Wild Keepers

by Dee Bridgnorth

  “Give her air!” said a large man, who had arrived at her aid first. “Frances, can you hear me! Are you alright?”

  The woman hung limply in his arms. Allie was appalled to see that her face had become paler, if that was even possible. She was chalk-white and shaking.

  “It hurts,” gasped Frances. “All over.”

  “Someone call emergency,” yelled the man over his shoulder. A woman rushed to do his bidding.

  They waited for the paramedics to arrive. Time seemed to move too slowly, in Allie’s eyes anyway. Frances had not moved from the floor, and her eyelids were opening and closing rapidly. She seemed to be fighting against slipping into unconsciousness entirely.

  The paramedics arrived, talking to her gently. But it was too late. Frances had closed her eyes and she wouldn’t respond to their questions.

  They secured her on their stretcher, wheeling her out to the ambulance. The whole office was quiet, shocked into silence.

  “Oh my God,” said Janelle, her eyes wide. “I hope she’s okay.”

  “She said she had a headache,” said Allie, slowly. “She was complaining of it when I talked with her in the communal area. It wouldn’t budge, she said. She’d taken painkillers.”

  “She suffers from migraines,” whispered Janelle, still staring out the door where Frances had been taken. “Has for years. But I haven’t ever seen her this bad before.”

  “It could be this new illness,” said Davey, who had overheard them. Davey was an associate researcher on the team. “It attacks quickly.”

  “Don’t say that, Davey,” said Janelle, crossly. “I am sure she’ll be fine! She’s probably just had a bad response to the headache, that’s all.”

  “Maybe,” said Davey, frowning. “But I don’t think that’s all it is. The migraine wouldn’t cause her to lose consciousness like that.”

  “It could be anything,” said Dr. Morgan, who had walked over to them. “And there is little benefit in speculating at this point. Frances is in expert medical care, and they will find out what is wrong with her.” He paused. “We are not helping her by standing around and gossiping. I know that you have all had a shock, but we do need to get back to work.”

  People slowly drifted away, back to their desks. Allie tried hard to read through the rest of her emails, but all that she could see was Frances’ pale face, covered in sweat. The poor woman. Allie barely knew her, of course, but in the time that she had, Frances had been wonderful. Frances is wonderful, Allie corrected herself. She was thinking about her as if she was dead, and she wasn’t.

  Whatever afflicted her, it would be dealt with. Frances would be back at work, very soon. Thinking negatively wasn’t going to help her.

  And it was true what Dr. Morgan had said. They needed to get to work. This mystery outbreak wasn’t about to solve itself.

  ***

  Allie frowned, staring into the microscope. She adjusted the lens, causing it to zoom in on the plate that she was examining.

  Patient D’s blood seemed normal. The cells were disk shaped, with a flattened centre, just as normal blood cells should look. There was no presence of unicellular bacteria or the longer particles that would constitute a virus.

  She sighed, adjusting the microscope lens again. It had been the same with all the previous samples she had looked at. They were all relatively normal with no indication of anything that had attacked these people and caused such symptoms and in some cases, death.

  Was it environmental, then?

  She lifted her face from the microscope and rubbed the back of her neck. She had been studying these blood samples for hours; had worked through her lunch break. Hunger started to gnaw at her stomach, twisting it into cramps. Her eyes flicked to her wristwatch. Four in the afternoon. Too late for lunch, but she could probably grab a muffin and a coffee to see herself through.

  She packed up, walking through the building and out onto the street to the café just down the road. She could think of what she would write in her preliminary report while she was eating. Dr. Morgan had been insistent that a report had to be done and sent today. Usually, Frances would have overseen it, but with her sudden illness—or whatever was wrong with her—the responsibility had fallen on Allie’s shoulders.

  She ordered her coffee, scanning the muffins on display. Double choc chip would be in order today. She sat down with her food and drink and stared out at the day. Dark clouds were scuttling across the sky, threatening rain. It would be a long, dark drive back to her apartment tonight. She knew that she probably wouldn’t get this report done quickly. It had to be perfect.

  She crumbled a piece of muffin, eating it without really tasting. She was up to the challenge. She had to be. She hadn’t anticipated that she would be responsible for a report in her first week at the job, but she had trained for this. And Dr. Morgan would look over it before it was sent. He would tell her if there was anything that she hadn’t included or should still look for.

  She sipped her coffee, thinking about Frances again. Davey’s comment about this mystery illness. It wasn’t possible that Frances had been struck down by it, was it? But then, Frances had told her that she had suffered from migraines for years, and Janelle had affirmed it.

  Suddenly, she remembered when her mother had been ill with a virus, many years ago. It had spread through the whole family. They had similar symptoms, but the interesting thing was that when it first struck, any particular ailment or weakness that they had was amplified. Her mother suffered from earaches, and that was one of the first places that this illness had attacked. Allie herself was prone to respiratory problems, and the virus had attacked her lungs.

  She crumbled off another piece of muffin, chewing on it thoughtfully. If Frances had been stricken with this illness, it might have manifested via the headaches she was prone to suffer to start with. Attacking her weak spot. And then the generic symptoms of the disease took over. Frances had said that she hurt all over, when she had fallen, and one of the symptoms of this illness was body aches.

  She shook her head, impatiently. She was surmising. She had no idea what was wrong with Frances; she could have suffered a stroke, for all she knew. It wasn’t helpful to be thinking this way, not when she had so much work still to do.

  Allie stood up, picking up her coffee. She had the forethought to order it in a takeaway container so that she could bring it back to the office with her. She walked out of the café, heading back to work.

  A car swung into a parking space as she walked by. One of the reserved spots for important people, right near the entrance. She had often stared longingly at these spots, wishing that she could use them, rather than take the chance of finding a spot that was close. Sometimes she had to walk ten minutes to get to work from where she had managed to find something.

  It was a swish car. Red, sporty. The type of car that she couldn’t hope to afford in a million years. The driver’s side door opened and a man climbed out, dragging a brief case with him.

  Allie tried not to stare, but she couldn’t help it. He was tall, and she could see that he was buff, even through the smart dark suit he wore. He was pale with dark hair and a chiselled face. Good looking. Dangerously good looking. She smiled to herself. What had made her think that?

  She kept walking, conscious that he was just behind her, walking the same way. So, he was visiting the department? She had never seen him here before. She would have noticed a man who looked like him. All the men that she had met so far were sweet, and obviously very bright, but they were hardly oozing sex appeal. Biological science wasn’t a discipline or career that usually attracted guys that looked like Greek gods. The kind of guys that got into science were usually classified as nerds, if she were being honest.

  She opened the door, scurrying inside. She could have waited for him and kept the door open. It would have been a polite thing to do; she knew he was just behind her. And she probably would have done it for anyone else. But something strange had come over her, and she wanted to flee, f
or some reason.

  She didn’t want to look back at him, holding the door open. Study his face, and figure, up close. She knew she would blush or say something stupid. Something that would give away her strangely intense response to this stranger.

  She ran up the stairs. She could see him in her peripheral vision, walking to the front reception counter. Carol, the receptionist, was talking to him in an over-excited voice. Allie grinned to herself. So, it wasn’t just her that felt it. This guy was amazingly sexy.

  Focus, she told herself. You have a lot of work still to do. There wasn’t time to get distracted by a handsome guy. And yet, she could feel her body almost tingling as she gathered her notes and sat down at her computer, ready to start her report.

  It was probably just loneliness, she thought. It had been a long time between drinks. She hadn’t dated anyone since the whole mess of Pete. She had told herself that she didn’t have time, and she had to focus on her studies.

  But the truth was a bit more complicated. She was afraid of getting hurt again. She had built up a wall around herself, for protection from the hurt. It seemed easier. Safer. If she had control over her life, it couldn’t get messy again.

  As she opened a new file on her computer and started typing, she knew that she had probably gone too far with it. It had hardened like a shell around her; no one could hope to crack it open. But even as she thought it, she resisted. I don’t want to feel again, she thought.

  Work was so much easier. In science, everything was logical. Cause and effect. You studied all the connections and logically built a case. It was soothing, somehow. Unlike the unpredictable and volatile workings of the human heart.

  ***

  Allie stopped typing. She flexed her fingers. It was a pity that Janelle had to leave early today; the administration worker had offered to do this type of thing for her. And Janelle’s typing speed was probably way better than her own.

  She glanced out the window, surprised to see that it was already dark. She would stop and get something to eat for dinner on her way home tonight. In and out of the car quickly. She had learned her lesson—she wasn’t about to walk those streets again in the dark. Or she could call for a pizza.

  Dinner for one, as usual. The thought suddenly depressed her.

  “Allie?”

  She jumped, staring up at Dr. Morgan, who had appeared at her desk without her noticing. The doctor looked more befuddled than usual. She noticed that his vest was buttoned up wrong and that his shock of silver hair looked like it hadn’t been combed in days.

  “Dr. Morgan,” she said. She still didn’t feel comfortable calling him by his given name. “I’m almost finished with the report. I should have it to you within ten minutes.”

  “Excellent,” he said, scratching his head absentmindedly. “Just in time, really. Allie, I know that you are probably all set to leave for home after finishing it, but I was wondering if you could stay back.”

  “Of course,” she said, slowly. “I said that I was available for overtime.”

  He nodded, frowning. “Things have progressed, quickly. We are having an urgent meeting. Usually Frances would present these findings, but with her indisposed, I am afraid it must rest on your shoulders.” He studied her carefully. “Do you think you are up to talking about the report?”

  Allie gulped. “Yes, of course.”

  “Good.” He was nodding. “Conference room one, in half an hour. Email me the report as soon as you have finished, and I will make copies.”

  “No problem,” she said, giving him a wide smile.

  He nodded, walking away.

  Allie stared at the computer screen. Her heart started to beat faster. Was it good enough? Had she included everything that she should—followed proper protocol to the letter? She had been expecting that she would email it and then leave. Her job done. The last thing she had thought was that she would have to present it to a group of people, especially at the end of a long day.

  She knew that this was part of the job. It wasn’t just research and looking through a microscope. But the side of it that required public speaking threw her, if she was honest. It had never been her forte. Whenever she had to do presentations at college, she prepared meticulously, and she was still so nervous she shook like a leaf.

  She hadn’t prepared for this at all. If only Frances hadn’t fallen so suddenly and dramatically ill. Then she felt guilty for even thinking such a thing. Frances couldn’t help what had happened to her. And this was part of her job. She just had to get on with it. Not overthink it.

  The report finally finished, she emailed it to Dr. Morgan then closed her computer. It was almost time for the meeting. She took a deep breath and stood up, walking to the conference room.

  No one was there, yet. Dr. Morgan would be making copies of the report. She had time to go and get a coffee, take a breath. Calm her already jittery nerves.

  Minutes later, she re-opened the glass door to the conference room, balancing her files and cup in both hands, trying not to spill her coffee.

  And that was when she saw him. Sitting at the table, towards the front. He had a laptop opened in front of him, which he was staring at.

  It was the man. The handsome man in the red sporty car.

  He looked up, staring at her. She could see that his eyes were an impossible shade of green. So bright and vivid, she was tempted to think that he wore coloured contacts. The colour contrasted with the black of his hair and eyebrows. Dark lashes fringed them.

  He kept staring at her, saying nothing.

  She stumbled slightly as she walked into the room. The cup that she balanced in her hand shook slightly, spilling coffee on the floor. Oh Lord, she thought to herself. She could feel her face turning a deep shade of red.

  The man rose, approaching her. “Let me take it. You seem to have too much in your hands.”

  She smiled, and he took the cup out of her hands, placing it gently on the table.

  The shock of his hand briefly touching hers as he took the cup tore through her.

  “Allie Holloway?” he asked, gazing at her. “I was told you were coming to this meeting. I’m Caleb Stone.”

  Chapter Four

  Caleb watched her speaking hesitantly. He knew that he needed to pay attention to what she was saying, but the shock of her even being here—let alone that she was an integral part of this team—had thrown him.

  She was the girl who had been attacked on the street. The one who he had unwittingly turned to defend. She had unleashed the wolf in him, against his will.

  He watched as she picked up a file, her blonde hair falling forward as she ran her eyes over it, seeking out the information she wanted. He could see that her hands trembled slightly where she held the file. She had a soft, melodious voice. A voice that you had to lean forward slightly to hear. A voice that dripped through the air like honey.

  She was even more beautiful than he remembered. Well, he had seen her only briefly that night. But his response to her had been immediate and instinctual.

  Allie Holloway was her name. She was new to this team; only recently graduated. A junior research assistant. The only reason she was speaking now, and had prepared this report, was because her immediate superior had fallen ill that day. Violently ill, by the sound of it.

  He had to concentrate, but it was difficult. He knew now that he had seen her, ahead of him, when he had walked into the building that day. He had noticed the woman with long, blonde hair walking quickly. But he had been distracted by what he was doing, the role he had to play, when he got in here.

  He was suddenly Caleb Stone, expert in pathogens. A different surname, although he had kept his first. Called in by the city of Covenester to lend expert advice and guidance to this team. They were working to identify and isolate whatever had been causing this sudden outbreak of illness in the community.

  Thad had given him all the last details earlier that day. The alpha leader had networks all over the city; people he could call upon to help him in
sert the pack into various roles and places. It had taken a week to finalise, but now he had his background and what he had to do memorised. He just had to have the gravitas to take on this role and make it believable.

  The science side of it was no problem. If he had have wanted, he could have easily been in this position. If he was a part of the real human world, that is. If he hadn’t been born a shifter with a greater calling. A member of the Wild Keepers, sworn to protect this city.

  Sometimes, he wished he could fully be a part of the human world. A regular guy with a career. Driving to work every day. Thinking about what he was going to do on the weekend, and which bill he had to pay that week. A regular guy who could respond in a regular way to a beautiful woman. Go on dates. Marry one day.

  He could picture that life with a woman like Allie Holloway by his side.

  He smiled slightly. It was a fantasy, something that could never happen. He was who he was. And most of the time, it was okay. He wanted to prove himself in the pack. He had no other ambition in life. He knew that other members of the pack had left and gone down the regular-guy path, but he didn’t want to.

  Caleb studied the other people in the meeting. There was Dr. Timothy Morgan, who was the director of this facility. A man with an impressive reputation in the field. A man who had been one of the first to isolate the Ebola virus. He had an absentminded air about him, but when work was being discussed, he was razor sharp. Caleb watched him question Allie, making her justify what she was saying.

  And Allie, to her credit, was good. She referred to her report, explaining why she had drawn the conclusions she had. She even offered possible ways to go forward. She knew her stuff. And that was no mean feat, considering she was new at this job and had to do this under short notice. His blood warmed as he gazed at her. He had always liked intelligent women.

  She was beautiful, and smart, and so damn sexy that it seemed almost like a force emanating off her in waves. The whole package.

  Focus, he told himself, fiercely. You are not here to analyse the attributes of Allie Holloway. You are here to do a job. So do it.