“Not sure,” the cop replied, now shaking from lack of nicotine. “Whatever it was, it sure ain’t that anymore.”
“Hey Fogweet,” I said trying to unlatch the little dude. “Go look over in that pipe and see if you can find anything else.”
“Like what, Uncle Jerry?”
“I don’t know. Maybe there’s some candy or ice cream bars. If you look really hard, you might even see our buddy Derrick.”
“Okay.” He scampered off while I reached into my bag for my stethoscope, otoscope and knee hammer. I also opened the app on my iPhone that did an instant PET scan and MRI to see if there was any life left in this thing.
“What do you think it is, Doc?” the cop asked while trying not to look but somehow couldn’t seem to turn his eyes away.
“It is a Luminerian man roughly twenty-seven years of age, lacerated spleen, four broken ribs and a puncture to his left ventricle chamber. He’s got a cerebral contusion as well as a broken nose and eechymosis in both eyes. If that isn’t bad enough, it looks like he split his lip.”
“It’s not Derrick then?”
“No.” I started an IV, loading the guy up with all sorts of meds. “Last time I checked Derrick was biologically Human.”
“They look kind of the same,” the cop continued, squinting as he watched me work.
“Not really.” I rolled the Luminerian over a tiny bit. “He’s got an extra leg right here in back. In front, beneath his shirt there’s a third arm. I suspect he was trying to appear as Human to fool someone else. Can you use your phone and ring someone to come get this guy? I’ve got a beacon in my bag. We can leave it flashing next to him to alert the rescue crew.”
“Pretty!” Fogweet said as he returned with an ice cream bar. He touched the red light and then laughed as his finger pulsed red too. “Fogweet like flashy lights. Can I keep it for myself? Fogweet won’t let brother and sisters play with my toy.”
“No Fogweet,” I said as I packed my bag after giving the Luminerian one last dose of morphine. “The light belongs to the sick man. Here, you can play with my knee hammer. Just don’t hit the nice policeman in the head.”
“Fogweet don’t want knee hammer!” He threw it down and launched into a tantrum, stomping his feet. “Fogweet want pretty light. Fogweet get one for my own.” Then he scampered down the conduit toward the lift tubes.
“Where’s he going?” the cop asked in a sweat. “Are you sure you don’t have any nicotine gum in that bag? I mean it, Doc. I’m suffering. I needed my fix two hours ago.”
“Sorry, the only gum I’ve got is Juicy Fruit.”
“Uncle Jerry?” Fogweets voice echoed off the walls. “Fogweet found another pretty light just for me.”
“What?” I yelled back and started to run in his direction. “Where are you, Fogweet? What do you see?”
“That,” Fogweet replied from the lift shaft. An emergency beacon was flashing red like a nun buoy light. It illuminated footsteps in the dust, a couple which looked like a size thirteen.
“What do you think?” I asked the cop. “Those could be Derrick’s.”
“I think a drink would work instead. By chance do you have any alcohol in your bag?”
“Yeah,” I admitted, tossing him a vial of the rubbing kind. “I’m going to follow this trail and see if it’s him. Will you call your guys and have them back me up?”
“Sure,” the cop sighed while rubbing his face. “This is the best drink I’ve had since I’ve lived on Mars.” Then he took out his android phone and called his fellow cops. “Can you bring me a pack of cigs and a loaded gun? We’re on the trail of the missing agent from that secret force. The Doc here is as determined as a blood hound. Maybe pick up a few sandwiches on your way. Let’s find this guy and get everybody home before dinner.”