by Bella Street
Chapter Sixteen
The phone rang, startling Seffy from her reverie—which mostly meant staring at the ceiling in an angsty way.
She glanced at Trent, who lay dead to the world across her middle. He didn't stir at the jangling phone, but when she tried to ease out from underneath him, his arms snaked around her waist in an iron grip.
“Trent,” she said, trying to pull away, “I need to answer that.”
His grip slackened only slightly, but it was enough to get free. She grabbed the receiver, noticing the clock said it was ten in the morning. “Hello?”
“Seffy, this is Olga. I'd like to get that I.V. started on Trent.”
“Oh, okay.” She'd nearly forgotten about that in the tumult that had followed his return. “Come by whenever.”
“See you soon.”
Seffy hung up and regarded her husband. She had a feeling he wouldn't be too thrilled to be hooked up to a needle. But the dark circles remained under his eyes. Surely he needed the help.
She scooted from the bed and went into the bathroom, not too surprised to find Trent still asleep when she came out.
So are we back to the beginning? Sex and sleep and weirdness? She compressed her lips, dismayed by her traitorous thought. Trent was back. That was all that mattered.
A little sliver of worry deflated her inner pep talk due to that whole murder thing.
Seffy pulled on her clothes and put her hair in a pony tail. She tried to wake Trent up so he could be dressed when Olga arrived, but instead of waking up, he began to snore.
She grabbed his pajama bottoms and worked them up his legs and over his hips. Now at least he was decent for company, whether he knew it or not.
A moment later, a knock sounded on the door. Seffy let the nurse in, who was pulling an I.V. stand behind her.
Olga paused and looked at Trent for a long moment. “How is he?” she asked in a low voice.
Seffy felt a guilty blush heat her face. “The same as before he left.”
“So something's still not right.”
She nodded, hating the feeling of guilt. She should be content just to have him back.
Olga quickly set everything up and laid out some instruments on the nightstand, then gloved up. “Do you mind if I try this before he wakes up?”
Seffy got onto the bed and took his hand in her own, reassured somewhat by his warmth.
“He's totally out. Maybe if you just go for it, he won't notice the pain.”
The nurse nodded and bent to her task. Seffy had to look away as Olga began to thread the giant needle into the back of Trent's hand. After a moment, he shifted and let out a small moan.
“You better hurry,” she whispered.
“Almost done...” Olga placed tape over his skin to secure the needle.
Suddenly, Trent's eyes flew open. He sat up quickly, bumping Seffy's chin. She put her hand on his arm. “Sweetheart, you're a little dehydrated. Olga is just—”
He swiveled his head and stared as the nurse squeezed a syringe into his shunt.
Trent's fist swung out, catching her in the solar plexus. She dropped to her knees, gasping for breath.
Seffy jumped off the bed. “Trent! What are you doing?”
Her door burst open and four guards strode into the room, guns drawn. Behind them, two men in biohazard suits wheeled in a gurney. Trent—his gray eyes wild—began to pant and scrabble at the shunt.
“What's going on?” Seffy shrieked. She turned to Olga, expecting the same outrage, but the nurse struggled to her feet and nodded toward the men.
Trent ripped out the needle just as the guards approached. Seffy watched in horror as his eyes suddenly rolled back in his head.
The tension left his body and he slumped against the pillows.
Before she could react, the men in the silver suits grabbed him by his feet and torso and roughly swung him onto the gurney.
“Olga!”
“I'm sorry, dear,” the older woman said, still wheezing. “It's for your own protection, as well as the compound's.”
When Seffy saw the men tie down Trent's hands and feet with leather straps, she tackled the closest one, knocking him to the ground.
Suddenly the barrel of a gun was shoved into her forehead where she sat on the floor.
“Seffy, for God's sake, let them work!”
“Where are they taking him?” she screamed, shoving the guard's gun away. “What have you done?”
“Settle down and I'll tell you!”
Olga firmed her lips and jerked her head toward the guard, who followed the men pushing the gurney.
“They'll kill him,” Seffy ground out.
Once the door was shut, the nurse yanked her up by the arm. “Now, listen to me, young lady. You need to keep a clear head. Can you do that?”
Seffy nodded dumbly, grief quickly hardening to fury.
Olga blew out a breath. “When I looked at Trent's blood under the microscope this morning, there were serious anomalies—”
“So I am poisoning him?”
“Calm down. The anomalies were nothing like yours, but there is something abnormal going on.”
“Any chance you could be more specific?” Seffy asked, unable to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.
“Did you hear about the wolf they caught in that cage?”
Seffy wiped her tears away. “Maybe. What's that got to do with anything?”
Olga rubbed her forehead. “I don't know. Probably nothing. There's just something wrong going on around here.”
Seffy stared at the woman who used to be her trusted nurse. “And you're only coming to that conclusion now?”
Olga looked over her half-moon glasses. “It's almost as if Trent has been acting like a wolf when you think about it.”
Seffy's eyes widened and she started laughing—a weak, humorless laugh bordering on madness. When she caught her breath, she sagged against the wall and pressed her hand to her head. “You're going to have to come up with something better than that.”
“Stop and think about it. The reflective eyes, eating raw meat, him attacking you the way he did.”
She shook her head. “I know something is wrong with Trent, but this...this is ridiculous. Maybe in nursing school they forgot to differentiate between fact and fiction.”
Olga lifted her chin, clearly offended. “I didn't believe zombies existed either, until I saw them with my own eyes. And from my limited research, I believe that was spread by some lab-created virus. I think that might be the case with Trent's condition, too.”
“The only one who's been near him with a needle is you. And you drugged him and had him put in restraints.”
The nurse's face reddened. “I did what I thought was in the best interest of you and the safety of the compound.”
“Because you think Trent is a werewolf.”
“Don't be ridiculous. I never said any such thing.”
Seffy clenched her jaw. This was going nowhere. “You said he was acting like a—”
“I'm saying I think it's what someone wants us to believe, and if it's decided he's a danger, steps will be taken. Steps you don't want realized, I assure you.”
“I want to see him,” Seffy said evenly. “You can't stop me.”
“I can and I will unless you swear you will do nothing to set him free.”
“Trent is not a danger,” Seffy said in a low voice, fighting the sting of fresh tears.
Olga crossed her arms. “We'll know for sure in a few days time, after I run more tests. Now, if you can promise to behave, I'll let you see him.”
Seffy took Olga's measure and realized the woman was serious. But nothing could stand in the way of seeing her husband. “Fine.”
“Don't try and trick me, dear. You know what will happen if he gets loose.”
“What? Bay at the moon?”
“I know the sheriff had been here asking questions about a dead body they found. And we know something in the desert has been mutilating bodies.”
>
“Ergo, Trent is a killer.” As soon as she said the words, her faced flushed hot.
“Seffy, your word please.”
Seffy tipped her head back, struggling to keep a lid on her anger. “What do you want me to say? He's my husband! He's been missing and is now back and sick, and you want to treat him like an experiment!”
“There's no experimentation here. I only gave him a sedative to calm him for transport. And you saw why. He's violent. Beyond that, we'll simply observe. If he makes it past the full moon without incident, Fenn has ordered that he be freed.”
“What?”
“I know what you're going to say, but some of the guards are spooked by what they've found in the desert, and now word is out that Trent has been acting up.”
“Olga!” Seffy cried, “the only one who knew anything was you!”
The nurse stiffened. “I'm only allowed to keep some things confidential. I have to report anything that puts the other residents' safety in jeopardy. Either way, their superstition buys us some time, which I suspect was Fenn's idea.”
Seffy stared, shocked and furious that her trusted ally wasn't so trustworthy after all. “So now Fenn knows about this.”
“Of course. It concerns the security of the residents.”
Seffy snorted. “Do you know it was Fenn who sent Trent out of the compound to do his dirty work?”
The nurse's lined face paled. “No.”
What the hell was going on around here? And why did she think she'd ever get an answer to that question? “Fine, I'll allow you to 'observe' Trent, but that's all. And I get to be near him, not watch from another room.”
“The guards have been ordered to kill you both if you try anything.”
Seffy shrugged defiantly. “Big whoop. People here have been trying to kill me for ages.”
“And who's stepped in and protected you besides Trent?”
She stared at the nurse, then looked away. “You.”
“That's right. So you should trust me.”
The threat of tears returned with a vengeance. Seffy choked them back. “You could've just told me what you had planned.”
Olga tipped a knowing look over her glasses. “Are you ready to see your husband or not?”
Seffy had no choice. She nodded, then followed the nurse out the door. After a few turns, she realized they were heading deeper into the psychiatric wing. When she saw the hallway and room where Trent was being held, she gasped. “How could you?”
“It's the most equipped for discreet purposes and it's far removed from the majority of residents...if something goes wrong.”
Discreet purposes. “It's where they kept me tied down to a table for a week.” Seffy stalked into the room—fear and fury boiling in her veins—ignoring the security guards and haz-mat twins. Her gaze flashed to where she'd seen the strange orange light, except now there was none. Naturally.
She went straight to Trent's side and took his hand. The limpness alarmed her. She turned to Olga. “When will he wake up?”
“We're not sure. His physiology has changed enough that any kind of drug could have an unintended impact.”
Blinking away tears, Seffy leaned down and pressed her lips to his cheek, then his forehead. “I'm right here,” she whispered. “I won't leave you.”
Trent's form was lifeless aside from his shallow breathing. Olga started a new I.V. then attached sensors to his forehead and chest. Once she turned on a monitor and checked the I.V. to make sure it was flowing properly, she looked through a cabinet, selecting various medical supplies.
Seffy sent an annoyed glance at the extras in the room. “Do they really have to be here?”
Olga sighed. “You men can wait outside.”
They obeyed instantly, and Seffy realized it was because they really would shoot to kill if she tried anything.
“So, did Trent say where he'd been?” Olga asked in a low voice, her back still turned.
Seffy wasn't going to add to her husband's mounting issues. “No.” And technically it wasn't a lie. She had no clue where he'd found the mayor, and shuddered at the idea that the man was dead. Honestly, it was too much, too late.
“For your sake, I'm thankful he came back. Let's just hope I've overreacted.”
Seffy remained silent, struggling against resentment, and dragged a chair over to the gurney. Sitting down, she rested her head on Trent's arm and wrapped her fingers around his hand. “He looks cold,” she said in a hollow voice.
Olga went through another cabinet and brought over a hospital blanket.
Seffy took it from the nurse and settled it over his body, then resumed her contact and closed her eyes.
If they lived through this, she planned on torching the compound and taking her chances in the desert. She'd already been ravaged by rage and grief. What was the difference if an animal did it for real?
***
“How's she doing?”
“If you want the truth, I think she's worse off.”
Seffy blinked and lifted her head slightly, wondering why the side of her face was stuck to something metal. She looked down, seeing the edge of the metal exam table, and caught her breath. Jerking upright, she saw Fenn speaking in low tones to Olga. Her vision dimmed a moment, darkened by anger.
“What are you doing here?”
Fenn swiveled around, his blue eyes startling. “I'm concerned about you and Trent.”
Seffy set her jaw and glanced at her husband, lifeless on the table. “Apparently your concern doesn't extend to letting us go.”
He firmed his lips. “Where was he?”
“I don't know. Why don't you tell me?”
A corner of Fenn's eye twitched. “He couldn't have gone far. We had searchers out, looking everywhere.”
Her lip curled. Was he faking because Olga was in the room? “No doubt armed, since it was an animal you were hunting, right?”
“Seffy, I don't think you realize how serious this is—”
She jumped up and advanced on the compound leader. “I don't realize? What I realize is that you're using innocent people for your own twisted purposes. You lie, you deceive...you make me sick!”
Fenn tried to take her hand, but she pushed him away. Suddenly, he wheeled backwards and fell to the floor. The cocking of several guns reverberated in the small room.
Seffy saw Fenn's face contorted in pain, and remembered too late his leukemia had made him frail.
She made a move to assist him, momentarily remorseful, but felt cold steel shoved against the back of her head.
“Put the guns down!” he rasped. With Olga's help, he slowly made it to his feet, his face bloodless, his eyes bracketed by strain. “All of you, out!”
Seffy stood numb as the guards shuffled from the room.
Fenn passed a weary hand over his face. “I know why you're upset—at least I know I would be if I was in your situation. But I have a responsibility to keep the residents safe. As Olga surely already explained, Trent is exhibiting symptoms of—”
“A werewolf?” Seffy said, unable to mask her mocking tone. “So mythical creatures are par for the course around here? What's next, vampires?”
He regarded her with composure. “There are facts that lead some to certain explanations.”
She smiled, shaking her head. “Facts. Wow. We have different definitions for the word apparently.”
His mouth tightened. “Nonetheless, Trent will be kept mostly sedated until we can determine any changes in the next couple of days. Olga has told me he hasn't been himself lately.”
Seffy shot an outraged glance at the nurse.
“He's been...rough with you? Chasing you?”
She flattened her expression at the compound leader, sullenly refusing to answer his question.
“Did you see anything when you were in the desert? Any chance he could've been—”
“He was never bitten.”
“There's a wound on his ankle that's festering. We think that may be the entry point.”
How had he gotten the scratch? Wasn’t it from that night he’d followed her down the ladder? Either way, the scratch they'd found was likely an excuse to cover a deliberate infection or injection of some sort. She wished they'd picked on her instead of Trent.
“Assuming he was exposed, think of his symptoms. Would they fit into this hypothesis?”
His science-speak didn't fool her. “There's no such thing as what you're suggesting.”
Fenn sighed. “Time travel is real—”
Acrid tears burned her cheeks. “Is it? Or maybe this is all a construct in my mind. Some trauma has turned my brain and everything I see is make believe.”
“Okay, then, this is all in your head. Why werewolves? What do they represent? What are they symbolic of?”
She snorted. “I don't have a clue.”
“To be bitten by one is symbolic of receiving divine punishment,” he said. “It's like a rabies of the soul.”
Seffy arched her brow. “Is that supposed to mean something?”
“And psychologically speaking, werewolves represent a hidden nature, a dark side...finding out you—” he glanced at Trent's form—“or someone you care for is not what you thought they were.”
Addison's words about Trent changing after the wedding came to mind. “Sorry, your psychobabble just isn't doing it for me. I'm thinking it has something to do with the compound. That's what's responsible for the freaky crap that goes on around here. Not my brain, not my guilt, and not my husband.”
“I'm just trying to help you open your mind.”
Seffy laughed. “Wow. Looks like I'm not the only one who's been juiced around here.”
“Seffy,” he said, his voice strained.
“What's psychonautics?”
He frowned. “What?”
“The word pyschonautics was painted near the double doors on the wall. What does it mean?”
He swallowed and looked away. “I'm sure it's something left over from when the compound was run by others.”
“You mean Soviets.”
Now it was his turn to be mulish. He refused to answer her question. “Is there anything I can do to make this more endurable?”
Seffy noticed Olga was rummaging through a drawer in the corner of the room. She dropped her voice. “Why don't you tell me where he was?”