by J. D. Dexter
With one more scathing glare at Scarsman, Rickman nods to Hunter and me, and walks down the hall in the opposite direction.
Scarsman’s red face is full of chagrin, but something about it makes my spidey-senses tingle. Once again, I check him on the Spectrum. Considering I saw embarrassment, complete with red flush on his physical body, something is wrong with this man. His Spectrum shows no change whatsoever. So, he’s either a sociopath, simply pulling on emotions like a mask for dramatic value, or something is horrendously wrong with him.
I blink back into my regular vision, trying to subtly place myself under Hunter’s arm, and focus on Scarsman.
“Well, that was embarrassing.” Scarsman ducks his head, like a truculent little boy. But something about the mannerism seems as fake as his red flush.
“I’d like to see the patient, please,” I state firmly. I want to get out of here and done with these people as quickly as humanly possible.
“Of course. If you’d both follow me.” He spins on his heel, his longer legs eating up the length of the hallway much faster than Lockwood’s.
We stop at an elevator bank, waiting while Scarsman signals for an elevator that’s going down.
We hear a ding behind us, all of us turning. We wait for a couple of passengers to disembark before all crowding into the smallest elevator known to mankind. Scarsman hits the B4 button, keeping it pressed as the doors close.
I’m glad Hunter and I are as friendly as we are, otherwise, this would just be uncomfortable.
We follow typical elevator etiquette: no one making eye contact, or trying to touch anyone else. For myself, I’ve got my eyes glued to the floor readout. I want to know how to find the office that we’ll be working in without anyone having to show me. Especially if that someone is Scarsman or Lockwood.
Descending down to the fourth level basement, I watch in growing horror as we keep going farther and farther down, well beyond the level Scarsman’s holding the button for.
“What’s going on?” I ask tremulously, angry that my voice is shaking so much.
The fear and anxiety I feel now is just piled on top of the crap that I haven’t been able to process yet, almost all of it out of my control. I’m sick and tired of all of the dread and unknown crap that has been bombarding my life lately.
“We’re going to meet the patient.” Scarsman’s voice is losing its humanity once again. He turns to look at me, a vacant smile on his face. His eyes once again as lifeless as a doll’s.
Hunter squeezes me, drawing my attention to his face. He gives me the barest of nods, his own face bland. Thankfully, Hunter notices Scarsman’s bizarreness, too.
I try to quiet my heartrate and get my breathing back under control. I’m not a huge fan of being this far underground. What’s one more anxiety? Thinking of how to fight off a skilled and trained agent fills my mind as we continue our descent into the lower levels of the FBI offices.
We finally come to a smooth stop. The elevator read-out showing B20. How in the world are there twenty floors below ground here?
The doors slide open silently. We’re in the middle of a blindingly white hallway, the florescent lights buzzing overhead. Everything is white; an eye-searing, unrelieved white. It brings to mind alien movies in which aliens are studied and dissected.
“This way,” Scarsman says, turning to the right.
Hunter and I follow him…from a distance.
No doors, no windows, just a long, unending hallway.
All of a sudden, there’s a hissing and blowing sound, as a section of the door melts away, showing a faint blue electrical netting over the opening. Scarsman walks through as if nothing is there.
Hunter, his arm tight around my shoulders, pulls me with him through the netting.
As we step over the threshold, I feel tingles all over my exposed skin, a more concentrated buzzing over my clothing. It feels like an electrical stimulation machine sending currents through my skin. Hunter’s arm clenches around my shoulders, right before he collapses against me, almost taking both of us to the floor.
Luckily, there isn’t enough room right inside the doorway to fall all the way to the ground. Instead, we’re pushed up against a wall, Hunter’s slack body trapping mine.
“Hunter!” I yell, struggling to catch both of us.
“Oh dear. It seems as if something has happened to your colleague.” Agent Lockwood’s voice sounds from farther into the room.
“What have you done to him?” I keep my attention focused on Hunter’s limp body.
“You’re the one with super powers, Finley.” Her voice rakes over my name. “You fix him.” Her heels click over the floor on the other side of the room. I hear another wooshing sound from farther in the space.
Risking a glance away from Hunter, I notice that Hunter and I are all alone in the white room. Scarsman nowhere to be found, even though I watched him enter the room right before we did. Nor do I see any other doors for him to have escaped through.
There’s no bed or furniture of any kind. Pulling us out of the smallest hallway known to mankind, I maneuver Hunter onto the ground. I run my fingers lightly over his body searching for any overt wounds.
Nothing. No blood. No scratches or reddened skin, nothing.
I press my head to his chest; his breathing is labored; his eyes look like he’s been drugged.
“Hang on, Hunter. I’ve got you,” I whisper to him, kissing his forehead.
I lean over him as the Spectrum crashes down around me. I have no time for finesse or subtlety as I’m doing a deep search of his body. I’ve not looked at Hunter through the Spectrum more than a couple of times. I think it’s rude to spy on people you love.
My brain stops as I rewind those last couple of words. Hunter’s barely moving chest slaps me back into the present.
“Just hang on,” I tell him again.
Starting at his head, I send my healing energy into his body. Saturating every miniscule part of his body, I find tiny fissures along his nervous system. I’ve never known anything that could create this kind of damage, but I do my best to fix it. I don’t work with the nervous system, as a rule. I have to rely more on instinct than training of any kind.
I sink into a cross-legged position next to Hunter’s lifeless body. I focus on the place in my own body that holds my super powers, as everyone else keeps calling them. Through the Spectrum, I take a look at my own nervous system, and see what a working system is supposed to look like. When I think I’ve got it down, I turn my attention to Hunter’s body.
His main nerve branches are flickering, almost like they’re dying. I concentrate on sending my healing energy along these slowly pulsing threads, trying to mend, bind, and reconnect the nerves so that Hunter’s body can start functioning on its own again.
The work seems like it takes forever. The nervous system resembles intricate Italian lace, a delicate web of necessity that keeps each person moving, living, and breathing.
I can’t mess this up.
I have to push that thought away as well, or I’m going to get paralyzed with fear. I don’t have time for that either.
My butt goes numb, but I only notice distantly. I’m slowly working my way down from where the nerves come out of his skull. Each one just as important as the next. I also keep an eye on his heart through the Spectrum. I can see the slow pumping of the vital organ. Meaning his body is still working, although I really have no idea why or how. I’m just thankful it is.
After what feels like forever, I pull my lagging energy back into my own body. Giving Hunter one last look-over, I’m satisfied I’ve done all I can. I stretch out my aching body, barely managing not to crash onto him. I slide down next to him on the floor.
On the edge of passing out, I hear a faint whooshing noise from the far side of the room, but I don’t care enough to keep my eyes open. I wrap my arms tight around Hunter. My last thought that they better not take him from me.
I sink into the waiting oblivion.
Cha
pter Twenty-Four
I’m floating in onyx, which seems a little silly considering onyx is supposed to be hard and rocky. But this onyx is better than a water bed; it moves and glides, supports and molds to me. I haven’t felt this relaxed in a very long time.
I have no worries, and considering the craptastic show my life has become, this feels wonderful. I can feel my mind emptying out like a someone tipping a bowl of water down the sink and I’m the water. Loops, twists, turns, whirls, and spins move in and through a body that’s not really real.
A tendril of unease tries to take hold in my mind, but it’s swept away with the tide buffeting my body. I can hear my contented smiled. Who knew you could hear smiles? A peaceful ebb and flow radiates up and down my limbs, so rhythmically that it soothes the knots and tights muscles.
Again, a spark of restlessness moves against my mind. This time I try to grab a hold of it. It twines sensuously around my fingers, caressing my palms before sliding up my arm like warm palms.
Thinking of warm palms brings a handsome face into my mind’s eye. His hair is so blond that it borders on white. Just a little longer now than when I met him, framing his handsome tan face. His teeth are even whiter than his hair, if such a thing is possible. When he smiles, he has the most adorable micro dimple in his left cheek. It just barely winks as his lips pull up at the corners.
His dark brown eyes are a melted chocolate that I wouldn’t mind swimming in for the rest of my life. But it’s what’s behind those eyes that takes my breath away. Love. I’ve been loved my whole life, never not had love. But this kind of love is different: it has hints of spice and sass, wonder and joy, acceptance and loyalty, in a blend that I’ve never experienced before. His arms are where I feel most at home.
I can hear another smile brushing across my mouth. The restlessness moves from my mind into my body. The ebbs and flows that were once sweeping me along with comfort and support have started to turn rocky, jerky, and sharp. The feeling of agitation spreads, infiltrating my entire body, suffusing it with a creeping sense of dread and fear.
I can feel a knocking in my head, like someone is tapping their knuckles against the door of my mind. Persistent enough that it begins to annoy. Not having any arms to move, I merely think at the door. Open.
My handsome man stands before me, covered in green material that looks oddly comfortable. His hair is in disarray, his smile more grimace than welcoming, his dimple non-existent.
“Finley, thank God, I’ve been trying to reach you for forever!” His voice sinks into my skin, traveling places voices shouldn’t be allowed to go. I can feel my essence squirming against it.
“Finley? Finley, can you hear me?” the handsome man asks nervously. I watch as he glances around at something just beyond my vision.
“Where are we? And why do you have clothes on?” I ask him, jealous of green cotton.
“Baby, you really need to snap out of it,” he says, his eyes a little crazy.
I hear another smile form on my face as he calls me baby. I’ve always wanted to be someone’s baby.
“Finley!” he barks at me again.
“What’s wrong?” I ask him, feeling the lethargy in my body becoming more of a weight, something holding me down.
“Something happened. I think you had to save me, kinda like you did with Josh.” That name rings a bell. The loud clanging in my brain sends the choppy waves into hurricane thrashings. It pushes me to the surface for a brief second, before pulling me back down where everything is murky.
“Hunter?” I ask him, feeling like my body is tied to the bottom of a boat that is rapidly taking on water.
“Yes, baby, it’s me, Hunter. I need you to wake up.” He sounds relieved, but it’s getting harder for me to see him.
“How are we talking if I’m not awake?” I know that something is wrong, but I can’t find the right button, or combination of buttons, to push to do what he’s asking me to do.
“Follow me.” He sticks his hand out of the mist that’s beginning to cover his body, I grab hold with both of mine, finally feeling my body around me. “We’re talking because after you healed me, I could feel you inside my body. I kept tugging on lines until I found you.”
I know there’s something more than wrong with this statement, but it escapes me at the moment. Finally feeling my feet, I just follow him.
I look around and it looks like we’re in the middle of a planetarium show about nebulas. I haven’t been to the Kansas Cosmosphere—Kansas’ own little slice of space—in ages, but I do remember the beautiful pictures of nebulas, the diffusion of colors that seem to bleed and intertwine seamlessly with the colors around them. Tiny twinkles of light that flare bright white in a color scape that escapes description. The view reminds me of the Spectrum.
“Where are we?” I ask Hunter again, my brain staggered by the sheer beauty that surrounds us.
“I think we’re in the Spectrum. At least, that’s my best guess from how you’ve described it.”
“How did we get here?”
“I have no idea. I woke up to this, just like you did.”
“It’s gorgeous.”
“And deadly.” His voice ominous enough to pull my attention to him. His back is ramrod straight.
“What do you mean? What happened?”
“I’ll tell you after we get out of this place.” The fear in his voice infuses my body, making me just as ready to get out of here as well.
I’ve never felt like the Spectrum was harmful. It’s never been anything but helpful to me. But Hunter’s fear is very real, and I trust him to get us out of here if that’s what needs to happen.
“You lead, I’ll follow,” I tell him, giving his hand a quick squeeze.
“Thanks, baby. I think I found you in time to follow the shadow of my prints back out.” He’s pointing to the fading marks on the ground. They look like footprints in the sand that’s about to get swept away in the tide.
Works for me, I thought. I didn’t want to bother or distract him in any way, wanting to get out of here and back into our actual, physical bodies before something awful happens to us or them.
“Finally.” I hear Hunter’s low exclamation. He is really worried.
He lifts his hand and pushes against nothing, at least that I can see. A bright opening beckons us through. As soon as Hunter steps through, he disappears, his hand no longer in mine. Trying not to freak out, I rush through the opening, and immediately find my self on the floor, looking up at the bright white ceiling.
There are no vents, no grates, no nothing. Just drilling, eye-killing white.
I lift my hand, feeling like it weighs a million pounds, to create a block against the glare in the space. Blinking a couple of times, I try to adjust to the drastic change from black backgrounds with swirling colors to retina-drilling white.
I feel a warm hand on my belly, the fingers digging in and letting go quickly, over and over again.
Raising my other hand, I clasp that warm hand in my own, and feel almost like I’m back in the void, resting in the swirls and flows of color, completely safe and protected.
“Finley? Can you hear me?” The tension crowding Hunter’s voice tells me he is freaking out.
“Yeah. I’m back with you.”
All of a sudden, his big body covers mine, his arms and legs wrapping around my own like a boa constrictor. His body cuts through the glare surrounding me. His entire body is shuddering, his breath quivering through his mouth, ruffling the little hairs around my ear, his arms quaking.
“I was so freaking scared. I woke up, but not really. I looked like I was in space, and I saw what looked like silver tinsel twined around almost every single part of my body. Even though I wasn’t really sure it was my body. It reminded me of your eyes, so I started following the twisted lines of it. I almost got lost once,” he shudders, “because I lost the end of the tinsel, and I thought I lost you.” His voice breaks.
He locks his body around my own, and rolls over, so I’m
the one on top. While my lungs appreciate the gesture, I think he felt more secure with me on the bottom. Because we rolled once again.
This time, I manage to get my legs up and around his hips, locking them at the base of his spine. His whole body is shaking, his tears soaking into my chest.
He takes a couple of deep breaths, and then goes on with his story. “I backtracked, noticing that I could see the outline of my prints. I raced back as quickly as I could to the biggest branch. This time I concentrated on following the thickest tinsel piece.”
“At one point, I thought I was dying. I couldn’t breathe, my chest hurt, and it felt like my heart had been crushed into tiny pieces. I finally managed to shake it off, and kept walking, trying to find you. Eventually it eased.” Another big breath, less trembling, but he didn’t let up his iron grip on my body. I didn’t mind in the least.
“I felt like I was trying to navigate the Saharan desert, but it wasn’t hot or sandy. Just endless black expanses and beautiful colors. It was gorgeous and lovely. All I really wanted to do was sit down and waste away just watching the sky. I could have done that and died a happy man.”
“The only thing that kept me going was that glowing line of silver tinsel. I couldn’t get you out of my head, so I just kept following it. At one point, I wrapped my hand around it. As soon as I did that, I could see you floating. You looked so peaceful, so happy, so content.”
“It just made me need you more, to find you faster. I gripped the silver tinsel too hard, I think, because it jolted my hand like I had touched an active defibrillator. As soon as I loosened my hold, it stopped. So I kept my hold light, and my feet moving as fast as possible when you can’t really see where you’re going.” His eyes look like he’s experiencing it all over again.
“I finally found you, floating, like I had seen you in my mind. But then it took me forever to get you to answer me. Each time you didn’t answer another piece of my soul was smothered. Then, finally, finally, you smiled at me.” He leans down to brush his lips against mine. “Your beautiful eyes opened, but they were just a silver color. All of your pretty colors had bled to silver. A silver that exactly matched the tinsel I had been following.”