by J. R. Rain
I chuckle. “Okay, that’ll work for a little while.”
Chapter Ten
Medical Leave
By the end of the week, I’m sure I’ve slipped into the early stages of going stir crazy. I still can’t sleep at night, and staying up during the day is an uphill battle. To Danny’s alarm, and the surprise of Nico Fortunato, my boss, I decide to show up for work the following Monday.
I had a brief phone conversation with Mary Lou about that, since I wanted her opinion. She asked me a bunch of questions about how I’d been sleeping, if anything weird had happened, and my ‘relationship’ with sunlight. She only usually gets that inquisitive when she’s working on a claim. She’s never pried into my life (or lack thereof) so much before, but her tone remained concerned, so I told her as much as I could think of. For now, neither of us mentioned the v-word. We treated this as a real disease, which it was. I was sure of it. I mean, it had to be, right?
Monday morning, I almost pound a fist onto my alarm clock to shut it up. I do not want to get out of bed at 7 a.m., but I do anyway. The walk to the bathroom makes me feel like a drunk college student the day after a party epic enough to trigger a police raid. My left leg won’t bend at the knee and my right behaves like a tube of Jell-O. Unsurprisingly, I don’t need to use the toilet, but I take a long, hot, glorious shower.
Once I dry off, I apply sunscreen, then a coat of foundation to my face until I look only a little eerie in the mirror. A pantsuit covers most of my body, which will help. Hopefully, the guys won’t tease me too much about the stupid hat and shades.
Danny hovers over me during the time I’d normally have been scarfing down oatmeal or something for breakfast, continually asking me if I’m sure I want to do this.
“Sure? No… but I have to. Medical leave won’t last forever, and we need the income.” I kiss him on the cheek. His idea of butcher’s blood helped my skin temperature issue, and we’ve gotten a bit more intimate, but he’s stopped short of going all the way.
“All right.” He shakes his head, staring down. “It doesn’t feel like a good idea. You often have to go outside for your job, you know. What if something happens?”
I lean my rear end against the counter, arms folded. “Maybe I could tell them I have that xeroderma thing, and request some kind of office position that won’t send me out into the field.” I sigh. “That would probably change my classification and I’d no longer be a sworn agent. And it would be boring as hell.”
He grins. “I thought your job right now is pretty boring.”
“It is.” I rub my ribs. “Except for when it’s not. The problem is… I’d need an actual doctor to issue an official diagnosis before I can take any medical claims to them. This sunscreen seems to be working for now, so I think I’ll play it by ear and see how it goes.”
He sighs, but nods. “I don’t have the best feeling about this, but I’ll support you if it’s what you want to do. Be careful, Sam.”
“I will.” I kiss him again.
His response is noticeably better since I seem to have some heat in my skin again.
“Sam?” Danny shakes me.
“Huh? What?” I lean back and blink at him.
“You just… like fainted on me.”
Whoa. Total blackout. “I did?”
“That’s not… Look, Sam. You should stay home. We still don’t know what’s going on with you.”
“Maybe, but if I collapse at work, it’ll help my case for extending medical leave.” I wink.
“You’ve been groggy ever since the attack. I’m terrified this isn’t going to get better any time soon.” He squeezes me close.
I’m not groggy at night, though. In fact, I can’t sleep when the sun goes down. Maybe I should get a job on the graveyard shift. Wonder if any career-type jobs exist with those hours, and if so, do they pay anything close to what I get now? Maybe air traffic control? Ugh. Way too much stress.
“You called your sister?”
“Yeah, she’ll be here any minute. You going back to the office today then?”
He nods. “Yeah. First one out picks the kids up from Mary Lou’s?”
“Right. Back to normal.” I wink.
As if.
***
I hotfoot it to the Momvan and hop in fast. After a moment, I stop feeling like I’ve gone for a swim in a deep fryer. Ouch. At least I’ve got no visible signs of burning or smoke, but holy hell, that hurts! The sunglasses mostly let me see, though whenever sunlight glints off anything reflective, it’s a needle jabbing me in the eye.
It’s been some time since I had any contact with ‘the guys,’ though I have been on the phone with Chad a couple times since my discharge from the hospital. Nothing grand, mostly status updates about my health, office gossip, and a whole lot of playful bitching about him having to cover my workload. I offered to take some on from home, but without a special secure modem, I don’t have access to the HUD servers.
The ride past familiar landmarks gives me hope that my life might eventually get back to some semblance of normality. I get caught at the same red light that always snags me, and smile when the Starbucks comes into view. When it occurs to me that I may not be able to drink coffee again, I cringe like I’ve been told a family member perished unexpectedly.
Okay, maybe there is a good enough motivation for me to check with a doctor about my digestive issues. Life without coffee? Ack!
When I get to the office, Chad, Bryce, Michelle, and Ernie swarm me like I’m a wounded foal limping back to pasture. They all pepper me with questions about the attack, so I give them the ‘sane’ version, leaving out my thoughts that whoever attacked me had been too fast to see moving, or seemed to come out of nowhere, or had the strength to hurl me thirty feet.
Nico jogs over a few minutes into the conversation and pats me on the shoulder. “Sam! I didn’t think you were serious about coming in. It’s only been two weeks… How are you even standing?”
“The injury looked a lot worse than it was. The doctors were amazing.” I rub where my neck meets my right shoulder. “I’m pretty much back to a hundred percent.”
“Pretty much?” asks Chad.
“I’m still working out the particulars, but I seem to have developed a sun allergy.”
“Is that why you’re wearing that, umm, hat?” asks Michelle.
I nod, sighing. “Yeah. I’m still not sure of the best way to manage it. For now, this seems to be passable. Ridiculous hat and all.”
“You’re not going to be able to wear that in the field,” says Chad. “It’s way out of regs.”
“Any idea what it is?” asks Ernie. “I mean, the allergy? You look pretty amazing, Sammy. If I didn’t know better, I’d accuse you of getting some work done.” He winks. “You dropped a few years.”
“Hah.” I smirk at my former training partner. Ernie’s the most senior of us, and I spent my first few months working with him. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were hitting on me.”
Ernie laughs, then shrugs.
“He’s kinda right,” says Chad. “You do look younger.”
“Maybe almost dying made me so happy to be alive that I’m, like, supercharged with life or something.”
Everyone chuckles. At least no one points out the silliness of my explanation. The truth is, it’s the only explanation I have. Rather, the only somewhat sane explanation.
I resume explaining the attack, but the only detail I can give them about who did it―I make sure they all know it was a man and not innocent coyotes―is that gold medallion that dangled in front of my face. Alas, the way it all happened didn’t give me a good look at his face. The only other description I can give them is he came out of nowhere, wore all black, and he was really damn strong.
Maybe twenty minutes go by before the ‘welcome back’ meeting breaks up and people return to their desks. Nico gives me the nod, and waves for Chad to follow us. We meander down a row of cubicles and into his office. Chad nudges the door closed.
“Sam, talk to me,” says Nico. “What are we looking at in terms of your health? Are you back back, or is there anything I need to know about?”
“As far as I’m aware, just the sensitivity to sunlight. I haven’t figured out exactly what’s going on so far, but Danny thinks it’s xeroderma pigmentosum.” I ramble through an overview of it. “Yeah, I know it’s a genetic thing, but the symptoms are the closest thing we’ve been able to find to what’s going on.”
“Have you been examined by a doctor for that?” asks Nico.
“Not yet. I was kinda hoping it would go away on its own, but a doctor is on my to-do list.”
Nico fidgets. “Is it going to get in the way of your job?”
Based on my sunscreen forays, I’m in for a lot of pain, but I should be able to work past it. “I’m using some high-test sunblock, which seems to be working. I don’t think it’s going to be an issue, but if it is, you’ll be the second to know. I’m not going to do anything that’ll risk Chad or anyone’s lives.”
“All right.” Nico smiles, evidently liking that answer. “I’ll trust your judgment. Chad’s too.”
He nods.
I look back at my partner. “I’m sure he’ll let me know if there’s anything out of sorts.”
“Absolutely.” Chad pats me on the shoulder.
“I mean it…” I let out a long sigh. “If you think I’m a liability, I want you to tell me.”
Nico tilts his head. “Do you think you’ll be a liability?”
“I don’t expect to be, but until I get some good answers, I can’t say for sure.” I look Nico in the eye. “Whatever happens, I do not want to put anyone’s life in danger.”
Chad holds up his hand, showing off a small red mark by his index knuckle. “I’m more than willing to jump in front of a paper cut for you.”
I laugh. My partner can be such a jackass sometimes, but I love him.
“Might as well head over to Conference A,” says Nico. “We’ll be a couple minutes early for the department meeting.”
“Right,” I say.
Chad nudges me. “Coffee?”
I cringe. “I wish. Can’t do it for a while. It’s been pure hell.”
“Ooh.” He flinches. “Really? That’s horrible. You sure you can’t cheat it?”
“Yeah. I’m sure. Unless you fancy me pulling an Exorcist and projectile vomiting java everywhere.”
“Ouch,” says Nico.
I roll my eyes. “It’s so annoying. Some kind of reaction to one of the meds they gave me. I’m stuck with these special nutrient milkshakes for a while.”
Both men cringe.
Nico heads straight to Conference Room A, and I follow while Chad swings by the coffee machine. I can smell it from here and I desperately want some, but I know what will happen if I dare try. Another round of “good to have you back” goes around the room as I enter and flop in one of the open seats.
In the couple of minutes it takes for Nico to get his notes in order, I realize how comfortable the chair is.
“Hey, you all right?” Chad whispers, nudging my arm. “Nico’s not that boring.”
I force my head up, evidently having passed out. “Yeah.” I scoot more upright in my seat and make eye contact with Chad, smiling. “Damn meds.”
Wow, she looks beat, says Chad’s voice in my head.
Huh, what? I blink at him. Obviously, I imagined hearing him speak. He has a look on his face that implies he thought me exhausted, and I just, you know, pictured him saying it. I lean my elbow on the table and rest my head upon my hand, staring aimlessly across the table at Michelle.
Such bullshit they haven’t found the guy who attacked her, says Michelle’s voice in my thoughts.
My arm falls away from my head, striking the table with a thump. My eyes must be bugging out as everyone’s looking at me.
“Something wrong, Sam?” asks Nico.
The instant I look at him, I hear, She’s hiding something. Damn, I hope she doesn’t have terminal cancer. She even looks thinner.
“Uhh. No, I’m okay. Two weeks off without an alarm clock. Just adjusting to waking up early again.”
Nico gives me this sad little frown, but nods.
…damn pain in the ass with the forms… Ernie’s voice dances across my brain.
“All right, where is everyone with their current cases? Resolve rate?” asks Nico.
I sink into the chair and catch Bryce staring at me.
Who in their right mind goes jogging at night anyway? What was she thinking? Damn lucky she’s not dead.
With a soft grunt, I bow my head and focus my attention on the crappy fake wood grain in the table. What is this new hell? I’m hearing people’s thoughts now? I clamp a hand over my mouth before I laugh aloud at my insanity. Of course, I’m not hearing them think. I’m delirious from lack of sleep and sliding into a new world of crazy. Hearing voices is a sign of psychosis, and I’m pretty sure insomnia can lead to mental issues.
Crap.
I sink into my chair, listening to everyone talk about their investigations. My body already doesn’t want to be functioning now, but I can’t pass out in the middle of a meeting. The whole point of me being here is trying not to lose this job. I busted my ass too much, put in too many hours to get where I am to let something like falling asleep in the office end my career.
They better find that son of a bitch. Or I’m going to start looking.
Chad’s voice breaks the silence in my head. Dammit! I’m cracking. This isn’t happening to me. I’m not allowing myself to go legit nuts, not after recovering from an attack that nearly killed me. I keep my head down for the rest of the meeting, avoiding eye contact with anyone on the way back to my desk.
“Chad?” I ask, with one foot in my cube.
“Hmm?” he mumbles from behind me.
I turn to face him. “Have you heard anything regarding the investigation into my attack?”
He scowls. “Not a damn thing. Pisses me off. Someone attacks a federal agent and it’s like the FBI isn’t even trying. I’ve never seen them take this long to turn up even one scrap of evidence. I swear I’m”―Chad pinches at the air―“this close to digging into it myself.”
Holy crap! No effing way. I imagined him thinking that, and it’s really on his mind!
“Sam?” Chad’s anger evaporates to concern. “What? Are you okay? Does something hurt?”
“No. Why?”
“You, uhh, got this sudden look on your face like you might be having a heart attack.”
I back into my cube. “Oh, no. I was just, umm, thinking that the guy’s still out there.” Okay, Sam. Relax. You did not really hear his thoughts. Lack of sleep is messing with you. First day back at work—let’s try not to leave in an ambulance and a straitjacket.
“Yeah.” Chad sets his hands on his hips and shakes his head. “We’ll get that son of a bitch. Don’t worry.”
“I’ll try not to.” Yeah right. Worry seems to be all I can do lately. I keep walking backward until my leg bumps the seat of my chair and I fall into it.
Great… exactly what I didn’t need. Another unexplainable weirdness.
Well, I suppose hearing other people’s voices in my head is better than going schizophrenic.
Maybe.
Chapter Eleven
Overdoing It
This part of the job had always been boring, but on top of my body wanting to shut down, it’s intolerable.
Hours sink away as I slog through reports and cases that’ve backlogged during my ‘vacation.’ Every so often, the clock jumps ahead by twenty or thirty minutes, suggesting I’d blacked out and woke back up. Fortunately, the cube walls are high and no one can see me unless they peered into my workspace.
At 12:08, Chad does exactly that. Fortunately, I’m awake at the time.
“Hey, Sam?”
“Yeah.” I swivel in my chair and smile up at him.
“Wow. You look like you could use some sun.”
N
o, not really, I think. “Umm.”
“Got a routine inspection scheduled for today. Wanna go?” He points over his shoulder with his thumb. “I can fly solo if you’re not up for it.”
“Nah. If I wasn’t up for it, I wouldn’t be here.” I lock the computer, stand, and do a quick sunscreen check. “One sec.”
As soon as I reach for the massive hat, Chad chuckles. “Are you really going to wear that?”
Umm. Drat. It’s way out of regs and it does look ridiculous. At least I have long hair. “Not unless I need to.”
I carry it to the car―painfully aware that some of the sunscreen might have been rubbed off the top of my ears―and leave the monstrosity in the back seat, letting Chad drive. On the way out, I tell him more about my sun allergy, because, well, he’s looking at me kinda weird.
“Oh, that sucks. Hope that clears up. I don’t think the brass is going to let you wear that on duty, though. Makes you look like some bat-shit crazy, hermit, old-lady author who lives with thirty-four cats alone in a castle somewhere you can only get to by riding a donkey up a steep cliff.”
His comment makes me laugh until tears slip down my cheeks. “Wow… where did you come up with that?”
“I dunno. Out of the blue.”
I chuckle again at the donkey part; truly inspired. “Danny said I needed a toy Shih Tzu to go with the hat.”
He snickers. “The man’s got a point.”
“Well, you can both go to hell.” I chuckle and close my eyes.
The next thing I know, the whump of Chad’s door wakes me up. Yikes! I stumble out the door―and wake right up. Nothing like standing in a three-hundred-degree oven to keep a gal on her toes.
Chad’s already on the porch of a smallish one-story home with a beat-up white fence along both sides. He probably spent the ride talking about it, but I’d zonked out. Please don’t let me have narcolepsy. No, I’ve just been up all night, every night, for two weeks. I need to find a way to get my sleep schedule back to normal.
A faint, and wholly sinister, chuckle glides across the back of my awareness. I spin, but there’s no one whispering in my ear.