Sixty-two: Rocks and hard places

"Man, those cars were persistent. I thought we'd never lose them."

"Here's the girl," I felt myself being passed from one pair of arms to another. "Boy is she light. What did they feed her in the Compound?"

"Bad joke, man. Bad joke."

"Here's the agent. He's passed out a bit, but get him to the Doc and he should be right as rain. He'll owe us a favour too, after this for saving his life."

"They already owe us for telling them about the Compound. We should start making demands already."

"Where's Kiran? Not back yet? Contact him and tell him we've got his girl. She's not in the best condition, but a bit of fattening up and rest should bring her right. We'll get Doc to glance over her before he gets back."

~~~

"Hello," unfamiliar brown eyes blinked at me. "You're awake."

"Hello," I replied in my recent whispery voice. "I think I'm dreaming."

"'Fraid not, darling," the brown eyes moved away and I saw a scar on his cheek. "I'm afraid you're quite present."

"Rather I wasn't," I said.

"Many of us do, but reality is always there. Waiting."

"Hits you between the eyes," I said.

"Exactly," the owner of the brown eyes said. "So buck up, darling. There's still a way for you to go. There's nothing like facing the music."

"Especially when it blasts your face off."

"See," the man chuckled, "you are part Bosky. It's in your genes. You even joke like one. That's the way, darling. That's the way."

"Genes?"

"I took the liberty of running your and your parents' DNA to compare it with our existing databases."

"My parents. Where?" I nearly leapt out of bed, but a hand held me back down.

"They're not here, darling. But we tested everyone on the other side of the border, so I've got them in my database. They belong to the Old Brown branches of the Bosky families. Not many of them left back in the mountains, but there seem to be quite a few of you down here in the plains. Your mother seems to be a distant relative of the Waving Bough Tribe. Your father belongs to the no longer existent Golden Yew Tribe. Your father seems to be one of the rare few who are still around. Descendants of our historical elite. Keepers of the Sacred Wood. Guardians of the Stone Halls. You'll find them in our history books. All we've got left of them are in the history books, stories and songs. We lost your tribe in the wars back centuries ago. Sacrificed so that we could live. We owe your ancestors a lot. You though, not so much. You may have warrior genes, but you're not. Your gene mix is quite different from your noble parents and brother's. It seems you got the recessive genes. You're more like the Woodstock slaves. And I mean the original royal Woodstocks that were given in tribute more than the latter, which makes you interesting. Twice royal from different lines, but ultimately, a slave through and through. People don't think that matters much these days, but it does for people of Kiran's stature. He won't care, but everyone else will. 'Why this slave?' will be the question they ask."

"Befuddled reasoning," my brain was full of cotton wool and his words bounced off the fluff. Wasn't making sense. My limbs were heavy. "Why can't I get up?"

"Because when you escaped from the hospital, you hadn't received much treatment and I'm taking this opportunity to put some fluids and nutrition back into you. Also, your feet are all cut up from the glass and I've been treating them. I don't want you walking on them and undoing my good work. Besides, with your current mental state, you'd probably take the first opportunity to abscond, so that you can run away and try find someplace to hide. Then you'd probably die. Darling girl, you're tough and lucky to still be alive, but your body does have its limits, you know. You wouldn't get very far in your current condition."

"Mr Raring?"

"He's doing pretty well, considering his lung got punctured and I have to keep him on a drain. Your friend, the agent, will live. From his scars, he's lived through some pretty horrific torture himself in the past, so no wonder you seem to have found his soft spot. Kiran's a bit jealous, to be honest. So, make sure you're nice to him when he visits."

"Don't want to see him."

"No? He won't like the sound of that. Might even take it out on the agent, who by the way, is refusing to talk much so far."

"Bullets and walls. Rocks and hard places. Glass on the ground and no way to fly."

"Like I said. Best to face the music."

"You're a strange doctor."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"Patient feedback is always the best. It's why I love my job sometimes."

"Meaning you don't?"

"No, no. You've got me all wrong. I love my job. No eggs."

"Eggs?"

"Exaggeration. Music, darling. Keep up. You'll face it and know it when it's time. For now, it's enough for you to know that Kiran's got his eye on you, so nobody will dare touch you."

"You're scaring me," I tried to sit up again, but the hand gently pushed me down.

"Don't worry. You'll get used to things," the doctor said. "Please stay down and rest. I'd rather you started healing and getting stronger now. You'll need your strength."

"For what?"

"All sorts of things. Making babies with Kiran. Walking around and trying to escape with that agent for one. Kiran better not say that I didn't warn him. I know the agent will convince you to try."

Staring open mouthed at the doctor, I could only blink. He just winked and left me alone in the room.