by J. E. Taylor
Within five minutes, the IV bag was empty and the red lines receded until nothing was left but inflamed skin around the cut.
André slowed his breathing to a normal pace. “Jesus,” he whispered and traded a glance with Katrina.
Katrina handed Sam to her mother-in-law and stepped into the room.
“You have to stay off this, André,” Cal said. “Completely, not half-assed like you’ve done for the past couple weeks.”
“How long?” André whispered.
“A full week, no pressure on the leg at all.” He looked at the group in the doorway. “Does everyone understand?”
Katrina, Matthew, and Linda nodded.
Cal looked back at André. “If you don’t do as your told, I’ll admit you to the hospital and have you strapped to the bed for a week.” He lifted the sleeve of André’s shirt. “How’s the arm?” He pressed gently around the laser mark.
“It aches,” André answered.
“How about your abdomen?” he asked, lifting the shirt and examining the laser mark along the length of his stomach.
“It itches. All the time.”
Cal smiled. “That’s good. It’s healing.”
“Can I have a pain pill now?” he asked, ignoring the comment.
“How many are you taking a day?”
“Six.”
“You should only be taking two a day,” Cal said. “One in the morning and one before you go to sleep.”
“No way.” André gawked at Cal. He needed that medicine. It was the only thing that got him through the day.
“It’s an addictive narcotic, André; cut back now before you get into real trouble,” Cal said.
“But...” André started.
“Take aspirin if you’re uncomfortable,” Cal said and stood, packing up his medical bag.
Irritation snaked over his skin. “I want a pill.”
Cal turned toward André. “Not until tonight.”
“Fuck you,” André said and started to get up.
Cal exercised his power and pushed André back onto the bed. “I’ll haul your ass to the hospital if you get up on that leg.”
“I need medicine,” he said through clenched teeth.
Katrina approached the bed. “I need to get out of here,” she said. “Neither one of us are going to get what we want right now.”
His hands curled into fists as frustration raked through him. He considered using the influence to get his way, but one look at Katrina stopped him. Her eyes glared a warning, like she knew what he was considering. “You don’t understand,” he whispered. “I need it.”
“No you don’t.” She sat on the side of the bed and Cal slipped out of the room, leaving the negotiations to Katrina.
His eyes welled up with tears. “I hurt.”
“So do I. But you don’t see me filling up on narcotics.”
André blinked at her words. “You hurt?”
Katrina nodded. “I was raped today,” she said. Tears slid down her cheeks. “And he wasn’t gentle.”
André forgot about the pain in his leg and the insane need for medication. He sat up and wrapped his arms around her. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, gently rubbing her back with his fingers. He put his forehead on her shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”
“I want to go home.”
“When I get my walking papers, we will go. I promise.”
She nodded against his shoulder.
He moved to the side of the bed and pulled her down next to him, spooning her while she cried. He ran his fingers through her hair, willing himself not to think about medication or pain, just to concentrate on the feel of her body against him and the soft strands of her hair flowing through his fingertips. She relaxed against him and her breathing slowed as sleep took hold. “I love you,” he whispered and his eyes closed, exhaustion pulling him under the blanket of sleep.
Chapter 20
André followed Cal’s orders, staying on the upper level and relying on the wheelchair to go between the bedroom and bathroom. André’s refusal to take any medication left him virtually intolerable and Katrina began to think he’d never kick the attitude. She knew he was determined to squash the addiction before he drowned in it, but that knowledge didn’t help when all he did was rant and rave about how much being in the house sucked.
Relief flooded Katrina on the fourth day when he finally stopped complaining. She had her own issues to deal with and his emotional unavailability wasn’t helping. For her own sanity, Katrina began taking small excursions to their house, bringing a little at a time without notice. She hired a housecleaner to make sure the place was livable again and contacted the utility companies to set up their power, television, and communication services so they could just move in when André got word that he could walk.
“I’m sorry,” André said as Katrina carried his dinner into the bedroom. He turned from the desk to look at her, his hair wet from taking the first shower since the morning of the incident.
She set the tray on the desk and glanced sideways at him. “You’ve been a real prick.”
“I know.” He put his arm around her waist. “I think I’m through the worst of it.” He offered her a smile.
“You better be, because if you keep treating us like you have, we’ll let you starve up here.”
She stepped away and he moved the chair back, turning to face her. “I’m surprised you haven’t done that already.”
“Yeah, well...” She trailed off.
“My parents wouldn’t let you.”
She nodded. “If it had been up to me, you would have been shot.”
“Ah.”
He rolled toward her, and she took a step backwards, sitting on the bed as he approached. His eyes sparkled with humor and a slow smile spread on his lips. The kind of smile that used to drive her wild, but now it only irritated her. “Stop looking at me like that,” she snapped and stood up. She found herself sitting back on the bed a moment later with André blocking her in.
“You wanted to shoot me?” he said, tilting his head and grinning.
“Yes.” The irritation slunk back a notch and her cheeks bloomed with heat. “Either that or duct tape your mouth.”
He put his hands on her knees. “Really? What about right now?” he asked, sliding his hands up her thighs.
“Stop,” she snapped, brushing his hands away.
André sat back, his smile disappearing. “Are you okay?”
Katrina sighed. “No, not really.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m having a tough time dealing with what happened.” Her hand fluttered to the small scab on her throat where the knife nicked her. Tough time was an understatement. She didn’t want to be touched, not even by André.
He pulled her onto his lap anyway, even wincing as she shifted to avoid his bad leg. He ran the back of his knuckles over her cheek. “What can I do?”
“I honestly don’t know,” she whispered and leaned her head on his shoulder. His sudden focus on her produced a grapefruit-sized lump in her throat and she swallowed it, feeling the pressure all the way down to her stomach. “Just be there when I need you to be.”
André nodded, holding her against him. “I still want you.”
“Thanks,” Katrina said, biting back the tears. He didn’t know how much those four words meant to her, especially after the way he treated her the past few days.
“You thought I wouldn’t want you after what happened?”
Katrina shrugged.
“Kat, I want you twenty-four-seven for the rest of my life.” He pulled her away so she could see his face. “No matter how much of an asshole I am, I love you and will always want you. The idea of having you in my arms each night has gotten me through the past few days.” He smiled. “You, on the other hand, may end up not wanting me when all of this is said and done.”
Katrina bit her lip and blinked back tears that threatened. “I’ll always love you.”
“But?”
“But
right now I don’t want you to touch me,” she whispered. “I don’t want anyone to touch me.” The tears came.
“I can make it go away,” André said.
“Erasing my memory won’t help.”
“It’s just a suggestion,” he offered, closing his eyes. “I wish I still had that vibe, just for you.”
“I don’t know if even that would help,” she admitted.
André smiled and raised an eyebrow. “You sure I can’t make you forget for a little while?” His hand slid down her arm to her waist, stopping at the comfortable curve of her hip. “I’m pretty good at making you forget.”
Katrina closed her eyes. “You are, but right now isn’t the right time.”
He pressed his lips to her cheek, his breath minty, and his wet hair tickled her eyelids. His hand caressed the line of her hip and he wrapped his arms around her, just holding her even though she knew he wanted more. He wanted to prove he could still make her want him despite all that happened, but his silent acceptance of her was far more healing than a romp in bed would have been.
André kissed her shoulder and unwrapped his arms. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” she replied against his neck. “I need to go feed Sammy.” She slid off his lap and left him sitting in the chair, staring after her.
ANDRÉ TURNED TO THE tray of food, his stomach growling for nourishment but his mind preoccupied with Katrina and her reaction to his touch. Whenever he reached for her, she flinched and her mind broadcast flashbacks: flashbacks she picked up from his mother’s memories, not her own.
He sighed and dug into the meal Katrina brought, resuming his Internet surfing.
The door opened behind him and he could see her standing in the doorway. André sent her a halfhearted smile as their eyes met in the reflection.
“I figured your son needs some daddy time now that you’re more yourself,” Katrina said.
André swung the wheelchair around. “I would love to have some time with Sammy.”
Katrina crossed the room and handed the baby to André.
André lifted Sammy up in the air. “How’s my boy?”
“You better be careful, or you’ll wear his dinner,” Katrina warned.
André pulled Sammy to his shoulder and looked at Katrina. “You okay?”
She smiled. “Thank you for not pushing the issue.” She leaned over and kissed him.
“Anytime,” he replied, rubbing Sam’s back as he snuggled against his father. “How much stuff have you moved?”
Katrina’s eyes went wide.
André laughed. “Come on, babe, I know what you’re doing—even in my withdrawal stupor, I knew. I’m surprised my father hasn’t picked up anything.”
“We have less than a week’s worth of clothes left,” she said. “The rest has been moved.”
“You’ve been busy.”
“Yeah, well, I had to get away from you and your wild ranting.”
“Ah,” he replied. “So did you take any of my clothes?”
“Of course.” The smile spread. “The downstairs den is completely cleaned out. That was the easiest stuff to move. You have no clue how hard it’s been. Between your father and the media, it’s been crazy, but the house is clean and the utilities have been switched on. We only need to pack up the rest of Sammy’s stuff and the things from this room that you want to bring.”
“Bring where?” Matthew interrupted from the doorway.
Katrina spun around.
“Take Sam downstairs,” André said, handing the baby to her.
Katrina slipped out of the room.
“Where are you going?” Matthew asked.
“When I’m given the go-ahead to walk again, we’re moving into her family’s house,” André said.
Matthew raised his eyebrows.
“Katrina doesn’t feel safe here and they’ve got that fancy security system.”
“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” Matthew began.
“Dad, I’m going with my wife and son.”
“How are you going to afford a house like that?”
“Kat’s got the money her folks left her.”
“You are only seventeen,” Matthew said.
“I will be just fine,” André said. “Besides, you and Mom aren’t that far from our house.”
“You are still in high school.”
“I am aware of that. So is Katrina.”
Matthew sighed and looked at André. “I could just say no.”
André let out a slight laugh. “You know you can’t stop me.”
Matthew took a seat on the edge of the bed. “I can’t stop you,” he agreed. “But I can try to talk the two of you out of it. We now have around-the-clock protection.”
“It’s not enough,” André said. “Kat doesn’t feel safe here. They got to us once...” He trailed off.
“And being at her house will?” Matthew asked. “You’re kidding yourself there, son.”
André shrugged. “Maybe, but it’s what she wants.”
“What about you?”
“I want to be wherever she is and I want her to feel safe again.”
Matthew nodded slowly. “But if I hear you two are skipping school...”
“I want to graduate and so does Kat.”
“This is going to kill your mother.”
“I know,” André said and twisted his wedding band. “I haven’t seen her much lately.”
“She’s been spending a lot of time with the therapist. She isn’t doing so well with what happened.”
“I can wipe out the memory,” André offered.
Matthew shook his head and sighed. “She’s the only reason you’re not in jail right now, André. If you take away the memory of what happened, they will lock you up and throw away the key.”
“So she suffers for me,” André said.
“Yes,” Matthew replied. “You would do the same for your son.”
André glanced at the empty crib and nodded. He would do more than suffer; he would gladly lay down his life for Sam.
“That’s how we feel about you,” Matthew said.
“Why? I brought all this on you. Why would you be willing to die for me?”
Matthew thought about how to explain it to André. “Just because you don’t have our DNA doesn’t mean we love you any less than if we had given birth to you.”
“But I’ve only been here for a little over six years.”
“Sam’s only been here for a little over two months.”
“That’s different.”
“No, it’s not.” He walked over and put his hand on André’s head. “You’re my little boy.” He smiled and messed up André’s hair.
“Cut the crap,” André said, knocking Matthew’s hand away and laughing.
“I hope Sam grows up to be just like you,” Matthew said, laying the parental curse on his son.
“That’s just what I need.” André grinned. “Another pig-headed, competitive son of a bitch who thinks he knows everything.”
Matthew chuckled as he walked out. “You’re not a son of a bitch,” he said over his shoulder. “I’ll talk to your mother,” he added as he disappeared around the corner.
Chapter 21
May 2255
“Dad?”
Matthew turned to see the man André had become. Standing at a little over six-five with a hard, powerful build, he still seemed impossibly young to Matthew. He was very different from the skinny, scared boy he found twenty-two years ago. Only two things remained constant over the years: his eyes were just as blue as the first time they met and he had never looked at another girl the way he looked at Katrina in all his years on Earth.
“What’s wrong?” Matthew asked.
“We’re going to lose a lot of good people,” André replied, his eyes distant. “You might be one of them.”
“No way, kiddo.” Matthew laughed. “I’m indestructible, remember?”
“Yeah,” André said. A troubled smile found his l
ips.
“Don’t worry, André; I know how to take care of myself,” Matthew said as they walked out of the auditorium. He stopped and faced his son. “If anything does happen to me, you are the next in line for command.”
“But—”
Matthew cut him off. “I don’t want to hear it. We’ve discussed this plenty of times.”
“But that was theoretical,” André said. “This is real.”
“Damn straight it’s real and I expect you to live up to my expectations,” Matthew snapped. He turned on his heel and continued walking.
ANDRÉ WATCHED HIS FATHER, frustrated for a moment. He wasn’t ready to step in and lead this fight. He wanted his own revenge on a very personal, very private level. He sighed and caught up with Matthew again. “We can’t fight them in the domes,” he said, reverting back to the strategic planning. “It’s too dangerous for the civilians.”
“I was thinking about that,” Matthew said.
“Washington DC?” André asked, reading his father’s mind.
“Yes. The team is used to the training grounds we built out there and if we can get the Zyclonians on the ground outside the domes, there may be opportunity to overtake them while they acclimate to the lack of oxygen.” He looked at André. “I’m betting they’ll come after us first considering we’re their biggest threat,” he said and opened the door to his office.
“They’ll go wherever I go,” André snapped. “The emperor still wants me dead.” He glanced at his father.
Matthew sighed and flipped on the monitors, watching the warriors hone their skills. Collectively, they held the power to wipe out mankind if they so desired, but their call was to protect the United States and that was what each and every one of them was thinking about as they exercised their abilities, training for imminent danger.
Life-size mannequins evaporated into dust. Water bottles boiled and exploded. Brick blocks levitated and burst into flames until they became cinder and microscopic grains. Sharp objects hurled across the room at targets with frightening accuracy. Each task executed with precision and without the touch of a human hand.