Bringer of Fire

by Jaz Primo

  I drew in a deep breath and slowly exhaled, wishing that I had proper answers for her, and for myself.

  “Yeah, I’m still coming to grips with that myself,” I replied. “Two weeks ago, I’d have said that I was just some lucky schmuck who managed to live through brain cancer. But today…hell if I know.”

  She’d asked a fair question, really.

  Who am I? What am I?

  An uncomfortable silence grew between us, and no less than two agents slowed as they passed Sanders’ desk, each openly staring at me with mixed degrees of curiosity.

  “Thank you,” Sanders offered in a quiet voice.

  I looked into her hazel eyes with surprise, and then realized what she’d meant.

  The bullets.

  I felt really good about what I’d managed to do, and I couldn’t keep from breaking into a wan smile.

  “You’re welcome.”

  She was the first to break eye contact, instead glancing down to some printouts before her. She had beautiful eyes.

  I opened the sports drink and started chugging. Unfortunately, the sweetness of the liquid was mixed with the lingering taste of ash and smoke. That aside, I quickly appreciated the subsiding pain and aching in my head within a matter of minutes.

  Electrolytes; my newest little friends.

  “What happens next?” I asked.

  “Procedures dictate—” she started to say but stopped midsentence.

  She sighed. “Actually, Mr. Bringer, I’m afraid that we’re way outside standard operating procedures right now.”

  Something in the back of my mind sensed she was distracted, almost as if torn between decisions at that moment. Frankly, I found her indecision mildly comforting; I wasn’t the only person who felt completely out of their element.

  Difficult circumstances were more bearable when shared.

  “How’s Agent Burroughs?” I asked.

  Her expression darkened.

  “He’s in surgery right now.”

  I nodded. “Listen, Agent Sanders, both of us have people we care about at the hospital right now. Maybe we’d be best served there.”

  I thought I caught a brief flash of relief cross her face before she composed herself again, back to the ever-clinical looking FBI agent.

  “Okay, we can talk about that phone call you received earlier this evening on the way there,” she conceded.

  “Sure,” I said.

  “Then maybe you’ll tell me a little bit more about how you came to stop bullets in mid-air,” she added in a subdued tone.

  “I’m afraid that’s a bit more incredible,” I said.

  “Try me. I have a fluid imagination,” she countered with an arched brow.

  I was beginning to like Agent Sanders in ways that I hadn’t expected.

  Chapter 6

  By the time we reached the hospital, I’d described to Sanders some of the abilities I’d developed since my last treatment. To say that she’d appeared surprised bordering on disbelief was an understatement. Somehow, I got the impression that if she hadn’t seen the bullets suspended in midair before her, she’d have immediately delivered me to the Guthrie County Psychiatric Hospital.

  I finished describing the mysterious phone call that I’d received at the park as we pulled into the hospital parking lot. Sanders remained silent, appearing contemplative, as we strode through the emergency entrance.

  I followed her to one of the hospital’s surgical waiting areas, which frankly reminded me of an oversized doctor’s office waiting room. Though a number of people were present, a worried-looking woman who appeared to be in her thirties immediately caught my attention. Beside her were two young girls who were almost spitting images of her, each with a head of blonde hair.

  Sanders strode immediately to the woman, who rose to embrace her.

  “Sally, I’m so sorry,” she said. “How’re you and the kids holding up? Has anyone met with you yet?”

  Sally appeared to struggle to hold back a wave of tears.

  “We’re doing the best we can,” she replied in a near whisper.

  Sanders took a moment to simultaneously hug the girls, one under each arm. It was apparent that she cared a great deal not only her partner but for his family.

  I sighed. Waiting rooms always brimmed with an aura of helplessness, anticipation, and sometimes dread.

  My mind quickly gravitated to my own family, who were located somewhere else in the hospital. I turned to address Sanders, but she was already glancing at me with a somber expression.

  “Go. I’ll come find you later,” she said.

  I nodded and made my way to the nearest information desk.

  * * *

  Two hours passed before I finished my visit with Lexi, Kevin, and the kids. I was so relieved that they hadn’t been seriously harmed. Lexi and Kristie had suffered minor smoke inhalation, but were expected to be released by morning.

  Unfortunately, I learned very little about the fire. As far as they knew, it seemed to erupt spontaneously somewhere near the kitchen or utility room.

  “I guess I’d better call Mom and Dad,” I ventured.

  “Too late. I already called them,” Lexi said with a smirk.

  I couldn’t help but chuckle at my sister’s innate sense of efficiency despite her distress. With a final hug, I insisted I had to meet with the authorities further. Lexi knew that I’d already been interviewed by the police and FBI following the explosion at the Wallace Building.

  “Wait, Logan,” Lexi insisted. “Does somebody think that our fire was somehow related to your case?”

  I did the only thing that seemed sensible at that moment. I lied.

  “Nah, I think they just want to go over some additional details, that’s all,” I reassured her.

  There didn’t seem to be any point in worrying them when I didn’t have all the facts myself. What was I supposed to tell them, anyway? Sure, Lexi, mysterious people from God-knows-where are out to get my family and me, but there’s nothing to worry about.

  Lexi frowned at my response but let it drop. I signaled to Kevin to follow me into the hallway as I made my way out. As soon as we closed the door to Lexi’s room, I turned to him.

  “Listen, I don’t have all the details just yet, but maybe this is a good time for you to take Lexi and the kids to my Mom and Dad’s for a visit.”

  Besides being a hell of a talented architect, Kevin was a good man and a great father and husband. He looked me in the eye as if patiently assessing me and nodded.

  “You think this is related, don’t you?” he asked.

  “Honestly, Kev, there’s a crap-load of stuff that I don’t know yet,” I replied. “But you can damn well bet I’m getting to the bottom of things real soon. Right now, my highest priority is to make sure that you, Lexi, and the kids are safe. And right now, your safest place may not be in Nevis Corners.”

  I could almost see the wheels turning in his brain as he pursed his lips. Then he nodded.

  “The kids could stand to miss a few days of school anyway, given what just happened,” he temporized. “And Lexi needs a few days to rest, according to the doctor. But if I know her, she’d just run herself ragged trying to sort through the mess at the house. For that alone, being out of town is definitely a good idea.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ve got some good friends who can go over to help out with the house,” I said.

  My friend Travis could see to that. The guy was like a walking Swiss Army knife; he had a solution for every situation.

  “Yeah, I’ve already received a call back from my brother and sister-in-law who pretty much said the same thing,” he agreed.

  We shook hands like two men who had just agreed on a business deal or something.

  “Logan, be careful, and let us know as soon as you learn anything,” Kevin insisted.

  I nodded and headed down the hallway to the elevators. In the midst of the chaos, it felt good to experience a momentary glimmer of encouragement. For some reason, just like back in A
fghanistan a few years ago, I felt like I was conducting damage control in a war zone.

  By the time that I made my way back to the waiting room where I’d left Agent Sanders, both she and the other family members were gone. A quick consultation at the information desk confirmed that Burroughs had already been moved to a room upstairs. At least that meant he’d survived his surgery.

  “Logan!”

  I turned to see Maria Edwards briskly walking down the hallway toward me.

  “Maria? What are you doing here?”

  “I saw the news report on TV about the fire at your sister’s house,” she explained. “They reported that some people had been transported to the hospital. There’s also a story about a shooting in your neighborhood.”

  “The press must be having a field day. Nevis Corners has practically turned into an action film,” I murmured.

  “Yeah, well, it probably won’t take long for the press to correlate the two events as being related to you and your family. Then they’ll tie your affiliation to the Nuclegene bombing.”

  Good point.

  “Yeah, great,” I said. “But why are you here?”

  She paused and pulled me into a nearby unoccupied family conference room and closed the door behind us.

  “I’d hoped that I’d find you here,” she said. “Logan, I’ve been reading through more of the information that I downloaded from Nuclegene’s systems regarding your treatments. One of the researchers hypothesized that there might be a way to refine your abilities.”

  “And you couldn’t wait to tell me because?” I asked.

  “As soon as I saw the news footage showing the ragged opening around your sister’s upstairs window, I suspected that you’d harnessed your abilities further. Nobody kicks part of a wall and brick facade out, no matter how much adrenaline is flowing in their system. Then, when I heard about a shooting at your home, I thought that somebody must be after you. Logan, I felt that I had to try and help you somehow.”

  I appreciated that she cared enough to try and help me so much.

  “Tell me what you discovered.”

  She extracted a small syringe of clear fluid from her purse and held it up.

  “I acquired the base elements from a nutrition center in town and then combined them into a liquid form. There’s a combination of extracts, including Taurine, L-Carnitine, Ginseng, L-theanine, and Inositol. Together, they’re supposed to enhance vital chemical processes in your brain that strengthen and refine your abilities. Oh, and there’s a spectrum of B vitamins to boost your body’s energy levels, as well.”

  I stared at her as if she were a mad scientist.

  “I was a chemistry major, remember? Look, I went to a lot of trouble here,” she said with a stony expression. “Do you want my help or not?”

  One thing was certain; I needed my abilities to be as sharp and strong as possible for what may lie ahead. I pulled my shirtsleeve up over my shoulder and she rubbed an alcohol wipe across my skin. Then she injected the entire contents of the syringe into my arm.

  “There. If this works, you should begin to feel the effects within the next few hours,” she advised.

  I nodded and then adopted a mischievous expression.

  “Speaking of abilities, you wanna’ hear something interesting?” I baited.

  After I’d described what had transpired at my home with the bullets, she plopped down into one of the nearest cushioned chairs with a shocked expression.

  “My God, Logan,” she finally said. “I’ve never heard of anything like that before. Of course, there’s certainly nothing in the medical records about any previous patients doing anything like that.”

  “Thankfully everything worked; although I experienced a brief nose bleed after I stopped the second set of bullets,” I added.

  She considered my statement with a grim expression.

  “There’s some kind of force-feedback taking place,” she estimated. “Logan, there’s no telling what kind of damage that might cause to your brain.”

  “Do you think that the nosebleeds might stop if my abilities continue to strengthen?” I pressed.

  She appeared deep in thought at length before finally shaking her head.

  “Honestly, I have no idea,” she admitted. “These are all cutting-edge experiences now. You’re likely the first person who’s advanced this far into their abilities before, though I’d have to search Nuclegene’s entire database to know for certain.”

  I nodded. Then I looked down at her with appreciation.

  “I can’t thank you enough for helping me, Maria,” I offered.

  Her resulting smile was a movie-star-worthy level of spectacular. Her eyes darted to her watch and she quickly rose from the chair.

  “I have to return home. My neighbor, Claire, was kind enough to watch the kids for me, but I really need to get back to them now,” she explained. “I’ll start making more of the liquefied supplement for you as soon as possible.”

  I bent over and gently pressed a quick kiss to her cheek.

  “Thank you for everything,” I offered. “I’ll keep you posted.”

  She nodded and then we both went our separate ways.

  I continued to the fifth floor and located Burroughs’ room by the sight of his daughters sitting nearby in an oversized family waiting area that served as a central lobby for the patient’s rooms in that wing of the building. I looked at the nurse’s station to see both Sally Burroughs and Agent Sanders meeting with a doctor.

  “Are you here to help Aunt Meg find the person who shot my daddy?” asked one of the girls.

  Aunt Meg?

  Then I remembered Agent Sanders’ business card.

  Megan Sanders.

  I stared at the innocent face of one of the blonde-haired, blue-eyed girls who couldn’t have been more than five or six years old. Burroughs might be an asshole, but his daughters seemed like little angels.

  I squatted down to see her eye-to-eye and adopted a reassuring expression.

  “I’m certainly going to try,” I said with as much resoluteness as I could muster.

  An unusual bond had been formed by circumstance; Burroughs and his family, and me and my family.

  A nurse peeked out from Burroughs’ room. “Is there a Logan Bringer out here?”

  “I’m Logan Bringer,” I said.

  “Mr. Burroughs is asking for you,” she said. “But he’s very weak following his surgery, so I’d appreciate if you’d keep your visit brief.”

  “Is that you, Bringer? I heard your voice,” Burroughs’ strained weak, but still gruff, voice demanded. “Get in here.”

  Both the girls crowded in around me to stare into their father’s room.

  “Daddy’s going to have a chat with the nice man and then you can both come give me a big hug,” Burroughs whispered in an unusually friendly-sounding tone.

  The girls both replied in unison, “Okay, Daddy.”

  Well, I’ll be damned; the jerk actually had a heart.

  Okay, maybe I was being the asshole just then.

  I closed the door and looked at the formerly robust FBI agent, who now looked more like someone who’d only narrowly cheated death. I’d seen that look before on the battlefield more times than I could count. Frankly, I was impressed that the guy was even conscious after all that he’d just been through.

  “Sit your ass down, Bringer,” he demanded in a weak, groggy voice. He paused to take in a few breaths before adding, “Tell me what the hell…is going on.”

  It sounded like he was maintaining consciousness by sheer willpower alone.

  I recounted what I’d told his partner earlier and briefly described what had taken place at my house, including our little “bullet experience.”

  Believe it or not, the guy actually seemed to be listening for a change. Or maybe he was just fighting unconsciousness.

  He moved his head back into his pillow and stared at the ceiling for what seemed like an eternity.

  “Damn. I’ve never even heard of
anything like that,” he half-whispered. “Whatever this is, you’re in deep, Bringer. And this better mean that you’re planning to cooperate fully with us now.”

  “Just so long as I’m able to get to the bottom of who set fire to my sister’s house and nearly killed my family.”

  Burroughs remained silent for a time.

  “Fine. You can start by telling me why some heavy was ransacking your house when I arrived there.”

  “Ransacking?” I asked.

  Burroughs took a series of shallow breaths before speaking again.

  “Yeah, I heard him rifling through things. I think I surprised him, but he was a much quicker draw than me.”

  Burroughs closed his eyes for a few moments, and I almost got up to leave before he finally added, “My pistol barely cleared leather before I had two rounds in my chest.”

  I mulled that over for a moment. I wondered if the stranger fired two rounds as a matter of habit.

  Something about the technique triggered in my mind.

  “This guy sounds like a pro. Maybe ex-special forces or sniper,” I ventured aloud.

  That realization should’ve made me cringe, but instead all that I felt was steely resolve.

  “The man’s formidable,” Burroughs conceded.

  “Doesn’t matter,” I added. “Soon, he’ll be the one who needs to start looking over his shoulder.”

  Burroughs grunted.

  “Well-well, I’d say that soldier boy finally woke up again,” he whispered.

  There were a few moments of shallow breaths before he spoke again.

  “Honestly, when I first saw you, I thought you were just another washed-up, former army loser. What do you think about that, ground-pounder?”

  I frowned.

  “I think I’ll let my future actions do the talking,” I replied.

  He squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them to stare at the ceiling above.

  “Good enough for me, Army. Just don’t get Sanders killed in the process, or so help me, I’ll hunt you down if it’s the last thing I do.”

  The guy was barely conscious and had numerous tubes stuck in his arms, yet he sounded like he meant every word.

  “I stopped two bullets for her earlier tonight,” I said. “What makes you think I won’t stop more for her, if needed?”