“Hey,” I asked an FBI HRT operator as I was being rolled away on a stretcher, “how long was I out?” I sounded a bit congested, and something was leaking from my nose. As if from a muffled distance, I could hear people shouting orders or screaming in utter terror.
“You weren’t,” the operator said, somewhat concerned.
“Oh,” I said. “Is that my blood and vomit all over my shirt?”
“Most of the blood belonged to your friend,” another operator said.
“Oh, good,” I said. Then a light went off. “Just so you’re not angry, I don’t think he liked me either.”
I was going to ask him why they blew me up. Then wondered if they just didn’t care. If they’d come to my conclusion about the bombs being a (probable) bluff, they’d have to choose between my life and being able to say they’d eliminated all hostiles in under an hour. I didn’t like it, but I understood.
Amongst the other people yelling, I heard a familiar voice say, “Be calm? Fuck you, mate!”
“Eliza!” I said, somewhat muzzily. “You’re still here.”
There was a bit of commotion. I could hear Eliza yelling angrily, and the operators telling her to stay back. Then other voices came in and the operators backed off. I couldn’t really tell what was happening, because everything sounded too echoey and everything was too blurry. Eventually, I was able to focus on Eliza. “…Nate. Oi, Nate. Say something, bloody ‘ell.”
“Hey,” I said, looking up at her concerned face, shrouded a bit by a rebreather. “How are things?”
Meanwhile, I could hear what sounded like Agent Hicks yelling at an operator. “…only lead in the Nakashima case, and you decide to blow him up? And potentially set off a bomb?”
“Oh,” Eliza said, with forced cheer, “pretty swell. Just still handcuffed, dealing with FBI assholes, the usual.”
“Branch director’s orders,” the operator responded to Hicks. “Look at how crazy everything is. We can’t have a hostage situation in an FBI building.”
“Yeah,” I said, “things are pretty insane. Getting stopped by the FBI, dealing with Mayu again…”
“And you blew up a suspect we were supposed to protect,” Barton said. “We were screwed either way, but word of this getting out could be more damaging.”
“Fucking Mayu,” Eliza said. “‘Eard all about that. You were right, should ‘ave blown ‘er bloody ‘ead off when I ‘ad the chance.”
“I think,” I said, “I think that the people who took me were Dragon’s Teeth.”
Everyone turned to stare at me. “How would you know?” an operator asked me.
“If you believe him,” Hicks said, “He’s one of the few people to have fought them and lived.”
“And do we believe him?” an operator asked.
“Evidence points to him being right,” Barton said.
“And my gut says he’s right,” Hicks said.
“I think,” I said, this talk about the Dragon’s Teeth bringing back a vague feeling, “I think that Pict was stalling.”
“Yeah,” Hicks said, “he didn’t want to get blown up.”
“That’s not it,” one of the operators said. “These guys… they left one of their buddies behind. When we finally got into the room, he’d blown his own brains out with a shotgun rather than get taken alive.”
“Invasion, maybe?” I suggested. “I mean, they’ve got a teleporter.”
“They can’t,” the operator said. “They have to be stretched too thin.”
“Do they?” Barton asked.
“What are you guys talking about?” an authoritative female voice asked. “And why are these prisoners still here? That guy looks like he should be in the hospital.”
“Mrs. Patchett,” an operator said. “These two think the Dragon’s Teeth might be responsible for the second attack and that it may be a prelude to something bigger.”
Patchett considered this for a moment, and even I could tell she was getting more worried. She then took out her phone, a Blackberry, and began calling. “What is it?” Barton asked.
“The Third Fleet has two carrier strike groups and its expeditionary strike group moored in Pearl Harbor,” Patchett said. “If they wanted, they could re-enact the Japanese attack there, except worse.”
“This just keeps getting better and better,” Barton said. “Look, if this guy is even half the expert on the Dragon’s Teeth that he claims he is-”
“I just thought them multiple times,” I said. “I’m not an expert!”
“You copied their weapons, you great tit!” Eliza said incredulously.
“Then we need to get him out of here.”
“More importantly,” Hicks said, “the Dragon’s Teeth want him. That’s good enough for me to want to get him to a safe house.”
Patchett held up a hand as her call went through. “Ralph, this is Linda. I need you to put all military posts on high alert, lock down all bases and break out all the thermal imaging devices you have. The Dragon’s Teeth are making a move, and I think… They’re here already? …Put some guards around the ships. It seems like… Yes, I know they’re over there, but that could be a diversion. Be careful, I’ll call you again when things calm down.”
“Let me guess,” Hicks said, “they’re here.”
“Yes,” Patchett said. “They’re here, and they’re digging in in the less populated areas of the island.” She shook her head. “I don’t like it.”
“Yeah,” Hicks said, “me either.”
I tried to think. It was harder than normal. Understandable, considering that I had been blown up recently. Patchett and Hicks were both in agreement that something else was coming, and maybe Barton too, and I knew they were right. But why did I think that? I shrugged and got on. Maybe I could sleep.
I must have done so, because Eliza was shaking me awake. “Nate!” she said, “Oi, Nate. We need you to walk.”
We were back in the hangar with the Blackmoor-Ward jet. FBI HRT and SAS operators were staring at each other warily. I also notice that at one corner of the hangar were a collection of dead bodies wearing high-tech body armor. From inside the plane, I could hear Lord Blackmoor-Ward, Barton, and Hicks talking about something.
I got up. Instantly, I felt sick to my stomach and began to sway. “Right,” Eliza said, putting my arm around her shoulder, “off we go.” She was trying to be confident, but could tell it was just an act. The trip up the stairs were extremely nerve-wracking. I almost tripped and vomited many times during what seemed to me to be a nine-hour trip.
“Good God!” Lord Blackmoor-Ward said as soon as he saw me. “That man is concussed! Why isn’t he in a hospital?” I noticed that he wasn’t looking that well himself. He was lying on one of the couches, his fancy silk suit completely burned away and bandages on his chest. I also noticed that there were several patches of burns on his skin, some quite intense. Another thing I noticed in the luxurious plane were two body bags strapped to the floor.
“The Dragon’s Teeth were able to infiltrate an FBI facility and would have walked out with him if a Jumper who can ignore anti-jump fields hadn’t attempted to assassinate him,” Barton said. “We need to get him to a secure facility to debrief.”
“I’m going with him,” Eliza said.
“You are?” I turned to see Charlotte, a look of shock on her face.
“Listen,” Eliza said, “You’re with the SAS and father. You don’t ‘ave a concussion.” She shot a suspicious glance at Hicks and Barton. “And you aren’t going to be interrogated day and fuckin’ night by relentless arseholes.”
“But what about you?” Charlotte asked.
“I’ll be fine,” Eliza said, “as long as I can stop this idiot from bein’ a fuckin’ idiot.”
“Eliza,” Lord Blackmoor-Ward said, staring at the two FBI agents on his plane, “would you please buckle Mr. Jacobs in one of the back rooms? We will have lift-off soon.”
Eliza nodded. “Right,” she said, helping me down the hallway. I was placed on a chair facing a window in a bedroom with a soft thump. Eliza moved to buckle me in, but I waved her off. A few minutes later, the plane was taxiing down the runway. Soon we were lifting off.
As we were flying by Pearl Harbor, Eliza said, “Oi, you see that?”
I followed her finger to see that she was pointing at some of the warships moored in the harbor. “See what?” I asked.
“There’s these flashes of light on the decks of a few,” Eliza said.
I looked closer, but by that point, we were already past the harbor and heading east to California.