Jessica Meigs - The Becoming

by Brothers in Arms

  “Who the hell left it like this?” Theo asked, bypassing Jonathan’s joke. He was already freeing his cell phone from his pants pocket to take pictures of the mess for his supervisor’s perusal later.

  “Probably the same douchebags who ran out of here the minute we showed up so they’d be gone by the time we found it like this.” Jonathan dropped out of the passenger seat and stretched, stepping into view of the side door. “Need a hand? I’m not averse to actually helping out around here. Unlike some people.” He cast a glance toward a small four-door coupe that flew out of the base’s short driveway. Theo resisted the urge to join Jonathan’s glance with a glare as he recognized one of the aforementioned douchebag coworkers. Then he snorted and turned his gaze back to the mess before him.

  “Get that stretcher out of the way and grab me the broom from the backboard cabinet. I’m going to attempt to inventory all this shit while I clean.” Theo paused and sniffed the air, his head tilted back as if he were a hunting dog scenting for prey. He wrinkled his nose. “It smells like stale french fries and piss in here. You smell that?”

  Jonathan snapped on a blue glove and circled to the ambulance’s back doors, flinging them open. He picked something up from the floor of the ambulance. It took Theo a moment to realize that Jonathan held up a used urinal. “Found your culprit.” He frowned at it and at the floor of the ambulance, which was on level with his waist. “Looks like it’s leaking too.”

  “So not only did they leave us with garbage everywhere, but they left us with a biohazard to take care of too?” To say Theo was thoroughly disgusted was an understatement. He forced himself to stop grinding his teeth and slid open one of the cabinets, pulling out a red plastic bag. “Drop it in here and tie it off. I’ll chuck it later.”

  It took Theo and Jonathan nearly two hours to scrub out and sanitize the interior of the ambulance, replace the supplies that had been used, and inventory everything in the cabinets. By the time they had finished, Theo could feel a headache niggling at the back of his head. He massaged his temples and heaved a weary sigh before he dropped into the jump seat with all the grace of a hippopotamus. “Aw hell, we’ve still got to wash the outside, don’t we?” he grumbled. “Please tell me it looks like rain so we don’t have to today.”

  Jonathan cast his eyes up toward the sky and shook his head. “Nope, sorry. Crystal-clear evening sky.” He smiled. “You know, if you don’t want to wash it, I certainly won’t be saying anything to anyone if it doesn’t get done. We could probably hold off until tomorrow morning.”

  Before Theo could agree to Jonathan’s idea, a burst of static came from the radio in the cab, followed by a loud, almost melodic tone. Both of them froze, and Theo’s shoulders tensed as the sound jabbed into his skull like a knife. A smile broke out across Jonathan’s face.

  “Definitely not washing the outside of the truck today, my friend,” he declared. “I have a feeling we’re about to get sent on a call.” He dropped out of the back of the truck and hurried to the front, swinging into the cab to listen to the dispatcher’s message that followed the tones, snagging a notepad and pen out of his pocket in the process. He scratched out the address as Theo closed all the ambulance’s doors and climbed into the cab’s passenger seat. Jonathan turned to him with a grin. “Got a cardiac. Time to rock and roll.”

  Chapter 3

  The crack of pool balls drowned out the country music being piped in through speakers strategically hidden around the bar, but Gray paid the sound no mind as his eyes followed the yellow ball Jack Abernathy had struck. It rolled easily into the pocket for which Jack had aimed. Gray sighed and shook his head, taking a deep swallow from his beer as Jack tilted his head to look at him and give him his old, familiar shit-eating grin.

  “Carter, you are going to owe me some serious money when I’m done with you,” Jack warned. Gray rolled his eyes and tugged a pack of cigarettes from the back pocket of his jeans. He pulled one free and lit it up before he bothered to reply.

  “I said I liked playing. I never said I was any good at it. Besides, you’re probably just going to give the cash back anyway, like you do pretty much every time we play.” He propped the end of his pool cue on the floor and leaned on it, dragging on his cigarette as he watched Jack take entirely too long to line up his next shot. “You going to take that shot anytime soon, or are you too busy waggling your ass for the ladies at the bar?” Jack laughed and tapped the cue ball. The green ball for which he’d aimed bounced off the table’s side before rolling to a stop in the center of the table. Gray heaved a sigh of relief and ashed his cigarette into the tray on the edge of the table, then lifted his stick from the floor. “‘Bout damned time.”

  Jack smirked and leaned against the edge of the table as Gray began to slowly circle it, trying to choose his best line of attack. “I don’t think you’ve noticed, G, but I’m not the one the ladies at the bar are staring at,” he said. “That hot brunette near the end has been watching you the entire time we’ve been in here.”

  Gray stretched over the table to line up his shot, resting the pool cue against his hand, and cut his eyes upward in the direction Jack mentioned. He huffed out another impatient breath. “Come on, man, there’s like three of them down there,” he said casually, though a jolt of recognition wormed its way down his spine as his eyes met the girl’s in question. He stuck his cigarette between his lips again and exhaled a puff of smoke around it, feigning casualness, before taking his shot and missing miserably. It was an easy shot, and Gray could only account his failure to make it as a bad case of sudden nerves, brought on by the eyes that, even now, he could have sworn he felt on his back.

  “The one in the skirt and red top,” Jack replied. He passed behind Gray to get to the other side of the table, slapping him on the back in the process. Gray flinched and side-stepped away from him, gripping the pool cue he held tighter. “You should go talk to her, see if maybe you can get laid,” he suggested. “Then maybe you’ll quit being so damned cranky all the time.”

  Gray shrugged and cocked his hip against the edge of the table. He took his cigarette out of his mouth and snagged his beer bottle from beside the ash tray. “I don’t know, man. Do I look that desperate?” He took a deep swig of the beer before he added, “At least let me wait until after the game is over before you start trying to hook me up with random bar chicks.”

  Jack snorted. “Hell yeah, I’ve got to hook you up! God knows you can’t manage to get the pretty girls on your own,” he joked.

  “If we weren’t in the bar right now, I’d so kick your ass,” Gray muttered. He jabbed his cigarette out in the ash tray with more ferocity than necessary and finished off his beer.

  “But you can’t, because then Smitty would call the cops and your brother would want to know why you were in Smitty’s in the first place when you should have been at home and why he was bailing you out of jail. He’d probably get all paternal on you, and I’d never get to hang out with you again.” Jack sank another ball and looked up at him. “What’s with him, anyway? He acts like you’re twelve or something.”

  Gray shrugged and grabbed his empty bottle, setting his pool cue on the edge of the table. “I don’t want to talk about my brother,” he replied. Especially since he’d have my head if he knew I was here, he added mentally. “And don’t talk about him that way. That’s between me and him.” He nodded toward the bar. “I’m going to get another drink.”

  Gray didn’t wait for Jack’s reply. Circling the table, he tossed his empty bottle into the trash can as he passed it and headed to the bar. He stopped a few feet away from the girl Jack had pointed out, the girl who’d been staring at him. The girl who’d given him such a rush of feeling the second he’d laid eyes on her that he’d felt the compulsion to sit down in a daze. He flagged down the bartender—the esteemed Smitty himself—and asked, “Can I get another beer, please?” He glanced at the girl out of the corner of his eye and added, “Make that two beers.” Once he had the two chilled bottles in hand, he s
lid onto the stool beside the girl, cracked the top off one of the bottles, and set it gently on the counter in front of her. “Hey, April. Long time no see.”

  The girl looked up at him, and a wide smile spread across her pretty face. The sight of it sent a pang of melancholy through him. “I was hoping you’d take the hint and come over here,” she admitted.

  Gray hadn’t seen April Linder in almost five years, not since before they’d graduated high school and gone their separate ways. Thinking about that still made him a little sad; two years was a lot of time for a teenager to spend with one girl. He returned April’s smile and added, “You’re looking great. What have you been doing?”

  April shrugged and tucked her hair behind her ear in a familiar gesture. She scooped up the beer he’d put in front of her and sipped from the bottle. “Oh, not a whole lot. Just moved back home.” She scrunched up her nose, and Gray noticed the freckles speckling her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. “College sucks, by the way. Don’t even bother with it.”

  “I take it things didn’t go well for you in Seattle?” Gray asked.

  “Oh God no.” April grimaced. “I spent the whole time being miserable and getting ridiculed for my accent.”

  “Assholes,” Gray said simply.

  “Tell me about it.” April downed another sip of beer. Gray could feel her eyes running over him during the pause that fell between them, almost as if she were physically running her hands over his skin. “You’re not looking all that bad yourself. Not as skinny as the last time I saw you. More…muscular, I think.”

  Gray shrugged nonchalantly and gulped from his bottle. “I guess that’s what happens when you haul car parts around all day. Well, that and the occasional visit to the gym.”

  “Still doing body work?”

  “Naw, got laid off from that garage,” he admitted. “Been working as a regular mechanic for about a year now. Nothing major. Helps out with the whole food thing.” He fell silent, turning his bottle in slow circles on the bar. He wasn’t sure what to say to April. It’d been years since he’d seen her, and all her reappearance had done was dredge up old feelings he’d thought were long gone. He felt a stirring of sadness, longing, and even a little guilt mixed together in his gut in an amalgam of emotion that almost nauseated him. He swallowed hard and gulped more beer before he cleared his throat and tried again. “How’s your family?” he asked casually. “Everybody doing okay?”

  “Oh yeah!” April said brightly, seizing on the new topic he’d introduced. She took in a deep breath, as if preparing to launch into a spiel, and the action drew Gray’s attention to the collar of her red blouse; the top few buttons were undone, showing cleavage, and he wondered momentarily if she’d dressed up in the skirt and form-fitting shirt with the hopes of finding a stand at the bar that night. The thought of her with another guy bothered the hell out of him. “Mom and Dad are doing great. Still living in the same old house. I’m staying with them until I manage to find a place of my own.”

  “Yeah?” Gray picked at the edge of his bottle’s label with his fingernail. “No, ah, no boyfriend to stay with or whatever?” he asked, trying to be casual about it. He suspected he’d failed miserably. Thankfully, April didn’t seem to notice—or at least didn’t seem willing to comment on it.

  “No,” April admitted. She shook her head, setting her long dark hair swaying, and her cheeks flushed. “No boyfriend. Haven’t had one of those in, hell, three years? Something like that.” She laughed ruefully. “That makes me sound so pathetic.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” Gray said in a rush. He drew in a deep breath of his own and managed to dislodge the nervousness in his throat. “I mean, I haven’t dated very much in…well, since high school. Not anything serious, just…you know, flings and shit. So believe me, you’re doing a lot better than I am.”

  April smiled, and his stomach knotted at the sight. Theo hadn’t been kidding when he’d told him once that the first love was always the hardest to get over. “So, how are things with you? How are your mom and dad?” She looked suddenly awkward at the mention of his parents, and she nearly knocked her bottle of beer over as she reached for it in haste. “Or, I mean, your brother. How is Theo doing?”

  Gray tried to let the reference to his deceased parents pass without comment, though he still felt a pang in his chest at her words. He shook it off and pasted on a smile. “Theo’s doing great. He didn’t go to police academy like he’d planned. He became a paramedic instead.”

  “That’s awesome,” April said appreciatively. “Are you still living with him?”

  “Moved out a few months ago, actually,” Gray said. “Our, ah, our therapist said we needed to get some space from each other because we spend too much time together or some bullshit like that. I don’t remember the word for it. Co-something or other. But fuck, we’re brothers. What’s wrong with hanging out with your siblings?” He sighed. “Anyway, I got a little apartment a couple of miles from here, and he helps with the rent and stuff, since I really can’t afford it.”

  April gave him a small smile that made him feel incredibly embarrassed. She must think I’m a total basket case, he thought. Why did I mention the damned therapist? Fucking pathetic. “Do you maybe want to get out of here?” she asked suddenly. She leaned closer to him and lowered her voice, as if she were imparting upon him some deep, dark secret. “Maybe go hang out someplace more…private? For old times’ sake?”

  Gray couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face at her words. He downed the rest of his beer and set the bottle heavily on the bar. “Where exactly did you have in mind?”

  Chapter 4

  Theo sat hunched over the small dining table on the base, a bowl of rapidly cooling tomato soup at his left elbow and a stack of paperwork at his right. His shift, as he had predicted, had been insane thus far—one run after the other, four in all before the sun had even set. It was his first chance to sit down and actually finish filling out all of the paperwork he was required to do, so he was taking the opportunity to not only do that, but also to inhale a little food before he and Jonathan ended up getting another call.

  Jonathan was banging around in the refrigerator behind him, grumbling under his breath as he searched through everything inside. “I know I left a case of Cokes in here a few days ago,” he said. He backed out of the fridge and pushed the door shut with a little more force than necessary.

  “Somebody probably drank them,” Theo said in a near-monotone as he wrote, On arrival, EMS found pt. sitting on couch in living room, complaining of chest pain and numbness in left arm. “Figured you’d have learned by now to not leave stuff in the fridge here. People have a habit of taking shit that isn’t theirs.”

  “Yeah, well, I guess I give people too much credit for honesty sometimes.” Jonathan had no sooner dropped into the chair at the table across from Theo when the phone rang, the chime shrill and echoing in the high-ceilinged room.

  “Aw hell,” Theo groaned. He slammed his pen down on top of his papers and cut a dirty look toward the phone. “Can you get that? See if it’s something the basic truck can take care of. I’m up to my elbows on this.”

  Jonathan nodded and got up to answer the phone. After a murmured conversation, he hung up, looking grim. “One patient, MVA. Guy’s got injuries and appears to have AMS with violent tendencies. ALS call.”

  “Figures,” Theo muttered. He got up and stacked his papers neatly, glancing at the soup he had yet to have a chance to eat. Then he grabbed his bag and forced himself to head for the front door.

  Jonathan had already gone out to the ambulance ahead of him, and the engine rumbled as Theo hauled himself into the passenger seat. The chatter on the radio was full of static and ten-codes, and he had to close his eyes and focus past it to mentally go over everything he would likely need to do at the scene. Then the ambulance’s sirens went off, and that was enough to chase any other thoughts from his mind. A surge of adrenaline rocked through his veins as the truck roared out into the stree
t and headed for the accident site.

  Despite his gripes about the constant running, the nights of getting dragged out of bed, the sometimes-crappy coworkers and the low pay, Theo really wouldn’t have traded his job for anything in the world. He loved helping people, saving lives, being there for others in some of their most difficult moments. He rarely got nervous or felt that he was in over his head on calls, which was why, as the ambulance approached the accident and Jonathan flipped the switch to turn the siren off, he felt it strange that his stomach stirred with butterflies.

  Jonathan pulled the ambulance to a stop at the side of the road, easing it to park behind a state trooper’s car, and let out a low whistle. “Jesus, that looks bad,” he commented as they both took in the sight of the wrecked car. Theo snagged a pair of gloves from the box between the seats, stuffed an extra set into a pants pocket, and opened his door.

  “Looks like a rollover,” he commented. “Let’s go see what we can do.” After he dropped to the pavement, he called out to Jonathan, “Go ahead and grab the stretcher, backboard, and collar. Duct tape too. We’re probably going to need them.” As Jonathan obeyed, he opened the side door and grabbed the trauma bag, shouldering it and making his way down the sloped embankment to the wrecked car below.

  The car had been through what was clearly a terrible accident, Theo observed as he approached. Every side of the car was banged up, scratched, dented, and caved in, as if a giant fist had reached down and gripped the car tightly. All the windows were shattered, and as he drew closer, he noticed that the airbags had deployed. It was a very bad wreck indeed. An officer headed in his direction, sporting a nasty-looking mark on his face where he appeared to have been punched. Theo suppressed a wince of sympathy at the sight.

  “You okay, man?” he asked the officer, whose name badge said Greenlee. “You look like you’ve been put through the wringer.”