The Seventh Hour

by Tracey Ward

  “We should get started with that,” Holster tells him.

  Krysan nods. “You’re right. I just wanted to check in with Gray.”

  “What are you doing?” Gav asks.

  “We have to sweep the hospital. Check the nurse’s apartments upstairs. All of the hospital rooms. The bathrooms. Closets. Anywhere a man could hide.”

  Gav steps forward. “I’ll go with you.”

  “Gav, no,” I protest, standing up to take his arm. “They’re looking for a man with a gun, one who tried to kill us earlier tonight, and you’re unarmed.”

  “I’ve done combat training on the city four times a year since I was ten,” Gav reminds me. “I can handle myself.”

  “We’ve got it under control,” Krysan assures him.

  “He fired a gun at my sister. I’m coming with you.”

  “We can’t have a civilian in the way.”

  Holster pulls his baton off his hip, handing it to Gav. “Let him go. He could be helpful.”

  “Or he could get shot.”

  “We all could.” Holster motions for Gav to follow him to the supply closet. “Come on. There are spare radios in here.”

  “Krysan,” Easton calls out softly, watching Holster walk away with Gav. “Who’s gun was it?”

  Krysan’s face registers surprise for a second too long, just long enough for Easton to smell blood in the water. “We don’t know yet.”

  “You’re lying,” I accuse.

  “Fuller was angry when he read the numbers,” Easton tells Krysan quietly, his face dark. “He knew whose gun it was. And so do you.”

  Krysan shifts on his feet, looking over his shoulder to check on Holster. He’s busy in the hall with Gav. “I’m not supposed to tell anyone.”

  “Kry, it’s my brother in there fighting for his life.”

  “I know. It…” he steps closer, lowering his voice. “You gotta keep it to yourself, E. Let us do our jobs and follow through on investigating it. Don’t jump to any conclusions. Don’t act on anything.”

  “You have my word.”

  “It was Fuller’s.”

  I don’t have words. Neither commendation or condemnation. Would Fuller do something like this? Would he try to kill me in cold blood? Would he risk killing Grayson, one of his top men, in the process?

  I have absolutely no idea, but the tension rolling off Easton beside me says that he does. He has a very good idea.

  The lobby doors swing open, cool air and Karina rushing in. Her pretty face is pinched with concern, her round eyes dripping wet with tears. She scans the room, finding Easton first. She runs to him, collapsing against his rigid chest.

  “What happened?” she whimpers.

  He slowly closes his arms around her, his eyes burning on Krysan. His jaw is clenched tight, a muscle ticking in the corner as he gently runs his hand up and down Karina’s back soothingly. “Someone tried to attack Liv and Gav. Grayson was shot in the chaos.”

  Krysan shakes his head, backing away. “You promised. Remember that.”

  “Where did they shoot him?” Karina asks obliviously.

  “In the back. He was unconscious when we got him here but he was breathing. Abby was out not long ago. She said he’s alive.” He swallows hard, closing his eyes. “That’s all we know.”

  Karina’s shoulders shake with silent sobs. Her body is curled in on itself, engulfed in Easton’s embrace. She’s devastated. Destroyed by the fact that Grayson was hurt, and I wonder if it’s a failing in me or a strength that I’m not weeping.

  Am I tough enough to take the blow?

  Or am I so cold and unfeeling that it doesn’t affect me the way it should?

  ***

  It’s been four hours since the shooting. Gav, Holster, and Krysan are back from their sweep of the building. They didn’t find anything but a busted latch on the door in the back. It causes a stir until I tell them it’s been busted for weeks. It wasn’t forced open tonight. Karina sits next to Easton, her head on his shoulder. Her hand in his. Krysan and Holster stand by the lobby doors, regularly walking the hall. Their radios come alive now and then with information on the search. Buildings are being cleared, but nothing has come of it yet. If they don’t find the shooter Holster says they’ll put everyone on lockdown, confined to their homes so a roll call can be performed.

  Time crawls by, every minute a small torture as we wait. Wait to hear about Grayson. Wait to hear about the shooter. Wait for something, anything to change.

  It’s the longest night of my life, and it’s not over yet.

  Finally, Dr. Kanden appears just after midnight.

  She looks exhausted, as drained as I feel and almost as sad.

  “He’s alive,” she promises immediately. “The bullet missed his spine. It was in deep, though. It took a lot of time to get it out. He bled a lot. He’s very weak.”

  “Will he need to go to the hospital in Porton?” Easton asks.

  “I don’t think so. We got the bullet out. We cleaned the wound thoroughly. Infection is our biggest worry right now.”

  I take a small step forward. “Can I see—“

  “When can we see him?” Karina speaks over me.

  Dr. Kanden looks between us briefly before answering us both. “He’s sleeping for now. We’ll see how he feels when he wakes up. Until then, no visitors.” She looks at her watch, frowning. “Liv, your shift starts in a few hours. Why don’t you get cleaned up here and rest on one of the empty beds until then?”

  “I don’t have any spare clothes here.”

  “I’ll lend you something. Karina, I’ll get a bio-bag of bloodied linens to be taken to the L. I’ll need you to do that right away.”

  “Can I come back?” she pleads softly.

  “When your shift is over. He should be awake by then.” She pauses when she notices Gav. “You must be Liv’s brother.”

  He offers his hand. “Yes, I am. Gav. It’s nice to meet you, Doctor.”

  “You too.” She shakes his right hand, her eyes on his left. Holster’s baton hangs loosely from his fingers. “Have you been deputized?”

  “Only for the evening.”

  “That’s good,” she approves. “These are dark days for Gaia. We can use all the help we can get.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Gray

  The pain was the first thing I felt when I woke up. When I blinked tears from my crying eyes and looked up into Kanden’s face. She spoke to me. She asked me if I hurt. I could barely find the voice to tell her how bad it was. After that there was fog. I drifted through it for what felt like days, weeks, but when I finally managed to emerge for a minute Liv was there. She promised me it’d only been hours. A day hadn’t passed and I felt like I’d aged a year. The pain threatened to undo me. The fog promised to relieve me. I went with it willingly, fading out to black, unsure if I was going to wake up again.

  That’s how it went for days. I tracked the time by Liv’s clothing. If she was wearing a different shirt, it was a new day. Finally around the fifth I was able to stay out of the fog for most of the day. It felt like an eternity.

  I’m there when the doors close a week later. Most people don’t like to watch it happen, it’s too depressing, but no matter how sad the entire situation is, I want to be there because the sun is there. I want to feel the light one last time before it’s shut out for six months. Liv’s last six months as a Gaian.

  We can see her mom’s grave from where we stand. Heat rises in shimmering waves above the scorched dirt on the hill, set back beyond the reach of the waves. Denied the cool caress of the surf. During the festival when the ground was finally soft they added a marker to it so it will never be forgotten. So the Eventide will rest remembered. It’s a small thing, but the small things can turn out to be everything to the aching. To the ones left behind.

  Liv stands next to me, sandwiched between Gav and I. Easton is on my right, holding me up. The entryway to the cave is roiling hot, sending sweat trailing down my back as my body shak
es, convulsing as though I’m locked in winter rather than baking alive. I’m still weak. I shouldn’t even be here, but I convinced the doc to let me go just for an hour. She understood that I’d missed the outside while it was available and if I didn’t get that last deep breath of fresh air, one last look at the light of the sun, I’d be ruined for the rest of the year.

  They pull the doors closed silently. No crowds. No bands. No announcements. Just two Forces members slowly shoving them shut, a quiet whoosh rushing through the entryway as they connect, cutting us off. Locking us in.

  The second it’s done they load me into the truck to take me back to the hospital. There’s a bed made of blankets in the open storage space where I lay down gingerly. Liv climbs in next to me as Gav and Easton take the cab, starting the rumbling engine and lurching us into motion.

  “I’m gonna lose my job with Forces,” I mumble to Liv, shifting on the blankets, unable to get comfortable.

  “No you’re not,” she replies mildly.

  “Sure I am. First I’m out for a month and a half in the winter, now I’m out for at least that long in the summer. Fuller won’t put up with it.”

  She frowns. “Captain Fuller can’t fire you for being hurt doing your job. And if he tries to we’ll take it to Mayor Gustafson.”

  I snort. “You sound like Easton. He loves to go over Fuller’s head.”

  “Well, if Fuller weren’t such a jerk about everything maybe people wouldn’t go around him.”

  “You and your harsh language,” I chuckle.

  “I get that you’re teasing me but I don’t know about what.”

  “I’ve never heard you call anyone anything stronger than a jerk. And I think it was directed at me.”

  “It was,” she quickly confirms. “And you earned it.”

  “Have you ever sworn before?”

  “Once. It was by accident.”

  “How do you swear by accident?”

  “You repeat your father’s words without knowing what they mean.”

  My brows raise curiously. “What was it?”

  “No, thank you,” she chuckles. “I’ve said it once in my life and I got my mouth scrubbed with rose soap for it. Never again.”

  “Give me a hint.”

  We pull up to the front of the hospital. Easton and Gav jump out of the cab just as Abby rolls a wheelchair out of the lobby.

  “It rhymes with truck,” she tells me, hopping down out of the bed.

  I whistle long and low. “You went for the big guns. How old were you?”

  “Six. No, wait.” She turns to her brother. “Gav, how old was I when I was fed rose water for swearing?”

  “Seven,” he answers immediately, adjusting his uniform.

  I stare at it enviously. Nervously. Gav was added to Forces just days after I was injured. I guess he was the first to rush the shooter, the one to get the closest to him and disarm him before he got away, and when Captain Fuller met him he fell in love with him the way everyone does. Gav has had fight training since he was a kid. Liv says it was something fun that he did, the way most kids learn to play sports or an instrument. While everyone else was in the choir or learning how to make a masterful centerpiece (Liv made me swear to never reveal to anyone that she was ‘trained’ in that discipline) Gav was learning the easiest way to break a man’s arm. Or knee. Or face. We’ve been a man short in Forces since we lost Micah last year, and now with me out of commission again and a potential killer in our midst, the Captain knew he had to act. And fast.

  He asked Easton if he’d consider rejoining, but Easton formally refused. He never cared for Captain Fuller before, but ever since I was hurt he’s been more aggressive about his hate. It’s another reason I’m worried I’m going to get fired.

  When I’m tucked back into my bed Easton pulls out a deck of cards, dragging a chair across the floor to the side of my bed.

  “Who’s up for a game?” he asks shuffling them expertly. “A little Chicago Fire?”

  “I’m not playing that with you again,” Liv tells him sternly. “You’re too good at it.”

  He grins wickedly. “That’s why I love it.”

  “I’ll play,” I tell him. “I’m not scared of you.”

  “I’m not scared,” Liv protests.

  “You’re just a sore loser,” Gav explains.

  “You play with him, then. See how happy you are after one round.”

  “I’ve never played before.”

  Easton’s grin grows. “Perfect.”

  Liv goes to make the rounds through the hospital as we initiate Gav into his first game of Chicago Fire. It’s a loud, fast paced game of thievery and deception. Liv is a horrible liar, probably the reason she’s terrible at it, but Gav takes to it quickly. Twenty minutes later when Liv pops back inside, we’re all laughing, gathering the cards from where they’ve been thrown around the room.

  “Who won?” she asks, coming to sit on the edge of my bed.

  I chuckle, putting my hand on her knee. I rub my thumb over it absently. “Easton did, but Gav was close. He’s picking it up pretty quick.”

  “Once I realized lying was encouraged, I found my stride,” Gav agrees. He puts his collected cards down on the pile next to Easton, standing up to stretch. “I better do a run through the building. Make sure everything is all clear. Deal me in next round?”

  Easton nods. “Yeah, we’ll wait for you.”

  When Gav is gone Easton turns to Liv and me.

  “How’s he doing in Forces?”

  “Good,” Liv answers immediately. “He’s happy. He likes the guys. He likes Fuller.”

  Easton’s eyes turn hard. He shuffles the cards stiffly. “Does he know what we know?”

  She shakes her head, her face falling. “No. I haven’t told him.”

  “Know what?” I ask.

  Easton hesitates before setting the cards down to look at me squarely. “The gun that you were shot with—“

  “Was Fuller’s,” I finish for him. “Yeah. I know. He told me.”

  “When?”

  “The day after it happened. He came here to apologize. He felt awful. He said it was locked in a case in his apartment, just like the rest of us. He’s the only one with keys. He’s lived alone since the divorce. He doesn’t know how it happened, but when he rushed home that night to look for it, it wasn’t there. No one broke in. No one broke the lock on the case. It was sitting on his kitchen counter wide open and empty. That’s why he had all of the locks changed on every Forces’ door. Even the ones we have access to here.”

  “You don’t think that’s suspicious?” Easton asks cautiously.

  “It is, but I don’t know why he’d do it.”

  “Because he was raised by a Balen.”

  “He doesn’t hate the Eventide the way the Balens do. He grew up in Gaia.” I look to Liv. “Do you think he tried to shoot you?”

  She shakes her head, her face uncertain. “I really don’t know who has been trying to hurt me. It looks bad that it was his gun, but people saw him at the Administration building that night. There was a concert put on by the middle grades at the same time that you were shot. He was there.”

  “He was seen there at the beginning,” Easton clarifies. “Once the lights went down and the concert started, no one remembers seeing him. No one can remember sitting next to him. He doesn’t have an alibi again until the calls started coming over the radio that there was a gunman in the cave. People said he was flushed. Panicked.”

  “So were we,” Liv counters softly.

  “Does it seem right to you that Gav is your only security now?” Easton demands, changing tact. “He has a target guarding a target. He’s leaving you vulnerable.”

  “Gav’s not my only guard. Fren still alternates in.”

  “But most of the time it’s Gav. Another Eventide.”

  “It’s because he knows Gav can take care of himself,” I argue.

  “I think it’s more a testament to how sexist Fuller is than how guilty he
may be,” Liv reasons. “When a girl was in danger, he put a guard on her. When a man is in danger, he arms him. And then tells him to guard the girl.”

  I nod reluctantly. “That’s a pretty fair point. He doesn’t have a lot of respect for women. He thinks they’re weak.”

  “Well, Liv doesn’t have the training that Gav has,” Easton reminds us.

  Liv meets my eyes, a small, secret smile on her lips. She’s never told anyone that I trained her to fight. I kept it to myself because I didn’t want an earful from the Captain about it. I knew I was doing the right thing teaching her, though.

  Especially now, when the threat against her is more real than ever.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Liv

  A week later Grayson is allowed to leave the hospital. He’s still in a lot of pain. He’s taking regular doses of Exicodone, an Ambrios made opiate. It’s a strong painkiller that makes you lethargic and a little foggy, but even through that fog Grayson is clearly still in pain. Dr. Kanden is confident it will start to fade soon. She says work is probably a good thing for him right now, it will get him up and moving, but he needs to be careful. He can’t overdo it. He needs to remember to rest and keep up with his medication.

  “I hate the way it makes me feel,” he grumbles tiredly, trudging through his apartment.

  I watch him walk gingerly through the gloom. He’s in shorts and a t-shirt, his feet bare on the hard floor. He limps when he moves. He’s favoring his left side. The side where he took the bullet. He eases down on the couch slowly, his mouth pulled tight in a grimace.

  I fight the urge to go help him. He wants to do everything that he can on his own, so I stand at a distance, trying not to hover.

  “I know,” I sympathize, “but you’d hate the way you feel more if you didn’t take it.”

  “How do I know I still need it if I can’t feel the pain through it?”

  “Dr. Kanden said you could slowly lower your dosage. Take a little less and a little less until you find the pain. But not yet. She wants you to stay comfortable while you get used to walking around all the time. You’ve been in a bed for weeks. You’re going to be weak.”