The Good Doctor's Tales Folio Three Read Free

attract a posse of Focuses after her.  She’s been free now
almost a year, and needs juice every week or two.  How many household Transforms
has she grabbed?  Not many, according to the information available to me.  She’s
hunting, her prey as she terms it, unattached Transforms.”
    Behind Hank, the rest of the farmhouse cleared out.  Including
several of Tonya’s so-called bodyguards, who should have been more protective
of their Focus and less worried about their gorges.  Bunch of weak-stomached Transforms. 
Hank wasn’t impressed.
    “That wasn’t very nice,” Tonya said.  “The Monster
grabbed one of my Transforms, right in the middle of the fight.  Killed her.  Said
it was recompense, because we killed the Transform who led the attack to us.  Does
her so-called logic make any sense to you?”
    “Unfortunately, it does,” Hank said.  “Once an Arm has
fixated on a Transform she’s going to take juice from, she can’t back off.  At
least the Arms I’ve known.”  Emphasis, there.  He was the Arm expert,
she wasn’t.
    “Monsters,” Tonya said.  “Inhuman things.  Animals.”
    “All the Major Transforms I’ve seen work very close to
the level of basic instinct,” Hank said, shooting Tonya a rather pointed glance. 
She made a moue at him, acknowledging the hit.  Behind him, the squeaking of
dolly wheels announced the arrival of Dr. Kepke and Hank’s trunk.  “Let’s set
up the fold-up stretcher as our impromptu operating table,” he said to his
assistant.  “Over here, right next to the Focus.”
    “You’re going to operate here ?” Dr. Kepke asked.
    “What options do I have?” Hank said.  “What hospital,
even Harvard Medical, would allow a Focus into the operating room to assist the
surgeon?  The only way either of these surgeries will succeed is with the
Focus’s help.  Her metasense, Frank, is what’s going to make this possible.”
    Frank took a quick look at Tonya, quailed, and pointedly
turned away.  “That’s why any doctor who’s going to operate on Transforms needs
to become comfortable with Focuses and their charisma,” Hank said, as he started
to sterilize his equipment.
    “He may be an arrogant jerk, but at least he’s a
competent arrogant jerk,” Tonya said, to no one in particular.
    Hank smiled at the like minds think alike moment, but
decided not to comment.  Instead, he immediately got to work, for he foresaw this
would be a rather long set of operations.
     
    Last up was Tonya herself, and when they finally worked
the sheet off her, and cut off her dress, Dr. Kepke ran for the door and
vomited.  Someone in this shape should have the sheet going the other way, over
her head, toe tagged and ready for autopsy.
    “Focuses can survive a hell of a lot worse than this,”
Hank said, over his shoulder to Frank, tsk tsking at the damage the Arm did to
Tonya.
    “A little worried, Hank?” Tonya said, still
conversational, despite the pain of her condition.  “If Keaton had done this to
you, where would you be?”
    “Comatose, in shock, and fighting for my life,” Hank
said, looking at Tonya’s legs, twisted into pretzels by the Arm.  Her skin had
already healed around the bones sticking out of her body.  “Ten hours
untreated, with four compound fractures, and with all the dirt and crap ground
into the wounds like this, I’d be facing four amputations due to incipient
gangrene.  If I hadn’t bled to death already.”  Hank paused and examined Tonya’s
wounds again.  No, he wouldn’t survive an attack of this nature, and Keaton’s
extravagance was worth worrying about.  Glory would be chiding him about bad
dreams for months due to this.  “To fix your arms and legs, Tonya, I’m going to
have to rebreak the bones and rupture the new skin your Focus healing
created.”  Another pause, after realizing what he hadn’t been seeing.  “You
must be starving, Tonya.”  Healing of this magnitude took a lot of food to