“You see kids get their ears twisted in the movies and on TV all the time. What you don’t get is how much it fucking hurts,” I touched the part of my mask that covered my bandaged earlobe. It was throbbing, due in part to Brian’s ministrations.
Sounds like we’ve skipped ahead to the trip.
“Just leave it alone. The painkillers will kick in soon.”
We sat in silence for a few moments. I stared out the small window at the back of the vehicle. Very few cars were going in the direction we were.
Purity’s rampage area is quite understandably not where people want to be right now.
The interior of the vehicle that Coil had procured for us was filled with medical equipment. There was a gurney, which I sat on, a second smaller type of gurney that could be disassembled and reassembled as required, up near the ceiling. The interior was efficiently packed with medical supplies: an oxygen tank underneath the bench where Grue sat, a heartbeat monitor, lifejackets, tubes of all shapes and sizes, lockers and drawers with pills, splints and bandages.
Huh, nice. I guess that’d come in handy if the vehicle needed to pick up some hurt Coil lackeys.
I’m including the Undersiders in that term, for the record.
It was, to all appearances, a real ambulance. I couldn’t say whether it had originally been an ambulance, and Coil had added extra compartments for weapons and for my bugs, or if he’d gone the other way and built the vehicle from scratch, to accommodate his additions.
Does it look like an ambulance on the outside too? If so, that’s a good disguise for a vehicle moving towards a disaster zone.