eclectic mix of big city skyscrapers and poverty-stricken areas. Voracious plant life poked through cracks in the sidewalk, giving it an eerie feeling, like a bad science fiction movie. It fit well with how surreal Kaimi’s life had become.
Unsure of the medical system, Kaimi opted to try Unimed. What the heck, it was advertised as the best private hospital in the city. There was no question she’d heal easily, no matter the quality of care, but she didn’t want to go through the inconvenience and pain of having her wrist broken a third time should the medical care turn out to be inadequate. She copied the address, then looked up potential stores that would carry her favorite blade—the Busse Boss Jack.
Kaimi’s Portuguese was passable, and got her through the knife-buying process with no problem, although pointing and smiling seemed to be key, and turned out to be slightly more successful than conversation. The encounter with Eamon had apparently sparked some latent blood lust, because she left the store with her favored Boss and an additional longer-bladed knife…just in case. Her other purchases included a hammock, a first aid kit, and some energy bars. She wanted to be prepared in case she decided it was more prudent to go AWOL than hang around the camp. Would she be considered AWOL? She was working for the military now, but wasn’t in the Army. Was she? Probably that would be an excellent question to ask Fred during her next scheduled check-in.
Geared-up, Kaimi caught a cab to the hospital, and was pleased to find that everyone from the receptionist to the orthopedist spoke English, and that they all were both professional and skilled. The only issue was the wait—she was at the bottom of a list of thirty. By the time the staff had reset the bones and wrapped her wrist in a cast, she’d made considerable progress with the rest of her plans: a room at the Hotel Adrianópolis (she’d used the hospital phone to make a reservation), and when she was finished at the hospital, she’d send a telegram to her parents (they didn’t believe in modern conveniences like telephones.). She desperately wished she could talk with them about the incredible and unexpected way her body was healing since she’d started working on her newest iteration of the formula. And now that she’d swallowed almost an entire vial of the half-tested mixture, it was anyone’s guess what it had done to her. For sure it didn’t reset broken bones.
Next up, she’d phone Jayme. There was so much to say, and…she shivered. How would she ever tell him about Eamon? And ask about their relationship? Surely there was some reason he hadn’t mentioned that Eamon was his brother.
Kaimi left the air-conditioned luxury of Unimed with a still-damp cast, a bottle of unneeded pain medicine, and a warning to be more careful. An odd word, careful. Like she’d asked to be attacked. She sucked in a breath of evening air ripe with exhaust fumes and an underlying odor of stale garbage. It went with her mood, used and damaged.
She’d pushed herself on the trip downriver because she hadn’t wanted to be caught out after dark, but now relentless fatigue had settled into her muscles. Her right hand was still shaking from signing the hospital paperwork. It had been the first time she’d written her name as Xola Muerte, and the experience had been… disturbing. Not that she had a choice, since the signature had to match her identification. And she’d have to do it again when she registered at the hotel. Her entire being rebelled. She was Kaimi Maliu. Not Xola Muerte.
JAYME GRADY TURNED IN THE paperwork for an emergency leave of absence, hit up a covert analyst who owed him a favor and got him to trace Eamon’s activity (which involved tracking him through several secure databases), and made flight reservations. He landed at the Eduardo Gomes International Airport less than four hours after Eamon, his brother having had the advantage of access to
Unsure of the medical system, Kaimi opted to try Unimed. What the heck, it was advertised as the best private hospital in the city. There was no question she’d heal easily, no matter the quality of care, but she didn’t want to go through the inconvenience and pain of having her wrist broken a third time should the medical care turn out to be inadequate. She copied the address, then looked up potential stores that would carry her favorite blade—the Busse Boss Jack.
Kaimi’s Portuguese was passable, and got her through the knife-buying process with no problem, although pointing and smiling seemed to be key, and turned out to be slightly more successful than conversation. The encounter with Eamon had apparently sparked some latent blood lust, because she left the store with her favored Boss and an additional longer-bladed knife…just in case. Her other purchases included a hammock, a first aid kit, and some energy bars. She wanted to be prepared in case she decided it was more prudent to go AWOL than hang around the camp. Would she be considered AWOL? She was working for the military now, but wasn’t in the Army. Was she? Probably that would be an excellent question to ask Fred during her next scheduled check-in.
Geared-up, Kaimi caught a cab to the hospital, and was pleased to find that everyone from the receptionist to the orthopedist spoke English, and that they all were both professional and skilled. The only issue was the wait—she was at the bottom of a list of thirty. By the time the staff had reset the bones and wrapped her wrist in a cast, she’d made considerable progress with the rest of her plans: a room at the Hotel Adrianópolis (she’d used the hospital phone to make a reservation), and when she was finished at the hospital, she’d send a telegram to her parents (they didn’t believe in modern conveniences like telephones.). She desperately wished she could talk with them about the incredible and unexpected way her body was healing since she’d started working on her newest iteration of the formula. And now that she’d swallowed almost an entire vial of the half-tested mixture, it was anyone’s guess what it had done to her. For sure it didn’t reset broken bones.
Next up, she’d phone Jayme. There was so much to say, and…she shivered. How would she ever tell him about Eamon? And ask about their relationship? Surely there was some reason he hadn’t mentioned that Eamon was his brother.
Kaimi left the air-conditioned luxury of Unimed with a still-damp cast, a bottle of unneeded pain medicine, and a warning to be more careful. An odd word, careful. Like she’d asked to be attacked. She sucked in a breath of evening air ripe with exhaust fumes and an underlying odor of stale garbage. It went with her mood, used and damaged.
She’d pushed herself on the trip downriver because she hadn’t wanted to be caught out after dark, but now relentless fatigue had settled into her muscles. Her right hand was still shaking from signing the hospital paperwork. It had been the first time she’d written her name as Xola Muerte, and the experience had been… disturbing. Not that she had a choice, since the signature had to match her identification. And she’d have to do it again when she registered at the hotel. Her entire being rebelled. She was Kaimi Maliu. Not Xola Muerte.
JAYME GRADY TURNED IN THE paperwork for an emergency leave of absence, hit up a covert analyst who owed him a favor and got him to trace Eamon’s activity (which involved tracking him through several secure databases), and made flight reservations. He landed at the Eduardo Gomes International Airport less than four hours after Eamon, his brother having had the advantage of access to
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