“Well, yeah, good. It’s better than having no clue where she is.” Wash nodded in a manner that might be referred to as “sagely”, if it wasn’t for the general wooziness he was exuding. Zoe was here. Everything was going to be okay, because Zoe was here, and he would find her, and she could laugh at his wounded hand, and things would somehow be better.
Except that it wouldn’t be. Not if what Annie was saying was true.
And Wash had thought this girl was talking crazy talk before. He stared at her openly for a moment, unblinking, trying desperately to make some sort of sense of the words that were coming out of her mouth. What was this City, then? It sounded like some kind of monster, some kind of alien. Monsters weren’t real, unless you counted Reavers, and all evidence pointed against the existence of aliens. He kept on listening, but the more she said the less he understood.
“Different worlds and different times,” he repeated slowly. “That is beyond impossible. So it’s not 2518? That explains some things. But only some.”
If wasn’t in pain, if he hadn’t punched the wall, Wash might be thinking about this whole “different times” thing: how people could apparently be brought here from a multitude of times; how entirely possible it was that Zoe and he had been brought from different times, and what that might mean. But right now, the pain was more pressing. Those deeply disturbing and troubling thoughts would have to wait for later.
“Yeah,” he said finally. “Ambulance would be good.” After all, he probably didn’t have to worry about the Alliance here in the City.