injury or even death. Why would Mr. Rich Man and all his minions want to shoot at these guys? What did this doctor have to do with any of the other people I had forcibly crossed paths with?

“How long was I out?” I asked. At least one question I knew would have a simple answer.

“A little over two of what we call days,” Eamon replied.

Huh? What we call days? Why was he talking so weird?

“Normally I’d keep you submerged,” Eamon went on, “but with the state of your blood, I didn’t want to risk a bad reaction. So we kept you sedated. It helps the tissue mend faster. Your friend here has helped take good care of you.”

Submerged? State of my blood? What the…?

Samantha gave me a wan smile. She must have been worried sick. I shuddered to think of what I would have done if she were the one with the terrible wound. I would have asked to be sedated too.

“If you’re feeling all right, you may get up for a while,” said Eamon.

I sat up. I felt okay, just tired and sore.

“Why don’t you come out and meet the rest of us before we go?” Eamon asked. “Then we’ll be on our way so you can have some solitude.”

“Uh, okay.” With Samantha’s help, I edged out of bed, using my good arm to help myself up while Eamon walked out of the bedroom.

“Are you in any pain?” Sam asked.

“A little, but not bad.” I gave her a one-armed hug. “Thank you so much for taking care of me. You must have been terrified.”

She barely squeezed back as if I were made of porcelain and she feared I'd break. “I’m fine. We’ve been well protected. The big German guy has a gun.”

“Uh, I think he’s Irish.”

“No, not Eamon. There’s a German guy too. I can’t remember his name.”

“A Scandanavian, an Irishman, and a German? It sounds like one of my dad’s jokes. Who are these people?” I whispered.

“They helped us that night. I don’t really know why, and they wouldn’t tell me much.”

“You’ve been sitting with them for two days, and they didn’t tell you anything?” I asked in astonishment.

“They wouldn’t tell me anything.”

“Did you call our parents?”

She shook her head with an uneasy grimace. “I was going to. Eamon told me not to tell anyone what happened, because gunshot wounds attract cops.”

“Well, that’s probably smart since one of the guys who kidnapped me was a cop.”

“I don’t know if I did the right thing or not. I’ve just been so scared.”

“What about the neighbors? They had to have heard everything.”

“Yeah, but the German guy said he handled it. Some people have come by, but I never had to talk to anyone. Mostly I stayed in here.”

I sobered, humbled again by Sam’s tireless care, then followed her out of the room and down the hall. When we came into the living room, a number of people stood to greet us, Eamon at the forefront.

“We’re a motley group, you might say,” he said. “From all over the world. Over there is Walter Andrus from South Africa. He specializes in all our boating and scuba needs.”