Campbell closed down the display and sat back in his chair, pressing his fingertips together. “Who to replace Cross?” he whispered to himself. Campbell had not needed to replace an operative since recruiting Heather Davis, nor had he spent any time reviewing the TRTV evaluations to hand-select an ideal candidate. However, he needed to find a replacement for Cross fast, and someone with superior investigative skills was ideal. His mind wandered over past evaluations for old candidates that he would attempt to pull from the TRTV pool when a flitting thought drifted in from nowhere.
Silas Graham had the investigative skills Campbell needed. Reopening his display and keyboard, Campbell searched through his secret files until he found the folder labeled as JANUS. Within the folder, he found the string of reports from the security and medical personnel who had interacted with Graham from the moment Celeste called for help until Graham had arrived at the crisis unit.
Images documenting Graham’s skin peeling away from his body opened one by one, as Campbell re-read the notes made by the clinic staff. The final entry made by the attending surgeon, a young doctor named Nathan Park, stood out from the rest of the text.
“The patient has lost all of his epidermis. The emergency tissue grafts just seemed to fizzle and melt off his body as quickly as we could apply it. This patient’s condition is even worse than that of Private Simmonds, who seemed to be making progress, but died inexplicably after a successful skin transplant. We’ve wrapped the patient in sterile bandages and have submersed him in an antibacterial bath with a breathing tube. He has not regained consciousness since his arrival.”
The next file Campbell reviewed contained the counterfeit orders to transfer Graham to the Cathedral for healing and the subsequent falsified certificate of death. At the time, Campbell was only trying to keep a victim of the disease linked to General Reynolds away from the public eye. Now, Campbell realized that Graham could still be useful.
Campbell started formulating the plan in his mind to recruit Graham into the Cathedral’s secret project. For several minutes, each task and responsibility necessary to bring Silas Graham from the dead and into his private fold congealed into a defined strategy.
With his newest secret settled deep into the dark corners of his mind, Campbell pulled out one of his private headsets from the desk drawer. The dull tone indicated a secure connection to the person to whom he needed to report the latest incident.
“Yes?” the voice said.
“Zeus,” Campbell said with respect. “There’s been another incident with Reynolds. This time it involved Sergeant Heather Davis.”
The voice on the other end breathed in slow, rattled breaths for several moments. “Continue,” he responded.
EIGHTY-EIGHT
The last Dissident freighter had escaped Earth’s orbit, performing a space-fold jump, before another Olympic carrier could intercept them. The Simmonds’s had been escorted to the ship’s mess hall where Felicia briefed them on the disease that had inflicted Daryl. She omitted the part where Garrett Haas was the one responsible for infecting Daryl at the site of the collision, as well as her role in terminating Daryl’s life. She knew she would have to deal with that harsh reality at some point in the future, but now was not the time.
The remainder of the Dissident convoy had contacted the ship’s captain once they finished their space-fold jump, selecting a rendezvous point far away from Earth.
Evangeline cried when she finally saw the faces of her parents’ Angel bodies on the display sitting on the desk within the small private room.
“We made it out, Little Star,” her father cooed with pride. “We owe it all to you, Jack, and to everyone who sacrificed themselves for the sake of our evacuation.” She spent the better part of an hour recounting the battle against the Leviathan, but most of their conversation focused on Jack’s unresponsive condition.
“We’ll take a look at him as soon as we can, Evy,” Elizabeth said, standing next to Matthew. “It’s the least we can do. We’ll do whatever we can to help Jack.”
Evangeline could not restrain herself from yawning. It occurred to her that she had not slept since she had woken up in the transport vehicle, staring into Kevin’s face. That moment seemed like years ago. Matthew smiled at her through the display.
“You should go get some rest, sweetheart,” he said, smiling tenderly. Evangeline opened her mouth to protest - it had been a long time since anyone had ordered her to get some shut-eye. As a child, she had resisted sleep because she knew she would be missing the exciting, grown-up things her parents did when the sandman visited her in the night. Now, as an adult reunited with her parents, she did not want to take the chance that this was nothing more than a dream from which she would awaken.
Her conflicted mind raced between the pros and cons of the two possibilities. If it was real, then she had her parents back and she would be able to talk to them again when she woke, but not Jack. Jack would not be there. He would still be in a catatonic state, unresponsive to her pleas and her needs.
If it was a dream, she would wake up in the comforting arms of the man she loved and the events of the last few days would never have happened, but her parents would still be dead, having abandoned her as a child.
Matthew watched the conflict on his daughters face. “Don’t worry. We’ll be here when you wake up, sweetie!” he assured her. “I promise!” Evangeline took a deep breath and fought the burning behind her eyes. Her eyelids suddenly felt heavy.
“I’ve missed you so much,” she whispered as she lightly touched her hand to the display. She tried to glean some physical proof that she was not dreaming, that all the revelations of the past few days were now part of her reality. Both of her parents’ eyes filled with tears.
“We’ve missed you too, Evy,” Elizabeth cried. “Probably more than you’ll ever know. We’ll see you when you reach the rendezvous.” Evangeline fleetingly wondered where the rendezvous would take place, but she was too exhausted to ask.
They said their goodnights and Evangeline’s display faded to black. She stood up from the chair in which she had been sitting and stretched her aching muscles. She felt the cracks in her spine as she reached up to touch the bulkhead of the captain’s quarters with her fingertips.
The captain had been kind enough to offer her his room so she could visit with her parents in private. She opened the door and walked down the deserted corridor toward the infirmary where Jack lay motionless on a gurney. She felt more fatigued than she ever remembered being in her whole life. A weariness bore down on her body, mind, and spirit. If it were not for the overriding concern she felt over the condition of her husband, she knew she could fall sleep for a solid week without interruption.
Evangeline sat next to Jack, holding his still hand, while the medic on board examined his injuries. Kevin was also in the room, having been the one who had insisted that Evangeline take some time to speak with her parents and volunteering to watch over Jack until her return.
After several minutes of scanning, the medic blew out his breath in frustration. “I can’t seem to find anything medically wrong with him,” he said. “Other than a few scrapes, it’s amazing that he survived the barrage.”
The medic set down his scanning equipment on the counter behind him. “All we can do is wait until we rendezvous with the other ships and hope someone else has a better idea of what’s going on. I’m sorry.” The medic wrung his hands together in defeat. He knew he was out of his league, as his knowledge of medicine was limited to cuts, scrapes, and setting broken bones. Jack’s impairment was far beyond his expertise.
“Thank you for trying, anyway,” Evangeline said with a feeble attempt at a smile. “I know you’ve done all you can.”
Jack had been catatonic ever since the Simmonds’s had arrived at the crater. He had not spoken or made any indication that he was aware of her presence since he had warned Evangeline not to remove his interface in the midst of the remains of the bunker. Her eyes fixed on Jack’s face.
/> “I’d like to be alone with my husband, please,” she said to no one in particular without removing her gaze from Jack’s closed eyes.
The medic nodded his head then gave a quick glance at Kevin. Kevin hopped down from the counter on which he perched. He put his hand on the young medic’s shoulder, pushing him toward the door as they walked out of the infirmary together. Kevin closed the door behind himself to give Evangeline more privacy.
Jack was motionless on the gurney, as still as death. The soft, steady rhythm of his breathing and the weak and intermittent fluttering of his eyelids were the only signs of life.
Evangeline lifted Jack’s right hand and lay down beside him on the gurney, pulling his arm around her like a blanket. As she lay beside the man she loved, the strain of the day began to take its toll. The weight of her eyelids became heavier as she surrendered to exhaustion.
One final, heartfelt desire flooded her being before she slipped out of consciousness. With tears streaming down her cheeks, she buried her face into his chest and cried.
“Please come back to me, Jack.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Nicholas Adams grew up in the small, rural town of Boring, OR with his three brothers and three sisters.
After graduating from High School in Gresham, OR he attended BYU-ID and received his Associates Degree in Pre-Med. From there he returned to Portland, OR and attended Portland State University where he earned his Bachelor’s Degree in Biology/Pre-Med before changing his career track to Architecture.
He completed his second Bachelor’s Degree in Architecture at Portland State University before going on to achieve his Master of Architecture Degree from the University of Utah in Salt Lake City, UT.
After his graduation, he and his wife moved to the Phoenix Arizona area where they adopted four children over the next eight years.
Nicholas currently lives in the Salt Lake City area where he is an Associate member of the American Institute of Architects (AIA).
His interests include reading, video games, volleyball, and motorcycles.
www.theseraphimchronicles.weebly.com
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Avenging Angels (The Seraphim Chronicles Book 1) Page 46