by J. E. Taylor
André hesitated. He didn’t have a reasonable answer to the question. “I just knew.”
“You put Kat’s life on the line on a whim?” Matthew balked.
“No. I can’t tell you how I knew what to do or that it would work. I just did. Maybe I saw something similar when I was a kid but I can’t be sure.” He took a deep breath. “Do you want to do this or not?”
Matthew stood up and walked to the doorway. He paused with his hand on the door, shaking his head slightly at the internal debate. What Katrina had done was amazing. Finally, he closed the door, sweeping the doubts away and turning back to André. “Where do you want me?”
André pointed at the chair. “Face the back of the chair,” he instructed. “And you can’t move at all when I do this,” André said. “Not even a fraction.”
Matthew nodded and sat down just as André instructed. “I must be crazy.”
André smiled a little and opened his top drawer, pulling out what looked like a long, thin sewing needle that measured roughly six inches in length. “Hang your head a little lower,” André said, gently pushing his father’s head down, clearly exposing the spinal cord on the back of his neck. “That’s good,” he said. André closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he ran his fingers along his father’s spine, searching for the point on the base of the skull that he needed. His eyes opened when he found his mark. Glancing at the needle, he willed the tip to heat up. When the tip glowed, he swiftly plunged it into the point where his finger had been.
Matthew didn’t move despite the sting of the needle and the sudden debilitating pain exploding in his head.
André yanked the needle out and slashed his finger with it, dropping it on the table as he covered the pinhole in his father’s neck with the bloody tip of his finger. Closing his eyes, he let his mind follow the path of his blood into his father’s brain.
Matthew sucked in air between his teeth audibly, the blood burning its way into his mind along with André. Bright patches of light replaced his crystal-clear vision as André’s blood reached his brainstem. The pain he initially felt began to subside.
André followed the blood to the dark recesses of the brain, finding the film-like fiber separating the unconscious from the conscious psyche. With his mind’s eye, he willed the barrier to shatter, watching it fall into microscopic bits on the floor of his father’s mind. He felt Matthew’s pain; the lights dancing on his eyelids increased in speed and frequency and he felt the physical flood of power filling his father.
“Jesus,” Matthew said, letting a small protest of pain escape while he gripped the chair.
André worked quickly before the pain immobilized him. He swept the pieces into a pile and willed them to dissolve, leaving no trace of the original barrier. André physically and mentally pulled away from his father, breaking the contact between them. He sat down on the bed, getting his bearings back. His finger was still bleeding and he put it in his mouth so the crimson liquid would not drip onto the carpet.
Matthew blinked his eyes open when the contact with André broke. The pounding in his cranium overrode all other sounds as blood and oxygen hydrated the long dormant recess of his brain. He felt like someone had taken a baseball bat to his head. “Sweet Jesus,” he muttered and glanced over at André. “How long does this last?”
André pulled his finger out of his mouth. “Kat’s headache only lasted an hour,” he replied and reached for the tissues on the edge of the desk, wrapping one around his injured finger. “You probably should go lay down.”
Matthew went to nod and the pain exploded through his head, causing him to moan.
“You need help getting there?” André asked.
“Yes,” Matthew replied, still partially blind from the pain.
André helped his father to his bedroom.
Matthew stretched out on the bed. “Tell Kat I’m sorry for giving her a hard time,” he whispered, closing his eyes. “This hurts like a bitch.”
Chapter 10
December 2239
André and Katrina walked into the complex hand in hand, heading toward Commander Lawrence’s office. Matthew looked up from his desk, surprised when they walked by. Scrambling, he bolted into the hallway.
“What are you doing?” he asked, catching up to them.
“I thought I’d tell my father before I started to show,” Katrina said.
Don’t. Matthew sent the thought into both of their minds.
André and Katrina stopped and looked at Matthew.
“Today is not a good day.” They had just enforced another death sentence and the commander was in a particularly foul mood.
“It’s almost Christmas,” André said. “Kat hasn’t seen her father since we came back from Chicago, Dad.”
Matthew nodded. “I’m aware of that.” The commander asked about Katrina every day but refused to come to the house to see her or pick up the phone and call. He was still angry about the whole situation and this would not help. “But you shouldn’t ambush him at the office.”
Katrina glanced toward her father’s office. “He’s always moody after an execution.”
“So we do this another time?” André asked.
Katrina nodded and turned to leave.
Commander Lawrence stopped when he saw Katrina, André, and Matthew in his path.
“Too late,” André whispered as he and Commander Lawrence locked eyes.
“What the hell are you doing here?” The commander glared at André.
“Hi, Daddy,” Katrina said trying to run interference.
The commander had every intention of throttling André, and Matthew stepped in front of the kids, blocking Commander Lawrence.
“Colonel, get out of my way,” the commander said, switching his gaze to Matthew, the anger that had been simmering inside for the past four months bubbling to the surface.
Matthew shook his head. “You don’t want to do what you’re thinking,” he stated, hearing the commander’s thoughts. Since André performed his barrier-breaking ritual, Matthew could read others’ thoughts without trying.
Commander Lawrence glared at Matthew. “How the hell do you know what I’m thinking?”
“Because it’s written all over your face,” Matthew replied. “Sir.” Matthew snapped to attention as an afterthought.
Commander Lawrence returned the salute with a glare. He focused his attention back to André and Katrina.
“Dad, your office may be a better place to talk than the hallway,” Katrina said.
Commander Lawrence nodded and headed to his office with Katrina and André in tow.
Matthew stayed behind against his better judgment. He watched as Commander Lawrence closed his office door, but not before the two men exchanged eye contact. “Shit,” Matthew whispered and turned toward his office. He paused and shook his head to clear the waves of thoughts assaulting his mind, concentrating on only the few he wanted to hear. His eyes widened and he turned back, heading toward the commander’s office slowly at first, and then breaking into a run as his internal alarms sounded.
“Dad, no!” Katrina screamed.
Matthew flew into the room in time to see the knife the commander held run into André’s stomach. His anger flashed, unleashing a power burst that sent the commander sailing across the room, away from his son. Matthew bolted to André’s side, assessing the damage. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he yelled at his commander, glaring in his direction. He looked at Katrina. “Call 911,” he ordered as he pressed his hand on the cut and looked at André’s ashen face.
“I guess he really doesn’t want to be a grandfather.” André laughed and then grimaced in pain.
Commander Lawrence stood up. “The freak threw me across the room.” He still held the bloody knife.
“No, I did.” Matthew glanced back at him.
The commander’s eyes narrowed. “You?”
Matthew nodded and returned his focus to his son. “How are you doing?”
Katri
na hung up with emergency services and returned to André’s side. She cast a glare at her father. “I can’t believe you tried to kill him, Daddy.”
Medics and military police barged into the commander’s office, interrupting the family squabble.
“Arrest him,” the commander bellowed, pointing at André.
Matthew stood up, blocking the path of the military police. He shook his head. “No. Commander Lawrence attacked this young man without provocation.” He looked at his long-time friend. “Sam, you crossed the line.”
“He got my daughter pregnant—that’s plenty of provocation,” Commander Lawrence snapped.
“He’s my husband,” Katrina said, standing up as the medics took over.
André looked at the nametag of one of the medics and smiled as he raised his eyes to the familiar face. “Hi, Officer Grey.”
The medic studied the boy’s face and offered André a smile. “It’s Captain now, son,” he said.
“Think you can fix me?” André asked, his complexion pale as shock threatened to take over.
Cal inspected the wound. “Not a problem.” He looked back up at the scene unfolding in the commander’s office.
“He stabbed my husband,” Katrina snapped, pointing at her father. “He’s the one who needs to be arrested.”
The confused MPs looked between Matthew, Katrina and the commander. The commander still had the weapon in his hand and that clinched the decision.
“Drop the knife, sir,” Captain Shaw, the head military police officer ordered. He put his hand on the laser gun at his side.
“Excuse me?” Commander Lawrence balked.
“The knife, sir. Please drop it,” Captain Shaw said for the second time, unclipping the laser and setting it to stun in one motion. He pointed it at the commander.
Commander Lawrence glanced at the bloody knife that he still gripped and then around the room at the faces. His eyes fell on André. “Son of a bitch,” he growled and took a step toward them, the knife still clamped in his fist.
“Stand down, sir!” Captain Shaw shouted and when Commander Lawrence ignored him, he shot the laser gun, slamming a debilitating shock into the commander’s chest, knocking him backwards onto the ground.
André’s expression changed, his eyes widening as he watched the commander convulsing on the floor. “He’s not okay,” he whispered and shot his eyes to his father. “Dad, he isn’t okay.”
Matthew turned toward the commander. “Cal, the commander needs help!” he said loud enough to call the attention of everyone within earshot.
Cal turned. “Shit.” He bolted across the room, leaving André in the hands of the second medic. He grabbed the flailing arm holding the knife and pinned it to the floor under his knee. The commander’s face turned blue and his eyes rolled back in his head as he flopped like a fish out of water. Cal forced open the commander’s jaws, reaching in, grasping the tip of his tongue and yanked as the commander’s teeth clamped shut on his fingers. “God damn!” he screamed, trying to free his crushed fingers. He forced open the commander’s jaws enough to yank his hand out, pulling his bloody fingers to his chest. “Sandy, I need your help with this one, otherwise we’re going to lose him,” Cal shouted.
The commander stopped convulsing and his chest remained still, his eyes wide and glossy, staring at the ceiling and Matthew shivered, almost feeling the commander’s passing.
The medics worked frantically to revive the commander, but with each failed attempt, his son’s overwhelming sadness permeated his mind and he glanced over as Katrina knelt beside him.
“I’m sorry, Kat.” He glanced in her direction, his face hot with red-tinged tears. “I’m so sorry.”
Katrina’s expression slowly registered what was happening and she glanced back at the medics working on her father. She sat down hard on the floor by André.
All this seemed to flow in slow motion and Matthew looked at the small crowd peering into the room from the hallway. He stepped to the door and closed it on the curious onlookers, turning back to the room and focusing on Captain Shaw.
“I had the laser on stun,” he said, showing Matthew the setting.
Matthew nodded. “I wasn’t accusing you of anything, Captain.”
“It was on stun,” the captain repeated.
“I know,” Matthew replied. He glanced back at André and Katrina. André was pale, with streaks of bloody tears running down his cheeks. He turned his attention back to the military police. “Captain Shaw, what’s the protocol here?” he asked, trying to get his focus away from the medic’s vain attempts to revive the commander.
“You are second-in-command, sir.” Captain Shaw said. “Ordinarily when the commander retires or passes on, the second-in-command takes the post.”
“This isn’t an ordinary situation, Captain.”
Captain Shaw nodded, staring at his dead commander on the floor. He returned his gaze to Matthew and then beyond the colonel at the two teenagers. Taking a deep breath, he returned Matthew’s questioning stare. “It looks like the commander had a heart attack while visiting with his daughter,” he stated.
Matthew’s eyebrows creased. “What about my son?”
“An accident that resulted from the heart attack,” Captain Shaw replied.
Cal looked up at Matthew and Captain Shaw. “Accident, my ass. He stabbed that kid.”
Matthew shot a warning glance at Cal. “As far as everyone in this room is concerned, it was an accident. Got it?” he said with authority.
“It was an accident,” André echoed from behind Matthew.
Captain Shaw holstered the gun. “Are you all right?” he asked the boy.
André shrugged.
Cal looked at his partner. “Call it,” he said.
“Time of death fifteen forty-five,” she said as she glanced at her watch.
“Captain Shaw, you are dismissed.” Matthew picked up the phone on the desk, placing a call to the president to inform him that the commander had passed away.
Cal crossed to André checking his wound and meeting his gaze. A flurry of questions flew through his head, including why the commander had stabbed him.
“Just patch me up and forget about it,” André said under his breath and received a slight nod in response.
Cal glanced at Katrina and back to André. “You’re married?”
André nodded. “Four months ago.”
“Aren’t you a little young?”
André shifted under the weight of Katrina. “Ouch,” he responded as the pain exploded in his side. The room started to spin and André blinked. “Shit,” he whispered and passed out cold, slumping onto Katrina.
Cal pushed Katrina out of the way and laid André on the ground, cutting the shirt away.
Matthew looked in their direction, still holding for the president. He felt the blood drain from his face at the sight and considered hanging up as the president himself picked up the line. “Sir, I’m calling to inform you that Commander Lawrence had a fatal heart attack in his office,” he said, his voice absent of the concern racing through him.
Cal grabbed the medical bag and found a bottle of iodine, dumping it in the cut and praying that André wasn’t allergic to the sterile liquid. “Sandy, hold the wound open,” he said and reached for the cauterization laser. He handed her the lighting instrument after she opened the wound with a retractor. Shining the light inside illuminated the path of the knife and Cal blew out a stream of air. Carefully, he pointed the laser and cauterized the cut on the large intestine. He looked up at Sandy. “Can you turn it to make sure we got the entire cut?”
The color drained from Katrina’s face as she watched the medic reach in to inspect André’s guts.
“Looks like you got it, Captain,” Sandy said.
“Okay, remove the retractors, please,” he instructed. When the skin flapped back together, Cal used the laser to cauterize the entry wound, leaving a dark black line of melded skin where the gaping knife wound had been.
A
ndré’s breathing remained shallow through the impromptu surgery and Cal picked up André’s wrist, searching for his pulse. The result was sporadic at best and he took a deep breath, closing his eyes. “Come on, kid, I can’t lose you too.”
Matthew’s eyes went wide with those words, especially in concert with Cal’s thoughts, thoughts centering on blood transfusion and the conversation they had years ago about risks. He hung up on the president and crossed the room, falling to his knees next to André and leaning close to his ear. “Don’t you die, you hear me?” he demanded of his unconscious child. “You hear me?” His command filled the room.
André’s eyes fluttered open. “I’m not deaf, Dad.” He looked up at his father, weariness reflecting in his eyes.
Katrina let out a startled laugh and threw herself onto André, covering his face with kisses and tears. “You scared the hell out of me,” she said and sat back up.
Cal still had the fingers of his good hand on André’s arm, feeling the pulse in his patient return to normal. “Glad to have you back.”
“It still hurts like hell,” he said. “But you did a pretty good patch job.” He looked at the scar on his side. “And I wasn’t even close to dying,” he replied. “I did pass out, but I thought it was better for me to stay checked out while you did your thing.”
“You were aware of what we were doing?”
André nodded. “Yes. I did the same thing on the ship. I slowed down my body functions to conserve energy.” He shrugged. “It saved oxygen.”
Cal sighed. “You still amaze me, kiddo.”
Matthew focused on Sandy. “None of this is to leave this room, understand?”
Sandy looked at Matthew, and then back at Cal. “Who is this kid?”
Cal glanced at her. “You don’t have clearance,” he answered, keeping the secret in check.
Sandy sat back on her heels, surprised by the response of her superior officer. “And you do?”
“Yup,” Cal replied and winked at André. “And if you breathe a word of this, I’ll have you court-martialed.” He glanced at Sandy.
“Yes, sir,” she answered with an unhappy pout. She looked over at André and he shrugged a little in her direction.