by Bella Street
“I feel like Wesley. You know in Princess Bride? When he was mostly dead? Gareth made me watch it this one time. He's kind of a nerd, but don't tell anyone.”
She saw the two silver-encased heads look toward each other before pointing straight ahead. She leaned her head way back. “Hey, Gareth! I'm talking about Princess Bride in public! I'm being culturally relevant!”
“Just hang on, miss. We're almost there.”
“Whooo, we're going fast!” Windows and doors and painted block walls went past in a blur. “I feel dizzy.”
“We know. Okay, a little bump.”
Seffy had the distinct impression she was in an elevator. The silvery walls reflected her silvery support system. Then the floor dropped. “Whoa!”
“Just hang on, miss.”
She flopped her head toward one of the men. “How do you know I'm a miss? I could be married. Or maybe I'm British and served my Queen through my many acting exploits and was conferred a Dame status.”
“Are you married?”
“No.”
“Are you a Dame?”
“Nope.” She sputtered into laughter.
The ground felt solid again and they started moving horizontally. A white room with glass. Another man loomed in a silver suit...poised with a large hypodermic needle.
Well, that's gonna leave a mark.
Chapter Sixteen
Seffy wondered what grog she'd consumed this time. She couldn't remember anything after Malone's concoction, but only booze could make her feel this close to wishing she was dead. She let out a moan—then stopped. The eerie noise was similar to how those had dancers sounded. Uh oh. Was it possible she'd turned into one of them? Trent would be pleased, no doubt, but she was so not about biting her friends. Well, maybe just Addison.
Another moan escaped her lips. She slapped her hands to her mouth. The movement stung the inside of her arm. Seffy opened her heavy lids and looked at a cotton ball covered by a bandage on the inside of her elbow. What the heck? Who's been poking me? Glancing at her other arm, she discovered an I.V. attached to her hand.
The sound of several shotguns cocking caused her to look up in shock. Aside from about six men who had their rifles trained on her, she saw she was in some kind of hospital room with windows on one wall. Oh crap. The compound. Double crap. Guns.
“And how are we doing, young lady?”
Seffy twisted her head away from the gunmen and saw a man with a balding pate and stiff white lab coat standing two feet from the bed. She regarded him with gritty eyes. “Unless you have a lollipop, I'm too tired to talk.”
The man chuckled. “Well, I can understand your fatigue. You had a temperature of a hundred and six and had gone into seizures.”
Her mouth opened, then closed. Seizures? Yikes. “The cause was medical, right?”
His brow furrowed. “Er, they were febrile seizures, so yes.”
Phew.
“Luckily, we were able to get your fever down. The bad news is we don't know what caused it.”
Oh. She plucked at the thin blanket covering her frame, not quite ready to sift through all the ramifications of how she'd come to be there. “Is the good news that you have a lollipop? I like strawberry.”
“Heh heh. No candy, I'm afraid. The real good news is there was no trace of the suspected virus in your blood.”
The information rippled through her like a wave, making her want to cry in relief. But being surrounded by men with guns helped keep her tears at bay. She swallowed against a lump in her throat and looked hard at the doctor. Then her eyes widened. “Dude, why are you wearing one of those reflector things on your head? No one does that any more. Is this an old fashioned compound?”
He chuckled...this time it sounded nervous. He patted her arm. “You should get more rest.” He motioned to the guards. “She's in the clear. You're dismissed.”
Once the guards were gone, Seffy blew out a breath and looked around the room. Sterile white walls and a counter crammed with medical supplies seemed to be the overall decorating theme. The room had the smell to match—all antisepticy. No pretty pictures and the window didn't look outside, but into another room. She saw shadows of people on the other side of the glass. Pervs. Turning back to the doctor, she said, “What was the suspected virus?”
“It's what we think has caused what to the layman can best be described as zombism.”
She shook her head. “I can't believe you're saying that with a straight face. Zombies aren't real.”
The doctor's smile faded. “The virus that changes healthy people into those things most certainly is real, young lady. We've lost a few of our own from the infected.”
Frowning, Seffy looked at the bandage on her arm. “Well, whatever. How soon can I get out of here? I was promised a hot shower. And saline solution would be a plus.”
“I can send a nurse in to assist you with those things after you see your friends.”
“Oh, they're here?”
“They're most anxious to see you. They've been waiting quite a while.”
Seffy scooted up in the hospital bed, fluffing her hair and pinching her cheeks. Had Gareth missed her at all? “I'm ready.”
The doctor motioned to someone behind the little window in the door. The door eased open and Lani popped her head in.
“Omigosh, Seffy, you're alive!”
Seffy smiled. “Are you going to break into that song again?”
Lani rushed into the room, followed by Addison, and gave her a hard hug.
“Gareth's gonna flip that he wasn't here when the doc gave the green light.” Addison strolled over and perched her skinny hip onto the side of the bed. “He just ran to the bathroom for a minute.” She leaned close and lowered her voice. “Omigod, Seffy, you have missed soooo much, such as meeting the guy who runs this place. Think Jim Caviezel's twin brother, but with totally hot sideburns. By the way, dibs.”
“Okaaay.”
“He's on the other side of the glass. Try to get a discreet peek.”
“Seffy, thank God!” Gareth erupted into the room before she could follow Addy's advice. He pushed past Lani and wrapped her into his arms, squeezing her tight. Seffy absorbed his embrace, knowing she might not get another.
As he pulled away, she looked over his shoulder at the window. A man was watching her. Addison wasn't kidding. Her attention became super-glued to the window. A pair of flame blue eyes stared back.
This is why you'll never get Gareth for keeps. Too easily distracted by hotties and illicit drink. Then again, maybe other hotties wouldn't care so much about all the skeletons rattling around in her closet. That's where the booze came in.
“We were so worried about you.”
Seffy forced herself to look at Gareth and smile, trying to remember her behavior before waking up. “Did you, uh, think I'd gone bonkers?”
He sat on the other edge of the bed and gripped her hand between his own. “You mean when they first brought you into the building?”
She nodded and resisted the urge to look back at the window.
“Well, that was weird, but I'm talking about how sick you were.” He squeezed her hand. “You were actually mostly dead. They didn't know if you'd pull through.”
“Yeah, we thought your seizure phase was starting up again,” Lani said, worry evident in her tone.
“Just like the good old days,” Addy said, making a face.
Lani sent her a dark look causing Addison to mumble an apology.
Seffy frowned. Seizures and near-death. A double-whammy. “Well, that blows, but the doc said I don't have any virus.” Now that the guys with guns were gone, the urge to cry reared up again. She took a deep breath to get a handle on her emotions, then noticed her friends were wearing different clothes than what they'd arrived in. “You guys must've been quick with those showers. I'm still waiting for mine.”
Lani looked down at her blouse and laughed. “Yeah, they had to ask us what 'daggy' meant.” She lowered her voice. “But I don't think
what they have is much better than Malone's stuff.”
“You should've seen what I had to wear yesterday,” Addison said with rueful smile. “I don't get what the deal is with all these retro clothes. And this place, it's like from an old black and white sci-fi movie of the week.”
“The food is good, though,” Gareth said.
“Sheesh, you've already eaten? I wonder when they'll let me have something. I don't think I've kept food down for two days in a row.”
“More like four then,” Lani said. “But the I.V. kinda feeds your blood, right?”
Seffy arched her brows. “What do you mean four days?”
Gareth released her hand and brushed a lock of hair from her face. “You've been out for forty-eight hours. Remember that whole near death thing we just talked about?”
I've been here for two days? Two entire frigging days? Her heart pounded hard in her chest. Too much bad information too fast. Seffy stifled an urge to descend into hysterics. She put a hand to her head. “I don't feel so good, guys.”
Gareth stood up, along with the others. “We'll let you get your rest. They said we'd only be allowed to see you for a couple of minutes anyway.”
He leaned down and brushed a kiss across her forehead. She hated to admit she was almost relieved to see them go, but she had a lot to think about. What had made her so sick she was deathly ill for two days if not the zombie virus? How long would she have to stay at the compound? And how soon could she go home? She didn't like it here. The place had a bad vibe, or something.
A frisson of dread shuddered down her spine, Seffy couldn't help glancing at the window where the man had watched them. But he was gone.
***
“Who's Jim Caviezel?”
Seffy let out a little scream, dropping her contact lenses. She backed up a step and found the same man watching her from the same window.
His eyes widened as he stared at her. “Oh my God,” he whispered.
Seffy looked around, frantic. “What?”
He reached over to the wall and pressed something. “Doctor Finley, come quick!”
She braced herself against the wall, too dizzy to do anything else.
The doctor burst into her room. “What is it?”
“There's something wrong with her eyes,” the man said. “Could it be a side-effect of the fever?”
Before she could think straight, the doctor rushed over, grabbed Seffy's head between his hands and stared into her eyes. “Goodness, you're right!”
“How can it be possible? Have you ever heard of such a thing?”
“It's unprecedented.”
“What's wrong with my eyes?” Seffy ventured in a small voice, her head still in the grip of the doctor. Two hours after she'd seen her friends, she'd finally been allowed up and about. Now this.
“They were blue when you got here, but now they're dark brown. Fascinating!”
Seffy wrenched her head from the doctor's hands, her face flaming. “I was wearing contacts.”
“We know that. We could see them on your eyes when we examined you.”
Examined. Ugh. Don't go there. “Well, there's your answer.”
The doctor furrowed his brows. Seffy didn't yet have the guts to look at the other guy. How mortifying that he caught her in the window that way. But the bathroom didn't have a mirror, so she was using the reflection of the window to pull out the lenses, both now torn and useless on the floor.
“That doesn't explain the color difference.”
Sighing, she crouched down and picked up the lenses off the linoleum. Extended wear, sand, and surprises weren't good for something so fragile. She held them up under the doctor's nose. “See, they're tinted.”
He studied them. “Interesting. I've never seen anything like it. So your doctor prescribed that you needed to change your iris color?”
“These aren't prescription, well, I mean, they're not corrective. I can see fine. I just wanted blue eyes instead of brown. All I had to do was ask.”
“Why would you want a different color?”
Seffy looked at the man behind the glass. A man with the most gorgeous blue eyes she'd ever seen would ask such a question. Complementing his eyes was coal black hair, Addison's afore-mentioned sideburns—not bushy, just enough to be scrumptious in a mod way, and lightly tanned skin over amazing cheekbones. He regarded her without a hint of humor. “Um.”
“Where did you find such a product?” said the doctor. “And these aren't the hard lenses I'm familiar with.”
She continued staring at the man through the window. “At the eye doctor's office.”
The man motioned at the doctor. “Sounds like a false alarm then. Thanks for responding so quickly.”
“No problem.”
The doctor left and Seffy found herself alone with Window Guy.
“Sorry about that,” he said.
She looked away after realized she'd been staring. “Uh, no, that's okay.”
“It was such a shock. I just had it in my head that you were a blue-eyed blonde.”
Her gaze met his despite her intentions. “That's kinda why I got the contacts. Blue's prettier than brown.” She thought of Gareth's beautiful light brown eyes and felt a stab of guilt.
He peered closer. “Your eyes are very pretty.”
She raised her brows, unable to suppress a droll smile. “Okay.”
He continued to stare. “Um, sorry about the glass separation thing. Don't take it personally. It's just a mandatory quarantine period instituted when the infected—the zombies— showed up.”
So he was a z-believer, too. “Uh, no worries. I totally understand.”
“Who's Jim Caviezel?”
Seffy bit her lip. “You've never heard of him? Even I know he played a count in that movie.”
The man shook his head. “Sorry.”
“And that question means you heard me and my friends talking earlier.”
His lips compressed slightly. “You're in an observation room, so yeah.” He put up his hand. “But I don't spy, I swear. It's not like it's a two-way mirror. Only when you can see me can I see you.”
“Got it.” She swallowed. “So you also know that you've been 'dibbed'.”
He laughed softly, which changed his serious-slash-dreamy expression completely. She eased out a weak-kneed sigh.
“Yeah, I heard that. Addison, right? I had to tell her I was taken.”
Probably a good thing. “So, you've met my friends?”
“Yes. They got the glass treatment, too, I'm afraid.” He paused. “They said your name was Seffy.”
She nodded.
“I'm guessing that's short for Persephone?”
She stared at him. “Uh, yeah. Good call.”
He leaned closer to the glass, almost close enough to drown in his blue eyes. “So the question is, are you Persephone pre or post Hades?”
Her smile faltered as her failures loomed in her mind. “What do you think?”
“It's not hard to guess, knowing what you've gone through,” he said gently.
Seffy didn't know how to answer, which was the perfect excuse to change the subject. “So, what's your name, along with any attached metaphor?”
“Fenn. No double-meanings.”
“Nice to meet you, Fenn.”
He cleared his throat. “Well, you might like to know you'll be moved to a guest room, away from the hospital section, but if it's okay, we'd like to keep monitoring your vitals. We still don't know what made you spike such a fever.”
“Oh, okay. Thanks.”
“That's what we're here for.”
She frowned. “Really?”
Fenn put his hands in his pockets of his slacks. Hmm, no coveralls for him.
“What do you mean?”
“Like you run a compound to take in sick and or stray people?”
He smiled. “Something like that. It's called Fugere and means refuge in Latin.” He shook his head. “Seems a bit melodramatic to me, but my father named it.”
>
“This place is a refuge.” Shouldn't it look more inviting if that was the case?
“People can come or go as they please.”
“So you're not a pinko-commie like the guys who brought us here?”
Fenn laughed. “Well, this place was a kind of political, er, commune at one time, but not any more.”
“Huh.”
The sound of a knock made her jump.
His blue gaze darted to the door. “That will be Fiona. She'll show you to your room.”
“Oh, thanks...Fenn.”
“Bye.” The lights went out in the other room and she heard the muffled sound of a door closing. Seffy turned to her own door to see a petite woman enter. Her pixie face, short russet brown hair, and big brown eyes would make Lani seem like an giant.
The woman offered a cool smile. “I'm Fiona. So you've met my Fenn. Let's be sure it stays that way, shall we?”
Seffy blinked. Well, little miss pixie just marked her territory.
“Can I show you to your room...is it Sluffy?”
Wow. “It's Seffy.”
Fiona seemed perplexed yet somehow bored. “How interesting.”
Obviously the soft, girlish veneer covered a will of iron cunning. In the Biz, Seffy had met the type before. Don't worry, honey, we'll be out of here before you know it.
As Seffy tightened her hospital robe and followed the floating sprite through unmarked hallways, she was glad Fiona wasn't the one who'd assisted her with a shower earlier in the day. A strapping Finnish woman named Olga had been her nurse and a very discreet one at that. Seffy could imagine Fiona making mental notes about every physical defect to later report to dear Fenn, accompanied by silvery tones of laugher.
His choice of such a female diminished him in her eyes. And it was a good thing, too. She'd already gone all mushy around him. Well, next time he flashed those dreamy blues her way, she'd just think of the steely-eyed girl who held his heart. Or maybe his throat, metaphorically speaking.
They arrived in a wing which according to her guide, housed several small overflow rooms. Fiona opened a door into a space reminding her of an assisted living set up. A narrow twin bed, a dresser, a tiny kitchenette and pocket bathroom. The walls were bare of any ornament. Maybe they had painting classes she could take to make some pictures after shuffleboard time.