Trapped in Your Storm

by Darien Cox

  “What the hell is going on?” Nolan asked Brett.

  Brett removed his glasses and slid them into his pocket. “You mean besides Tyler running off to tattle because you hurt his feelings?”

  “Yeah. Besides that. Though I’m not sure Tyler has feelings.”

  “Excuse me?”

  They all turned as a very young black woman came their way. She had a sleek blunt-cut and wide, disarming smile, wearing a jade green pantsuit.

  “Hey,” Christian said. “I know you. Right?”

  She gave Christian a dimpled smile. “I should hope so, Christian! I fake-worked for you this summer when we were guarding your marina.”

  “Ah.” Christian nodded. “Didn’t recognize you without your little khaki shorts.”

  She laughed. “Yes, the wardrobe was almost as challenging as the assignment.”

  Christian pointed at her. “You are…don’t tell me…Sarah.”

  “Shirah.”

  “Shirah, right.”

  “Anyway.” She clapped her hands. “I’m Shirah. I work security for Ogden and Wiley. I need to borrow Tim Patterson.”

  Tim stepped forward. “I’m Patterson.”

  “Oh good! If you’ll follow me, Ogden would like me to speak with you.”

  “You have that authority?” Tim looked her up and down. “You seem awfully young, sweetheart.”

  “Oof,” JT said and turned away.

  Shirah gave Tim a sweet smile. “I am awfully young, Tim. Now let’s go get your paperwork in order so Ogden doesn’t have to kill you. That sound good, cupcake?”

  Tim’s face drained of color. He glanced at Myles.

  “It’s okay,” Myles said. “Hey Shirah, go easy on him. He’s an asshole but I love him and he’s had a rough morning.”

  “Of course,” she said. “Tim and I are gonna be great friends. Tim, you want to follow me?”

  Tim sighed. “Sure.”

  “We’ll catch up with you later,” Myles said as Tim and Shirah walked off through the warehouse, disappearing through the door into the main brewery.

  “Ogden’s on his way,” Brett said. “Baz is stable, for now.”

  “We know that!” JT said. “Why are we here? At Arctic Angel of all places?”

  Quint approached, work boots echoing on the floor. He grinned at Brett and shook his hand. “Hey Brett. Still can’t get used to seeing you in the village. Or the hair for that matter. You breeding rats in that mop?”

  “Still hilarious, Quint. Thanks for stepping up on such short notice.”

  Quint nodded. “The tent’s not exactly hospital sterile, but we worked with what we had. Should have all the equipment they need, though.” He turned his gaze on the rest of them, then chuckled, scratching his beard. “Hi guys. That was some Halloween party, huh?” Quint laughed and made claws of his hands. “Rawr! Cockzilla!”

  Christian stepped forward. “Quint what the fuck? How are you involved in this?”

  The big guy shrugged. “You didn’t actually think Ogden only employed you four clowns in Singing Bear Village, did you?”

  “Oh you’ve gotta be kidding me,” Nolan said. “You’re not really a brewer?”

  Quint hitched his jeans up. “Of course I’m a brewer. I’m a fucking great brewer. That’s why Arctic Angel always sells out so fast at the pub, right, JT?”

  JT shook his head. “Quint. Cut the crap.”

  “Fine, fine.” He raised his hands. “I’m also a microbiologist and exobiologist. Speaking of, shall we go see how your friend’s doing?”

  They all looked toward the tent. “Yeah,” Elliot said. “Let’s check on Baz.”

  “I have to go make some calls,” Myles said. “Check in with Darwyn and things in the village. I’ll be nearby. Call if you need me.”

  Christian stole a kiss from Myles, which the sheriff usually didn’t allow when he was on duty. But Myles stroked Christian’s cheek then kissed his forehead, likely sensing he needed the added touch. Nolan could relate. The spontaneous kiss Elliot gave him in the woods had been like a soothing balm on Nolan’s shattered nerves.

  Once Myles left, the rest of them followed Quint over to the tent. Nolan leaned over and tugged one of Brett’s dreadlocks out of his bun.

  “Hey!” Brett shoved Nolan’s shoulder. “What’s your problem, muscle-head?”

  “How do you know Quint?”

  Brett shrugged. “He did some work for NASA. Years ago. Before I left.”

  “NASA.” Elliot snorted. “Of course. Why wouldn’t the local hooch-slinger work for NASA?”

  Quint pulled back the plastic curtain and they found themselves in a small area cordoned off from the main tent. Nolan reached for the next curtain when Quint grabbed his arm. “Whoa, whoa, hang on a minute. Let me see how they’re settling in and if they need my help. I’ll let you know when someone can come out and talk to you.” He pointed to a bench. “Just wait here.”

  They waited for what felt like hours but was probably only forty minutes or so, growing anxious. “Why doesn’t someone let us know what’s going on?” Elliot said. “Is he dead or something?”

  “Shut the fuck up, Elliot,” Christian said. “He’s not dead.”

  “Sorry.” Elliot looked up at Nolan and widened his eyes comically.

  An involuntary laugh bubbled out of Nolan. It set Elliot off and he began snickering. Christian glared at Nolan. “Sorry, Christian,” Nolan said. “It’s just nerves.”

  The inner curtain pulled back and Quint’s bearded face popped out. “Rhonda says you guys can come in for a few minutes.”

  “Good.” Christian said. “Bout time.”

  Quint led them inside the tent. Ogden’s soldier Shane, a young guy with curly dark hair, sat on a stool in the corner, hovered over a microscope. The balding doctor stood over Baz, who was laid out on a long table, a sheet draped over him from the chest down. His shredded garment had been removed, bare alabaster flesh unsettling. He looks dead, Nolan thought with a shiver.

  Rhonda approached them, red hair tied back, freckles standing out on her pale skin. “Hey guys,” she said softly.

  “What’s going on?” Nolan asked.

  She sighed. “We have a problem. He’s lost a lot of blood.”

  “What can we do?” Christian asked. “Transfusion? I’ll donate.”

  “He’s only half human,” Rhonda said. “It’s too risky to pump pure human blood into him, we don’t know how his body will react. We’re flying blind and short on time, but Ogden said he might be able to help once he gets here.”

  “Do you know what happened to him? Will he be okay?” Nolan asked.

  Rhonda’s brows pinched. “Follow me.”

  Rhonda approached the table, and they followed. Nolan swallowed hard as he looked down at Baz. His paper-white chest rose and fell, breathing softly. Swollen purple lids, long white lashes. Cuts and bruises were evident on his chest and arms. His white hair had been tucked up under a hospital cap, high cheek bones and long delicate jaw fully exposed.

  After spending time with the baby White on the mountain, Nolan found himself comparing, and could now clearly see Baz was different, a hybrid. Not a full White. His chin was shorter, eyes smaller, nose more human. Nolan stared, momentarily fascinated. The white hair came down in a widow’s peak above his high forehead, visible even with the cap on. Looking at Baz from a side angle, Nolan could see a man lying there. Death-white, exotic-looking perhaps, but passable as human.

  But staring straight down at him, the alien portion was evident. With Baz’s long hair, Nolan had never seen his ears before. But they were partially visible now, flat to his head, no lobe, just like the angry nasty hybrid they’d tangled with over the summer.

  “Look here.” Rhonda went to the side of the table and pulled the sheet up from Baz’s long feet, exposing his legs. She turned his leg, displaying a two-inch gash on his inner thigh. “This wound is no accident. My guess is he was purposely bled.”

  JT leaned over. “Why?”

&n
bsp; “I don’t know. Maybe someone wanted to keep him weak. And he is weak. His pulse is thready. And he has a concussion.”

  “Someone bled him?” Christian said. “Who the fuck would do that?”

  “Whoever did it,” Rhonda said, “I don’t think they meant to kill him. He was strong enough to get to that vent if that’s what happened. The added lacerations he got coming through are what pushed the blood loss over to a critical amount. With the swelling around his eyes, I’d say he got good and crushed. Like he had to squeeze through a pressurized chamber. If he did come through one of those vents as you guys suspect, it wasn’t easy on his body. But his physiology has more human elements than I expected, and that’s a good thing in terms of treatment options.”

  “Yo!” Quint called from the curtain behind them. “Big guy’s here.”

  “Thank God.” Rhonda sighed and covered Baz up.

  The plastic curtains opened roughly and Ogden and Wiley strode in, carrying two silver suitcases. Both wore suits, Wiley’s prematurely gray buzz-cut contrasting with the black jacket. “Is he ready?” Ogden asked.

  “I don’t know,” Rhonda said. “Wish there was more certainty.”

  Wiley set his suitcase down on a nearby table and opened it up.

  “What is that?” Nolan leaned over his shoulder. Vials of gold liquid glimmered within.

  “It’s a biosynthetic mix,” Ogden said, opening his own case. “Partially created using the DNA data we got from that baby White. It’s fortunate we’d already been working on it to run simulations.”

  “Is it plasma?” JT asked.

  “Not exactly,” Ogden said, handing vials to Rhonda.

  “Then what is it?” Nolan asked.

  “That’s a complicated question with a complicated answer, Nolan,” Ogden said as helped Rhonda secure an IV in Baz’s arm. “There’s no time.”

  “So it’s basically fake blood,” Nolan said. “How do you know that’s not gonna kill him?”

  “We don’t.” The older doctor approached the table, fingers gently peeling Baz’s lid back and shining a light into his brilliant, blue-green iris. “But we can’t synthesize enough of his own blood in a timely manner. If we do nothing, he’s going to die within the hour.”

  “Who are you?” Nolan asked.

  Rhonda patted Baz’s arm, glancing up. “That’s Dr. Sullivan. His knowledge makes up for his lack of bedside manner, I promise.”

  “Okay, you lot, out of here,” Ogden said. “Rhonda, start the transfusion. Shane, help her out.”

  Beside Nolan, Elliot tensed.

  Christian stared at Baz with wide, glassy eyes.

  “We want to stay,” Nolan said. “We care about him.”

  “We know,” Wiley said, stepping between them and the table. “That’s why you can’t be in here. Go on. Step out. We’ll alert you as soon as we know anything further.”

  “You could be killing him,” Christian whispered.

  Brett grabbed Christian around his shoulders. “Come on. Let’s wait outside. Let them work.”

  Christian didn’t move.

  “Come on,” Quint said. “I’ve got some food and beer for you guys.”

  Brett moved away from Christian and approached Nolan. “I said let’s go, Nolan.”

  Nolan glanced at JT. “JT?”

  JT nodded. “It’s okay. Let’s go. Let them work.”

  At JT’s statement, they all immediately headed out of the tent.

  Brett leaned into Nolan as they moved back into the warehouse. “Nolan. I know there are extenuating circumstances right now,” he muttered softly. “But one day soon you’re going to have to learn to follow my instruction and not wait for JT to give the holy word.”

  Nolan glanced at Brett. “Fair enough, Brett. But today is not that day.”

  ****

  Quint set them up in an elegant tasting room with oversized brown leather chairs and couches, the back wall floor-to-ceiling glass with a view of the river with a covered bridge, colorful autumn woods beyond. He’d provided them with burgers and mugs of beer, and Mozart played softly from the sound system, the track lighting on the wooden beams above set low. Because of the obvious attempt to soothe them, tend to their comfort and ease their worry, Elliot postponed his irritation with Quint for hiding his true position from them all these years.

  A dark wood bar ran along the wall a few feet away, and Tyler sat there by himself, eating a burger, occasionally glancing at Elliot with a pouty face.

  Elliot hadn’t thought he’d be able to eat but found himself ravenous once the gorgeous flame-grilled cheeseburger was set down before him. He’d been so caught up in Nolan that morning they’d never gotten around to breakfast, and now it was afternoon.

  “I hope Ogden knows what he’s doing,” Christian said, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

  “I’ll say one thing,” Elliot said. “Ogden will have pulled everything in his bag of tricks out to save Baz. Not because he’s compassionate. But because he’ll want information as to what happened to him. What’s going on with the Whites.”

  “Cynical,” JT said. “But true. I’m anxious for that information as well but it can wait until Baz is out of the woods.”

  No one jumped in to add an ‘if’ to JT’s statement, they were all trying to remain positive about Baz’s recovery.

  Elliot excused himself to use the bathroom. When he returned to the tasting room, Brett and JT had moved over to the glass wall, speaking softly as they looked out at the river. As Elliot passed by Nolan’s chair, Nolan held his arm out, honey-brown eyes soft and questioning.

  Elliot hesitated a moment, then took his hand. Nolan pulled him down, positioning Elliot between his legs on the oversized chair, wrapping his arms around his waist. “You mind?” Nolan whispered, burying his nose in Elliot’s hair. “Just really need a touch-break.”

  “I don’t mind at all.”

  It still felt strange being affectionate with Nolan in front of other people, but leaning against his warm body felt so good Elliot decided he didn’t give a shit what anyone else thought. He snuggled back against Nolan’s chest, resting his hands on the strong arms wrapped around him. And suddenly he was extra glad he did, because when he looked up he received the first smile from Christian he’d seen all morning.

  “Something funny?” Elliot asked with a grin.

  “Nope.” Christian took a sip of beer. “Just weird.”

  “It’s not weird,” Nolan mumbled.

  “No, I get it.” Christian set his beer down. “When Myles and I first started fooling around I could barely keep my hands off him. Elliot’s got a poker face but Nolan, you I can read. Even with everything going on you can’t fucking wait to get him alone again, can you?”

  “That’s a little personal,” Nolan said, laughing.

  “Oh please,” Christian said. “You’re the one that came to me in the pub that night all ‘I wuvs Ewiott and I don’t noes what to do!”

  “You’re lucky Ewiott is on my lap,” Nolan said. “So I can’t dive over there and brain you.”

  Christian fell back in the chair and howled with laughter. Elliot laughed too, and it felt good, a much needed stress release. “What are JT and Brett talking about?” Elliot asked.

  Nolan huffed. “Brett doesn’t like that we all turn to JT for leadership. He’s probably over there trying to exert his authority.”

  “Now?” Elliot said. “Does he realize we have a friend in there that might be dying?”

  “What does he expect?” Christian said. “JT we trust. Brett we just met. Haven’t even had a formal meeting yet. That tequila fest on Halloween doesn’t count.”

  JT and Brett strolled back over. They both paused and looked at Elliot seated between Nolan’s legs before sitting down themselves. “That,” JT pointed, “I still can’t get used to seeing. It’s too weird.”

  “Stop making it a thing,” Elliot said. He stood up and moved to the chair beside Nolan.

  “Thanks, JT,” Nolan said. “I’
ve only just managed to lure him with my charms and you’re scaring him away.”

  “You have charms?” JT smiled. “That’s new.”

  Brett untied his bun and shook his dreadlocks out, scratching his head. “Hey Tyler?” he called over to the bar. “You want to join us?”

  “No,” Tyler said, sipping a beer. “I gotta take a leak,” he said, then hopped off the stool and disappeared through the doorway.

  Brett sighed and shook his head.

  “Tyler work for you too now?” Elliot asked.

  “He’s supposed to be head of security in the village. Things might go more smoothly if you guys gave him a break.”

  “What are you talking about?” Elliot said. “We’ve worked with Tyler before. It’s not our fault he was an overbearing asshole today. Trying to get me to handcuff Tim and calling Baz a Q-Tip. Threatening to pull rank on me.”

  “He has a troubled past,” Brett said.

  “Oh please,” JT said. “So do lots of people. Christian lived on the street when he was fourteen.”

  “I’m just saying.” Brett raised his hands. “You four aren’t an easy bunch to get to know. You’re all so tight and have all this history. It can be a little intimidating, even for me, and I’ve got considerably more self-confidence than Tyler. Elliot? You have something to say behind that smirk?”

  “Wow.” Christian laughed. “You really are a teacher. Elliot, you’re getting detention.”

  Elliot shrugged. “Tyler needs to lighten up.”

  “Does he?” Brett leaned forward, resting his arms on his thighs. “Does he need to lighten up or does your team need to tighten up? Tyler had a point. While your compassion for people is admirable it doesn’t always belong in this work.”

  “Oh come on,” Elliot said. “This again?”

  “Yeah, Elliot. This again. You all teamed up on Tyler today. You threatened him physically.”

  “He was being an asshole!” Nolan said. “We got Tim here just fine without Tyler’s methods.”

  “You didn’t know you’d get him here without devastating consequences. Didn’t take his phone quick enough, though I blame that on the sheriff, and his inappropriately soft heart.”

  “Watch it,” Christian said. “Seriously.”