by Laura Acton
Brody brushed through Danny’s hair and sighed. “I could do nothing to help at the time. Afterward, I asked Hamon to teach me. It takes a lot out of me to reduce his pain. Would you watch over him while I regenerate?” Receiving a nod from Esteban, Brody said, “Rest easy, Danny. I’ll be back,” and faded.
Kolff Research Institute – Basement Level Two – Cat Room – 10:00 p.m.
Lexa finished refilling the last of the cat’s water dishes. She did the same for all the dogs, needing to do something to distract herself. Being stuck down here played on her phobia, though Boss reported to them the building remained structurally sound, so no worries about it collapsing.
The second reason she tended to the animals was that they needed her to. They were all trapped in cages down here. She hated any animal being used for research and wondered in what way Kolff used them. With nothing left to do, she paced the room, and her mind returned to Loki.
He was the third reason Lexa kept busy. Her worry for him increased over the past four hours. With no word from Bram on Loki’s condition, her thoughts ran rampant creating many terrible scenarios. At one point she became angry with a man she never met. Darwin is responsible for trapping us and for Loki not giving himself enough time to exit.
She was certain Loki would’ve left sooner if they had not been locked down here. Wiping an escaped tear away, Lexa stopped and stared at a grey cat which reminded her of Puff. “Loki sacrificed himself trying to save us.” She attributed the meow as agreement with her words.
Aware Loki was under the care of doctors now, her contemplations shifted to Ray and Dan. They were both ill and had not received medical aid. Food poisoning was miserable … vomiting, cramps, fever, and dehydration. A memory from her time as an RCMP officer in Edmonton filtered in.
Near the end of her training, she spent a week working with a patrol officer who had an adventurous bent when it came to food. They stopped for lunch at a roadside stand as they patrolled AB-28. The place was so grimy she refused to eat, she would rather be hungry than risk eating there. Her partner ended up with salmonella poisoning, and the health department shut down the eatery the next day due to the rash of people who fell ill.
She encountered one of the salmonella victims the same afternoon when she pulled over a soldier for speeding near Beaver Crossing. The driver’s jade eyes conveyed deep concern for his buddy. The poor soldier in the passenger seat was deathly ill, heaving into a plastic bag. Instead of writing a citation she escorted them to the medical facility at CFB Cold Lake.
“Wonder what ever happened to those two guys,” Lexa said to the cat.
“What guys?” Jon queried as he entered the room. He controlled the shudder as several felines hissed at his presence. He almost hissed back.
Surprised and slightly embarrassed to be caught talking to a cat, Lexa turned to Jon with a tinge of pink on her cheeks. “Oh, um … just two soldiers I ran across when I started out as a cop.”
“What made you think about ancient history?” Jon inquired, needing a distraction from his worry for Loki, Dan, and Ray. With no word about Loki, he feared his injuries were extensive. And the other two … well, Ray, he trusted to tell him exactly how he was doing, but Dan tended to be evasive. His TL sense told him Dan might be worse off than he claimed, especially since the rookie let Ray do all the check-ins and his mind kept replaying Dan’s yelp.
“The guys,” she stated honestly. “With three out of four of us getting sick after eating at the restaurant, I’m going to call the department of health after we leave. The eatery was untidy. Reminded me of another place and time where people ended up ill.”
She smiled and shared her story to pass the time and ended with, “I wish Bram would call and give us an update.”
Jon nodded and disclosed his thoughts, “Dan must be rubbing off on Loki. I’m gonna have a stern talk with him about unacceptable risk and cutting it too close. I would rather a hundred empty buildings blow up than him risk being injured or killed by a blast. Material things can be replaced … he can’t.”
“Not fair, Jon. You can’t lay this at Dan’s feet. You know why Loki stayed as well as I do. The building wasn’t empty … he wanted to save us. He had no idea if the bomb would bring down the entire building and crush us.”
Glancing around, unsettled in the room full of claws, Jon conceded Lexa’s point. “Okay, I only—” He halted as his phone rang. Answering it, he listened as a smile grew. “Thanks for calling, Bram. Stay. Boss is working this issue, and Loki’s ma will need the support.”
He hung up after a few more exchanges. Turning to Lexa, he grinned. “Loki is going to be alright. His egghead isn’t as fragile as Bram believed. Loki woke and was coherent. A positive sign with a concussion. The cut on his head only needed butterfly tapes though Bram originally thought it was much worse due to all the blood. He bruised his left shoulder and several ribs. Amazing, but nothing is broken, though he’s gonna be sore from his tumble down the stairs.”
Lexa sighed as relief coursed through her body, she sagged into a chair and took a moment to just breathe. “He’s more durable than he appears. Did Bram contact the others?”
“Yes, he spoke to Ray and Boss before he called me.”
Another concern entered Lexa’s mind. “When Loki recalls Lucille is destroyed that will be tough on him.”
“Yeah, I figure he’ll mourn the loss of his robot girlfriend,” Jon quipped.
A tiny chuckle emitted from Lexa. “Most likely. He’s quirky, but that is one of the things I love most about him. He possesses a kid-like innocence wrapped up in his whip-smart brain.”
Agreeing with Lexa’s assessment, Jon sobered. “When we get out, I’m going to salvage something of Lucille for him. A memento of sorts.” His thought focused on Loki, Jon forgot where he was and leaned against a cage. A hiss and claws digging into his arm caused him to jump and move away. “Damned cats! Let’s find a different room.”
Lexa couldn’t stop the little bubble of mirth which percolated up and out. “Cats bothering you?”
Jon put an arm around Lexa’s shoulders. “Bout as much as being trapped two stories underground bothers you.”
“Touché. At least Ray isn’t here with the snakes,” Lexa remarked as they strode out of the room.
“Yeah, no kidding.” Jon wondered if anything scared his rookie.
Entering the dog room, Lexa voiced her fear, “I hope it isn’t severe food poisoning and they are both okay. It would be bad if they both become incapacitated with the subject.”
Jon halted, his worry spiking. “Damn, I didn’t consider that possibility.” He pulled out his phone and dialed Ray, putting it on speaker. When Ray answered, Jon asked, “How are you feeling, Ray?”
“Stomach is still a bit unsettled. I’m doing okay, haven’t hurled again. Why?” Ray pondered the reason for Jon’s call. He gave the same update only twenty minutes ago in the last check-in with Boss.
“Is Mr. Smellie giving you any trouble?”
“No. Been quiet and docile since we moved to the breakroom. He complained about the odor in the other room. Don’t blame him. Housekeeping won’t be pleased about cleaning up puke.”
“How is Dan doing?” Lexa hid her rising concern, anxious Jon might perceive more than she wanted him to ascertain in her query about Dan.
Glancing over at Dan, who chose to sit on the floor in the corner on the opposite side of the room, and hadn’t moved once in about forty minutes, Ray said, “Same as I reported earlier. Still looks like shit. He dry-heaved a couple more times before we came in here. Though he hasn’t admitted as much, I believe he’s in quite a lot of pain.”
Worry grew, as Lexa kept an unruffled veneer. “Why do you think that?”
Keeping his voice low, so it didn’t carry to Dan, Ray explained, “Took a page from you and Bram and focused on his eyes when he pushed me under the table. Been studying his body language for the past few hours too. He’s gone all stoic soldier, shuttering his expression, holdin
g himself stiff, and not moving unless unnecessary.
“Earlier, I caught him pressing on his side and stomach and glimpsed a slight grimace. And he is sweating, though it is like seventy degrees in here. Think he is keeping quiet cause there is nothing we can do about our situation. I did what I could for him. I put a makeshift splint on his arm. I’m not a doctor, but I think it might be fractured.”
Lexa’s mind raced through the symptoms the medic gave them earlier. Abdominal, flank, or back pain, drowsiness, fever, elevated heart rate, nausea or vomiting, and skin which is pale or cool to the touch coupled with sweating.
Jon honed in on Ray’s last comment and barked, “A busted arm?! Dammit, I suspected he was hiding something. When the hell did that happen?”
Flinching at the anger in the tactical lead’s voice, Ray figured he would be in trouble for not saying anything. But he refrained before, not wanting to add stress to the team over something they couldn’t do anything about at the moment. “I’m not sure if it was when the unicorn landed on him or the desktop computer fell during the shockwaves of the bomb.”
“What is all this about a unicorn?” Jon fought to maintain his calm.
Ray chuckled, he couldn’t help himself as the image of the unicorns came to mind. He described Dan’s tangle with the unicyclists. “I probably should’ve said something earlier, but we couldn’t allow the bomber to escape. And I reckoned Dan wouldn’t go in if he couldn’t handle it. He seemed alright up until the computer smashed his hand and he started puking.”
Realizing his error in judgment, yet attempting to stave off Jon’s ire, Ray said, “We are all aware he has experience working while injured. Like the day in the ice cream shop, and a few days later when the subject knifed him as they went down the muddy embankment.
“None of us realized he was concussed or stabbed until he landed in the hospital when Loki and Lexa attacked him in the locker room after he protected me, Boss, Bram and all those hostages. Then there is all the shit that happened before Christmas which didn’t slow him down much. He’s like a Timex, takes a licking and keeps on ticking.”
Jon fumed recalling his past failures and recent events. Dan had enough trouble being honest with them about injuries he didn’t need the team feeding into them and allowing Dan to put himself in harm’s way. He ground out, “Palomo, we’re going to talk long and hard about appropriate risk for teammates. You damned well know you should’ve stopped him. The suspected bomber was in a contained area.”
His fury increasing with his volume, Jon lashed out, “You should not have allowed Broderick to go after him regardless of what his capabilities may or may not be. Uranus could’ve gotten the drop on Dan, and he might not have been able to defend himself. As a result, Dan might’ve been injured or killed. We do not put our teammates at risk!”
Lexa laid a hand on Jon’s shoulder. “Jon, this is not the time for this discussion. Later.”
Jon reeled it back in. He berated Ray unjustly. Later when he was in more control, he would apologize and have a reasonable dialogue with Ray. He would admit he was the one in charge and should’ve ordered both of them to wait before going after Smellie.
Ray turned his gaze to Dan, noting the rookie still held his arm close and sat rigidly with his eyes closed. He watched as a rivulet of perspiration trickled down the side of his face. Jon is completely right. I let my desire to stop the University bomber overshadow Dan’s safety. And my safety too. If Smellie had been aggressive, he could’ve attacked Dan with the switchblade.
With the realization of the magnitude of his error, no justification would suffice, so Ray only said, “Yes, sir. I understand my error now. It won’t happen ever again.”
Lexa urgently interrupted, “Ray, about Dan. You said he is sweating, still nauseous, and is suffering pain in his abdomen and flank. Those are all signs the medic mentioned. Is he experiencing any of the other symptoms?”
“Hang on. I’ll find out.” With Lexa’s insistent query Ray rapidly became cognizant of his second screw up.
Everything is FINE
9
January 6
Kolff Research Institute – Various Locations – 10:10 p.m.
Ray walked over to Dan and crouched near him. “Hey, how are you doing?” Receiving no response, he spoke a little louder, “Dan. Hey, wake up.” Still, no movement, not even a flutter of an eyelid, Ray placed a hand on Dan’s knee and shook him lightly. A dangerous move he comprehended, but with Dan not reacting, his worry for his teammate overrode his better sense.
Startled from his cocoon of relief, his happy place where only laughter and the smiling and muddy faces of his brother and younger cousin Zach existed, Dan reacted to protect himself. Agony thrumming through him in the here and now mixed with confusion and firmly set him there, where he struggled daily to survive unrelenting torture.
Surging to his feet and striking out at his captor in the same motion, shooting white-hot flames consumed his right arm as his preemptive attack was countered. Dan pulled the burning limb close to his body protectively and waited for the onslaught of fists and boots.
Ray reacted in a split second, standing and lifting his left arm, defending himself as Dan lashed out. He cringed when he blocked Dan’s right-handed blow, appreciating the pain it must’ve caused the rookie. The contact between them so forceful, his phone went flying across the room.
The sheer terror blended with unbridled fury in the sapphire eyes told Ray precisely where Dan was … a place he only referred to as there. The place Jim warned them about when he instructed them not to crowd Dan or startle him awake, on peril of their life, regardless of Dan’s physical state.
Counting himself lucky, Ray stepped back, giving Dan room to reorient. He understood the emotions shown in Dan’s eyes. A potent mixture of fear and anger used to be reflected in his own dark brown eyes as a teen.
Growing up in a neighborhood controlled by a gang meant he either joined them or became their prey. Sick of being jumped every day on his way to and from school, he bowed to pressure and joined the Blooddrop Crew. In one afternoon, he went from being victim to victimizer.
A monster of rage grew in him as he terrorized those younger and smaller than him, seeking the approval of his protectors. One event opened his eyes to what he was becoming … had become. He and Esteban would not take the final step to be initiated into the gang.
The goodness within them flared up one fateful night when they refused to cold-bloodedly murder Father Lopez. A choice which ended Esteban’s life and forever altered his. He buried the beast within and sought to be an instrument of peace, devoting his life to serving those who could not protect themselves.
Noting a focusing of his teammate’s eyes, Ray said, “Dan, hey it’s me, Ray. Sorry to wake you.”
Dan sucked in a breath and gradually released it as he recognized his surroundings. “Did I hurt you?”
“Nah, I’m fine.” Recalling Dan’s meaning of the word, Fucked up, Insecure, Neurotic, and Emotional, the acronym fit this situation, but he changed his phrasing. “I’m alright. What about you?”
“Been better. Not going back to that restaurant again.” Dan lowered himself to the floor again, resisting the urge to press on his side.
“I hear ya and agree.” Crouching again, Ray pressed two fingers to Dan’s left wrist. “Gotta check your ticker.”
“Why?”
“Lexa will kill me if I don’t. Are you sleepy?” Ray counted and found it to be a little elevated, but reasonable given how he woke Dan.
Dan arched his brows at the question, considering he had been essentially napping. He stole a quick glance at the wall clock, noting over an hour passed since the last time he checked. With adrenaline coursing through his veins, Dan answered honestly, “No, not drowsy.”
Retrieving his cell phone, pleased the screen remained uncracked, Ray tapped the speaker button. “You still with me, Lexa?”
“Yeah, what happened?” Lexa shifted her eyes off Jon as both wondered i
f the subject attacked them when sounds of flesh meeting flesh and a soft grunt met their ears before the phone evidently crashed to the floor and silence ensued before words too softly spoken to distinguish sounded over the line.
Ray chose to use humor. “Jon can add breakroom in the basement of the Kolff building to the Unacceptable Nap Locations list.” At Dan’s slight shake of his head and lopsided grin, he knew he took the right path. “Got you on speaker. Dan’s pulse seems on the high side of normal, but I did jolt Dan from his catnap.”
“What’s the result?”
“One hundred ten beats per minute.”
“Wait ten minutes and retake it.”
“Don’t need mother-henning. I’m fine … okay,” Dan groused.
Putting her fisted hands on her hips, a gesture conveyed in her tone, Lexa called Dan on his subterfuge, “Un huh, right. Fine is more like it. You’ve been puking your guts out. Your wrist might be fractured, and you’re in pain. What I need to know is are you lethargic, dizzy, disoriented, or feverish?”
Dan cringed inwardly at her list, gathering Ray told them about his wrist, somewhat unsure why he kept quiet about it for so long. He was weary of dealing with the unrelenting pain, but not physically drained. He had been a little lightheaded when they traveled to the breakroom, but not since. Disoriented … yeah, he woke up believing he was there. No fever. Sweating bullets came with being poisoned as he recalled.
He searched for a way to divert attention from his less than stellar condition and addressed one item. “Not tired. I had about an hour nap.”
“Why?” Lexa demanded.
Deliberately being obstinate, Dan said, “Why what?”
“Broderick! Quit being dense. Why were you napping?” Lexa snapped.