To Light Us, To Guard Us (The Angel War Book 1)

by Sean M O'Connell

  And the bull was winning.

  His hands repeatedly slipped off of Scott’s sweat-slick skin. Myriad thuds and snaps announced the rising tally of self-inflicted injuries as Scott’s body rebelled, punishing him for no reason. Aaron worked his fingers into Scott’s short hair, fighting to get a grip and insulate his friend’s skull from the unforgiving asphalt. An elbow struck him in the ribs. One heel swung up and hammered back down at an impossible rate, pulverizing dirt clods and loose branches that littered the path. A fierce spasm in Scott’s shoulder swept a heavy arm into the side of Aaron’s head, knocking him free of the frantic embrace. Without his restraining weight, Scott’s body thrashed even more violently. His wide right hand twisted into a palsied claw and pumped once, twice, six times into the pavement. Each shotgun impact was accompanied by a pulpy spray of blood as Scott’s bones worked their way out from under his skin. Aaron shot his own hand out and seized the ruined wrist. Mindful of the sharp protrusions of some metacarpal bones, he tried to get another hold on Scott’s neck or head.

  Tried, and failed.

  Both man’s hands were now slick with sweat and blood. A fine mist of the coppery red fluid splashed on Aaron’s shirt with each labored exhalation from Scott’s nostrils. Another undulation caused his friend to sit up almost straight, and the recoil teamed with gravity to snap Scott’s body back to earth. His head whiplashed backward and struck the asphalt with a sickening whud. The violence of the impact made Aaron cringe.

  “Shit!!”

  His protests -directed at nobody in particular- were worried and angry.

  The blow seemed to short circuit whatever had caused the seizure.

  But Aaron’s relief at seeing the end of the ordeal was short-lived. Deep crimson was pooling quickly underneath Scott’s unconscious head.

  He had seen his share of blood in South America, but seeing it pour out of this man’s head was a different thing altogether.

  This was his family.

  He gingerly lifted the head and palpated the source of the flow with tender fingers. It was a nasty gash, and there were bits of gravel imbedded beneath the darkened hair, but the skull underneath was intact. That much was a relief. Scalp wounds bled a lot, but Aaron felt sure that there was no danger of his friend bleeding to death.

  Worry rose from the combination of the devastating knock to the occipital portion of Scott’s brain and whatever it was that had triggered the tremors in the first place. That combined with a severely broken hand and wrist, and undoubtedly a bad concussion. Still, as long as he didn’t have another fit, he would probably be just fine. Aaron peeled off his blood-stained shirt and wadded it to create a small pillow behind Scott’s head.

  “Hold on fat ass, the medics should be here soon. You took a pretty good knock but I think you’ll be alright. I’ve seen you take worse on the football field.” Aaron whispered breathlessly to his friend and hoped that his lie would find its way into the unconscious man’s psyche to comfort him at least a little.

  A group of people ran past on an adjacent path, fleeing one of the zoo’s many indoor exhibits. Parents dragged wild eyed children behind them, fumbling with bags and strollers as they went.

  What the hell is going on?

  A crawling sense of foreboding brewed anew in Aaron’s gut.

  He’d felt it many times before, in combat. And again more recently when he’d witnessed the failed assassination attempt on Capitol Hill. There was no doubt in his mind that the two were somehow related.

  The crowd had been running away from an enclosure that Aaron vaguely recalled as housing the greater apes; gorillas, chimps, an orangutan, and an ancient blue and red faced Mandrill.

  The doors exploded outward and a skinny man in a green and gray zoo uniform tumbled into view carrying a heavy pipe wrench. His olive khaki shirt was torn and his face was extremely pale. Wheeling around, he slammed the doors behind him and pushed the handle of the wrench through both handles, wedging the tool tightly. Aaron noted the relief on the keeper’s face as he slumped against an ivy-blanketed wall.

  The front of his shorts was stained dark where he had pissed himself.

  Something had scared the crowd and this man very badly. What it was Aaron could only guess, but he had more pressing matters to attend to at the moment.

  Confident that he had done as much as he could for now, Aaron wiped his bloody hands and turned his attention away from Scott to search for Bluejean. The rotund little man was standing locked in a tight hug with the brunette girl, whimpering nervously. She had wisely turned Bluejean’s head away from the ordeal, not seeming to mind that his nose ran a bit onto her blouse.

  “Thank you… what did you say your name was?”

  “Andrea, and it’s nothing.”

  “Trust me, it is something. Blue, are you okay?”

  Two frightened eyes fixed themselves on his own as Bluejean turned a red and soggy face away from Andrea’s shoulder.

  “Cott‘s okay?”

  “Scott just had a problem is all, he’s hurt, but he’s going to be okay, he’s asleep right now, and there are people coming to help him. Other firemen, probably, and they’ll take good care of him because he’s a fireman too.”

  Bluejean seemed reassured by that somehow.

  A slight breeze stirred up loam and leaves. More strange sounds issued from deeper within the zoo. Aaron couldn’t help the adrenaline surge.

  A sweet, but panicked voice came from behind Aaron.

  “Nobody is coming!”

  He turned and saw the younger sister, Stacie, approaching at a jog.

  “What do you mean nobody’s coming?!”

  From the tearful spill of words that came as way of explanation, Aaron was able to gather that the response system had apparently been inundated with emergency calls. The dispatcher had told her that they were on their own.

  This was the something big that he had felt stirring in his blood for weeks now. Of that Aaron Dayne was sure. However, time to contemplate the possible cause of these troubles was a luxury that he didn’t have at the moment.

  Aaron felt his mind and body slip into an altered state.

  Time slowed perceptibly.

  The soft warmth of the spring sun on his bare skin contrasted with the hot-penny smell of Scott’s blood on his clothing. Coarse, primeval rumblings reached his ears as the zoo animals voiced their own pain, or grief, or fear. Gooseflesh sprouted all over his body. Skin sucked tight, making his scalp tingle. A keen observer would have seen his pupils first dilate, then contract to tiny black pinpoints in his speckled blue eyes.

  If nobody else was available to help his best friend, Aaron would have to do it himself. University Hospital was very close, and if he hurried, he could probably get Scott there even before the ambulances that had been dispatched elsewhere returned with their loads. Three problems presented themselves.

  One.

  How do I move Scott?

  With no zoo vehicles in sight, a good old fashioned fireman’s carry would have to do the trick. The man was heavy, and the path back to the parking lot was slightly uphill, but Aaron’s adrenaline was pumping now, roaring. It would not be a problem.

  Two.

  How do I drive us both to the hospital on my bike?

  No need. Scott had driven himself here in a rental truck, the keys were no doubt still in his pocket.

  Three

  What do I do with Bluejean?

  The little man hated hospitals, and allowing him to get a closer look at Scott might send him back into crying fits. Still, there was nothing for it. He would have to ride along and wait it out with Aaron in the sitting room at University’s ER.

  Time to go.

  Aaron hustled over to where Scott lay prone, still out cold. He rummaged through pockets, finding a pack of gum and cell phone in the first, the keys he needed in the second. Turning back to where Stacie, Andrea, and Bluejean were standing, he tossed the keys to Andrea, who caught them deftly without even looking.

  “
I need your help girls. Andrea, can you take Bluejean out to the parking lot and find Scott’s truck? I just gave you the keys, and all you’ll have to do is hit the panic button to find out which one it is. My guess is it’s white. He always asks for white cars. Get Bluejean buckled in and pull around to the front gate, I’m going to carry him up and meet you. Hurry.”

  He gave a brief and reassuring smile to Bluejean, who was already on his way, towed by Andrea.

  That chick is really something.

  Stacie started to follow the pair up the hill but Aaron stopped her.

  “No, I need you to go over there and make sure that guy is alright.” Aaron pointed a bloody hand toward the Ape house, where the zookeeper was still sitting with closed eyes against the jammed doors. If he isn’t, come tell me and I’ll come back to get him after I drop the big one off. And stop crying. You aren’t hurt and it’s time to help out.”

  Stacie frowned at his callousness, but nodded. “Okay.”

  Aaron turned back to where his friend lay, looking lifeless. It had only been moments since the entire fiasco began, but it felt to Aaron as if he’d been lying there bleeding forever.

  He crouched down and held two fingers against Scott’s neck, feeling the pulse, irregular but strong. He listened for breath, and was alarmed to hear that it still came in labored wheezes through the blood-crusted nostrils. Aaron roughly picked the dried clots out to make a little more room for air. Then he removed his blood-soaked shirt from behind Scott’s head and wrapped it around the mangled hand, careful to pad the spurs of exposed bone. Preparation complete, he grabbed the good arm with both hands and pulled Scott into a sitting position. He gathered himself down low and heaved the dead weight onto his bare shoulders. Wrapping his free arm between the massive thighs, he was able to center the load and power himself into a standing position.

  “Damn, you are fat!” Aaron reprimanded his unconscious friend. Thankful for the adrenaline boost, he turned and began heavy-stepping as fast as he could toward where he hoped Andrea would be waiting with the truck running. Halfway up, his lungs and thighs started burning. That was the least of today’s worries.

  He pushed through the exit three-and-a-half minutes later to find a clean white Ford pickup idling at the curb. Seconds later, Stacie and a very embarrassed and wet-trousered assistant zoo keeper materialized from the staff exit. Rather than trying to manhandle Scott into the cab of the truck, Dayne opted to drop the tailgate and dump his load into the bed.

  “Help me out, here.” He grunted at Potty-pants. The thin man scurried over and hopped nimbly into the truck, helping to lower Scott down semi-gently. Aaron vaulted in after them and seated himself with his back against the front side of the rectangular bed. He dragged Scott forward by his armpits, working him up onto his lap and locking his arms around the expansive chest. The rough handling had set Scott’s scalp wound to bleeding again.

  Better hurry.

  Salt Lake City, Utah

  Aaron Dayne shouted over his shoulder.

  “Andrea! Andrea! Do you know how to get to the ER from here?”

  “Yeah.”

  “We’re ready…WAIT!” Aaron had almost forgotten. His wife Allie was a neo-natal care nurse at the hospital, she had to know somebody in the ER that they could alert a team to be ready for Scott’s arrival. He couldn’t call her himself. He would have the keeper do it.

  “Do you have a phone?”

  The man pointed toward his own ear. “Implant.”

  “Good for you. I need you to call my wife, she works at the hospital. Tell her that I’m bringing in Scott Fitzpatrick and he is in need of immediate medical attention. Seizures of unknown cause, possible multiple rib fractures, a broken hand, and some serious lacerations. She’ll take care of the rest. Tell her we’ll be there in… six minutes.”

  Aaron gave the zookeeper Allie’s number twice and watched while the man pressed the corresponding sensors implanted in his own wrist. Phones and iPods were the only bio-tech that had ever really caught on in the public sector, but it still made Aaron squirm a bit to think of the circuits running beneath the man’s skin.

  Andrea called from the driver’s seat. “Better make that four minutes, I drive fast.”

  “Four then. Alright Andrea, let’s go! Buckle up Bluejean.”

  “You buck’ up too, Dame!”

  Andrea was already tearing out of the parking lot and onto Sunnyside Drive. Aaron struggled to keep himself and his unconscious friend from sliding around in the truck bed. Their combined weight, in conjunction with Andrea’s maniac driving, was making the task less than enjoyable. Aaron was almost glad to be facing backward so he didn’t have to see how the truck pounded downhill at sixty miles-per-hour.

  Inexplicably, there were already several accidents on the road.

  Andrea picked haphazardly through a mine field of wrecked cars, wandering pedestrians, and gathering emergency vehicles.

  She swung wide to the right and bumped two tires up onto curb, sending Aaron and Scott rolling to the truck’s left. Just as he righted them both, she jerked the wheel back to swing around a compact car, parked undamaged in the center lane with its emergency lights flashing and the driver lying unconscious half-in, half-out of the passenger door.

  As she screeched onto Foothill Boulevard in a wide, rubber-burning kid, she was forced to slow and avoid an oncoming rush of cars. The wider road was slightly less chaotic, though Aaron could see two more accidents flash by on their left as Andrea floored the accelerator.

  Her driving reminded Aaron of an incident he’d been involved in with a convoy in Buenos Aires. The train of supply vehicles they had been temporarily assigned to had come under fire from some Chilean mercenaries. A scramble order had been given and the Humvee driver he was with had hurtled them through charred and crowded streets with maneuvers that put Hollywood to shame.

  Andrea here could have easily given that soldier a run for his money.

  The white rental vibrated in protest as they pushed out of another sharp turn. This was the home stretch, but it didn’t look like they would get there in time. Aaron could feel the muscles of Scott’s back begin to roll and bunch, working themselves up into another tremor.

  “No Fitz, you gotta hold on just a minute. C’mon pal, ninety more seconds.” Aaron leaned his head back and squeezed his eyes shut. He prayed silently, fervently, for just a bit more time. Another Grand Mal like the last might kill his friend.

  That couldn’t happen.

  The clouds above them were lacy, glowing in the sunshine. Aside from the gale created by their speed, there was little wind. Only a sigh of cool breeze tickling the tops of the quaking aspen and spruce trees landscaping the roadside.

  It was a day ill-fit for such events.

  Scott began to shake harder as Fort Douglas receded to their right. The normally sleepy military installation was abuzz with activity, no doubt set to motion by the unfolding crisis. Aaron longed for the organization and well-informed precision that must be reigning there. He tightened his grip as the spasms wracking his friend’s considerable mass intensified. Veins stood out on Scott’s arms as they clenched and unclenched in impossibly rapid succession. His biceps bulged against the damp shirt. Pectoral muscle heaved and twitched under Aaron’s clamped forearms like quaking boulders.

  “Almost there pal. Almost there. Hold on.” His words had no effect. The tremors escalated steadily. Ungodly noises rose from Scott’s chest and forced themselves out between grinding teeth. The nightmare ride was coming to an end, but the seizure was working its way to a crescendo.

  Andrea slowed and stopped in front of the ambulance bay fronting the emergency room door. Her door flew open and she ran to the back to open the tailgate. She was horrified to find Scott in the throes of another spasm.

  Agony in his eyes, Aaron spoke to her as calmly as he could manage. “Andrea, I need you to go inside and find a woman named Allie Dayne. Tell her what is happening. She’ll probably need a doctor to come out with her an
d give him an injection to relax his muscles. She knows how big Scott is, but remind her to bring a double dose anyway. How’s Bluejean?”

  “He’s fine. I think he actually enjoyed himself on the ride over.”

  In another circumstance Aaron would have smiled. Right now, Scott was bucking harder and harder. Aaron’s arms burned with the effort as he battled to restrain the more powerful man’s uncontrolled muscles. It was a battle he couldn’t fight for long, physics dictated that he would lose.

  “Blue! You just wait here with me okay?”

  “Okay, Dame,” called the little man softly from the front seat. He stayed buckled in and began perusing the radio stations.

  Thankful that Bluejean was distracted from the terrifying scene only a few feet behind him, Aaron once again closed his eyes and redoubled his efforts to hold down the rodeo bucking of his helpless friend. Absorbing Scott’s backward head butts on his blood-slick chest, Aaron simply held on and waited. He breathed slowly and heavily, in through the nose, out through the mouth. It wouldn’t be long now.

  Hurry up Allie. Andrea. Whomever.

  All around the truck bed people were scampering to and fro. Each frantic person focused only on the issues of their private dramas. The pickup rocked on its struts as the three hundred pound mountain of muscle tossed and turned in some dream of hell.

  Finally, Andrea appeared at the side of the truck, followed by a man in a white hospital coat and a black guy in green scrubs.

  “Allie is busy, two kids from a wreck.”

  Aaron just nodded. His wife would find him when she finished her work. That was Allie, always focused and organized on the task at hand. Plus, two kids took priority over one grown man any day, even this grown man.

  The doctor in the lab coat pulled two nasty looking syringes from his pocket. He uncapped one and held it up, reassuring himself that the dosage was correct.

  “I need to put this in his buttocks, so you’ll have to roll him onto a side.” The doctor was tall, easily able to reach over the side of the bed, so he remained outside of the truck. The other man, the male nurse, jumped into the bed and dodged his way to one side of Scott’s thrashing legs. Grabbing ahold of one, he locked eyes with Aaron. “On three, we roll him.”