Chapter 141 - Nostalgia (2/2)

”Shit,” I hissed. I reached the bottle with trembling fingers. I was trying hard to brush the whole Atlas thing aside. But it won't go away.

”Liliane? Are you ok?” called Demos from the room. I quickly picked up the shampoo and ignored the shaking. Too bad for the waste, I narrowed my eyes at the half-filled bottle.

”I'm ok, it's just that stupid bottle,” I shouted back. I can't believe this machine got to me. I can't believe all this happened... all those people died. A waved of nausea rose up my throat threatening to choke me. I took several deep breaths and it helped.

”Grant is asking if you want eggs or pancakes,” I was hungry but wasn't sure I could eat. Not when the memory of this event was just fresh. But some sugar was welcomed.

”Pancakes, I guess,” I replied over the rushing water. The hair cleaning took a little longer than it should and when I got out of the shower it was moist and vaper spilled into the room as I opened the door. Demos and Grant looked up at me with surprise. I've walked on a pretty disturbing scene.

Demos was laying on his back with both arms behind his head and Grant was changing his bandages.

”What—?” I voice broke when my eyes stopped on the slash across Demos' chest. I could see the machinery inside, dark cables and blinking lights.

”It's ok, it not as bad as it looks,” Demos gave me a weak smile. Grant turned to me with a grave face.

”Can you help me?” he didn't wait for me to answer and extended a pair of scissors and clear colored band-aids. They were larger than the usual one I when I get small cuts. Maybe I could ask him later to fix my elbow.

”What are those?” I turned the large sheets over to examine them. Grant turned away and took a long black pen from a black bag lying next to Demos. There were scars over his chest and running along the smooth skin on his belly—disappearing under the belt of his boxer. I took a sharp breath.

”They are nano-tape. When you heat them they blend in with the synthetic skin. I don't think we have enough to make all the scars go away,” Grant explained while pressing the pen into the wound.

”I don't mind. Scars are s.e.xy,” Demos smiled but failed. A strong sour smell of burnt wires rose from the wound. I covered my nose while wincing. I leaned over to watch. It was a macabre show, like those from a horror movie. Still, I couldn't look away. It was fascinating to peek inside one's body.

”It looks painful,” I commented.

”It is,” Demos added out of breath. Grant glared at me and I stepped away.

”I need to rewire his cooling system. Now, cut the tape large enough to cover the injury,” he pointed towards the slashed skin. ”Then another for those two,” I quickly went on with my task, doing the best that I could. When I was done I handed him the pieces. ”Now, go get the blow-drier,” when I didn't move he looked up at me. I thought I heard him wrong.

”For my hair?” I asked. It took a moment for the information to sink in then he laughed.

'No, I need to heat the tape up,” I rushed to the bathroom to retrieved the device. ”I know you're hungry and sleepy, just hang in there,” he called from the room. I came back pulling a long face.

”I feel insulted,” I handed him the blow-drier.

to be continued...