Chapter 42
Days went by. Weeks. Maybe even months. I wasn’t sure and was so lost in my head. I searched through so many minds, I wasn’t sure who I was anymore. Found traces of only two minds like mine besides the young dude in Russia. One was in India and belonged to a holy man. He felt my ham-handed probing and politely but firmly blocked me so I couldn’t get any images of him or his identity. The other was a teenager in Brazil, and he was lost in the throes of a coke addiction, even crazier than I was.
Still, I reported all to the witch doctor and he made notes, forcing me to keep going. We found out my range was close to 5000 miles and water affected that more than mountains. Even if I leapfrogged into a bird, distance mattered. It was easier if I knew the area, had seen it or been in that particular animal before. The Colonel had me visit both Sassy, Dusty and the falcon at least every other day. Even Vange, the Blue Heeler. Strangely, only the falcon was still with the owner, the dogs were never in the same room as their masters but relegated to empty bedroom, kitchen, or kennel.
Frustrated, the Colonel had hit me, accused me of hiding things from him. Kolachi let him. I blinked back tears of pain and rage. His Air Force ring had opened a gash on my cheek under my eye and blood splattered on my chin, down onto my sweat shorts. They made me wear shorts so they could mock my shrunken legs. At least they’d gotten tanned. One of his favorite punishments was to push me out into the front yard, tip my chair over and watch me crawl through the blistering sand by my arms so I could reach the shade of the porch. Sometimes, I made it. Other times it was so far, I lacked the strength and laid there as the sun roasted me. I burned and the sunburn was worse on my legs. Great strips of skin peeled off and made me sick for days.
I had to take care of my own body functions and knew I wasn’t doing a good job by the smell. Sweat, crap, pee and something sickly sweet filled my nostrils. I complained to the Colonel, and begged him to look, afraid of pressure sores turning to gangrenous ulcers. When he did examine me, his face turned green. The next day a quiet dark-haired and dark eyed woman appeared and doctored me. She understood my Spanish but wouldn’t answer my questions. Treated me with antibiotics, ointments and changed my mattress to an air filled one. Put me on an IV of fluids, and something in it that made me float.
I asked her name and she made no reply but only lifted her mouth to show me a stump of a tongue. Cut out. I wanted to search her thoughts, but hesitated, afraid of the fire. So I stayed out.
She took over cooking, too. Preparing easy to eat food like tacos, fried plantain and goat. She told me in written Spanish her name was Magdalena and she had been a nurse in Mexico City fired for stealing drugs. Her tongue was pulled out by Federales with pliers and she lost her job, but she kept her life. She wouldn’t tell me where we were or if there was a phone outside. I was grateful that she took care of me at all.
The Colonel was gone most of the time, I never heard him leave or arrive. I didn’t know if he came in by vehicle or plane. Most of the time, I spent in the room, staring at the walls until the day she put me on IVs. The next four days I lay in the dark, suffering from a fever and diarrhea, which made my sores worse. At least I couldn’t feel them. He came in and watched me as she rolled me on my stomach, cleaned me up and treated the wounds. His voice was quiet. “How bad is it, Lena?”
She turned her head away from me and made a gesture I couldn’t see. I was shivering even in the heat of the room. She left me on my stomach.
“Dantan, how do you feel?” My answer made no sense to him or me. I think I said locomotive, trains were rushing through my head, steam engines, coal-fired, the bullet train and Mag lev. Casey Jones and HO scale. Mini tracks to Silverton. Train trestles. The runaway engine in that movie. Where the two tracks meet, East Coast and West. Golden spike. Gateway to the West. Missouri, Union Pacific. Spoke, “access is limited to the General Director. Orion is now functioning. Online and scanning. Four hours should bring in a dozen variables. Have a team on standby.
“I don’t care what General Salinkov said. We are not increasing the forces in Chechnya.
“The American economy is staggering. We must lower our cost per barrel to under one hundred dollars US, especially if they start buying from Iran.
“Our two men have reached Pakistan with enough cash to purchase the stock of US defense chips out of Amphenol.
“I took her out yesterday, she got two hares and killed a dozen doves. Isn’t she marvelous?”
“Dantan, stop,” the red-skinned man stilled my wandering thoughts. He made the noises in my head go away. “Danny, sleep. You’re sick. Feverish, jumping from mind to mind.”
I had a headache. Bit my pillow and worried it. Whispered, “water. Please.”
The man lifted me in his arms, and fed me sip by sip until I finished the cup. “More?”
“Why don’t you let me die?” I asked, my eyes closed. I slipped back into my fevered dreams.