The Judas Strain - James Rollins [41]
“If we’re going to make it,” Gray said, “we’ll have to carry her from here.”
“I’ve got her.” Kowalski waved everyone out of his way.
Gray’s father helped his mother exit the convertible. Once out, his father eyed the state of his car and shook his head, swearing under his breath.
Kowalski stood up, hauling Seichan in his arms. Even in the dark beneath the trestle, Gray noted the black stain on her belly wrap. The movement stirred Seichan awake. She struggled a moment in Kowalski’s arms as he clambered out, startled, dazed. She cried out and struck the heel of her hand into his cheek.
“Hey…!” the large man exclaimed, avoiding another strike.
Seichan began to yell, an angry stream, an unintelligible mix of English and an Asian dialect.
“Quiet her down,” his father said, glancing at the dark forest.
Kowalski tried to muffle her mouth, but almost got a finger bitten off. “Son of a bitch!”
Seichan’s agitation grew more fierce.
His mother moved closer, searching in her large tote. “I have another dose of morphine.”
Gray shook his head. “Wait.” With Seichan’s blood loss, he feared the respiratory depression that accompanied morphine. A second dose might kill her, and he still needed answers.
He held a palm out toward his mother. “Smelling salts.” He remembered Kowalski had mentioned them as among the contents of the emergency medkit.
His mother nodded. She reached to her bag, fumbled a long second, then handed him a few capsules. Gray grabbed one and stepped to Kowalski’s side.
The guard now bore a long bloody scratch down one cheek. “Christ, do something about her!”
Gray grabbed a fistful of her hair, arched her neck, and cracked the capsule under her nose. Her head wrenched, fighting, but he kept the capsule at her upper lip. The delirious cries cut off, replaced by gagging.
A hand rose to push him away.
He held tight.
“Enough…” Seichan coughed out, and grabbed Gray’s wrist.
He was surprised at the strength in her fingers. He let his arm drop.
“Let me breathe. Set me down.”
Gray nodded to Kowalski. He didn’t have to be told twice. He settled Seichan to her feet but kept an arm under her shoulders. She’d overestimated her own strength. Her legs sagged. She hung in the large man’s arms.
Wincing, she glanced around her. Gray read the confusion in her eyes, behind the war between pain and morphine. She quickly focused back to him.
“I…the obelisk…” she said with strained worry.
Gray was tired of hearing about the damned obelisk. “We’ll have to get it later. It broke after you crashed. I left it back at the house.”
His words seemed to cause her more pain than her bullet wound. But perhaps his earlier lapse was a bit of luck. Maybe Nasser had gone after the obelisk rather than pursuing them.
His mother, overhearing their conversation, stepped forward. “You’re talking about that broken black pillar.” She patted her large purse. “I picked it up when I went inside to get the bandages. It looked old and maybe valuable.”
Eyes closing with relief, Seichan nodded to both those assessments. Her head hung in exhaustion. “Thank God.”
“What’s so important about it?” he asked.
“It could…it might save the world. If we’re not too late already.”
Gray glanced to his mother’s tote, then back to Seichan. “What the hell do you mean?”
She waved an arm weakly, fading again. “Too complicated. I need your hel p…can’t…not alone…we must, must get away.”
Her chin dropped to her chest as she slipped into unconsciousness again. Kowalski caught her weight on his hip.
Gray was tempted to use another capsule of smelling salts, but he feared exerting her any further. Fresh blood trickled from her bandage.
His mother seemed to make the same assessment. She nodded to the trail. “We can’t be far from the hospital now.”
Gray turned to the dark path on the far side of the trestle. It was the other reason he had taken the Thunderbird north through the woods, following a suggestion from his mother. On the far side of Glover-Archibold Park spread