Page 79 of Even Robots Die
I sigh.
“Do you know of a good doctor?” I ask him instead of arguing.
“No, sorry,” he tells me as I see him fishing for the bullet inside of his shoulder.
I think I’m going to be sick again.
He has a look of triumph on his face when he finally pulls that damn piece of metal out of his shoulder.
We’re lucky they’re only standard bullets and not the kind I build myself. I would hate to have to fish out a bullet that keeps traveling inside my body, especially since they’re often coded to travel until it reaches a vital organ.
The birds wanted us alive though, which is probably why the hits on us were strategically placed—me on my legs so I stopped running and Daniel on his shoulder because …
He partially shifts under my eyes, and I see why his shoulder was targeted.
In the small space of the jet, a fully developed human-sized bat wing looks even bigger, but that’s not what catches my eye.
It’s the bright red stain at the base of it.
The bird bastard perfectly aimed at Daniel so he couldn’t shift while the bullet was still inside at the risk of causing more damage.
Suddenly, I feel like I did the right thing when I killed him.
Maybe I’ll change my mind and overthink my actions in a few minutes, but right this minute, I can say I don’t mind the blood on my hands.
Well, I mean, I don’t mind the fact I killed the bird, the blood on my hands on the other hand, is currently all of mine and we need to hurry because I feel myself slowly slipping from consciousness.
I can’t keep pressing on both of my wounds at the same time. It feels like when I have finally managed to stop the flow of one, the other bleeds even more and I’m losing way too much blood.
It won’t take long before I pass out and if Daniel doesn’t know any doctor, I’m screwed.
We can’t very well go to a human hospital. They’re probably already monitoring those.
I can’t remember the last time I needed a doctor.
I can’t even remember when the last time was that I saw a doctor other than at the hospital.
Wait.
I do.
It wasn’t for me, of course, but I do remember when I saw a doctor last.
In Notre Dame. Twice in a row, because Léandre had a damn chip in his brain.
I program Notre Dame inside the jet holo-puter and sag against the bench.
It’s going to need some deep cleaning once we’re done with it.
“Ask Cassiopé, she owes me one,” I tell Daniel, because I feel myself slipping from reality and I don’t know how long I’m going to remain conscious. He needs to know in case I don’t have the strength to utter those words when we arrive.
“Shit, he’s really going to kill me,” Daniel mutters very lowly, but I still hear it.
“Why would he kill you?” I try to ask, but I’m mumbling and I’m not even sure I make sense to anyone but myself.
“Shit, shit, shit,” I hear him say again, but all the light has been sucked out of my vision and the world is starting to feel like wading through cotton.
I feel the door open when we arrive more than I see it. The light is barely more than what it was with all the bulletproof screens in place, but the fresh air hits me like a slap.
