Run For Their Lives - Chapter 3 cont
?What should we do, Mary? We have to do something.?
Sam could tell that Lyle was used to consulting Mary, at least where the children were concerned. Sam couldn?t quite fathom the man out. He obviously loved his daughters and feared for them, but there was something strange in his demeanor, as if he were distancing himself from the situation.
There was something deeper going on here, and Sam would have to work out what it was ? just as soon as his head cleared. Right now, it hurt like hell, the effort of thinking making it throb anew, and he groaned softly in spite of himself.
?Ooooh, Oi?ve the very divil of a headache.?
Once more Strickland reacted as if he?d forgotten Mary was there. He moved back to the chair and bent over her.
?Sorry, Mary, how thoughtless of me. Are you all right? Let me take a look at you.? He examined the back of Sam?s head clumsily and tutted even as Sam hissed with pain. ?Gosh, this looks really nasty. I?d better call an ambulance. You just hang tight.? He started for the phone again.
?No!? Sam protested, and again tried in vain to get to his feet.
Al was hovering, his concern increasing as he too took a closer look. Fingers playing on keys with long practiced agility, he summoned up Ziggy?s diagnosis.
?He?s right, Sam. You?ve got a hairline skull fracture where the cerebellum meets the oxy?? he nudged the side of the com-link with the heel of his thumb as one might, in times past, have nudged a juke box whose needle had got stuck in its vinyl groove. It hiccupped. ?Occipital lobe. You should get it seen to. There could be all sorts of complications.?
Had it been the real Mary McGillicuddy, or any other patient, Dr Beckett would have heartily concurred. Would have insisted most emphatically on immediate medical attention, X-rays, stitches, bed-rest, wrapping in cotton wool, the works. But he was not Mary.
He was Sam Beckett, Leaper, time traveler, and man with a mission. He didn?t have time for such precautions.
?No hospital.? He told both men, in a tone that brooked no argument, adding form the corner of his mouth to Al, ?If?n they get me in dere, it?ll be Observation for at least 48hours. Those girls may not have that long.?
?What are you saying?? demanded Strickland. Though he was pretty sure he had heard he didn?t want to draw the obvious conclusion.
?It?s my fault. Dose girls were in my charge. Oi was here to protect dem, and Oi failed. Now Oi?m goin? to get them back safely if it?s the last t?ing Oi do.?
The hand link squealed.
?Careful, Sam. Ziggy says there?s an 81.3 percent chance it could be just that.?
?What should we do, Mary? We have to do something.?
Sam could tell that Lyle was used to consulting Mary, at least where the children were concerned. Sam couldn?t quite fathom the man out. He obviously loved his daughters and feared for them, but there was something strange in his demeanor, as if he were distancing himself from the situation.
There was something deeper going on here, and Sam would have to work out what it was ? just as soon as his head cleared. Right now, it hurt like hell, the effort of thinking making it throb anew, and he groaned softly in spite of himself.
?Ooooh, Oi?ve the very divil of a headache.?
Once more Strickland reacted as if he?d forgotten Mary was there. He moved back to the chair and bent over her.
?Sorry, Mary, how thoughtless of me. Are you all right? Let me take a look at you.? He examined the back of Sam?s head clumsily and tutted even as Sam hissed with pain. ?Gosh, this looks really nasty. I?d better call an ambulance. You just hang tight.? He started for the phone again.
?No!? Sam protested, and again tried in vain to get to his feet.
Al was hovering, his concern increasing as he too took a closer look. Fingers playing on keys with long practiced agility, he summoned up Ziggy?s diagnosis.
?He?s right, Sam. You?ve got a hairline skull fracture where the cerebellum meets the oxy?? he nudged the side of the com-link with the heel of his thumb as one might, in times past, have nudged a juke box whose needle had got stuck in its vinyl groove. It hiccupped. ?Occipital lobe. You should get it seen to. There could be all sorts of complications.?
Had it been the real Mary McGillicuddy, or any other patient, Dr Beckett would have heartily concurred. Would have insisted most emphatically on immediate medical attention, X-rays, stitches, bed-rest, wrapping in cotton wool, the works. But he was not Mary.
He was Sam Beckett, Leaper, time traveler, and man with a mission. He didn?t have time for such precautions.
?No hospital.? He told both men, in a tone that brooked no argument, adding form the corner of his mouth to Al, ?If?n they get me in dere, it?ll be Observation for at least 48hours. Those girls may not have that long.?
?What are you saying?? demanded Strickland. Though he was pretty sure he had heard he didn?t want to draw the obvious conclusion.
?It?s my fault. Dose girls were in my charge. Oi was here to protect dem, and Oi failed. Now Oi?m goin? to get them back safely if it?s the last t?ing Oi do.?
The hand link squealed.
?Careful, Sam. Ziggy says there?s an 81.3 percent chance it could be just that.?