by K. M. Hodge
“Is she going to be okay?”
The doctor averted his gaze. “She’s awake, which is a good sign, but she’s not out of the woods just yet. You can visit with her for a little bit.”
Jason followed the surgeon through the double doors, where a nurse handed him overalls and a mask.
“To prevent infection,” she said.
He put them on without complaint, despite his anxious desire to see Sally right away, and followed the nurse. His heart pounded as he stood a few yards away.
His firecracker bride, who always seemed larger than life, looked like a pale porcelain doll. Her hospital gown engulfed her small frame, like a little girl trying on her mother’s clothes. He sucked in a breath as she opened her eyes, and when the corner of her mouth turned up in a small smile, he rushed to her side.
“Hey there.” He touched the back of her hand above her IV port. “You gave me quite a scare.”
Sally wet her lips and swallowed hard. “Sorry I scared you.” Her raspy voice raked over his nerves.
“Don’t worry about that.”
She looked past him, not really listening. “Where’s Zane?”
Jason sat down on the small chair by her bed. “He’s really busy.”
“Right.”
“Sally—”
“Don’t.” She wet her lips again and her eyelids started to droop.
“Why don’t you get some rest? I’m sure he’ll be able to see you in the morning.”
Jason could see the fight leave her, and she closed her eyes. A moment later, as a soft snoring escaped her parted lips, he let out a tired sigh and held her hand.
The hard pull of exhaustion made it hard for him to sit up straight, and his back stooped forward. Soon, he rested his head on the edge of her pillow. The chemical smell of the hospital replaced her natural musk, but she still felt like the Blue he knew.
***
“Sir.”
Jason startled awake as a nurse stood hunched over him, shaking his shoulder.
How long have I been asleep?
The nurse smiled. “You should get some rest, sir. In a real bed.”
“Sorry. Guess I was more tired than I thought.”
One of the men that had escorted him from his meeting stood in the doorframe with his arms crossed over his massive barrel chest.
“I guess my ride is here.” Jason stood and stretched his creaking back.
Some wedding night, sleeping alone while my wife lay in a hospital bed hooked up to machines.
He ignored his aches and pains and bent over to kiss her. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he whispered.
He stumbled out of the room towards his escort. His limbs stiff from so much sitting and waiting. “All right, Cassius Clay, lead the way.”
The heavily muscled man stared back at him blankly.
No sense of humor.
The man cracked his knuckles and glowered down at Jason, whose ribs still hurt from the earlier jab.
I need to just shut the fuck up.
He glanced back at his bride one more time. Charles and his goons be damned; he had married the love of his life today. He paused for a moment, considering the irony that if it hadn’t been for The Syndicate, he would have never found Sally.
“Move.” The goon shoved him hard in the middle of his back, almost knocking Jason to the ground.
“I’m moving. I’m moving.” He threw up his hands and started down the hall to the elevators.
The goon checked his watch, an old-fashioned number with a face that ticked away the minutes and hours—just like the kind Sally used to wear.
“Nice watch.”
The goon glowered and shoved him forward. “Move it.”
Jason clenched his fist. He was tired of being pushed around. One of these days he would be free of The Syndicate and this mess, but until then he would bide his time. If anything, he had learned the art of playing the long game. He could wait.
***
Unknown Building
Unknown Location
June 29, 2026
Midnight
~~~
Charles lay still on the cool, hard slab, surrounded by three men dressed in scrubs. It hurt too much to move, so he didn’t. He had misjudged Scott’s capabilities. Sally had warned him about this but, of course, he hadn’t listened. Scott had been right—seventeen years of slovenly living had made Charles soft. He would need help. He needed some kind of advantage... but what?
“Hold still, sir.” A young man ripped Charles’ shirt open, exposing the wound to his abdomen.
He flinched as the man palpated his wound. Beads of sweat poured down his face and he trembled. He slammed his eyes shut and grit his teeth together as waves of pain washed over him.
“Drugs,” he managed to choke out.
One of the men shot him up with something that acted quickly.
The men spoke in hushed whispers to each other as they worked.
“He’s going into shock. He needs a real doctor.”
“Doc is at the hospital taking care of Blue. He can’t leave.” The man paused for a moment. “Wait... where’s that fat fuck... what’s his name?” He snapped his fingers trying to remember. “Jacobs?”
Charles wet his lips and swallowed hard. “No way. His hands shake like a drunk. I know who we can get, but he won’t come willingly.”
One of the men, a burly fellow with knuckles the size of walnuts, stepped out of the shadows. “The boy?”
Charles’ jaw flinched as he swallowed back the bile. “Yeah, the boy.”
“I can bring him in.”
“Hurry.” Charles clenched his teeth again and closed his eyes.
***
St. Rita’s Hospital
Danville, Virginia
June 29, 2026
5:00 AM
~~~
Zane sauntered out of the stairwell and into the dark parking garage—a shortcut to the all-night cafe the hot admin chick had told him about. Apparently, the place made an amazing burger and gave discounts to the hospital staff that worked nights. For a moment, he considered tracking down Julie and seeing if she wanted to come with him, but in the end, he’d chickened out.
Let her cool her heels.
She never came up to the apartment last night, and he hadn’t seen her around the doctors’ sleeping lounge today, either. She seemed to be purposefully avoiding him.
“Hey!” A man jumped out in front of him. His disheveled hair and wild eyes put Zane on edge. “You a doctor?”
Zane sucked in a nervous breath. “Um... yeah. Are you hurt?”
“No, but I need your help. My friend’s hurt.”
Zane glanced around them, but didn’t see anyone else on the empty street. “What’s wrong? Where’s your friend?”
“Over here.” The man grabbed hold of him with his meaty paw and dragged him down the sidewalk towards a dark alley behind the hospital.
Zane let himself be dragged off into the darkness, despite his growing apprehension. “Maybe I should get a nurse—”
“No, he’s just over here.”
Zane tugged back his arm and paused. Something about this whole thing seemed fishy. He turned to go back, but a fist connected with his jaw. The man twisted Zane’s arm behind his back and pinned him against the brick wall. He grunted and tried to break loose.
“Don’t even think about it,” the man snarled.
Something plastic and tight cinched Zane’s wrists together behind his back. The man yanked him by the arms, and he winced as pain shot through his shoulders.
The man strong-armed him to a car parked at the end of alley, then covered his mouth and nose with a pungent cloth.
His last thought before he blacked out was of Julie and their fight.
***
Drip, drip, drip.
Zane awoke in a groggy haze. He gingerly touched his aching jaw and winced. He vaguely recalled getting punched, but not much else.
He opened his eyes and tried to take in his s
urroundings. A cold cinderblock wall held him up in a sitting position. It smelled like a moldy old basement, the kind where the kids in the neighborhood would drink beer and smoke pot. The dank room had one small window made of thick glass blocks at the top of the wall. A thin sliver of light filtered through the dirty glass, giving the room a creepy glow.
He looked over his body in the dim light. Everything hurt. Raw circular wounds marked his wrists, and his pinkie toe still throbbed from when he’d kicked the door on the roof of the hospital.
After taking a few breaths, he worked up the courage to try and stand. A wave of nausea washed over him and his heartbeat fluttered. He paused to check his pulse—definitely irregular. A cold sweat broke out all over his body, and he swallowed hard as he started to dry heave.
Did someone drug me?
After a few seconds, the spasms in his gut subsided and the band that squeezed his chest started to loosen. He stood, then shuffled uneasily over to the metal door and tested the knob. Locked.
His thoughts raced as he played out in his mind the reasoning behind his imprisonment. If Scott were behind this, surely he would be dead already. Nothing in the room gave him any clues.
Curious, he pressed his ear against the cool metal and closed his eyes, but heard nothing except the slow drip of water from the ceiling—a sound that would soon drive him mad. He sat back down, pushed all other thoughts away, and took a long, deep breath. He held it, and then let it slowly out his mouth. The mindful breaths calmed his frayed nervous system and helped regulate his heart rate. He needed to be calm to get out of here.
A hard clicking and scraping noise sounded from outside the room. The sound grew louder as it got closer and closer, like an incoming train. Soon the noise stopped and a shadow fell over the crack below the door. The metal door groaned as it swung open, and in the doorframe stood a familiar man—a known Syndicate operative like his old man.
Zane crossed himself out of habit and fear, before blowing out an anxious breath that tasted like bile.
“Oh good, you’re awake.” The man held out his arm, ushering Zane out of the cell.
A single bulb hanging from the ceiling cast an eerie light down the long, dark hallway. “Come on, son. He’s been waiting a long time for you to wake up.”
Each step felt like a death march. Maybe he could appeal to the man to save him. After all, he’d known Zane since he was a little boy. Once or twice he had even eaten dinner with their family. “Mr. Henry, right? Bobby’s father? You worked with my old man.”
“Yeah, lad, that’s right.”
“Let me go, sir. I don’t want to die.” Zane’s voice came out in a throaty whine, but he didn’t care.
“Man up, lad. Your pappy will be rolling in his grave listening to you whine and beg for your life like that. And anyways, the boss man doesn’t want to kill ya.”
“He doesn’t?”
Zane clenched and unclenched his fists, trying to steady his nerves. He debated whether or not to fight Mr. Henry and make a break for it, but he didn’t know where he was or what other security might be on the outside. He also didn’t think he could beat up an old man, someone who had always been kind to him growing up. So he followed Mr. Henry like he did as a boy, when he would take him and Bobby fishing or hunting. What other choice did he have?
As they rounded the corner, the building architecture changed to a more modern and less frightening design.
“Where are we?”
“MDNA headquarters, brother. Welcome home, Zane.”
He spun around to see his mother’s best friend, Jude, standing behind him. The older man had always been like an uncle to Zane, a port of call in his turbulent childhood. Now, his presence calmed him. He hugged Jude to his chest, grateful to see a friend amid the storm.
“How’ve you been, kid? I’ve missed that ugly mug of yours.”
Henry grumbled. “Take the kid, would ya?”
Jude nodded. “I got it.”
As soon as Henry got out of eat shot, Zane asked the one question that burned most on his mind. “What the hell is going on, Jude? What’s Henry doing here? Doesn’t he work for The Syndicate still?”
The old man slung his arm around Zane’s shoulders. “There’s a lot to catch you up on, but first we need you to do your doctor thang.”
“O-kay.”
He followed Jude down another long corridor where men and women were bent over devices and talking in hushed tones. Zane recognized some of the faces as friends of his mother. They turned a corner into a brightly lit room with steel countertops and cabinets. Equipment lay out on the counter, including tools used for putting in device implants.
On the metal slab in the center of the room lay a pale and bandaged Charles.
Zane couldn’t believe his eyes. “Dude, seriously... you’re working with him?”
Jude backed up and held out his hands. “Calm down, man. I’ll explain everything. We just need you to fix him up first. The stab wound is deep and he’s pretty jacked up. We think he might even have a concussion or some shit like that. He’s been puking and acting all weird and shit. We have another doctor on the premises but he’s strictly research. Don’t really blame the boss for not wanting that one to patch him up.”
“Let him die,” Zane said under his breath.
“Little man, I know you don’t mean that. You’re a good kid—a doctor. What happened to all that save the world shit you’re always spouting off about?” Deep lines etched across Jude’s forehead and his eyes narrowed.
On the slab beside them, Charles grimaced. “Let me talk to him alone, Jude.”
“Sure thing, boss.” His so-called-friend tapped Zane on the arm with his fist. “Catch you later, man.”
Zane watched as Jude walked away, leaving him alone with Charles.
“You’re going to get rid of that chip on your shoulder, kid, and you’re going to help me,” Charles said.
“And why would I do that?”
“Besides the fact that you’re a good man and an even better doctor?”
“Besides that, yeah. Excuse me if I don’t feel all that altruistic this morning.”
“Well, all right then. How’s this for a reason?” Charles pressed some buttons on a remote he held in his hand. “If you don’t do as I say, then I will send this to the police.”
Zane’s heartbeat thundered in his chest and he broke out into a cold sweat as he watched a video feed materialize on the screen above him, showing him helping a prisoner escape. The pieces of the puzzle started to come together.
Shit.
He wordlessly hobbled over to the counter and pulled out a pair of gloves. If he tried really hard, maybe he could treat the man without thinking about how thoroughly he’d been fucked over by him.
“Turn that shit off.”
A slow smile spread across Charles’ face and he flicked off the video. “Sure thing, Doc. Whatever you say.”
Zane grumbled under his breath. Might as well get this show on the road.
The putrid smell of infection hung in the air as he peeled back the bandage to get a look at the damage. The cut had lacerated Charles’ right side and seemed deep. Someone had tried to stitch it but had botched the job. The skin around the wound was hot and covered with red streaks, but the bastard would live.
“You’re very lucky.”
Charles groaned. “I’m not feeling all that lucky right now.”
Zane palpated around the open wound, causing Charles to jump in pain. “Well, it looks like whoever did this missed hitting any of your vital organs.”
He poked around in the drawers and cabinets until he found all the supplies he would need. After cleaning the wound, he used a three-gauge needle and nylon wire to stitch it up in a horizontal mattress stitch. Charles let out a slow exhale as Zane placed a pressure bandage on the wound. “That should take care of that.”
“Don’t you want to know who stabbed me?”
“No, not really.” Zane flashed a light in Charles’ eyes
. “I need you to take this quick test. It’s called King-Devick. Coaches use it with athletes that have closed head injuries.” He pulled up the test on the room’s mini and handed it to Charles.
The survey didn’t take long and the results were conclusive. While Charles’ wounds were serious, he would survive.
“From what I could examine of you, your stab wound, while gruesome, should heal up fine without any complications. I’ll order you some antibiotics since it looks a little infected. I don’t suggest you get into any knife fights anytime soon, though. From what Jude said, and based on the results from this test, you do appear to have a mild concussion. Without an x-ray, I can’t tell you if you have a skull fracture or not.”
Charles shifted on the table. “I need something for the pain.”
“Fine. Then can I go back to the hospital?”
“No, I have plans for you,” Charles said. “Consider yourself drafted into the MDNA Army.”
***
St. Rita’s Hospital
Danville, Virginia
June 29, 2026
7:00 AM
~~~
Mari walked down the now familiar corridors of the hospital with a large cup of coffee in hand. She checked her messages and found a reply from her supervisor saying she would approve the vacation time Mari had requested.
In the email, her boss indicated that HR couldn’t be more thrilled. She never took time off, but the thought of leaving Manny and going back to work made her stomach churn. She needed to be with him. It took almost losing him to make her realize how much he meant to her, a thought that brought a smile to her normally serious face.
The moment of introspective joy didn’t last long, though, as her watch buzzed with an incoming call, breaking her train of thought. The precinct’s number popped up on the ID.
“Mari speaking.”
“Hey, Espinoza, I get that you aren’t talking to me, but there are some things you need to know.”
The sound of Quinn’s voice sent a chill down her spin. “What?”
She could hear him sigh on the other end of the line. “I’m sorry to bother you while you’re on leave, but we got a call in today that I thought you should know about.”