by Milly Taiden
Time refused to move as Hannes held Leah, listening for her every breath. Finally, her lips and skin regained their peach color. Hannes laid her flat on the bench and repositioned the blanket. Seeing her warmed face, he gasped.
Her left eye was swollen shut. Puffy blue skin extended from her forehead down to her cheek. Bloodless cuts and bruises covered the other side of her face. He felt each rib and every bone in her arms and legs.
Winston walked up behind Hannes. “How is she?”
“She’s taken a bad beating, but no facial fractures that I can tell. Her collarbone and several ribs may be cracked. And her left arm is broken.”
Hannes felt Winston’s stare. “You are not taking her to the hospital, are you?”
Strained fear crossed Hannes’ face. “We can’t risk that, Win. If she sleeps in a hospital, anyone can get to her. If I’m recognized, word will get around to those I’ve battled for years. And I don’t even want to think about those consequences right now.”
Nodding, Winston stood. “I will return with an ice pack and a makeshift splint for her arm.”
Hannes sat back on his heels and looked at his watch. He didn’t want to stay in the room too long, but he needed to make sure her body temperature rose high enough. He would not fail again--this woman would live.
Winston returned with a small ice pack wrapped in a hand towel and an old Vogue magazine with strips of torn sheet resting on top. “You have been in here for a while. She looks better. Has her temperature raised enough to perspire yet?”
Hannes slipped the thick magazine under Leah’s left arm. “No, and I’m concerned she’s still unconscious.” He took the white strips and tied them around her arm, securing it to the magazine. “That will have to do for now.” He took the ice pack and held it against her swollen eye.
“Perhaps she has more head trauma than you can see.”
Hannes frowned and looked up at him. “You’re not helping, Win.”
“Sorry. I presume you want to keep her downstairs in the master for a while.”
“She’s definitely not walking upstairs any time soon.”
Winston stepped into the bathroom and grabbed two bath towels. “Here, you look like you are melting.” He tossed one to Hannes.
Hannes wiped the sweat from his face and bare chest then swung the towel over his shoulder. He took the other and dabbed at Leah’s newly glistening forehead. Letting out a big sigh, he stood.
Winston smiled. “I guess you will not be taking her to the airport, either, this morning.”
“I want her to stay, but not for this.”
Leah’s head rolled to the side, causing the ice pack to fall. Hannes dropped to his knees. “Leah, wake up. Come on, Princess, open your eyes.” He turned her face toward him; a weak moan came from her throat. He whispered into her ear, “Open your eyes, baby.”
Her eyelid fluttered opened; the swollen lid didn’t move. Her eye rolled from the top of the socket to focus on him. A weak murmur came from her open lips. “Hey.”
“Hey, yourself.” He smiled and brushed her cheek.
She looked at Winston whose shirt dripped with sweat. “Why are…you here…with clothes on?”
Winston smiled. “I am being modest for our first sauna together.”
Leah gave a small laugh and then stopped moving. Her eyes squeezed shut and color drained from her face. She clutched Hannes’ hand so tightly he reacted instantly. “What’s wrong? Leah?”
After a few seconds, she relaxed her grip and her watery eye blinked open.
“Leah, what’s wrong?”
She breathed out the word “hurts.” Hannes kissed her hand. “I know, Princess. You have cracked ribs and bruises everywhere. Your left arm is broken, so don’t try to move it. I’m so sorry. Try not to laugh or cough.” A thought came to him. He laid her arm on the bench and rushed out the door.
Letting the sauna door close behind him, Hannes dragged out his green backpack from under the sink. He pulled out the brown plastic bottle and shook a pill into his hand.
When he reentered the sauna, Winston looked at what Hannes held. “Are those your pain meds? You are not giving her that!”
Hannes knelt on the floor. He crushed the pill between his thumb and palm. “Yes, I am.”
“Hannes, you know what they do to you. How do you think they will affect her?”
“I already know.”
“Watch her closely, Hannes.” Winston turned and left.
Hannes laid a sleeping Leah on the master bed and draped an extra blanket over the thin duvet cover. He sat by her feet, watching her. Winston carried in a tray of hot sandwiches and fruit. Hannes dragged the wood table and fancy chairs from the sitting area to the bed.
“Will she be all right?” Winston placed the tray on the table.
Hannes took a plate with a sandwich and set it on the table beside him. “She’s not coughing blood, so I’m hopeful there are no serious internal injuries.” He bit into his sandwich and looked at her resting form. “Her feet and hands don’t look frostbitten.”
Winston wiped his fingers on a linen napkin. “Now, what are you going to do with her?”
Hannes ran his fingers through his hair and smiled to himself. “We’ll keep her here until she can move around. With cracked ribs that could take two months, at least.”
Winston wryly smiled. “Oh, at least. Perhaps three or four.”
Hearing Winston’s playful sarcasm, Hannes dropped his head and grinned; he gave himself away.
Winston looked at him. “Hannes! I do believe you are blushing.”
Still grinning, Hannes looked away.
“My goodness, you are. This is scary, Hannes Otila.”
Hannes turned back to the table and took another bite of his sandwich. “More than you know.”
Winston raised his eyebrow. “Tell me.”
A shadow darkened his face. “In the sauna, I’ve never in my life felt so…” he paused, searching for the right word, “helpless. I couldn’t…”
Winston translated. “You were afraid she was going to die. And you had no control over it. Just like before.”
“Yes, just like before.” Hannes looked down at the sandwich in his hands. Just like Catalina. He hadn’t been there to keep her car from rolling off the cliff.
Winston cleared his throat. “I must say, you have finally found one amazing lady. She is different from most women. When you two were at each other’s throats, a sparkle always lit her eyes. You enjoyed it also, even though you may not admit it.” Winston took a bite of his sandwich.
He continued. “She does not worry about what she cannot control. I know someone who should take lessons from her.”
Hannes rolled his eyes.
“Also, she has done something no other woman has.”
“What?” Hannes looked over at him.
Winston grinned. “She has tamed a wild, angry bear.” He sat back in his chair. “So, I ask again, Hannes Otila, what are you going to do with her?”
Hannes let out a sigh. He knew he couldn’t hold on to her forever. Her best interests didn’t lie with him, no matter what his animal said. “I’ll take care of her until she’s healed enough, then she can go.”
“What if she doesn’t want to go?”
Hannes snapped his head around. “I watched her face when she saw me change. She’s not staying. Why would she? Did she say something?”
“Perhaps, in a roundabout way, before she knew about your hidden side.”
Hannes hung his head. “She probably thinks I mean to hurt her.”
“Have you told her?”
“Told her what?”
Winston covered his eyes with his hand. “You are just like your father before he met your mother. Clueless to matters of the heart. You know, you could try being kind to her.”
Hannes grunted. “Both times I tried, she bit my head off.”
“Both? Only two times?” Winston shook his head. “Were you nice or bearable?”
“W
hat’s that supposed to mean?”
Turning his chair, Winston faced Hannes. “You being nice means a bullet in the arse instead of the head. True nice is not wanting to hurt another’s feelings--showing you care.”
Hannes frowned. “I’m a soldier, Win, not a Romeo.”
“But you are human still, and she needs a human, not a stonewall.”
Hannes remained quiet. He’d been an emotionless machine for so long, he didn’t know how to be anything else. Where did he even start?
“Your heart has decided.” Winston stood and put his empty plate on the tray. “Stay with her.” He collected Hannes’ plate and left the room.
Hannes gazed at Leah. After scooting his chair against the bed, he took her hand and pressed it to his lips. Leah’s head rolled a bit and her eye opened. She saw Hannes and smiled. He leaned in closer. “Hey, Princess. You joining the world for a while?” His hand glided over her forehead.
She moved her chapped lips slowly while she breathed out words. “Don’t…leave…me alone.”
Hannes laid his palm along her cheek. “Never again, baby. I promise.” His body cried out for her. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and hold her so tightly, her body would mesh into his and she would be part of him, always with him. He leaned forward and brushed his lips over hers.
Not enough. He needed more. His beast pushed for more. She tasted so good. Like nothing he’d ever savored. And despite the desire, hunger, in her look, her eyes closed. Hannes started to sit back when her eyes fluttered. “Hannes.”
He leaned forward. “I’m here, Princess.”
She took a shallow breath. “Were you…polar bear…did I dream that? Talk to me…your voice in my dreams… Who are you?”
He shook his head. “Who am I? I don’t understand.”
She fought the elixir threatening to take her consciousness away. “I need…to know what…you’ve lived through.” She closed her eyes and her body relaxed.
What he lived through? That was a story he wasn’t sure he wanted her to know.
FIFTY
Hannes leaned forward in his chair, propped his elbows on his knees and rested his forehead on his clasped hands. Who you are, what you’ve lived through--two things he never wanted to think about.
He lifted his head and stared into the gold leaf mirror leaning on the far wall. “I was born and lived the first eighteen years of my life in this house. My sister and I were normal kids--swimming in the summer and ice fishing in the winter.
“Our parents loved each other and us. They did everything together and never raised their voices. They had the perfect love everyone wants, but few of us deserve.” Images of his lost family dug into his gut.
He sat back in his chair and glanced at Leah. How could he tell her what he didn’t want to admit to himself? He took a deep breath. “When I entered the military, I had the attitude I was an Otila. I learned quickly my name didn’t mean paska. I pushed myself hard. No one was going to order me around for long… My pride became my downfall.
“After years of dedicating myself to my country, neighbor, and God, all three betrayed me.” Anger and heartache swelled. So much pain, locked away. He’d never bared his soul to be as vulnerable as he was now. But Leah must know. She needed human--he needed her.
Sitting forward, he scooped up her hand and enfolded it within his. A peaceful energy flowed, calming his bear, easing his mind. Memories surfaced, but he felt no pain, no anguish. Leah’s strong, serene presence gave him the strength to distance himself, making him a voyeur in his own mind.
“My men captured a Russian spy carrying intel to a radical political group instigating a coup attempt against Russia’s new leader. If those documents had reached their target, the world we know wouldn’t exist.
“Russia had ended the ‘Cold War,’ as you called it, but relations never changed. They pulled troops from Afghanistan and the Soviet economy and country sank into crisis. If the coup succeeded in ousting the leader, the nuclear weapons the past dictator disarmed would have been reactivated and launched over Europe, the Middle East and the U.S.
“Before I had a chance to act on the information, we received orders to take out a national security threat. It was an ambush and the threat was my knowledge of the spy’s intel.”
Anger quickly built. “The night I arrived at Penal Colony twenty-four, the new group of prisoners I was part of watched a horrific show. I later learned it was to intimidate newcomers. Barking bulldogs lined a chain-link fence and a twenty-foot gate opened to the prisoner area. Inside, men and boys ran out of crumbling shacks with partial roofs or no doors.” He laid Leah’s hand on the bed and stood.
While he paced the room, hatred consumed him--hate for what they did and hate for what he did. He stopped in front of the window and stared at the white ground. “The gate slid open and armored trucks led through dozens of guards in riot gear. A guard immediately punched a prisoner in the face--no reason, just hit him.” Numbness pushed away the hate, fear and pain. The past played in his head.
“Prisoners defended themselves the best they could. Most were beaten with metal pipes or kicked with steel toe combat boots. The savageness was…” The raw terror and viciousness chilled him. “When the air settled, prisoners and guards lay dead--their bodies so mangled, they barely looked human.” Horrific scenes, once forgotten, flashed through his mind. So many. How would he forget them again?
He pressed on. “When not torturing prisoners, the elite sat around in their heated rooms with tables full of food, devising new ways to cause pain. We didn’t have names. We were numbers: Prisoner 10589. They tattooed numbers on the back of our knuckles as a humiliating reminder.” He rubbed the back of his hands where, for years, he scratched and burned off the degrading ink marks. Now, the scarred flesh replaced the numbers as a reminder.
“Prisoners were lab rats to see how much pain they could endure… Every second of every minute was Hell, knowing with each man taken and returned, your time was getting closer.
“I learned a lot about physical torture--especially how to withstand and inflict.” He paused. This was where it got hard. This is where he lost his soul, yet gained another. He would tell her. This is what she needed to know the most.
The camp had its own version of Dr. Frankenstein. Since my last name means bear, he thought it would be fun to see if he could create a were-bear out of me. For months, I received blood infusions from a polar bear they captured.
“Not just that, he messed with my DNA and that of the bear. He injected other serums to make my body accept a bond between man and animal. He used electrocution tactics hoping to—I don’t know what he hoped. Maybe he just enjoyed my pain. Or maybe he hoped it would stress me enough to make my body take the change. To shift.
“Every day it was more shots, more chemicals, more experimenting, more pain. My body continued to live so he never gave up. I’ll never forget the moment I realized the bastard had achieved his goal.”
Leah’s head moved. He rushed back to her side, hoping she would wake and tell him all was forgiven, everything was going to be all right. But he knew better. All would never be forgiven.
He slid into the chair next to Leah’s side and let his chin drop to his chest. Even though shielded from the worst pain, his mind knew the suffering he had created. That day, someone lost a son, father, or brother. He lost his soul.
He held Leah’s hand tightly. Without her beside him, he couldn’t do this. She gave him a reason to live, hope for redemption.
“A group of us were tearing down a shack on a day the sun beat down relentlessly. An old, skin and bones man passed out and fell against a stack of cinder blocks, knocking them toward a prison gang member. The punk didn’t get a scratch, but he took to kicking and beating the old man… Others gathered around to watch.
“Nobody did anything. I couldn’t stand by and let the old man be beaten into a lump of flesh. I jumped in and took him away from the pounding. I didn’t think about the consequences, just reacted… T
he kid said I was ‘interfering’ with fairness, not letting him even the score. It was an accident. A goddamn accident!”
Hannes turned away and wiped his hands over his face. Why was he telling her this? It would only scare and drive her farther away. But he had to finish. He’d come too far to stop.
“If the kid wasn’t able to get revenge from the old man, then he’d get it from me. He reached into the rubble stack and pulled out a plank with rusted nails driven into one end. I didn’t want any trouble. I tried to walk away. His first swing dragged a nail down my forehead, nearly taking out my eye…” Hannes rubbed the scar over his left eye.
“At the end, I pinned him against the side of a shack with his neck, and life, in my hands. All I had to do was…let go. Open my hands and walk away. But I-I couldn’t… His eyes filled with hate. He said how he would rip me open and feed me to the dogs, while I was still alive.
“The anger in me doubled, but it didn’t all come from me. I felt another source waken inside my chest. Like having an alien life inside your body. I squeezed my hands around his neck to make him shut up. White hair sprouted from my arms and hands. A strength I’d never known flowed through me. Scared out of my mind, I threw him to the ground and walked back to the shack before anyone else noticed.
“But he wasn’t through. He charged from behind, and I flipped him over with ease. He landed one foot on a cinder block…he twisted…and plunged back into the rubble pile, impaled by nails and splintered wood stakes.” The red streams racing toward him in his dreams made sense.
“Gang members challenged me to fight to the death. To stay alive and keep my sanity, I had to bury my humanness. Lock it away from reality. Fighting with this new inner strength became my existence. If a day passed without blood on my hands, I questioned if I were still alive…”
Falling silent, he laid his forehead on Leah’s hand. He lamented a life wasted on pride and hate, and a world filled with malevolence and apathy. He prayed for forgiveness and release. A soft voice whispered in his head, let it go.
He couldn’t. Suffering was all he knew. If it were gone, what would take its place?