The X Factor

by Bella Street

  “We've got a faint heartbeat. Trent, grab that saline bag. You'll have to hold it up while I start a line.”

  He got the bag and watched as Olga started an I.V., glad for anything to occupy his hands when he really wanted to punch them through a plate glass window. Seffy looked dead. White, lifeless, dead. His vision blurred.

  “Hold it together, Trent,” Olga's stern voice brought him back to attention. To the dog handler, she said, “Let Fenn know, and have a doctor and a gurney sent over. Thank you for all your help. You just saved this girl's life!”

  Trent was vaguely aware of the man and dog leaving. He concentrated on breathing through his nose while staring at the liquid in the I.V. bag. Olga went through a battery of checks, mumbling about needing the gurney right now. He chanced a look down and found her holding Seffy's wrist to check her pulse. For the first time he saw Seffy's hands—the bruised and bloodied knuckles, the torn fingernails.

  “Oh, God, she was locked inside.”

  “Trent, look away.”

  He doubled over and coughed as dry heaves wracked his body.

  “Get a hold of yourself!”

  Sucking in lungfuls of air, he looked away, but it wasn't enough. “She was alone in there, trapped.”

  “I know,” Olga said quietly. “But you need to stay with me if you want me to help her.”

  He straightened and looked at the wall, tasting salt on his lips. He closed his eyes until his breathing began to normalize. “Why? Why would she do this?”

  “Here comes help.”

  Trent heard the sound of running footsteps and squeaky wheels. He opened his eyes to see a man in a white coat appear with a gurney. Two other men were with them. One of them plucked the saline bag from his hands as the other two lifted Seffy onto the gurney.

  “No, they can't take her away!” He turned to Olga. “Don't let them!”

  She put her hand on his arm. “The doctor is a personal friend. And I'll be with him every step of the way. She's going to need help beyond what I can give.”

  He stared at Seffy's unconscious form as the medics fussed over her. “I let her down.”

  “You can't think like that. Come on, now. Follow me so you see where she's going. I'll make sure you have full access to her room, okay?”

  Trent looked at Olga but didn't really see her. All he could see was Seffy, hiding for God knew what reason, in a hole only to find herself locked in and trapped. Where no one would find her, where no one could hear her cries.

  “Trent! Are you with me?”

  He looked around. “Yeah.” As Olga left the room, he watched the doctor rushing down the hall with the gurney. He followed at a slower pace, taking several steps in their direction.

  Suddenly, he braced his arms against the concrete wall and vomited onto the cold white tiles at his feet.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Hold still.”

  “I'm fine.” Trent glared up at Olga, frowning around a thermometer. When she pulled it out and took the reading, he said, “Haven't they invented the digital ones yet? Mercury is bad for the environment.”

  “Well, there's no fever.”

  “I told you I was fine.”

  “Um hmm.” She disinfected the thermometer and put it back in her bag. “You know you can't be in here if you're sick.”

  Trent glanced over at the hospital bed where Seffy lay motionless, hooked up to various tubes and monitors. “I'm not sick, just...a little stressed.”

  “Well, it's time to get unstressed. Seffy's going to need you if she's going to have a chance to recover.”

  “Why don't you get Gareth in here? I'm sure he'd have a better effect.”

  “Self-pity will get you nowhere, young man. Besides, her friends won't have clearance until she regains consciousness. Because of the drugs, we don't want any unpredictable people in here.”

  “If she regains consciousness.”

  “There's every reason to believe that she will if you'll do as you're told. Aside from dehydration, mild malnutrition and a low grade infection, the worst of her problems is no doubt emotional trauma.”

  “You said infection. Is that from those cuts on her head and abdomen?”

  “Yes,” Olga said quietly. “God knows what caused them, but I wouldn't be surprised if they're self-inflicted.”

  “There's no way.”

  The nurse walked over and lifted one of Seffy's arm. “Do you see those old scars? I've seen that before. Some people—”

  “Cut themselves,” Trent finished, shocked.

  Olga nodded. “And if she's had a history of doing that some time back, it makes sense that distress could cause her to repeat the activity.”

  “But on her stomach and head?” he said in disbelief. “Why not her arms?”

  “I can't say for sure, aside from the fact that her brain was soaking in that psychotropic broth.”

  “What? How?”

  She sighed. “I went to her room to look around for more evidence. You didn't mention she had a humidifier in there.”

  “So?”

  “Well, when the doctor couldn't find any injection sites, he suggested inhalation. My guess is that your silver-suited medics left the vials in the room for someone else to dump into the humidifier at night. Maybe even her friends.”

  “You've got to be kidding.”

  “It would be too obvious to simply inject the drugs. Plus, her episodes were at night.”

  Trent thought of the night she stayed with him. He looked at Olga. “I was in her room, watching over her, the night she left. I would've been exposed, too, right?”

  “There would've been some effect, which makes me think that there's more to it than drugs. Some kind of trigger maybe.”

  “Do you know how this sounds?”

  She shook her head. “I'm just thinking out loud. One thing we know for sure, is that there's some pretty complicated schemes going on. Sounds like whoever is involved could come up with a work-around if necessary.”

  Trent sighed. “What the hell is their motive?”

  “That'll have to wait for another time. It's late. You need to go get cleaned up.”

  “There's no way I'm leaving Seffy. Not in this place.”

  “Exactly. I'll be depending on you to stay with her at night. And I'll be here until you get back.”

  “Are you sure?” His voice cracked.

  “Yes. Now hurry up.”

  Trent left the room and passed the new security detail. Seeing the uniformed officers didn't ease his worries. Any one of them could be part of the problem. And hadn't Fenn implied he'd been the one to select the Haz-Mat team? Could the leader be lying to his face—when he could barely stand upright half the time? Trent got back to his room and showered, allowing the hot water to wash away some of his shame at losing it so completely.

  After he was dressed, he heard a knock at his door. Gareth came in. Trent was struck by his bleak expression, sure it matched his own.

  “I heard they found her. Is she okay?”

  “She's alive, but unconscious.”

  Gareth appeared to be struggling with his words. He stuck his hands in his pockets. “Are they letting anyone see her?”

  Trent shook his head, admittedly finding a spark of pleasure in the moment. “She's under armed guard. No one sees her until she regains consciousness.” He watched Gareth to gauge his reaction.

  His shoulders slumped. “I can't believe I let her down this way.”

  “Yeah, well, drugs were the culprit all the way around. Hey, kids, just say no.”

  Gareth turned to leave. “Will you keep me posted if you hear anything?”

  Trent had no interest in being Info Guy. “Olga is the go-to person for updates.”

  Gareth's relief was palpable. It must've galled him to come to him for information. “Okay. I'll let the girls know.” He put his hand on the doorknob. “Did...did you happen to hear how they found her?”

  Trent knew what he wanted to know, but wasn't willing
to share at this point. “Fenn called in search and rescue dogs...”

  “Oh, that was smart.” He opened the door.

  Trent took a deep breath. “Hey, I heard someone say you know a lot about computers and science. The best way to help Seffy, and all of us, is to find a way home.”

  Gareth's expression grew shuttered. He obviously didn't like being given advice by the group pariah. “Yeah.”

  Trent watched him leave. He waited fifteen minutes, then headed to Seffy's hospital room by way of the secret passages.

  ***

  “Is she okay?” Lani cried when Gareth returned to his room. Addison sat on the bed, her face pinched with worry.

  “She's alive.”

  “How could she have been lost for three days?” Addison ground out. “We would've done something.”

  Gareth avoided her eyes. “Yeah, well we didn't.”

  Lani put her face in her hands and sobbed. “I don't like it here. How can we get home?”

  “I need to really get aggressive with Eugene's team,” Gareth said, wondering why he hadn't before now. The last week was still foggy in his mind.

  “Will she ever forgive us?” Addison said.

  He swallowed. “I don't know.”

  “I wouldn't,” she said, her face pale. “Never in a million years.”

  ***

  When Trent arrived at the hospital room in the section the residents used, Olga was finishing up checking Seffy's vitals.

  She sent him a comforting smile. “She's stable. It's not a coma, just a deep level of unconsciousness. She could wake up at any time—at least that's what we're hoping.”

  He nodded. “So I'm going to stay with her at night, right? What about the guards outside?”

  “I will be locking the door behind me. Only myself and the doctor will have keys. Although the guards will remain, they have no reason to come in, and I think under the circumstances, it should be avoided.” She checked her watch. “It's ten now. I'll be back in two hours, and every two hours after that.”

  “Okay.” Trent looked at the hard plastic chair and blew out a breath.

  “You won't be sitting there.” She adjusted her glasses. “Now, what I'm about to propose may sound odd coming from a woman of my years, but I want you to keep an open mind.”

  He stared at her having no idea what to expect. Olga seemed too staid to say anything shocking.

  “I used to be a NICU nurse and—”

  “Define NICU.”

  “Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. Newborns in trouble, basically. Now stop interrupting.” She took a breath. “One thing research has borne out is that babies did much better when touched and held rather than just left in an incubator.”

  Trent stared at her, having no idea where this was going.

  “Now, Seffy is not your baby and you are not her daddy, but I think she's going to need some human contact if she's going to come out of this.” She raised her hand when Trent opened his mouth to speak. “I want you in that bed next to her so she can rest her head on your chest. After being alone for so long, she needs to feel some warmth and hear a heartbeat close by, especially through the long stretches of the night.”

  “Ooookay.”

  “This is not the doctor's orders, this is my opinion and advice after years of observation. And this is not a reason to get fresh.”

  “God, Olga, give me some credit.”

  “I just want to make sure we're coming from the same place. This is therapy, pure and simple. Every night until she wakes up. Think you can handle it?”

  Trent sent her a limpid look. “No problem.”

  “Lying alone in a hard hospital bed is an awful way to convalesce. And nights are the worst. If I'm going to err, it will be on the side of compassion.”

  “Sounds like you're speaking from experience.”

  “I am. Human touch is vital to recovery, but society has sexed it up so much that people have to debase themselves to get a little affection. It's disgusting.”

  “Yes, ma'am,” Trent said, not knowing what else to say.

  “Okay, now that's settled. I'll be back in a couple of hours. There's a button by the bed. If she wakes up or anything questionable happens, buzz me. I'm staying in a room just a few doors down.”

  He nodded and watched her leave, locking the door behind her. Trent turned and looked at Seffy with apprehension. He didn't have a problem with the idea of holding her, but he knew Gareth was the one who should be here with her. It was what she'd want.

  Undoing a few more buttons of his shirt for comfort, he choose the bedside with the least amount of monitors, and climbed onto the mattress. Her waxen features were lifeless in the low light. There was a thin line of bandaging along her forehead.

  “Hey, Sef,” he said softly. “Olga told me to lie next to you, so don't be mad, okay?” He eased his arm behind her neck and shifted closer until her head rolled into the hollow of his shoulder. When he had her settled, he took her hand, careful not to disturb the shunt taped to the back of it. Trent saw that someone had trimmed the jagged edges from her nails and put salve on her scraped knuckles.

  He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his cheek against her hair, unable to imagine the horror she'd endured.

  But before he could open his mind to the possibilities, exhaustion took over.

  ***

  “Okay, time to wake up.”

  Trent blinked a few times and looked up to see Olga standing over him. Disentangling himself from Seffy, he got out of the bed. It was the third night he'd stayed with her. There'd been no change, but Olga wanted the 'therapy' to continue.

  “Anything unusual to report?”

  He rubbed his face then buttoned up his shirt. “Not that I know of.”

  “Most times I come in here, you're snoring. If anything, that's what will bring her back to us.”

  Trent smiled wanly as he stretched. He ran a hand through his hair and looked down at the patient. His life had narrowed down to nights in this room, but he could only remember the few minutes before falling asleep. No matter how hard he tried to stay awake, his emotionally and physically bankrupt body had other ideas.

  Olga tugged at the bandage on Seffy's head and clucked approvingly. “This is healing nicely and her vitals are stronger. You're having a good effect.”

  Trent shrugged. The whole situation was still awkward as far as he was concerned—not that he'd give up the chance to stay with her. “So, same time tonight?”

  The nurse nodded as she recorded information on her chart. “How's your investigation going?”

  He thought about his stymied attempts at finding the kingpin behind the events in the compound. He'd come up with zip and ended up more often than not just brooding in his room. “Not so great.”

  “Well, keep at it. You never know when you'll get that big break.”

  He snorted. “It's not like I'm a detective. I was a director's assistant in Hollywood. I don't have a clue what I'm doing.”

  “I've heard stories about some high-maintenance directors. I bet you deliver when it's required.”

  Trent grunted and with one last look at Seffy, left the room to head for his own.

  He met Lani in the hallway near their rooms. She smiled tentatively. “Olga said Seffy's doing a little bit better.”

  “So I hear,” he hedged.

  “I still feel really bad about what happened. Turning on her like that. It felt wrong at the time, but it was just so easy to give in, you know?”

  He edged past her. What a stupid excuse. “Yeah.”

  “Did you know Gareth's been working with Eugene every day, trying to figure out if there's a way for us to go back?”

  He nodded. “That's great. I hope he's successful.”

  She sighed. “Me, too.”

  “Well, see ya.”

  “We should get together,” Lani said abruptly. “All of us, you know to re-bond.”

  He sent her a tight smile. “I'm not sure how much bonding happened in the first plac
e.”

  Her over-bright expression faltered. “I know, we all got off to a bad start. But we should make the effort to get to know each other better. I think that way we can be more alert to bad things happening.”

  “Uh, sure.”

  “I'll talk to Addy and the other girls. We'll plan some kind of get-together ice-breaker mingly thing...after Seffy wakes up, of course.”

  Of course. “Sounds...fun.”

  “Okay, I'll count you in.”

  He nodded and continued down the hall, amazed at the guilt coming off everyone like a bad odor. Then again, he wasn't immune himself.

  Trent entered his room and stopped. Fiona sat on the smuggled couch, smiling at his entrance.

  “Nice furniture.”

  He closed his door. “Thanks,” he said dismissively. “What do you want?”

  She got up and walked over to him, lightly touching his chest, the calculated look in her eyes unmistakable. She wanted something and was willing to do whatever it took to get it. Trent raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Personal space issues here.”

  “We have a little problem.”

  He resisted the temptation to lean away from her. Her large dark eyes seemed like they were trying to put some kind of whammy on him. “That being?”

  “Well, it came up, quite inadvertently I might add, that you found Fenn in a...compromising position a few days ago.”

  Apparently that whole heroin thing was still going on. Trent took a step back. “I'm not interested in all your little intrigues, Fiona. I'm only interested in getting out of this hell-hole. Besides, I told him I wouldn't say anything.”

  “Yeah, I've heard people say their word is their bond. But it's 1980 and we know the value of one's word nowadays. And coming from you, it means even less.”

  He strolled over to the mini-fridge, and grabbing a bottle of orange juice, popped the top and took a drink. “Feel free to leave anytime.”

  “I don't think you realize what's at stake.”

  “I realize a whole helluva lot more than you think.”

  Fiona linked her fingers together. “I disagree. You see, you're at a distinct advantage now, what with a wounded friend and all.”