Lucas ignored the dig. “I hope he fixed the computer glitch in his code. I want to run a few more system checks tonight in the lab, while we still can. I’m guessing you’re not going to do your workout today?”
“No, I’ll do my push-ups tomorrow. Besides, I’m pretty sure I’m at DEFCON 1 already. Right Guard only covers up so much.”
Lucas’ sour mood made it easy to hold back a chuckle, now standing in front of his brother’s side of the closet. “What shirt do you want?”
“Come on, that was funny,” Drew said, giving Lucas a playful shove.
“Yeah, it was. I’m laughing on the inside; can’t you tell?”
“Everything ok, bro?”
Lucas wanted to tell Drew what had happened with Green and the insurance premium check, but he couldn’t find the courage to come clean. His brother counted on him to handle everything, and he didn’t want to shatter his confidence. “Yeah, I’m fine. Didn’t sleep well last night. So, I ask again, what shirt do you want?”
“It doesn’t matter. You know, something with long sleeves, as long as it’s—”
“Blue. Yep, it’s Friday. I should’ve known,” Lucas said, retrieving a pullover shirt from a hanger. He removed it from the red hanger and gave it to his brother. He was careful to put the hanger back in the closet precisely where it had been, exactly two fingers away from the hangers on either side of it.
Drew slipped the shirt over his head.
Lucas handed Drew the wallet-sized leather pouch on the nightstand next to the bed. “Don’t forget this.”
“No. Never.” Drew opened the straps and put them around his head and neck. He tied them together and tucked the pouch inside the front of the collared shirt.
* * *
Lucas and Drew were headed east along one of the sidewalks bordering the landscaped student mall. The entrance to the University of Arizona’s Student Union was now only a half a block away, meaning their morning trek was almost complete.
The low angle of the brilliant sunlight cut through the shade trees lining their path, casting a wide array of shapes across the concrete sidewalk. When the gentle breeze rustled the leaves, the changing shadows reminded Lucas of the calculations he and Drew had been working on in the lab all week. For the uninitiated, the endless fractal patterns could’ve been used as a rudimentary demonstration of subatomic space-time turbulence, also known as quantum foam.
“You can always tell when Christmas break hits. The place empties out the minute finals are over,” Lucas said, missing the abundance of stunning eye candy that typically blanketed the mall. Seeing all the girls running around in their skimpy outfits was his favorite part of the day.
“I like it this way,” Drew said. “I hate it when I have to dodge everyone on the mall. Those Ultimate Frisbee players always find a way to hit me when I’m crossing.”
“That’s because you cut right across in the middle of their game.”
“That’s where the sidewalk is. Why should I have to go all the way around?”
Lucas stood behind Drew as he effortlessly wheeled himself up the steep incline to the building’s main entrance. When Drew reached to open the glass entrance door, a tall, gorgeous blond co-ed beat him to it. She was on the inside and held the door open for him, giving Drew a friendly, rainbow smile as he rolled past her.
Lucas couldn’t see her eyes through her sunglasses, but the woman’s body language suggested she knew his brother, or possibly was attracted to him. She wore a short dark miniskirt and tight t-shirt, despite the cool morning temperature. She had legs for days and a toned figure that could only be the result of plenty of gym time. Sometimes he was jealous of his little brother. It was common for women to be intrigued by Drew’s boyishly handsome good looks. If it weren’t for a car accident that mangled his legs, Drew surely would’ve been a world-famous Italian underwear model instead of a PhD candidate.
But on the other hand, Lucas thought, if not for the accident, they never would’ve met in the orphanage and been adopted together by the Ramsay family. The universe works in mysterious ways. The multiverse, he corrected himself.
Before she looked his way, Lucas checked that his shirt was tucked in and his fly was zipped. He rubbed his tongue across the front of his teeth to make sure nothing foreign was attached.
The girl glanced his way and her smile faded. Lucas wasn’t surprised. Women didn’t always go for the jagged scars on his face. He thought they made him look ruggedly handsome, but that obviously wasn’t the case with this chick. Years of living in state-run facilities had taken their toll, leaving him looking more like an Irish gangster than a nerdy scientist.
Despite her reaction, he gave her his best smile and said, “Thanks for your help. It’s much appreciated.”
The cafeteria line extended outside the entrance and past a pair of vending machines in the hall. Two dozen students were waiting in line before the buffet closed its doors until lunchtime. Most were chatting with each other, but a few were rocking on their heels, listening to headphones.
Lucas recognized the elderly woman walking toward him with a cane and swollen ankles. “Would you like to go ahead of us, Professor Atkins?” he asked her.
She smiled, but her saggy, spotted skin camouflaged most of the grin. “Why, thank you, young man.”
Lucas moved his brother aside to let the woman waddle past. It took her a good thirty seconds, giving Lucas plenty of time to sample her aroma: a powerful combination of hairspray and Ben Gay. All she was missing was blue hair and support hose.
Lucas waited for her to move ahead before whispering into Drew’s ear, “I wonder if she knew Columbus?”
Drew smiled through a partially held-back laugh, then said, “Maybe one of us should go find Trevor and let him know we’re stuck in line.”
“I’m assuming that someone is me?”
“Wow, that’s awfully nice of you, brother. I’ll stay here and keep our place in line.”
Lucas found their Swedish lab assistant sitting at a table in the back of the dining area, his weightlifting belt and workout clothes still damp with perspiration and clinging to his well-defined physique.
Everyone on campus knew who the imposing blonde figure was—Trevor Johansson, former Olympic wrestler turned scientist, a giant who could block out the sun at six foot seven inches tall. His enormous size rivaled that of a defensive lineman in the NFL—not an old school defensive lineman who was nothing but big and oafish, but one of the freakishly athletic new breed of linemen filling the broadcast screen on Sundays around America. Even his appetite was huge, with four plates sitting in front of him, overflowing with a pile of fruits and vegetables.
“Having a little snack, are we?” Lucas said, using humor to disguise his trepidation around the giant.
Trevor responded, his Swedish accent thick. “Ja, hungry. Vawnt some?”
“No, thanks. I’m not a big fan of fruit. I’ll grab something else.”
Each time Trevor put the fork to his mouth, his biceps came alive as the twisted cords of muscle and vein stretched the skin to the point of eruption. Drew was the only other person Lucas knew with arms close to that size.
It wasn’t only his arms, though. Everything about Trevor was cut—even his jaw muscles bulged when he chewed. The guy could probably chew rocks.
Trevor opened an issue of Olympic Coach magazine and turned to the table of contents. His meaty fingers struggled with the periodical’s flimsy paper.
“You’re not thinking of leaving us, are you?” Lucas asked, trying to gauge his friend’s interest in the sports magazine.
“No. I stay here,” Trevor said, flipping to an article with photos of two male wrestlers.
“Are any of your old friends still on the team?”
“Ja. They do vell. Two gold medals and a silver.”
“Do you miss it?”
“Ja, very much.”
“Did they ever apologize for botching your drug tests?”
Trevor stopped chewing i
n an instant, then his eyes glazed over and his face went blank. He looked down at his food in silence, not moving a muscle.
Lucas knew he’d just upset his mammoth assistant, putting his foot in his mouth. He’d obviously crossed the line from professional colleague to nosy friend. He scrambled to change the subject. “Uh, did you order your tickets yet for the twenty-fifteen games in Orlando?”
Life returned to Trevor’s face. “Tampa Bay. Ja, tickets ordered.”
“Sorry, my bad. Shows you how much I know about the Olympics. I might have to actually watch some of the events this time, since our country’s hosting it.”
Trevor only grunted before scooping up another spoonful of mixed fruit.
Lucas had known Trevor for almost two years and had eaten with him countless times. He knew it was pointless to try to carry on a meaningful conversation with his lab assistant once the brute started replenishing his calories. Trevor was on the other side of thirty, but there certainly wasn’t anything wrong with his appetite—a byproduct, no doubt, of his over-charged metabolism.
Trevor had started his academic career late but held twin doctorates in physics and computer engineering. Lucas was intimidated by his friend’s sheer size and would take odds that Trevor was probably the largest scientist on the planet.
Even though Trevor was assigned to their team as his underling, Lucas never really felt comfortable about it. Trevor was almost nine years older than he was, and he often wondered how his Swedish friend felt about working for—as some of the other researchers called him—a grubby-faced youngster. Trevor never gave him any indication there was an issue, but Lucas was cautious nonetheless.
“Okay, then. I guess I should get back to Drew. I just wanted to let you know we’re here, but it may take a few minutes to get through the line.”
Lucas returned to the cafeteria door and saw Drew in trouble. A bespectacled, lanky student was standing between Drew and three burly students wearing red and blue rugby uniforms. The athletes were all tall, tan, and clearly spent far more time working on their muscles in the gym and lounging in the sun than they did studying in the library. Rugby wasn’t an official Pac-12 NCAA sport, but the members of the rugby club were every bit the arrogant jocks as the guys on the football team. They walked around campus like they owned the place and were notorious for getting drunk and picking on anyone they determined to be a geek.
His eyes took in the facts, instantly realizing what was happening across the room: his disabled brother was being picked on, and the underweight kid with glasses was sticking up for him. Lucas couldn’t make out what Drew’s protector was saying, but it was obvious the skinny guy was arguing with the rugby jocks.
Great, Lucas thought. Just what we need today. More bullshit. He took off for his brother.
The tallest stranger, who sported a Mohawk-style haircut, grabbed the skinny kid and shoved him hard, sending him across the polished tile floor. He landed in an awkward sprawl.
Then the burly jock took the handles on the back of Drew’s wheelchair and shoved it with force toward the back of the line. The chair wobbled to the right as it shot across the floor, sending the upper half of Drew’s body over the left armrest.
TWO
Lucas made it to Drew, glancing back at the rugby players to check their position. They weren’t close.
“Are you okay?” he asked Drew.
Drew nodded, though it wasn’t convincing.
“What the hell’s going on here?”
The skinny kid with the glasses stood up and came over to Lucas, looking more than a little agitated. He pointed at the rugby players. “Those assholes were trying to cut in front of your brother.”
“Thanks for sticking up for him,” Lucas said, trying to remember where he knew this kid from. “I know you, right?”
The young man nodded. “I’m Stephen Carr. I work in the Geophysics Lab, two buildings down from you guys. The three of us had a class together a couple of semesters ago. You guys are the Ramsay brothers, right?”
Lucas gave him a quick, respectful nod. “Thanks Stephen. You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yeah, I did. Guys like that think they can do anything. I’m sick of it.”
“You ain’t the only one,” Lucas said, looking back at the miscreants, who were laughing with each other.
Just then the tallest of the rugby players shouted with a confident smile on his face, “Look guys, another nerd joined the herd. They’re everywhere, like goddamn cockroaches.”
Another of the players spoke. “You got that right, Zack. A bunch of spineless, limp-dick cockroaches.”
Lucas pushed Drew back in line, then looked at Stephen. “Will you stay here with Drew?”
“Sure. Why?”
“Time to put a stop to this, once and for all.”
“Lucas, no. They’ll kill you!” Drew snapped, grabbing Lucas by the arm.
“I’ll be right back,” he said, pulling out of his brother’s one-handed grip.
Lucas walked over to the tallest rugby player, taking position in directly front of him. The skin across his forehead tightened as a warm sensation swelled within his cheeks. “Keep your goddamn hands off my brother!”
The rugby player moved a step closer, flared his eyes, and then raised his chin. “Oh, yeah, what are you gonna do about it?”
Lucas pushed out his chest and stood toe-to-toe with the stout man. He leaned in close to his face and looked him dead in the eye. “Go ahead, asshole. Take your best shot. I’m not afraid of you.”
A slender, redheaded security officer appeared from around the corner and pulled Lucas away from the rugby player. He stood between the two would-be combatants with a hand pressed against both of their chests. “Someone care to explain?”
“These assholes cut in line,” Lucas answered, fixing his shirt collar. The officer looked vaguely familiar, but Lucas couldn't place him. He figured he must’ve seen the older man around campus somewhere.
Two British students waiting in line behind them agreed. “Yes, they jumped the line in front of all of us.”
The security guard turned to Stephen. “What did you see?”
“Same thing. They cut the line then started getting physical with me and the kid in the wheelchair,” Stephen added.
The officer went to the rugby players, who were no longer laughing or smiling. In fact, they looked concerned.
“Time for you boys to leave,” the officer said, his face stiff and flushing with red. “I don’t want to see you here for the rest of the day. And next time, wait in line like everyone else. If this happens again, I’ll drag your ass in and have you expelled. Am I making myself clear?”
The brutes complained to the officer before finally leaving the cafeteria and walking upstairs. They maintained eye contact with Lucas the entire way up the steps. The player with the Mohawk mouthed the words, “Your ass is mine, punk,” on his way out, then flipped Lucas the bird.
Lucas crossed his arms and put his trembling hands under his sweat-soaked armpits.
The officer spoke to Lucas. “Just because they cut in front of you is no reason to get physical.”
“You’re absolutely right, Officer. I’m sorry. I overreacted, but really—picking on a guy in a wheelchair? That’s crossing the line. Somebody had to stand up to them.”
“He’s right,” Stephen said, butting into the conversation. “Enough is enough.”
“I understand. And frankly, I might’ve done the same thing if I’d been in your shoes. But regardless, next time, just ignore them and let the situation deescalate on its own. A few extra minutes in line aren’t worth a fight or a trip to the medical center.”
“Yes, sir. Won’t happen again.” Lucas waited for the officer to disappear around the corner before asking Drew, “Did you see the size of those guys? They would’ve kicked my ass six ways from Sunday.”
Drew nodded. “Maybe we should eat someplace else tomorrow.”
“No. We eat here, same as usual. You can’t let
guys like that push you around, because if you back down once, they own your ass. Just like back when we lived in the orphanage. Gotta show strength.”
“But those guys—” Drew said.
Lucas wasn’t going to let his brother cave. “No, Drew. We stand our ground. Nobody puts their hands on a Ramsay and gets away with it. And I mean nobody.”
Drew nodded, letting his eyes run soft.
Lucas followed his brother through the buffet line, waiting for his temper to cool as he dished up two trays of food and slid along the display counter. His pulse rate was still in overdrive, but he knew once the adrenaline eased, so would his shaking hands. He finished the load out and carried both of their trays to Trevor’s table in the back and put them down. He removed one of the chairs to allow Drew to scoot his wheelchair under the table. Lucas sat between Drew and Trevor.
“Sorry we’re late again,” Lucas told Trevor. “We got delayed by a bunch of soccer hooligans.”
“They were rugby players,” Drew said.
“Rugby, soccer—same difference. Jerks are jerks.”
Trevor glanced at both of them but did not respond. He was busy eating a large cluster of seedless grapes. One of the grapes squirted its juice across Lucas’ tray.
“You ready for lab tonight, Trevor? Did you fix the programming bug?” Lucas asked, watching Drew rearrange his chow in alphabetical order, carefully spacing each food group a precise distance from the others.
“Ja. No more system crash.”
“Good thing, because they’re taking down the mainframe tomorrow for maintenance. After tonight, we won’t have computer access again until late Sunday.”
“Isn’t tonight when the new lab tech arrives?” Drew asked.
Lucas loathed the documentation requirements of their research. “I hope so. We could use the help. You know me and paperwork. I’d rather have my toenails pulled out.”
“It’s too bad Gracie graduated. I really liked her. She was nice.”
A smile grew on Trevor’s lips as he shoveled in another spoonful.
Lucas had been glad to see Gracie leave. She was always staring at his scars, making him even more self-conscious about them than he already was. She was a quirky young woman who seemed to twitch and prance when she got nervous, but he had to admit she was an excellent assistant, and kept their paperwork in perfect order. “Let’s hope the E-121 material gets here soon. If we have to keep running simulations, I’m going to go Bundy on somebody.”
Linkage (The Narrows of Time Series Book 1) Page 2