The Long Dark by B.J. Farmer (reading women .TXT) 📕

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Your gout--”

“What the fuck about it?”

“It got really bad, right?”

When I didn’t answer, she continued.

“It was lanced by one of our people. He slipped it in while he was doing the procedure.”

“Doctor Kimmik?”

She nodded.

Taken aback, I asked, “Why?”

“Why you were tagged to be tracked?”

“No shit. Yes, that’s what I’m asking.”

“I was… I—“

“So you’re in Fairbanks, and none of you fuckers know anything, but somehow you find out I have a tracking device in my skin. How? Why?”

A single bead of sweat ran down her face. “I was told after the Order came down that you had left Barrow, and that you might have been responsible for killing the leader. That meant you probably had a phone, and we couldn’t allow that.”

Nevermind, she was changing her story. I had to know why I was being tracked. “But fucking, why?”

“I just know that you were making a name for yourself in Barrow. So much so that it made its way all the way to Fairbanks. The implant was probably initially put in because of your seclusion at the Patch. I obviously do not know specifics.”

How in the hell did she know it was called the Patch, I wondered. “Where is it?”

“I can help you. I can take it out.”

My left foot had been lanced, so I knew it had to be that one. I unlaced my boot, pulled both pairs of socks off, and presented her with my already bloody foot.

“I will need to touch your foot.”

I nodded for her to move to the floor. She did. She ran her thumb across my foot until her hand stopped. “It’s here.”

I wondered why my foot had itched something terrible after that procedure. I just thought it was the remnants of the gout flare-up. I pulled my pistol before handing her the knife. “Take it out.”

“It will hurt.”

“Everything hurts. Do it.”

She positioned the knife as if she were using it like a pencil. She thumbed my foot one more time before moving in close for the cut. I gritted my teeth as the knife cut into my skin. She produced a very tiny metallic capsule. I took it and the knife, and bashed it with the butt of my pistol, before placing the gun back in my waistband, again favoring the knife.

No one spoke as I laced back up my shoe. My leg hurt so bad, I barely felt the pain in my foot. To be fair, I hadn’t tried to walk on it yet. I stood, checked my footing with the bad foot. Yeah, it hurt like hell. I had other things on my mind, though.

“If you were what you say you are, why would you lie? Why not just tell me that in the beginning?”

“I didn’t think--”

“You aren’t who you pretend to be. I don’t know your game, but this ain’t it.”

Her eyes flicked towards Duane, before settling back on me. “There is a scientist in Fairbanks. She’s very uncomfortable about what she’s helped create. That, and she realizes she’s being blamed for the massive failure that has been the Grays. You help her escape, and she’ll help you make this right.”

I laughed. “You’re a liar. You’ll tell me anything to stay alive.”

Duane stepped forward. “We have to take this seriously.”

I turned towards Duane. “If she was who she is pretending to be, she would’ve knocked me over to get to my stinky-ass foot and take that out. She lying.”

“Can she fix the Grays?” Duane asked, looking around me, to where Janna sat.

“Yes. I believe she can.”

“You need to leave, Duane.”

“William, she can help. You need to calm down.”

“I’m fucking calm, Duane. Now I need you to leave.”

“Dammit, William, you aren’t listening.”

“No, Duane. You’re the one who hasn’t been listening. She’s fucking playing games with us. You’re playing right into it, too.”  I took a calming breath. “You need to leave.”

He glared at me but seemed to turn around and was headed to the door. I had just returned my attention to Janna when I heard fast footfalls from behind. All I remember from that point was Duane screaming, “Stop, William! She is offering to help us! You can’t kill…”

***

If you have ever taken a whack to the head, and I mean one that knocks your ass out cold, you feel its effects for a long time. Over three or four days, my brain had received a lot of trauma. Waking up to the latest and greatest of those traumas, I was struggling with just about everything you could imagine. I had a pool of slobber on the collar of my coat, where spit had drained out of my bobbled head. My neck was so stiff. I must’ve been out for a long time.

My eyes would hardly open. I was sending impulses, but they didn’t seem to be received. Finally, one of them cooperated. For whatever reason , I felt like I was alone in a dark room, but then I began receiving enough auditory signals to know there was engine noise. No, I was in a vehicle. I tried to lift my head and take in more of my surroundings. Goddamn, it hurt. I gave that up as dizziness swarmed over me like a hive of bees.

More signals sent out. I rubbed the back of my head with my ungloved hand. A big, scabbed-over knot, protruded from almost dead center of the back of my head. More evidence I had been out for a while – evidence that something shitty had happened to me. Except, I didn’t remember said shitty thing.

Through a single squinted eye, I saw a soft, blurry, blue glow emanating from somewhere in front of me. I also heard a muffled whine of an engine under load from someplace else. It was hard to tell: to the front of me, to the rear of me, everywhere. I didn’t know.

I took slow, even breaths, as I tried to ease the tension welling up inside of me.