Dark Rhodes: Book 1 of the Ashleigh Rhodes Chronicles

by Michael Canon

  Martin informed us, “It has been like this all day. I’m not sure what is going on, but it is a bit unsettling. Shall we move upstairs?”

  Mom turned to hug me and said, “I have to meet the car in the garage, I’ll be back the day after tomorrow.”

  I just nodded, we discussed this before our trip began. Mom was coming along for moral support but was needed back in Tucson before morning.

  Mom turned to Martin and said, “Martin, please take care of my baby girl, would you?”

  Martin took one of my mother’s hands in both of his and said, “As if she was my own, you have my word.” and hugged her tight.

  Turning from Martin, Mom and I hugged once more, then she headed across the lobby to the same private elevator Connor used minutes ago. I watched her insert her key and pressed the call button. She turned and waved as the elevator doors opened.

  I turned to Martin, “Where are we off to?”

  “Right this way, young lady,” he replied as he ushered me to the bank public elevators. “We’ll get you all settled into your rooms, then after my rounds, we’ll meet for dinner to go over what’s going to happen while you are our guest here.”

  The elevator took us to the 22nd floor. As we exited the elevator, I was not ready for what I saw. The fit and finish, as well as the décor, were opulent. If it weren't for a large nurses’ station across from the elevators, I would have thought I was in a 5-star hotel. Thick carpet covered the floor, and seating areas with leather furniture, beautiful wooden tables, and live plants dotted areas along the wide hallway.

  Martin must have registered my perplexed look because he spoke without me physically asking a question.

  “We do research and targeted treatment for the world’s many cancers, not routine medical treatments here. These patient floors are made to be as comfortable and inviting as possible. The floor below this one is much more hospital-like and is for our very ill, constant-care guests.”

  “The building has 29 floors; there are eight patient floors, four like this and four sister floors of the antiseptic hospital variety. The traditional hospital floors also house the surgical suites. The three top floors are for the executives and their staff, the four floors below those are used by clerical, HR, accounting, and such. The other twelve floors are the R&D and medical labs.” explained Martin.

  He continued, obviously proud of his facility, “We make the executive staff pass by the patients’ floors on their trip up to help them remember why we come to work every day. All staff members, from the custodial staff and groundskeepers, all the way up to include me, must spend 3 hours a week visiting patients. Again, this is to help us remember why we are here,”

  5

  Martin led me over to the nurses’ station, where he asked for Nikki. One of the other nurses said she was still making her rounds.

  Martin smiled, and said, “That’s my Nikki, she would be here 24/7 she could.”

  “Well, if that isn’t the pot calling the kettle black, I don’t know what is!” exclaimed a strong, gruff female voice from behind us.

  We turned to see a thin, dark-skinned medium-height black woman approach us. Her caustic demeanor did not fit the compassion and joy she exuded as she hugged Martin fiercely, and I instantly knew this was a game they had played many times over.

  Martin spoke first, “Ms. Ashleigh, this is Ms. Nikki Wilder, one of the best charge nurses in the world and the ruler of all that is on 21 and 22.” with a huge grin.

  “And don’t you forget it, Fish-n-Chips!” retorted Nikki.

  She enveloped me in the biggest hug I’ve ever had from anyone other than my Dad or brother. Nikki held me at arm’s length, “It is so good to see you again, Ashleigh darling. Last time I saw you, you weren’t even walking. Don’t you worry about a thing, Nikki is here, and we’re going to kick this cancer’s ass all the way back to the Hell it came from.” I saw genuine tears in her eyes as she finally let me go.

  Nikki introduced me to all the other nurses and orderlies from this floor, as well as a few stationed on other floors that came to meet me. It was very overwhelming, and I must have shown my discomfort. Martin extricated himself from the group of nurses he was talking to and approached me.

  He pulled me aside and asked, “Are you doing okay, my Dear?”

  I sighed, “This is not what I expected; all these people act as if they know me,” as tears left trails on my cheeks.

  Martin took my hands, “Oh Ashleigh, most of these people have worked for your mother for years. Her work has saved the life of more than one of them or their family members. The Davron Group gave Nikki and her husband almost 12 great years together when others gave him less than a year to live. Barb has left such an impression on many of these people that most of them would do just about anything for her, and you. Let’s get you to your room so you can deflate.”

  The patient rooms were just that, rooms, as in multiple. Martin escorted me into the Room 4 Suite and explained, “This will be your home away from home while you’re here.”

  It was more of an apartment than a hospital room. There was small 8x8 room to the left of the door we came through. In this room was a traditional hospital bed, along with the usual assortment of plugs, wires, and oxygen connections on the wall as well as other medical gear throughout the space.

  Martin informed me, “This room is for use before and after medical procedures, or when a guest is too ill to use one of the traditional bedrooms but is not ill enough for one of the medical floors.”

  We walked further into the suite; Martin showed me the living room, kitchenette, bathroom, and two other bedrooms. He then led me into what could only be called the Master Suite and said, “Ah, your luggage is already here.” I looked to see my bags sitting on two collapsible baggage stands below one of the large windows.

  “Wow, If I had known the accommodations were this nice, I would have booked a room sooner,” I said to Martin with a smile.

  Martin smiled back and took my hand as he had my mother’s. “Ms. Ashleigh, you are always welcome here, my solemn wish is that your next visit will be purely social. I need to see to my rounds, but I will be back at 5:30 to escort you to dinner.”

  I saw him to the door and then returned to my bedroom. I walked into the attached master bath and started the shower. I undressed and unpacked as I waited for the water to warm up.

  After my shower, I took a short nap and then lounged around in bed reading a book on my tablet. I got dressed around 5:00 and waited for Martin to arrive. He was as prompt as a man could be, the buzzer ringing at 5:30 on the dot. I opened the door to the largest bouquet of flowers I’d ever seen.

  “Wow, Martin, you shouldn’t have!” I said.

  Martin sighed, “Unfortunately, I cannot take credit for this magnificent arrangement, it is from your father and brother.” he replied as he set the flowers on the coffee table. He continued, “Well, what are you in the mood for, my lady?”

  With mock frustration, I said, “I can’t decide between the North End’s amazing Italian food or some more spectacular New England seafood.”

  Martin smiled and said, “I know just the place to get both.”

  The snow had stopped falling, and the nighttime harbor was a beautiful mix of new snow, dancing lights, and dark water. Martin’s choice was amazing. I thought I had died and gone to heaven as I devoured another outstanding cup of clam chowder followed by the most amazing lobster ravioli, along with a small mountain of thick, crusty garlic bread.

  “Eat heartily my dear, no more food after 9:00 pm, and no liquids after midnight,” said Martin.

  We had a great dinner and conversation, I learned so much about my mother I never knew. I also understood why Mom held Martin is such high regard.

  Martin’s cell phone elicited three loud beeps as the limo dropped us off in the executive parking garage. Martin’s face lost all color as he read the message.

  He said, “I’m sorry to eat and run my Dear, but I have an emergency I must attend t
o,” as an apology for his hasty goodbye as he headed to his car.

  I used my room card to take the elevator back up to my floor. Stepping off the elevator, I waved to the nurses as I walked towards my room, almost bumping into a tall man with long black hair in a ponytail and scrubs. He hurriedly pardoned himself and entered the elevator. As the door to my room closed behind me, the long day and incredible food finally caught up with me. I got ready for bed as quickly as I could and was asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

  6

  Feb 5

  At dinner, Martin had told me I would need to be in the medical bed by 7:30 am.

  With only semi-feigned seriousness, Martin said, “Don’t be late, Ms. Nikki is as punctual as I am, and could make a Marine Drill Sergeant cry for his mother if you cross her.”

  I woke up early to get in a workout then dressed in the funny backward gown and hopped into the medical bed at 7:20 am.

  At 7:29 am Nikki walked in and saw me waiting in the bed. She came over to give me another giant hug. She asked, “There’s my girl! You ready to go?”

  I nodded as enthusiastically as I could for someone about to go in for a procedure that could save their lives if it worked. Nikki released the brakes on my bed and hit the automatic door button.

  We headed for the elevator and rode it down to 21. Nikki rolled me into one of the large surgery suites and introduced me to everyone. A few minutes later as the anesthesiologist was administering her cocktail of chemicals, Martin walked in decked out in surgical gear with his hands raised in the traditional pose to let others know he was sterile and to keep himself from touching anything.

  I smiled sleepily at him as I heard his pleasant voice say, “I wouldn’t let anyone else touch you, my dear. Sleep well.” My last thought was how haunted his eyes looked as I slipped into unconsciousness.

  7

  I hear screaming, glass breaking; chaos, panic, and fear permeate my dreams. I see Nikki’s misshapen face, her words coming out slowly, like a distorted video playing in slow motion.

  “Your procedure is complete; I’m putting you in here with these other two gentlemen until we can get a situation under control.”

  Then she was gone, was she ever really there?

  I awakened to more screaming, loud screaming. I’m screaming! Oh God, my leg hurts, it’s on fire, but it so cold! Darkness, cold, inky darkness, envelopes me with a grim reaper’s touch.

  The sounds of a strong male voice, yelling, “Leave her alone!” is like a distant whisper, over the roaring in my ears and the searing cold running through my veins.

  I’m dying, this must be what death feels like, and I can feel myself slipping away. I don’t want to die, but I can’t do anything to stop it. I hear and feel a struggle around me, and then the silence and darkness consume me.

  8

  It awakens to hunger and pain, a savage unbridled hunger that clouds its vision red. It had no idea who, or where it is. It only knows it must find food.

  The hunger is so powerful it causes intense physical pain throughout its body. It knows it needs to eat, to feed, that food will help make the pain go away. It can smell something nearby that drives its senses wild. It must feed on whatever it smells, must consume it.

  As it feeds, it can smell the damaged areas of the food it consumes. It avoids these areas. It doesn’t like leaving food, but there is still enough to eat. It loves the sound of cracking bones, the tearing of tissue, the ecstasy of feeling the warm flesh in its mouth, the taste of blood and marrow on its tongue. After feeding, it feels incredibly tired and crawls into the corner to rest.

  9

  Flickering images of men in uniform filled my dreams. Not current uniforms, older ones. I’m reloading a Garand rifle while on my back in a foxhole, as shells explode all around us. How do I know it is a Garand? When was I ever in a foxhole?

  My dream skips to a nightmare as I see and feel myself choking a beautiful brunette woman to death, while I’m seething with rage against her. Why did I just kill this woman? I don’t even know her…

  Images flash again to me completing a series of low kicks, followed by an elbow strike in a Krav Maga studio.

  Another shudder and I walk through the open gates of the Dachau Concentration Camp. The images and smells are unimaginable.

  I scream out in horror as the nightmare returns, and I plunge a knife into another brunette woman’s chest. This vision repeats itself, but with a different woman, a blonde this time.

  My vision blurs again, and I’m in Pointe Du Hoc, France on June 6th, 1984. I’m overtaken with pride and emotion as I stand near President Ronald Reagan as he commemorates the 40th anniversary of D-Day.

  I mentally sigh as the images cease and darkness again folds me into its cold embrace.

  10

  In a moment of semi-lucidity, I feel like the ice in my veins has been replaced with molten steel. I feel like I’m going to melt or erupt into flames, I must cool off!

  Without incredible effort, I stumble into a small bathroom and turn on the shower. As I’m about to enter the stream of water, I catch my image in the sink mirror. I scream out in terror as I see the ichor and gore all over my face and hair. I look down to see a hospital gown glued to my body with drying blood and carnage. Sobbing uncontrollably, I rip the blood-soaked gown from my body and enter the shower.

  The water is ice-cold, but it doesn’t bother me as I grab a washcloth and soap. I scrub my body for what feels like hours while crying the whole time. I don’t think I’ll ever feel clean again. More soap, more scrubbing, rinse, repeat. The bathroom’s lights flicker, bringing me back to reality. Getting myself under control, I turn off the water and step out of the shower. I wipe the condensation off the mirror and stare at my reflection. The person looking back is both familiar and foreign at the same time. I touch my cheek, nose, and hair.

  Leaning closer to the mirror, I speak to it, “My name is…….. …….Ashleigh, Ashleigh Rhodes.”

  11

  Stepping away from the mirror, I dry myself off and quickly wrap the towel around my nakedness. I’ve never had a problem with nudity or being nude, but I feel incredibly exposed and vulnerable right now.

  Opening the bathroom door, I walk into a room of unimaginable horror. There are two hospital beds off to my right; I can only imagine what is in them was human at one time. Blood and gore cover the beds, the wall, and the floor. I feel the bile rise in my throat, as the sobbing starts again.

  A cold presence washes over me, and just as suddenly, I stop crying. I feel almost as if a circuit breaker has tripped inside my head. With the cold, unfeeling intuition of a trained killer, I follow the trail of bloody destruction from the beds to the adjoining wall, then to the bathroom, and I realize I must be responsible for the condition of the two individuals in the beds.

  I start looking for an exit as well as looking for a weapon. I feel another shift within my head, and a wave of profound dishonor passes over me.

  “What is going on?” I cry out.

  A guttural moaning from outside the door, answers my question. My senses go on full alert, as the cold killer returns. Grabbing an empty IV stand, I strip off the top and the base, hefting the metal pole to gauge its weight, balance, and durability. I head for the door, wanting to be out of here and up to my room so I can get some clothes.

  For the first time since waking, I hear the sounds of the city below. I can hear sirens, horns, and what sounds like gunfire echoing off the surrounding skyscrapers. I’m mildly curious to look outside, but finding some clothes and getting the hell out of this room wins out.

  The moaning I heard earlier increases in intensity and is followed by the sounds of a fight. I can hear the sounds of blunt force impacts, coupled with the sounds of human exertion. The combat sounds cease and are quickly replaced with quiet voices.

  I hear Nikki whisper, “I left her in Room 7 with Myers and Adachi.” Dropping the IV stand, I bolt for the door, relieved to hear a familiar voice.

  �
�Nikki, I hear you, please help me I don’t know what’s going on!” I exclaim as the door seems to move further away with every step I take.

  “Damn, she heard me! That girl’s hearing is as good as my German Shepard’s!” exclaims a shocked Nikki.

  The door opens, and I see a man in body armor, Kevlar gloves and a helmet with a face shield. I back away until I hear his voice. “Ashleigh! Don’t worry my dear, it’s me, Martin!” he exclaims in a loud whisper through the face shield. Martin is shocked by the carnage in the room but quickly recovers. “Come with me now, we need to move, it’s not safe here! Nikki and Connor are holding the elevator for us.”

  Following Martin into the hallway, I’m greeted by a sight as horrible as the room I just left. Gurneys, wheelchairs and other hospital equipment litter the hallway, along with corpses, body parts, and blood, lots of blood. To my left a wide crimson streak makes its way up the wall and across one of the ceiling lights, giving the area a macabre, reddish hue. A headless torso drapes the nurses’ station. It is such a state that I cannot tell if it was a man or woman before its demise. I’m in overload mode; Martin almost drags me to the elevators.

  “Ashleigh, please help me, we cannot delay.” I look at him, my face betraying fear, confusion, and horror all at once.

  “I will explain to you as much as I can later, now move!” he exclaims, dragging me into the elevator where Nikki, Connor, and a young black man are waiting for us.

  Connor blushes and turns away, elbowing the other man to do the same, as Nikki takes off her sweater and wraps it around my shoulders. It’s only then I realize I’ve lost my towel.

  She says, “It’s okay baby, Nikki’s got you.”

  She hugs me close and strokes my wet hair, but starts to pull back, with a confused look on her face. I pull her in to return her hug and hear her grunt, “Damn girl, you’re a strong one, ease up on Ole’ Nikki’s ribs, if you don’t mind.”