Dangerous Days of Daniel X

Chapter 74

SO MANY EMOTIONS and questions rose in me at once. Finally I had a real connection to my family.

To who I was.

To what I was put in the universe to do.

And then the most excruciating pain exploded in my stomach! And with it came a fresh flow of blood. I collapsed, bleeding like a stuck pig.

“What happened to you?” she said. “Your stomach? Tell me, before you pass out.”

“I was shot,” I said between clenched teeth.

“With what? Be precise.”

“A 24/24 Opus Magnum.”

She pulled up my shirt for a peek. I couldn’t stop her if I tried.

“Must have used a delayed frag round,” she said, frowning at the blood and my wound. “Tiny charge inside the bullet. Can be activated at a later date. Even by remote control.

“The bad news is that basically you have a bomb inside your stomach. If we don’t get it out of you before the charge goes off, it will send shrapnel through all your vital organs, including your heart.”

“Beautiful,” I groaned. “Okay, you got my attention. What’s the good news?”

“It has to heat up first. We have a few minutes. Let’s do this.”

My eyes bugged as the tiny old woman put her hands under my legs and neck, lifted me up effortlessly, and carried me into her house.

“Let’s do what?” I asked.

The front room was piled floor to ceiling with beautifully bound books. In the back room, she swept everything off a cluttered work desk, then laid me down flat.

“We need to operate,” she said. “Now. Don’t give me any lip. I don’t want to hear a word.”

Operate? Here?! I could see the dust flakes in the air. Not to mention that I was lying in what smelled like spilled coffee, and maybe bacon grease.

“How close is a hospital?” I moaned.

“No time,” she said, tapping a finger to her forehead, as if trying to remember something. She turned and took a vial of gross-looking brown liquid from a nearby cabinet. She handed it to me.

“What are you waiting for? Drink it!” she screamed.

Then she smacked it away as I put it to my lips.

“Wait! Not that! The light in here is so bad. This one, I think,” she said, handing me a new vial. More nasty brown liquid. Maybe motor oil?

“Are you sure?”

“Don’t argue! Don’t worry, I used to be a surgeon. But I don’t remember a darn thing now. Well, maybe you should worry a little.” She cackled as she opened a drawer. I saw hits of light-off metal.

As I forced down the foul potion, she placed a worn leather packet onto the desk beside me, then opened it up. “This could work,” she muttered. “Worth a chance.”

Hey, wait a second! I thought, gaping at the trowel, pruning shears, spading fork, and hand plow that were inside the pack.

“You’re going to operate on me… with gardening tools?”

“Aren’t we picky? Pull up your shirt!” was the last thing I heard before I passed out.