Открыть фик целиком в отдельном окне
"Come on, guys, hurry on," shouted the chief of the team, "hurry, hurry, get Doyle out of here. I’ll install the bomb. Time – two minutes." While the both men took out Connor, she modified the box, consisting of the controls for the compressors.
The team had already manipulated all the levers of the compressors so that each of them could function. This manipulations were made on every apparatus that could destruct the building. Now she cautiously removed the last choker, turned on the bomb and ran away. In two minutes the blockade would be removed and the contact closed and then everything would blow up. "Run, Peter!"
The explosion shook the earth. The building behind Peter collapsed. A cloud of ashes and dust, illuminated by the roaring flames was the only thing left.
"Peter!" Lindsay ran over to him. "Peter, where’s Connor?"
He looked at her, sad, not knowing what to say. But she understood him without words. Looked at him, not believing. He put his hands around her, pressed her to him.
200 m behind the building now nothing but ashes, the members of the Gamma team in black suits lay in an earth cavity. They were protected form the pressure under a fireproof surface and stayed untouched. Connor Doyle was with them. He was alive.
Heavy machines slowly took away the ashes and stones of the blown up building. The Beta team scanned the surroundings looking for living things. Ultra sound - , thermo detectors, sonar devices, warm reflectors and sound - frequency analyzers helped to search, just like another High Tech devices that were not a part of an usual equipment of a searching troop. But in this case every kind of equipment was used, any chance taken, like it was ordered "from above".
"There’s nothing here as well," one of the team members said, "nothing but hundred remains of these parasites but no trace of Doyle."
All of this just couldn’t be true! She hoped to wake up anytime from this horrible nightmare but the hope was vain, she didn’t wake up and wouldn’t do it, for this was no dream. It was reality, showing one of its cruelest faces this time. Why didn’t she stop him as she had a chance to do this? Why? Why haven’t Peter stopped him? He saw him the last! Why did he leave him alone? Peter could have stopped him! Connor could still live!
Lindsay sighed. She was lying on a bed in a little, scarcely furnished quarantine room. Arms crossed behind her head, she stared at the ceiling. She’s been here for three days but still couldn’t sleep a single night. She still was tortured by the memories of the night. Now she thought how different things could be if Connor stayed alive. Would she dare to tell him how she felt? The real feelings, much more than the usual friendship between the members of the team? Now he wouldn’t know. Never. His death was so final. So damned final. Tears ran down her cheeks and left wet spots on the pillow.
He heard noises, voices, felt the slight pressure of the oxygen mask on his face, light reflexes danced in front of his eyes but he couldn’t open them. Where was he? And with whom? What did they do to him? He felt a dull pain. The parasite. He was still inside. An electrical peep ton, that he has heard all the time somewhere behind, increased the frequency. His heart race. Was he in a hospital? How did he come here?
Someone approached him, he sensed their presence, heard how they were talking but he couldn’t understand what it was about. He saw everything as if through fog, that dulled all his senses. Someone lifted his lids and blinded him with a stark light. He couldn’t move. He saw shortly blurred faces that his eyes closed again. The darkness again gained him. A swift prick in his palm, a slight touch of a hand. Then he felt nothing more, the tiredness covered him slowly, the voices disappeared somewhere far. He seemed to fall in to a world of silence and peace, he was surrounded by darkness. He had no more pain.
Dressed in blue quarantine clothes like every member of alpha team, Peter sat alone in a corner of his room and ruffled his short hair. He sighed deeply. Did he act wrong? Could he have saved him? Not even now he could do something for him. As soon as alpha team returned, he was put under quarantine till it could be determined, that no one in the team was contaminated. What he’d given to be there now... with his friend. Did he abandon him? He cried silently.
There was a high activity in the lab, the last preparations. Neon lights turned everything to a cold white light. In the middle of the room there was a metal table. A team of scientists and doctors, dressed in white tunics, stood within reach. "It is efficacious, there’s no activity found," another woman said, looking up from the monitors, "you can start."
"Well, let’s go," one of the doctors said and put on his band. The others followed his example. They approached the table on which Connor Doyle lay. His abdominal cavity was already opened and the rest of his body covered with blue cloths. Scalpel sparkled cold in the artificial light of the lab.
"Is Peter in there?" Lindsay quietly asked Anton, who stood in front of the door to Peter’s room. Lindsay looked tired, her eyes reddened. Anton didn’t look different, he also grieved his friend, who – regarded objectively – no chance of survival had. Peter told him that Connor was contaminated. Even if he survived the explosion, surely not the outbreak of the parasite in his body. Anton answered Lindsay’s question with a nod. No one spoke much ever since the accident. Everyone thought about something, tried to manage the tragic situation. Lindsay wanted to pass Anton and to enter the room but Anton hold her back. As she looked at him, questioning, he shook his head. Lindsay threw a short look through the clink in the door. She saw Peter. He sat in a corner of the room on the floor, the knees pressed to his body. She heard his quiet sobbing. She looked away, tears in her eyes.
"We should leave him alone," Anton whispered. "For a while," he added then.
Anton and Lindsay went down the floor.
"Don’t make him a scape goat," Anton suddenly said, "he couldn’t do a thing."
"But... I didn’t want..." Lindsay started but she stopped as Anton silently looked at her. She lowered her eyes. He was right. In a way she wanted to make Peter guilty. She searched a scape goat. Needed someone against whom she could rage, but it was unfair! It was too simple, it wasn’t Peter’s guilt. She knew Connor’s way, she’d have to handle the same way too. She would have done it the same way! She also left Connor as he ordered her to do it and this fact haunted her in her dreams and thoughts. She nodded and sighed.
"Peter thinks he’s guilty," continued Anton, "I hope he’d be ready soon to talk about it. He shouldn’t keep it inside."
"Excellent work, I expect your report," pushing a button, Elsinger terminated his talk. He smiled. So far so good. Now the parasite was again where it belonged and the tests could go on.
His senses were coming back, slowly, but they were still dulled. He had a strange feeling but couldn’t find out what it was. Did he feel lonely? But it was a good feeling... Then he understood. He didn’t sense the presence of the parasite inside of him. Was it removed? Did it die? It wasn’t inside of him any more. Connor felt well.
"Make sure that he doesn’t regain consciousness," one of the doctors warned the assistant, that took care of the patient. He nodded and checked the dose of narcotics.
"He’s rather pale," he told then, a bit worried. The doctor approached the bed and controlled the pulse and temperature. Though the monitors were adjoined, she wanted to be sure. "Everything is all right," she calmed down the assistant, "there are all side effects of the operation, it was rather hard. Doyle will live."
She turned to her current work, the investigation of the parasites. They really made it, removing the parasite out of the body, without killing one of them. She still asked herself, where Elsinger got the vaccine but such questions were never spoken in this branch.
"The measuring look good," one of the scientists said, while observing fascinated the parasite, that slowly moved in its glass," our little friend her seems to wake up."
"As soon as his measuring is stabile, I need the roentgen and spectral analysis," the chief doctor ordered, "till then take tissue – and blood samples. Everything must be analyzed and measured. And try to find out how he grows. We need a bigger glass."
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