The Chemist

by Stephenie Meyer

  Together they hefted Daniel carefully onto the silver tabletop. She took his wrist again, willing his pulse to stay discernible.

  "Give me two seconds, Ollie," Kevin said as he began stripping the soldier who'd fallen over Daniel's legs, the one with the least blood on him. "How many more are upstairs?"

  She glanced at the faces on the floor. She thought she recognized the shorter guard from the metal detector.

  "At least one isn't here, for sure. He was at the door. It seemed empty up there, but I didn't see most of these guys beforehand."

  He was already in the pants, pulling socks over his mangled feet and then trying the shoes. They were too small. He yanked another pair off the other poisoned soldier. Those looked a little big, but Kevin tied the laces tight.

  "You're going to have to cut those off," she said.

  He buttoned the white shirt, then threw the dark navy coat over the top, not bothering with the tie. "I'll do what I have to do when we live through this. Lose the lab coat, it's covered in blood."

  "Right," she agreed, awkwardly shoving the guns into the elastic band at the back of her leggings. It was barely strong enough to hold them both in place. She shrugged out of the coat and let it drop to the floor.

  "Okay, let's get this table past all the bodies, then you should be able to handle it in the hall. I'll sweep ahead and take out anybody who's left."

  In seconds she was rolling Daniel down the hall, half running while Kevin disappeared into the darkness, somehow at a full sprint. Then she was in the metal-detector room, and Kevin was waiting, holding the elevator for her. The room was empty; everyone must have rushed to the observation room when the shooting started. She darted into the elevator.

  Kevin reached out to hit the button as the doors shut silently behind her. She stared at his right hand on the button, his dominant hand, and a sudden burst of understanding had her coughing out one half-delirious laugh.

  Kevin eyed her sharply. "Keep it together, Ollie."

  "No, no, see, it's his heart, Kev. It's on the wrong side--the right side. That's why the shooter missed." She choked out another laugh. "He's alive because he's your opposite."

  "Lock it up," he ordered.

  She nodded once, taking a deep breath to steady herself.

  The elevator stopped and the door opened to the supply closet. The outer door was closed. Kevin lifted the edge of the table over the lip of the elevator, then went to the door.

  She expected him to ease it open, but instead he threw it wide with a loud bang.

  "Help!" he yelled. "We need help down here!"

  Then he was racing forward silently. She could hear louder footsteps coming for them from the other room--just one set, she was sure. She pushed Daniel forward as quietly as she could.

  Kevin was in place before the guard came around the corner. The guard ran right past him, gun in hand but held low by his side, pointed at the ground. Kevin's gun was high. He shot the guard in the back of the head. The man crumpled to the floor. Kevin stepped forward and put one more bullet into his head to be thorough.

  The hallway was too narrow to maneuver the gurney around the body. Kevin grabbed it with both hands and lifted it over. Alex did what she could to help, but she knew Kevin was taking most of the weight. She didn't know how he was still performing at this level, and she was afraid he was going to kill himself trying.

  There was no other guard.

  "Get him to the car," Kevin commanded. "Let me finish up here."

  No one tried to stop her; no one shot at her from a darkened window while she ran into the parking lot. The sky was completely black now. The single streetlight near the front door cast only a dim yellow circle toward the parked cars. She fumbled in Daniel's pockets till she found Carston's keys. She popped the trunk and ran for her souped-up first-aid kit.

  She knew exactly where the blowout gear was. She'd expected either she or Kevin--or both--would be shot, and she'd prepared accordingly. She didn't need the tourniquet or the QuikClot gauze, but she had several HALO seals, and they would work better than her plastic sandwich bags. She also had a Mylar survival blanket, more saline, and some strong intravenous antibiotics. Bullets were dirty things, and infection would be a concern... if she could keep Daniel alive that long.

  She knew she couldn't. Maybe for twenty-four hours at most with what she had here. Despair made her hands shake as she ripped open the packages.

  Then Kevin was right beside her. He threw a heavy black-and-silver square into the trunk.

  "Hard drive the cameras recorded to," Kevin explained. "I'll get him into the back."

  She nodded, filling her arms with stopgap measures.

  When she crawled into the foot space of the backseat, she could see that Kevin had done everything right. Daniel was on his left side. His head was propped up on the driver's headrest, which Kevin had ripped out of place--violently, it appeared. She checked Daniel's airway again, his pulse. She could still just make it out in his carotid. The ketamine would keep him under for a while. He couldn't feel any pain. His system would remain as unstressed as possible under the circumstances.

  The car started to move. She could feel Kevin was trying to keep the motion smooth for her, but it wouldn't be smooth enough.

  "Stop," she said. "Give me a minute to get things in place."

  He hit the brakes. "Hurry, Ollie."

  It took only seconds to switch her makeshift seals for the real thing. She got the IV in quickly and then pinned the bag to the top of the seat back.

  "Okay." As she spoke this time, she could barely recognize her own voice--she knew there wasn't anything more she could do, and the despair was starting to suck her down. "You can drive."

  "Don't quit on me now, Oleander," Kevin growled. "You're stronger than that. I know you can do this."

  "But there's nothing more I can do," she choked out. "I've done everything. It's not enough."

  "He's going to make it."

  "He needs a level-one trauma center, Kevin. He needs a thoracic surgeon and an operating suite. I can't clean his wounds or put in a chest tube in the backseat of a damn Bimmer!"

  Kevin was silent.

  Tears streamed down Alex's cheeks, but she didn't feel grief yet. Just rage--at the injustice, at the limitations of their situation, at herself for this ultimate failure.

  "If we dropped him off at an ER--" She sobbed.

  "We'd be handing him over to the bad guys. They'll be looking at the hospitals."

  "He's going to die," she whispered.

  "Better that than he end up in a room like the one you just busted me out of."

  "Didn't we just kill the bad guys?"

  "Pace is still in charge, Ollie, till he slaps the right patch on, and given the current stress level, he might just start smoking again. If he doesn't die... even without his partners, he has no shortage of muscle at his command. The hospital is out."

  She bowed her head, defeated.

  The seconds ticked by. She marked them by the faint, steady pulse in Daniel's neck. She should probably be driving. She didn't know how Kevin was still going, but he didn't even seem fazed by his ordeal, not slowed in the slightest by his myriad of wounds. He was a machine. At least Daniel shared the same iron constitution... But finding any excuse for hope right now was kind of stupid.

  "If..." Kevin began thoughtfully.

  "Yes?"

  "If I could get you to an operating space... if I could get you the things you needed... Could you fill in for the thoracic surgeon?"

  "It's not my specialty, but... I could probably handle the basics." She shook her head. "Kev, how could we get a suite up and running? If we were in Chicago, sure, I might know a guy, but--"

  Kevin laughed once--more of a bark, really.

  "Ollie, I've got an idea."

  *

  ALEX HAD NO sense of what time it was. Maybe three a.m., maybe four. She was ragged with exhaustion, but also wired and jittery. The hand that held her seventh Styrofoam cup of coffee
was trembling so badly that the surface of the liquid looked like a miniature storm at sea. Well, that was okay. She didn't need steady hands anymore.

  Joey Giancardi. She never would have thought she could feel so much warmth toward her old Mafia handler, but tonight she blessed his name. If she hadn't done what amounted to an intensive trauma course with the Mob, she never would have been able to pull Daniel through. Each thug and gangster she'd repaired had given her just that much more experience, all of it adding up until she could play both EMT and surgeon tonight. Maybe she should send Joey a thank-you card.

  She ran her quivering free hand through her hair and suddenly found herself wishing she were a smoker, like Pace. Smokers always seemed so serene with a cigarette in hand. She needed something to bring her down, to slow her agitated heart, but the only physical comfort she could find was the cup of strong black sludge she held, and that wasn't exactly helping her relax.

  Dr. Volkstaff was snoring on a battered couch squeezed between two large storage cabinets against the back wall of his workspace. He'd been surprisingly capable--despite his age and specialty. They'd had to cobble together much of what they'd needed in his operating theater, but he was inventive and familiar with his tools, and she was inspired by desperation. Together, they'd made a potent team. They'd even done a decent job of patching together a makeshift Heimlich valve that appeared to be working perfectly. The gentle beeping of Daniel's heart monitor was the most soothing sound she'd ever heard. Not that it could do anything about the caffeinated overstimulation of her nervous system. Unthinkingly, she took another gulp of coffee.

  Daniel's color was good, his breathing even. He did share all of Kevin's physical characteristics, it seemed; he was engineered to survive. Dr. Volkstaff said he'd never seen a smoother procedure, and he'd dealt with plenty of lung injuries in his time, though usually puncture wounds. It was possible that Daniel would be walking out of here tomorrow.

  She carefully set her cup on the counter and then gripped her shaking hands into fists as she walked slowly back to the stool by Daniel's bed and sat. It was actually two operating beds bungeed together. Nothing here had been near long enough for Daniel.

  After a second, she leaned her head against the thin, plastic-covered cushion and closed her eyes.

  She thought about what they had accomplished tonight, what she had almost traded Daniel's life for.

  Deavers and Carston were dead. There might not be another person alive--besides Wade Pace--who knew she existed. And his hours were numbered. Hopefully.

  Kevin was snoring on the floor, an old dog bed under his head for a pillow. She'd given him the largest dose of painkillers that was safe, and Volkstaff had cleaned his wounds once Daniel was in the clear. Sleep was the best thing for Kevin now.

  By this time, Val should have dropped Livvy at the urgent-care center--chosen for its lack of exterior cameras--with Alex's grammatically unsound, tearstained apology note. She wondered how seriously the police would continue their search for the kidnapper. Livvy was unharmed, with no memory of her time away from Erin. The DC police would surely have little time to track down a frenzied mother who'd thought the little girl looked exactly like an older version of her own child, stolen two years ago by an estranged father. There had to be several missing-children cases that would match the loose information she'd given them. It would keep the authorities focused in the wrong direction. Maybe they'd tie Livvy's kidnapping to the death of her grandfather on the same day, but probably they wouldn't. There was an entirely separate cornucopia of motives to sift through for Carston's violent death. It would look like nothing more than a horrible coincidence.

  The shadowy powers that be, the people who pulled the puppet strings, would have to cover everything up. One fact was going to stand out to them--the CIA's second in command and the director of a black ops program that wasn't supposed to exist had shot each other and a handful of American soldiers. The puppet masters would probably demolish the entire complex before they'd even had time to make sense of the evidence there. They'd call it a horrible accident, a building collapse due to a structural flaw, what a shame.

  She thought of the last things Kevin had said to her before he crashed.

  "You can do this, Ollie. I know you'll save his life. Because you have to. And then we'll all be safe. This isn't going to happen to Danny again, so you pull him through it."

  She wondered if he really did have that much faith in her or if he was just trying to keep her from panicking. But would he have allowed himself to pass into unconsciousness if he hadn't believed his own words?

  "Alex?"

  Her head whipped up so fast the wheeled stool beneath her rolled back a few inches. She jumped off it and leaned over Daniel, taking the hand that was weakly groping for hers.

  "I'm right here." She glanced at his IV. The ketamine must be out of his system now, but he had an intravenous painkiller that would keep him from feeling too much discomfort.

  "Where are we?"

  "Safe, for the moment."

  His eyes slowly opened. It took them a moment to find her, and then another to focus.

  She'd known with decent certainty for at least two or three hours now that he was going to open his eyes again, but the familiar gray-green nearly knocked the wind out of her anyway. She felt tears overflow her own eyes.

  "Are you hurt?" he asked.

  She sniffed. "Not a scratch on me."

  He smiled slightly. "Kevin?" he asked.

  "He's fine. That's him snoring you hear--not a buzz saw."

  The corners of his mouth turned down as his eyes slipped closed again.

  "Don't worry about him. He'll be fine."

  "He looked... really bad."

  "He's tougher than any person should be--kind of like you."

  "Sorry." He sighed. "I got shot."

  "Yeah, I noticed that."

  "Carston took the gun from the guy next to me when Deavers pulled a gun on him," Daniel explained, his lids pulling back just a few millimeters. "He moved fast for an older guy. They were shouting at each other, but all the soldiers lined up with Deavers."

  Alex nodded. "Those were their orders."

  "Deavers gave the order, and one of them shot Carston and then me. Carston fell to his knees but started shooting. I didn't have a gun, so I grabbed the ankles of the people near me with your ring."

  "You did good."

  "I wanted to get to a gun, but the two guys I hit fell on me. I couldn't lift them. My arms weren't working right."

  "The one on your chest probably saved your life, actually. He kept the wound covered till I could get there."

  Daniel blinked his eyes open again. "I thought I was dead."

  Alex had to swallow. "Honestly, so did I for a while."

  "I wanted to stay until you got there. I wanted to tell you some things. It felt horrible when I knew I couldn't."

  She stroked the side of his face. "It's okay. You did it. You stayed."

  The comfort thing was coming to her more easily these days. She'd changed a lot since meeting Daniel.

  "I just wanted you to know that I don't regret any of it. I'm grateful for every second I've had with you--even the bad ones. I wouldn't have missed it, Alex, not for anything."

  She leaned her forehead against his. "Neither would I."

  They didn't move for a long moment. She listened to the sound of his breathing, the sound of his evenly beeping monitors, and Kevin's robust snores in the background.

  "I love you," he murmured.

  She laughed once--a quick, jittery sound that matched the tremors in her hands. "Yeah, I've sort of figured that one out, I think. Took me long enough, didn't it? Anyway, though, I love you, too."

  "Finally speaking the same language."

  She laughed again.

  "You're shaking," he said.

  "I've had so much caffeine, I need a detox."

  It was still middle-of-the-night quiet outside, so the sound of a car pulling up to the back of the bu
ilding was hard to miss. Alex was surprised by how little her nerves reacted--there wasn't much left in her, she could tell. She just felt weary as she straightened up and freed her hands. She pulled her PPK from the small of her back.

  "I really hope that's Val," she muttered.

  "Alex--" Daniel whispered.

  "Don't move even a fraction of an inch, Daniel Beach," she whispered back. "I spent too long patching you up for you to go and tear something now. I'm just being cautious. I'll be back in a sec."

  She hurried to the rear door and peeked past the side of the little curtain. It was the car she was expecting--the ugly green Jag--Val in the driver's seat. She could see Einstein standing up on the passenger side.

  Alex knew she should feel more, knowing that all of it was over, that almost every loose end was wrapped up. She should be elated, relieved, grateful, possibly shedding tears of joy. But her body was completely done. Once the coffee wore off, she'd be comatose.

  "It's Val, like I thought," she told Daniel quietly as she set the gun on the end of his improvised bed.

  "You look like you're going to pass out."

  "Soon," she agreed. "Not quite yet."

  "Alex?" Val called quietly as she came through the door.

  "Yes."

  Einstein bounded into the room, head whipping back and forth as he searched for Kevin. He paused and made a little whimper when he found him on the floor. Einstein's head cocked to the side, and then he licked Kevin's face twice. Kevin's snore stuttered.

  Alex expected Einstein would curl up with his best friend, but, his tail wagging vigorously, he turned and ran to her. He jumped both paws onto her hips so he could lick her face. She had to hold on to Daniel's bed to keep from being knocked over.

  "Careful, Einstein."

  He coughed a quiet bark, almost like an answer. Then he dropped back to all fours and trotted over to Kevin, nestled into his side, and licked his neck again and again.

  Alex was shocked when Kevin spoke. The drugs she'd given him should have kept him out for... well, she wasn't actually sure how long it had been. Her brain was too exhausted even for simple addition.

  "Hey, buddy, hey there," he said, sounding just like he usually did--too loud. His voice seemed impossibly vigorous for the way his body must be feeling. "Did you miss me? Good boy. You told them what happened. I knew you would do it."