Thicker Than Blood | Page 8

stand on end. "The explosion?" He abandoned any hope of repairing his car. "I guess you were unconscious before it happened. Your car sent a fireball into the sky." "The explosion?" Joe repeated in a gravelly voice. "Oh, wait. It was on fire." "A state trooper saw the explosion from his speed trap up the road. He saved your life," Teressa said. She drew close to his face. He thought she looked worn. "If your car hadn't exploded you would be dead." Joe stopped worrying about his un-fixable car. "Do you think the explosion damaged my eyes?"
"It's possible." She reached for her pen light. She shined it in his eyes and squinted. "So, you are having trouble with your eyes? Can you see?" She shined the light in his left eye. "I see little pepper specks everywhere." "It might be," she paused, "hmmm." "It might be what?" "The nanites." Joe looked confused. Then his face lit up. "I have nanites in me? Cool!" Joe almost shouted, his eyes widening. Joe felt excitement and dread at the same time. A huge fear campaign had been aired on TV over the past year. Government commercials talking about the unprecedented risks of unbridled nano-size machinery in the hands of terrorists. On the other hand, they're tiny robots, Joe thought. What's better than that? Who cares about the three letter agencies anyway? "You'll be sad to hear I have to shut them off, daredevil," Dr. Graceland said with a straight face. She reached for a wheeled machine and pulled it toward her. She flipped a switch on its top. "They're still on?" Joe asked in amazement. All of sudden it all snapped into place. The nanites must have had some responsibility in Joe's good fortune. That conversation in the hall with the angry man was about the nanites. Aunt Teressa must have taken a big chance to keep him alive. Joe's smile faded. "I'll be right back. I need another machine." Joe's aunt walked out of the room. Joe forced his guilt aside and began to search around for something that could hide some of his blood. I have to get some of these to Mark, Joe thought. He heard his aunt's shoes squeak as she approached. Joe laid back down, trying to copy his original position. His aunt was carrying what looked like a small old laptop with a cable dangling from a port by its hinge. "We have never had a conscious subject before with active nanotech. That might be what is causing the distortion of your vision. The nanites are more dense than natural blood components. There may be other side effects too." She plugged the laptop into the device. A small light on the device began to flicker. "So what do the nanites do?" Joe asked hoping to find out more. Joe's aunt continued plugging in wires and booting the laptop. She pulled Joe's tablet off the end of the bed.
She faced him and tried to look serious, "You need to rest now. I'll tell you more later." With that, she turned and left the room. Joe wondered why she didn't answer his question. Maybe, she's still fuming about that man, he thought. Joe's head was starting to swim, but he was determined to save a little of his own blood for later. He spotted his cell phone on the nightstand. He groaned as he reached behind his head. He pulled the phone closer by the extended antenna. It beeped as Joe pushed the outside cover off. He pulled the fuel cell from the back of the phone's exposed innards. He turned the fuel cell upside down and poured the alcoholic contents under his pillow. The strong smell was making him more tired. "I hope this works," Joe mumbled to himself. He held the empty cell container to the wound on his other hand. He pulled the bandage away and aggravated the cut underneath with his fingers. Only a few small drops of blood dripped into the cell. I must be loaded up with coagulants, Joe thought. Joe snapped the fuel cell back into it's compartment. He dropped the phone on the distant stand behind him, wincing in pain with the awkward movement. He was tired. He lay still with his eyes closed, waiting to hear his aunt return.
Chapter 4
"You can't wake him up." "Why not? He's already been awake. They let us in here." Was this a dream? Joe heard middle eastern accents all around him. "Do you want to make him sicker?" "No, I guess you're right," Mark uttered. I know that voice, Joe thought. "Where am I, Pakistan?" Joe wasn't going to let his friends have one more moment of sympathy and pity for him. "No, New Iraq, and you're our prisoner. Moo-ha-ha!" Mark tried to sound