Thicker Than Blood | Page 9

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 Arabic, but still sounded Indian. "I
thought so," Joe shook his head, "I woke up hearing crazy accents. I
wasn't sure what I did last night." Another voice said, "Mark, your
accent was terrible." Joe recognized the voice. The other person in the
room was Amman. Joe opened his eyes and looked through the
doorway for Feds. Obviously they hadn't arrived yet, Joe thought
sarcastically. "Hey, how's it going Amman?" Joe asked. "How are you
feeling?" Amman replied. Amman was in his early thirties. He looked
short next to the tall, slim Mark. His dark skin and deep accent gave
away his Middle Eastern decent. His unkept clothing, hair and beard
hinted at his nerdy ways. "I feel worse than yesterday," Joe said. "Oh,
so you've been awake. Why didn't you call? We're sunk without you. It
took me two days just to install the new hip servos." Mark sounded
indignant. "Two days?" Joe mumbled.
"Yeah! What do you think, everybody is some kind of mechanical
superman? The program for the servos is tied to..." Mark was
interrupted by Joe. "That's not what I mean. I was out for two days?
What day is it?" "Monday," Mark responded. "How long has it been?"
Joe asked. "A week and five days," Mark said. Joe started sounding
angry, "What? I felt fine two days after. I've been asleep for a week?"
"Your aunt said you are very bad, and that you almost died... twice."
Mark was talking in an even calm voice. He seemed to think Joe was
becoming too agitated. "Twice?" Joe mumbled. His head was spinning.
He definitely felt worse than the other day. Joe was staring at Mark
when he realized the room was no longer filled with gray dots. I almost
died the second time when they shut the nanites off, Joe thought. Joe
snapped his neck back and forth and saw the discharged phone sitting
on the end table. "Yea, some complication. What do you need?" Mark
asked. He was watching Joe. Joe reached up to grab Mark's arm and
pull him closer. He stopped short when he almost yanked the IV out of
his arm. Joe grimaced when he saw a little blood drip from the needle
in his arm. Joe struggled to lift his head up and whispered in Mark's ear,
"My cell phone, take it with you. Store the blood in the cell in the
fridge. Don't mention this to Amman." Joe let his head fall back on his
pillow. He looked relieved. "Huh? Do what? Are you delirious?" Mark
looked concerned. Joe felt his heart pounding in his chest. "He

probably is." Teressa Graceland said as she strode in the doorway.
"Perhaps it was too soon for you boys to see him." Oh no. Mark come
on. Do as I told you. Don't say anything about the phone, Joe thought.
He stared intently at Mark, trying to look as stern as possible. "Why
don't you let him rest and come back tomorrow?" Dr. Teressa
Graceland stared at Mark and Amman. She grabbed the computerized
tablet from his beds foot board and glared at Joe's vitals. It began
beeping rapidly in tune to his heart when she touched it. It's graphs
were moving erratically. If his aunt knew about the hidden blood, she
would make it worse for both of them with her honesty. Just take the
phone, Joe thought. Mark walked past Joe's aunt and grabbed the cell
phone off the end table. Dr Graceland gave Mark a strange look. "Joe
asked me to please check his messages. I need the password off the
scratch pad." He plunged the phone into his pocket. "Oh. Okay," she
said. Joe's face relaxed. He felt exhaustion creeping in. Looking at his
friend, he managed to say, "Thank you, Mark." Joe closed his eyes and
went to sleep. The clipboard began to beep more slowly.
Chapter 5
"Dad, I'm going over to Lucy's," Joe announced. He strode through the
sparse kitchen to the table where his father was sitting. His father
looked up at him through a smoky sunbeam. His brow furrowed,
deepening the lines on his forehead. "You sure you're up to it?" He
asked in a deep scratchy voice with a slight Brooklyn accent. Joe was
staring at the smoke wisping up from the cigar in his fathers ash tray.
He snapped out of his trance, and said, "Yeah I am. I have to go out
sometime." He was staring at the long ash on the cigar. "I can't be
afraid to live." "I may not be here later. Call me if you