Epic: Book 02 - Outlaw Trigger

by Lee Stephen

  “What happened in the next game?”

  “Next game was great. We played Iowa. We won 17-7. I remember that game—they were singing my praises.” He couldn’t restrain his smile. “It was the first time I’d ever seen banners with my name on them in the stadium. It felt awesome.” He’d thrown two interceptions in that game. That was a detail he’d leave out of the story. They’d won, and that was all that mattered. “When we won, people went crazy. We knew we wouldn’t be ranked that year, but we loved playing the spoiler.”

  Nicole, too, had been great. She’d always been great, but his college memories of their relationship were still vivid. She’d gone to every one of his games. Even when he wasn’t starting, she attended, just in case. She wanted to be there when he broke out. She wanted to watch him be a star.

  Those were his best memories of college games. The victories were wonderful, and the locker room celebrations would always be special in his mind. But the best part was seeing her after the games. He remembered pushing through the fans and finding her embrace.

  His first victory had been like that. The Southern California game. The game that wasn’t supposed to be close. When he’d jogged off the field with his helmet in the air, she fought her way through the celebratory frenzy to see him. Her little body was barely visible through the mass of school colors. But she’d done it. The look on her face was priceless. She was completely thrilled—completely thrilled for him. She was grinning from ear to ear; it was something he’d never forget.

  “It’s bleedin’ hot!” said Becan, interrupting Scott’s reverie.

  Scott looked ahead and wiped his brow. It was warm, but he didn’t mind. It was better than the harsh blasts of winter.

  “I can’t believe Nicole didn’t want to join us,” David said. “I’m offended.”

  Scott laughed. “Yeah, I bet you’re offended.”

  “I am.”

  “I think it’s Jay’s fault,” Becan said.

  Jayden grew defensive. “What? Why?”

  “I think it’s your fault. I think she’s got eyes for yeh an’ she’s afraid she’ll run off with yeh.”

  “Aw man, be quiet.”

  “She’d have to fight off Varya, though.”

  “Maybe they could mud-wrestle,” David said. “I bet Varvara would go along with it.” He looked at Jayden. “Don’t you think?”

  “Whatever, man.”

  “Righ’,” Becan said. “I don’t mean to offend yis or anythin’, but I’d pay to see tha’.”

  “They could do it for charity,” David said.

  Scott humphed sarcastically. “I’m sure Nicole would mud-wrestle Varvara for charity.”

  “They’d make a killing. I’ll pass it on to Thoor.”

  “You do that.”

  “Man, if they heard y’all talkin’ like this,” Derrick laughed.

  “No, no,” said Scott, raising his hands in defense, “see…there is no ‘y’all’ in this discussion. This is all them.”

  “Nicole said her shoulder was sore,” David said. “I bet she was practicing for the fight.”

  Scott shook his head. “You’re probably right. Especially since you made up the fight idea about two minutes ago.”

  “I think Nicole would win,” Becan interjected.

  “Why would she win?” Jayden asked.

  ”’Cos Varya’s a blonde. Nicole could probably distract her with somethin’ shiny.”

  William skidded to a stop.

  The rest of the group paced on for several moments before looking back at the demolitionist.

  “It’s okay, Will,” said David. “You’re not blond—you don’t have to be offended.”

  William said nothing. Standing at the center of the track, he fixated his penetrating gaze on Scott.

  “Will?” David asked.

  The demolitionist stood motionless. His chest heaved from the run, but his face looked far from exhausted. He looked enervated—his eyebrows were lifted and his mouth hung open. His face was drained of color. He was frightened beyond anything he’d ever experienced.

  He was terrified.

  Scott wiped his arm across his forehead. He’d never seen William like that before. The rest of the group stood alongside him as he took a step toward him. “Will…what’s—?”

  “What did you just say?” William asked, cutting off Scott and looking at David.

  David’s mouth fell open. “Uhh…I said your name…”

  “Before that!”

  “I told you not to be offended. I was kidding.”

  “About Nicole!”

  Scott slanted his head. About Nicole?

  David turned to Scott, giving him a funny look before returning to William.

  “About her shoulder,” William said.

  The group’s focus switched between David, William, and Scott. With uncharacteristic uncertainty, Scott propped his hands on his hips. He didn’t like the look on William’s face. What was he talking about? Where was he going with this?

  “I said,” David hesitated, “that she said her shoulder was sore…”

  William’s eyes pained. They almost screamed in agony. He shot a look to Scott, his breathing intensifying. “Joe’s shoulder was sore!”

  Scott’s initial reaction was, Joe? Frustrated, he turned to William. “Will, what in the world are you—?”

  “Joe Janson!”

  Scott was jolted—he physically reacted before the details began to coagulate in his brain. Joe Janson? William’s partner from the Eighth, months ago? The tall black man? Why was he talking about him? Joe Janson had nothing to do with Nicole; he had never met her before. So what if they both had sore shoulders? Joe Janson was dead.

  A thought entered his mind.

  Was William trying to say that because Joe had a sore shoulder, and Joe had died, that Nicole was going to die because she had a sore shoulder? That was crazy. What kind of connection was that? That was no connection at all. But…was that how Joe had died? Scott remembered hearing nothing about a sore shoulder. It was something else…but what?

  “Joe’s shoulder was sore,” William said, “and then he went to bed.” He propped his hands on his knees, and drew a defeated breath. He looked at Scott, probing deep into his eyes. “With a headache. Joe Janson died of a headache.”

  Scott felt his heart when it stopped.

  “Wait a minute,” David said. “Joe had a sore shoulder and a headache…”

  “…and then he died,” William said. “Then it killed him.”

  “What killed him?”

  “The Silent Fever.”

  Becan gasped, everyone else went rigid, and Scott’s mind began to race.

  Wait. There’s no connection here. William’s just coming up with things. Crazy things. Her shoulder was sore. She had a headache. That was it. Her shoulder was sore. She had a headache. That was it. Joe’s shoulder was sore. Joe had a headache.

  And that was it.

  Joe Janson was dead.

  Scott’s mind thought enough—he was gone. The muscles in his legs exploded, and he tore off the track toward the barracks.

  David, Becan, and Travis were right behind him, while Jayden darted off for Varvara. William and Derrick were left behind.

  It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be possible. It was just a coincidence. Please God, no…it’s just a coincidence… He didn’t even hear the sound of his friends behind him. He registered only the strides of his feet. Every flex. Every push. Every everything. Run! Run! She’s waiting for you. She’s in your room right now. She said she’d be there.

  He smashed into somebody. Two people who were blocking his way.

  He didn’t stop.

  He ripped open the door to the officers’ wing. Everything around him was a blur. Shoulder. Headache. Death. Shoulder. Headache. Death. The words circled endlessly in his mind. And they connected. Please, no! God, it’s all in my head! Please, God! Officers careened off him as he tore down the hall.

  She had been fine all morning
. She’d eaten breakfast. They’d planned to elope.

  When he touched the handle of his door, his world came to a halt. His fingers curled. His wrist twisted. He pushed it open and turned on the light.

  Nicole was slumped on the ground. Her body lay limp as a doll’s.

  “Nicole!”

  He raced to her side. She didn’t move.

  “Nicole, oh God, Nicole!”

  Her body was sweaty; her hair plastered to her face. When he swept it away, he shrunk back in horror.

  Her skin was devoid of color. Her once sparkling eyes stared at nothing.

  “God…no!”

  Becan was the next to round the corner. He covered his mouth and stumbled back.

  David and Travis came next. As soon as David saw her, he rushed to her, saying, “She’s going to be okay!”

  Scott grabbed her shoulders and shook her violently, but her body was lifeless in his hands.

  “She’s going to be okay. Varya’s coming!”

  Scott shook Nicole’s shoulders again to no avail; her body was still limp. It’s a dream. I’m not here. She’s not here. He was still in bed, and his alarm clock would wake him up. He was still in the bunk room, sleeping.

  Becan’s voice wavered. “Oh God…oh God…”

  Jayden and Varvara rounded the corner and entered the room, Clarke and Max behind them.

  “What happened?” Max asked.

  Varvara made for Nicole. Her hands trembled as she tried to separate Scott. “Please, Scott! Please!” Her voice shook. “Let me see her!”

  Scott couldn’t speak. He couldn’t see straight. He slipped his hand into Nicole’s, entwining his fingers around hers. She didn’t squeeze back.

  Max tugged Scott away. “Scott, let Varya work, please! She’s gonna be okay, just let her get there!”

  She always squeezes back. Why isn’t she squeezing back?

  Max whipped his head to the door. “Where the hell is Galina?”

  “She’s coming!” Travis said. “She’s down the hall right now!”

  Squeeze back! Please baby, squeeze back! You can, I know it! He couldn’t even scream. His jaw was locked wide open.

  Varvara shoved, and Scott fell away.

  Max locked his arms around Scott’s shoulders and held him in check. “She’s going to be all right, okay? She’s going to be all right—let them work!”

  Varvara was atop Nicole when Galina burst through the door.

  “Where is she?” Galina asked, joining Varvara. “Anything?” she asked in Russian.

  “Nothing. No pulse, no warmth, there’s nothing.”

  David put his fist over his mouth. His eyes moved from Scott to Nicole.

  Scott’s mind was blank. He could still see Nicole, but he didn’t want to. His body writhed like a child’s. He made no more attempt to go near her.

  Becan, Jayden, and Travis knelt beside David. Esther and Maksim watched behind them. Clarke stood dumbstruck in the hall, as a gathering of officers drew near.

  Max looked at the officers in the hall, then turned back to Clarke. “Captain.”

  Clarke’s stare was fixed on Nicole.

  “Captain!”

  Clarke snapped out of it and focused on Max.

  “Get them outta here!” Max said as he pointed to the other officers.

  Clarke immediately waved off the crowd. “Please return to your quarters! Now!”

  As Galina desperately worked on Nicole, the color in David’s face began to drain. “Do you want me to call the infirmary?”

  Galina pounded on Nicole’s chest. Becan flinched with every hit.

  “Galina?”

  She pounded harder. Harder. Harder.

  Scott curled in a ball in the corner.

  Galina cursed in Russian and slammed her fist into Nicole’s chest a final time. Nicole’s body moved with the impact, but there was nothing else. No movement. No sound. Nothing.

  She was dead.

  Galina’s muscles sagged, and she lowered her head. She raised a hand to cover her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut.

  “Do you want me to call the infirmary?” David asked again.

  “No!” she screamed at him, biting down on her fist. Her body tensed and she shook her head. “No,” she murmured again.

  Scott crawled to the corner as Max let him go. He couldn’t look at her. He couldn’t look at Nicole. Though no words would come from his tear-stricken gasp, in his mind, he cried out her name. He cried it again and again. He cried from the depths of his soul.

  Nicole never answered.

  9

  Saturday, August 6, 0011NE

  0650 hours

  At the same time

  The door to the Inner Sanctum opened and Nijinsky strode down the carpet. At the front of the room, adorned in the horns of his fulcrum armor, Yuri Dostoevsky waited.

  Nijinsky halted before the throne, giving the Nightman salute. “I have done what you have asked of me,” he said in Russian.

  Dostoevsky’s stare met him back. “We know. We always know.”

  Nijinsky lifted his eyes to the shadowed veil of the throne. Thoor, the Terror upon it, spoke his name.

  “Alexander Nijinsky.”

  Nijinsky stood erect; the general rose from his seat.

  “You have severed the chains to your soul. You have paid for your conversion with blood. You have accepted our training. You have fulfilled our requirement.”

  The hair on Nijinsky’s arms tingled.

  “You are now one with the Night.” Thoor gave a salute, and Dostoevsky did the same. “Your armor awaits in your room.”

  Nijinsky started back in surprise. “It is already there?”

  “It was there before you came.”

  “…then you knew when it happened?”

  “It is as I told you,” said Dostoevsky again. “We always know.”

  A moment of silence passed, before Nijinsky swallowed a breath. “Thank you, general. I will never fail you.”

  “Leave us, slayer,” Thoor answered.

  Nijinsky acknowledged the general, turned around, and strode down the carpet. Thoor and Dostoevsky watched as he opened the wooden doors and disappeared into the Hall of the Fulcrums. The Inner Sanctum was left in silence.

  Dostoevsky’s eyes sunk. For several seconds, he said nothing. When he finally spoke again, his voice was intense with new purpose.

  “It has begun.”

  * * *

  1823 hours

  Later that evening

  David stepped through the lounge doors, where the Fourteenth stood in silence, vacant stares on their faces. It was the first time they’d seen him all day. The first time they’d see him since she died. There was no coffee or tea in brew. There was no conversational chatter. There was barely any life at all.

  Becan, Travis, and Jayden sat at one table, Varvara and Esther beside them. Max, Boris, Oleg, and Maksim sat at the far end. Every one of them wore a blank look.

  As soon as they saw David, they straightened their postures.

  “How’s Remmy?”

  David sighed as he eased the door shut. “He’s okay.” He lied. “For right now.”

  “Did he talk to yeh?”

  David looked down. “A little bit. Galina’s with him, so…” His face fell into a frown, and he eased into a chair. “I don’t know. It’s too soon to say anything.” After several seconds had passed, he turned to them. “Anyone talk to Will?”

  “I did,” Jayden answered. “He’s shaken up, but he’s gonna be all right.”

  David said nothing.

  “I don’t think annyone should leave him alone tonigh’,” Becan said. “I’m talkin’ abou’ Remmy.”

  “Galina’s going to stay with him. She’s got him on suicide watch, so…we’re going to get some kind of rotation going.” As soon as those words—suicide watch—left David’s mouth, a tangible weight hit the air. David leaned forward and rubbed his face. “I don’t know for how long. She’s sleeping on the floor tonight, but tom
orrow she’s going to try and get him into a room with a bunk. So someone can stay with him all the time.”

  “I can stay with him,” Jayden said.

  Becan nodded. “Me too.”

  “I can stay,” added Travis.

  “I don’t think it’ll be a problem,” David said. “Galina thinks we should stick with three or four people maximum, she thinks the consistency would be good.” He turned to Becan and Jayden. “It’ll probably be us and her, with Varya checking in while Galina’s not available.”

  Travis tried not to look disappointed. “You think it’d be all right if the rest of us stopped to visit?”

  David looked at Travis, then smiled sincerely. “Definitely, Trav. He’d love to know that you care.”

  The room grew quiet for a moment, before Becan coughed to clear his throat. “So it was Silent Fever, then?”

  David made no answer.

  “Da,” Varvara answered. Her voice was weak, and her eyes were dark. She’d been that way since morning. Her cowboy hat sat untouched on the tabletop.

  “So wha’ the bloody hell is Silent Fever?”

  “No one knows.”

  “Someone here knows,” Becan’s eyes narrowed. Max fell into his glare. “An’ they better start talkin’.”

  “What makes you think I know?” Max asked.

  “Just call it a bloody hunch.”

  “Are you joking?”

  “Yeh never did like Remmy, an’ we all know it.”

  “Yeah, so I killed his girlfriend. That makes a lot of sense, moron. Way to uncover the truth.”

  Becan didn’t answer.

  Varvara sucked in through her nostrils. “Silent Fever is unknown disease. It is a virus. Nobody knows why it is here.”

  Becan stared at her. “Does annyone know why it’s killin’ people we know?”

  “Just one,” David said.

  “Wha’ abou’ Joe?”

  “Joe was with the Eighth. Different unit entirely. He never ran with our crew, we just ate with him.”

  Oleg spoke for the first time. “Who is Joe?”

  “He was with Will and Derek’s unit,” Travis answered. “He died not long after we met him.”