Messiah

by J. E. Taylor

“How?” she started, and then her eyes widened. The question brought a stream of memories from Cal, walking her through the horror.

  “Y’all knew there was a Zyclonian explorer behind the meteor and you still went up there?” Katrina said, her voice shaking with the anger that flared.

  Cal tilted his head and his eyebrows scrunched together. “I, uh...”

  Katrina’s eyes narrowed. “Dad asked him to erase your memories?”

  Cal shut his mouth, the crease between his eyes smoothing out and his eyes widening as well. “I guess he did.”

  “Then why the hell do you remember it?”

  He shrugged. “I got knocked around a bit too.”

  Her anger diffused, replaced by panic, and she held her fiery response at bay. She couldn’t lose André, not now, not when their son was so young. “When can I see him?” Her voice cracked under the stress rattling through her.

  “Right now if you’d like,” he replied.

  Linda cleared her throat, capturing their attention; her face was pale and her eyes peered out from dark circles of worry. “Where’s Matthew?”

  “In the x-ray department. He was banged up a bit too,” Cal said, leading them into the hallway.

  Katrina stared at the matted mess at the back of Cal’s head.

  “Did anyone check you out?” Linda asked.

  “No. Why?”

  “You have blood on the back of your head,” Katrina said.

  Cal reached up and touched his hair. He pulled his hand away and looked at the tacky blood on his fingers. “Huh, look at that.”

  MATTHEW GLANCED UP from the x-ray table when Cal entered the room. He slipped his shirt on with a wince, pain still flaring even with the elasticized belt strapped around his midsection. “Six cracked ribs,” Matthew said. “How’s André?”

  “Coma,” Cal said.

  Matthew hung his head. “I should have never taken him up there.”

  “Commander, he’s breathing on his own and still has brain activity,” Cal said. “So stop kicking yourself. He wouldn’t want that.”

  Matthew inhaled and held the deep breath, waiting for the sharp stab to dissipate before exhaling slowly. “Cal, I wanted to thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For saving my life and André’s.”

  “It’s my job, sir.”

  Matthew nodded. “Well this was above and beyond and I think that warrants a promotion,” he said and stood. “Colonel.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Cal replied with a humble smile. He led Matthew to André’s room.

  When Matthew stepped in the room, Katrina sat holding André’s hand. Tears rolled down her cheeks unchecked while Linda rocked with Sam in the corner, humming in the baby’s ear. Her gaze met Matthew’s, conveying the level of concern in her heart. “Hi,” she said, standing and crossing the room to kiss his cheek.

  “Hi, hon,” he replied.

  “What happened?” Linda asked.

  “André took care of the meteor and then we were ambushed by a Zyclonian space ship,” he said and glanced toward the bed. “If I had known the son of a bitch was out there, I would have never gone near the ship,” he said, looking at his son.

  “You knew that bastard was up there.” Katrina turned on Matthew. “You knew he was behind the meteor, and you knew he wanted to hurt André.”

  Her words hit harder than the Zyclonian’s fist and Matthew inhaled, feeling the sting in his ribs. “There’s no way—”

  “Take a look at Cal’s memories,” she said, cutting off his rebuke and pointing toward Cal.

  He swung his gaze to Cal. His mind was open and the events of the last twelve hours transmitted in a matter of seconds, giving Matthew a full account of conversations that seemed to be non-existent in his own mind. “I ordered him to wipe out our memories?”

  “Yes. You did it to protect us, sir. You believed we wouldn’t get the chance to address the meteor if the alien knew we were aware of his presence. In light of what happened, I’d have to say that was a smart move.”

  Matthew narrowed his eyes. “Why can you remember and I still draw a complete blank?”

  Cal touched the back of his head. “I guess the bang on my head must have jarred the memories back.”

  “Jesus,” he whispered and turned his gaze to the hospital bed.

  Katrina glanced at all of them. “I’d like to be alone with my husband, if you don’t mind,” she said, tears shimmering on her cheeks. “Please.”

  They shuffled out of the room and closed the door behind them. Matthew took a seat on the bench in the hallway and put his head in his hands. “What kind of father am I?”

  “You are a good father,” Linda said, taking the seat next to him with Sam on her shoulder.

  Yeah, right. I walked him right into the devil’s lair.

  KATRINA PUT HER HEAD on André’s stomach and sobbed. “If you don’t come back to me, I’ll kick your ass worse than that alien son of a bitch did,” she said, sitting up and sniffling. “You hear me?”

  The edges of André’s lips twitched into a smile. “You gonna spank me or what?” he croaked. His eyes fluttered open and his vision slowly came into focus on Katrina’s face. He went to lift his arm to touch her cheek and the pain in his shoulder made his vision double and his hand dropped back on the mattress. “Ouch.” The blackness threatened again.

  “Stay with me, André.”

  The panic in her voice helped him focus instead of allowing himself to drift back into the cloud of oblivion. He shifted and pain seared through his entire body. “I hurt like hell.”

  Katrina smiled a little and her eyes dropped to his neck. Without warning, the tears began to flow again.

  “Don’t,” he said and gritted his teeth, lifting his hand to wipe the tears off her cheeks. The effort pushed him beyond his current limit, exhausting him.

  “You came back to me.”

  He nodded, dropping his hand. “I always will.” He stared at her and then turned his attention to the hospital room, scanning the machines and intravenous drip before bringing his gaze back to her. “I knew him, Kat.” He closed his eyes against the red sheen now covering his vision. “It was the son of a bitch who killed my parents and sealed me in the spaceship.” He paused and squeezed his eyes tighter, denying his tears a chance to escape. “I wanted to kill him with my own hands. I wanted to feel his bones break under my fist.” His voice cracked under the flurry of emotions slamming into him. Fear, anger, sorrow, regret all combined and he opened his eyes, staring into her teary green gaze. “I’m sorry.”

  “Why are you apologizing?” Katrina asked, wiping her face.

  “Because it was selfish and almost got us all killed,” he said. “I should have just taken him out when I walked into his ship.”

  “I’m not sure you had the strength when you first walked in, André,” Cal said from the doorway. “I think you needed that level of fury to do what you did.” He walked into the room, followed by Matthew.

  André turned toward the door, wincing at the pain the movement caused. “What I did was stupid.”

  “Maybe,” Matthew said and crossed to the bed. “But not as stupid as allowing you to go up into space that far, knowing he was there. I’m sorry for putting you in that situation.”

  André stared at him. “I knew the risks,” he said and scanned his father’s mind. His memories still had the blank spot. “How did you find out?”

  Matthew’s gaze drifted to Cal and back. “It doesn’t matter. All that matters is you’re okay. For a little while there, we weren’t sure and that scared the daylights out of me,” he said and messed up André’s hair. A grimace of pain flashed and he dropped his arm to his side.

  “Your ribs are broken?” André asked.

  Matthew nodded. “I’ll live. I have to wear this thing a few hours a day.” He pulled up his shirt, showing André the elastic wrap. “And my shoulder will take awhile to heal, but considering the alternative...” He shrugged.

  André
lifted his right arm and looked at his hand, flexing it. His knuckles were bruised and swollen, but it didn’t hurt the way the rest of his body did. “At least my throwing arm is okay,” he said.

  Matthew and Cal laughed.

  “You aren’t going to play football for a while,” Cal said.

  “You have to be kidding me! Practice starts in two weeks.”

  “Your thigh was sliced open to the bone,” Cal replied. “That alone is going to take at least a month to heal properly.”

  “A month?” André balked.

  “André, I almost lost you on the way back,” Cal snapped. “You almost died. So taking a month to let your body heal is not the end of the world.”

  “They will just have to play without you the first couple of games,” Katrina added.

  André didn’t speak, but the disappointment was enough to force a sigh from his chest and he nodded assent. He glanced at Katrina. “Where’s my son?”

  “Your mom has him in the hall,” Matthew answered.

  “Can I see him?” he asked.

  Matthew opened the door and waved Linda into the room.

  “Thank God,” Linda said, handing the baby to Cal and coming to the side of the bed. Her eyes immediately filled with tears. “You are not allowed to scare me like that,” she scolded and gently put her hands on André’s face. “Understand?”

  “I’m okay, Mom,” André said and tried on a smile but from the sadness in her eyes, he was sure it was more of a grimace than a smile and he sighed, covering her hand with his good one and giving it a little squeeze. Sometimes he didn’t need words with her and this was one of those times.

  Linda patted his cheek. “I can see that.” She blinked the tears back and glanced around the room.

  Cal smiled down at the baby in his arms before he raised his eyes. “You have a beautiful son.”

  André found the controls for the bed and raised the back so he was in a sitting position. The only visible sign of pain he allowed was the tightening of his jaw. “Bring him over here,” he said and reached his arm out. He didn’t care how much it hurt; he wanted to hold his son.

  Cal brought the sleeping baby to André’s side and put him on André’s chest so Sam’s head was resting on André’s right shoulder. He stepped away as André wrapped his arm around his son.

  “Thanks, Cal,” André said. He kissed Sam’s cheek. The sweet clean baby smell emanating from his son brought a lump to André’s throat and he closed his eyes, leaning his head back on the pillow. Tears of gratitude stung his throat; he didn’t dare open his eyes because this was the type of moment that crumbled into reality and he was sure if he opened his eyes, he’d still be in that god-awful death pod.

  Katrina’s hand caressed his cheek, breaking the spell, and he nuzzled against her warm skin. Hot tears squeezed from the corner of his eyes, sliding a warm path down his cheeks and the soft fabric of tissue wiped the tears from his cheeks.

  “Thank you,” he whispered to no one in particular.

  Chapter 18

  André came home from the hospital three days later in a wheelchair. A sea of paparazzi greeted him with flashing cameras and microphones jammed in his face.

  Matthew pushed him through the crowd to the front steps, where he stopped. “Shit,” he mumbled. He hadn’t thought about how he was going to get André up the stairs and onto the porch.

  André looked up at him. “They know that I’m not from Earth, right?”

  Matthew snorted. “Yes.”

  “Let’s give them something to write about. Let go.”

  Matthew let go of the chair, smiling a little as it rose in the air and rolled onto the porch. The crowd went silent. He climbed the steps and resumed pushing the chair into the house. “You are such a troublemaker.” He grinned, slamming the door behind him.

  André turned the chair around. “If you had planned it right...”

  Matthew chuckled. “I can roll you back out on the porch.” He went to open the door.

  “No, don’t,” André said, believing his father’s bluff. “How long has it been like that?”

  “Since the news got out that we were back,” Matthew answered. “I chose St. Vincent’s because I knew the media wouldn’t get past the guards.”

  “How long do you think they’ll camp out?”

  Matthew shrugged. “I don’t know. I hope once you grant an interview, they’ll lose interest but I’m not even sure that will do.” He moved the curtain and looked out at the group of reporters. “Think you’re up to an interview?”

  Katrina came out of the kitchen with Sam in her arms.

  André raised a questioning eyebrow. “Should I?”

  Katrina thought for a moment. “If we want any peace and quiet, I think so.”

  “You think I’m presentable enough?”

  Katrina pressed her lips together, trying to stifle a laugh, and shook her head.

  “I love you too,” André said, adopting the same slight grin that now graced her face.

  Katrina smiled. “The clothes aren’t too bad, but the hair leaves a lot to be desired.”

  He rolled into the bathroom and propped himself in front of the sink, laughing at his reflection. “I look like shit.” His hair had the distinct quality of a mad scientist and his face was pale and blotchy. His eyes stared back, bluer than usual due to the contrast of the red veins slicing through the whites of his eyeballs. Turning on the water, he threw some in his face and hair, grabbing the towel before the water dripped on his blue polo shirt. He ran the comb through his hair until he was satisfied with the image. Lowering himself back in the wheelchair, he rolled back into the living room. “Better?”

  “Yes,” Katrina said.

  André rolled to the recliner and winced as he shifted into it. “I don’t want to give an interview in the wheelchair,” he said, meeting his father’s gaze once he settled into the comfortable seat and raised the footrest.

  Matthew dialed a number on his phone and disappeared.

  “Are you sure about this?” André asked, reaching for Sam.

  “I think so, but I certainly don’t want Sam on camera,” she said.

  “I’ll give him back before they finish setting up, okay?”

  She nodded and handed Sam to him.

  “Commander, I want to thank you for this exclusive,” a voice said from the hallway leading to the garage. André traded a glance with Katrina, trying to squash the nervous flutters in his stomach.

  “Joanna, if you exploit my son in any way, I will make sure this is the last interview of your career,” Matthew said, his eyes hard and unyielding as they stepped into the living room. “He is still only a teenager.”

  André took a deep breath and glanced up at Katrina. She put her hand on his shoulder and he smiled at her, silently thanking her for the support before he gazed back at the beautiful blonde reporter and the cameraman who stood stock still staring at him.

  Joanna Cassidy stopped in her tracks and shot a glance at her cameraman. “Commander, I didn’t know you and your wife had a child recently.”

  “We didn’t.”

  Her smile never faltered and she turned toward André and Katrina, crossing the living room and offering her hand to André. “Hello, I’m Joanna Cassidy.”

  “Nice to meet you, Miss Cassidy,” André said, shaking her hand. “This is my wife, Katrina,” he said looking up at her.

  “Your wife?” Joanna asked, raising her eyebrow.

  “Commander Lawrence was my father,” Katrina said, shaking the reporter’s hand and trying not to let her disgust show. André thought she did a pretty good job, considering how much she hated reporters.

  “And this is our son Sam.” André looked down at Sam, smiling.

  “He is adorable,” Joanna said with less than a fleeting look. “I want to thank you for letting me interview you,” Joanna directed to André.

  André nodded. “Thank my dad.” He swiveled his gaze to the staring cameraman. “What’s your name?”
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  “Um, Tim.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

  “I won’t bite,” André said. He felt the fear radiating from Tim. “You ever cover the local football games?”

  Tim nodded.

  “The Sabers?”

  Tim nodded again.

  André smiled. “I’m the quarterback.”

  Tim’s expression changed. The fear of the unknown transitioned to recognition and a smile formed. “You have a hell of an arm.”

  André felt the heat rush into his cheeks. “Thanks, man.”

  “Seriously, I heard your name come up more than once during the pro draft,” Tim said.

  André’s eyebrows arched and his heart skipped. The pro draft? Damn. I hadn’t even entertained that option. “Really?”

  “Yeah, they want to see what you do this year to make sure last year wasn’t just a fluke,” Tim said, setting up the camera.

  André’s smile faded. “It’ll be awhile before I can play,” he said and glanced up at Katrina. “You want to take Sam?”

  “No, keep him in your arms,” Joanna said.

  “I don’t think so.” Katrina plucked Sam out of André’s arms. “You are not here to exploit my son.” She walked out of the room.

  André watched her leave. He smiled and shrugged a little as he looked back at Joanna. “I don’t want my son on camera either,” he said. “This is about me, not him.”

  Joanna smiled. That’s what you think.

  A cold anger burrowed into his skin and André dropped the warm façade, staring her down. “Yes, that is what I think and I’ll ask you to leave if you bring it up in the interview.”

  Joanna’s jaw hung askew.

  “And I’ll make whatever you have recorded disappear,” he added. “Understand?”

  Visibly flustered, Joanna smoothed her skirt and nodded.

  “Are we ready?” André asked after a moment, adopting the friendly smile again.

  Joanna looked at Tim for confirmation. He nodded and flipped on the lights.

  André squinted at first as Joanna took the seat to his right. He blinked, letting his eyes get used to the bright camera light.