Blood Hunter

by Debra Jess

  Still not much of a reaction. Jimmy sat and stared.

  "He's tired." Rita reached down to pull Jimmy into her lap with a groan. Scott guessed Jimmy was of average weight for his age, with dark hair and eyes like his mother. "After the operation, he became lethargic. The doctors said it's just a reaction to all the trauma from the surgery and the drugs. It'll take time for him to come back to his usual self. It's only been six months after all."

  "What sort of drugs is he taking?" Scott had no idea of what was necessary for transplants. Maybe he could ask Daniella Rose? With her transplant already in the planning stages, plus working in the biomedical field, she might be able to spot something out of the ordinary.

  "Oh, too many for me to name. I can print off a list for you."

  Scott held out his arms to take Jimmy, while Rita disappeared again. Jimmy's head found Scott's shoulder and he fell asleep without Scott having to rock him to sleep or anything. Was six months enough time for a child to return to his normal behavior? Did Betty's attack on Hannah really tire Jimmy to the point where he couldn't stay awake longer than a few minutes? Scott rocked back and forth despite Jimmy's contentedness. He knew nothing about babies, but even he could see that this was not the same Jimmy he'd seen in the video. Yet, everyone made excuses for the change in personality. Everyone except Betty, who would know her son better than anyone else.

  Rita returned with the printed list of medications.

  "Thanks, Ms. Han. I should go."

  He shifted Jimmy back to his aunt. "You're pretty good at that," she said.

  "What do you mean?" He picked up the paper and gave the list a brief glance.

  "Handling kids." Ms. Han stroked Jimmy's hair. "You should try it with your own."

  Scott raised his eyes from the paper. "You've been reading the gossip columns."

  Rita smiled. "Well, it's far more pleasant to read about two young people in love than about all the nasty politics between here and Star Haven. I apologize if I was out of line, but even the Captain said she was happy that you were happy."

  His mother had said that? Scott slipped the paper into his pocket. Nothing looked familiar to him, so he'd have to research the medications later. For now he put on his game face. "There are worse people to sound like than Captain Spectacular."

  He waved so Rita wouldn't feel as if she had to stand up and show him out.

  As he mounted his cycle, his phone buzzed. It was Juan.

  I'm still here in TC if you want to meet.

  Your stuff made it through the attack.

  Scott let out his breath. Juan had survived the attack. He'd wondered, but his first priority had been Hannah.

  Yes. I want to meet.

  Been busy since the attack.

  Where are you?

  He hadn't given his stuff a second thought since he'd brought Hannah across the Bay.

  At the harbor hotel.

  We could meet out front, on the boardwalk.

  Scott checked his watch. He needed to book it if he was going to get to the Arena for his training session on time. As much as he'd prefer to blow it off and meet with Juan now, he knew there would be more trouble for him and Hannah down the road if he canceled.

  Maybe this evening?

  Have to keep an appointment

  this afternoon.

  Scott held his breath until Juan answered.

  5:30?

  Yes. I'll meet you at the hotel's

  entrance to the boardwalk.

  I'll see you then.

  Scott wanted to keep the conversation running, but he didn't want to appear desperate. He tucked his phone away, and revved the Harley's engine.

  Traffic still hadn't improved much. He had to detour away from Harbor Regional where the police had set up roadblocks so ambulances could have an easier time redistributing less critical patients to other facilities. Parking at the Arena was also an issue, with the planned soccer game going forward despite the attack. Never let it be said that Thunder City didn't know how to keep calm.

  "You're late."

  Scott bit back his sarcasm. The last thing he needed today was Highlight's criticisms. Instead he ignored her and walked to the other end of the room. If she wanted an explanation, she'd have to stand there forever. He could see the line of beanbags she’d created on the table, all new. Shinzo stood behind the screen with the camera, waiting for Highlight to give Scott the order to pull.

  Scott decided not to wait. He'd learned more in the past few days from the Shield than he ever had from Highlight. His determination to keep Hannah safe and in his arms overrode his good sense.

  One by one he pulled each of the beanbags into his left hand, dropping them to the ground beside him, not waiting for Highlight to comment. After he pulled the last one, he pushed instead of pulled and sent the beanbag back to the table, placing it where it had started.

  "You've improved. What's changed?"

  She sounded suspicious, as if Scott had managed to find a way to cheat. Except there was no cheat. He had motivation now. A desire to use his powers. His interest in sharing information, however, didn't reach beyond the fact that he'd shown up and passed the test.

  "Nothing's changed. I passed the test. I'll see you tomorrow."

  "Get back here, Grey."

  Scott ignored her and left the room.

  This time the groan wasn't an echo from the floor above filtering through the vents. Hannah leaned back in McNamara's executive chair, her eyes blurred, her headache blossoming across her frontal lobe, headed for the parietal and temporal. If she didn't stop reading Jimmy's records now, it would reach the occipital and cerebellum. Once that happened, she'd fall to the floor and spend the night staring at the ceiling of McNamara's office.

  The rumble in her stomach protested the thought of another empty hour, so Hannah shut down the screen with Jimmy's records. She hadn't found anything out of the ordinary. He'd been diagnosed with a low-grade focal brainstem glioma of the medulla. Surgery had removed the entire tumor and further examinations had shown that follow-up radiation wasn't necessary.

  The splice she'd found on Jimmy's spine was located below the medulla at the point where the spine began, but there was no reference in the records to such a splice. Not even a footnote in any of the post-surgical reports and follow-up exams. It was as if the splice itself had never happened. Except she'd seen it, hadn't she?

  Hannah checked the time. She must be tired if she was beginning to doubt her own findings when she bloodsurfed.

  Through the open door, the empty hallway beckoned her toward the elevators. McNamara hadn't returned. Neither had the Shield.

  She needed one more minute. What she really wanted was a head massage. Not for the first time, she bemoaned her inability to heal herself. Maybe she could ask Scott for a massage the next time they were together? The thought of his hands on her body sent a tingle from her hippocampus to the phalanges in her toes.

  Ugh. Nothing shut down a lovely thought of Scott's lovemaking like a perfect understanding of human anatomy. Another sigh and a moan, and she shoved herself off the chair.

  "Mommy."

  She froze mid-push.

  "Mommy."

  Nope. Not her imagination. But a child calling for his mom wouldn't echo from pathology upstairs either, unless she had fallen into a horror movie.

  "Mommy."

  I-will-not-freak-out. I-will-not-freak-out. A child telepath, maybe? The Alt clinic was right next door. Pathia had never contacted her directly, so she had no idea what it felt like to have someone else in her head. Scott would know, though. She pulled out her phone to call him.

  "Mommy."

  She hesitated. The word echoed exactly the same as the first time she'd heard it. Same tone, same pitch, same rhythm, and it sounded vaguely familiar.

  "Mommy."

  She knew that voice. How could she forget it? She'd heard it every year in a holiday movie about a boy who wished for a real family on Christmas. It was slow, sappy, appeared on more tha
n one channel, and she watched it every single time because of the comfort of watching the deliriously happy child race into his new family's arms at the end, calling Mommy, mommy, mommy. That clip had become a popular meme over the years, one that she sometimes played on her computer when she couldn't shake her own depression.

  She sat back down to check McNamara's computer. She had closed the medical record program before standing, and the browser was shut down as well. Just to be sure, she turned off the volume.

  "Momm-"

  The whine stopped mid-syllable. From over the top edge of the computer, she could see through the open door down the hallway. In theory, all cadavers were stored upstairs before they were autopsied. Where the freezers were. Like the one in which Miranda had locked her.

  Cold iced over her headache. Her appetite disappeared. Out. Get out of here before Miranda returns.

  In order to get out she had to get to the elevators. Seen through the open door, the hallway looked a lot colder, emptier, and much longer than it had an hour ago. Despite her raging fear, she remembered to turn off the light in the office as she stepped over the threshold. Bright fluorescent lights overhead made her blink.

  She didn't hear the voice again until she stood parallel to the elevator doors. She hit the "up" button and waited.

  "Mommy."

  "Stop it! You're scaring me!" The first stage to overcoming your fear is to acknowledge it, right? Okay, she was scared. She was hearing voices in her head. A voice from a stupid movie she hadn't seen since she’d escaped Miranda. This was Miranda's fault. Miranda was haunting her with hallucinations.

  Auditory hallucinations. Like the kind Betty Chung claimed Jimmy could do.

  The elevator door opened, waiting for Hannah to enter, but she didn't. If Jimmy could throw sounds, and he was separated from his mother, wouldn't the first thing he would call for be his mother? And if he couldn't call for his mother using his own voice, he would create a familiar sound clip to do it for him, wouldn't he? Could he?

  But Jimmy was far away, living with his aunt in the Fargrounds. Could he throw sounds from so far away? Could his call reach her here, underground, through tons of concrete, metal, and earth?

  Hannah turned away from the inviting elevator. What if Jimmy wasn't home? What if he was here, in the hospital? Had he gotten sick? She pulled out her phone. Her first instinct was to call Scott again, but she disconnected before she pressed his number. Even if she called him, anything she told him would set him to worry, and he couldn't get to the VIP level without a key card. She dialed McNamara instead.

  "Hannah? I'm so sorry. I didn't realize how late it had gotten. You must be starving."

  Her empty stomach growled. Just hearing a human voice calmed her down. The hallway became less bright, less frightening in the blink of a second.

  "Yes, I am, but are you busy right now? Could you check something for me?"

  "I could use a break from all this politicking. What do you need?"

  She swallowed, searching for a way to make her request sound perfectly normal. "Could you see if for some reason Jimmy's here, either in the hospital or at the clinic? Maybe he had a check-up this afternoon or something?"

  McNamara was quiet for second. "I can check, yes. Did something happen? Did you find something in his records that needs immediate attention?"

  "No. There's nothing in his records. I just — " she couldn't get the words past the tightness in her throat. "I'm just really overtired and need to go home, but it would help if I knew he wasn't here in the hospital. That he's really safe."

  It was a lame excuse, but it was the best she could do.

  "Okay. I'm going to send the Shield down to escort you back up here. I'll have the answer for you when you arrive."

  Oddly, the idea of the Shield escorting her made her feel safer. If anyone could scare away the irrational creepiness of her imagination, it would be the Shield.

  "Okay. Thank you. I'll be waiting." She disconnected the call.

  How tired she must be to also forget that there might be other Alt children who could produce auditory hallucinations. With the Alt clinic was right next door, it wasn't unreadable to assume another child was calling for his mommy. After all, there had been an Alt who could translocate objects before Scott arrived in Thunder City. Blockhead was as strong as Captain Spectacular. Both Looper and Pathia were telepaths, albeit with different ways of expressing their ability. Duplicate abilities were not unusual in the Alt community. She, alone, was unique.

  Still, it wouldn't hurt to check. Just to be sure. She'd ask Doctor McNamara when she saw him.

  Around her, the low hum of the hospital's air conditioning drowned out the silence, but there was no mysterious voice calling for a mommy. Her fear lessened, knowing the Shield was on his way, so Hannah wandered toward the autopsy rooms. There were three of them, two on her left, one on her right with a supply closet next to the single room. The opposite end of the hallway was closed off by an emergency exit marked with a huge red sign reading "Do not open. Alarm will sound."

  "Mommy."

  Damn it! The voice sounded quieter this time, but the cadence hadn't changed. She stood in front of the first autopsy room on the right. The room where McNamara first had her experiment with her ability to surf inside a cadaver.

  Open the door. Go on. You know it's empty. You can't keep a cadaver on a table all day long with no one autopsying it. Open the door.

  She slammed the door open, the bang challenging her inner voice. Nothing. As she’d expected, the room was empty. Neat, clean, with all of the equipment back in its proper places, the temperature a few degrees colder than the hallway. She closed the door and opened the next room. The same conditions there, and the same with the third.

  She tried the maintenance closet. Inside, she saw an imposing block of metal instead of supplies. A backup generator, maybe, in case the hospital lost power? It emitted a low thrum, so maybe it supplied power to the lower levels of the hospital, and wasn't just a backup.

  That left the emergency door. She closed the door to the generator's room, and put her hand on the push bar for the emergency door. The cold metal didn't entice her to open it, nor did the red sign right in front of her face. Should she? Did she dare open the door to see if Jimmy was on the other side?

  "Don't open it."

  She spun with a screech.

  Son-of-a-bitch. She'd been so wrapped up in herself, in her imagination, that the Shield had managed to sneak up her. She couldn't even stammer an apology. His heavy hand on her shoulder yanked her away from the door.

  "You'll set off the alarm for the entire hospital."

  "Yeah, I know, but...."

  He maneuvered himself between her and the door. "But, what?"

  Oh, hell, the mirrored sunglasses did nothing to ease her confusion. "Nothing. I was just curious, and it went too far. It won't happen again."

  To avoid any further questions, she spun away, intending to head for the elevators. As she did, she couldn't help but notice the Shield's reflection in one of the folder holders outside the nearest autopsy room. He'd turned away from her and was examining the exit door.

  Instead of asking why, she broke into a run. The elevator was still open and waiting, so she entered. A moment later, the Shield joined her. He was the one who hit the floor button that would take her to McNamara. He had to because she'd wrapped her arms around herself so tight she couldn't let go. The closed elevator doors didn't help.

  "You're not going to do it, are you?"

  Hannah had to blink. In her frightened state, she had to look at the Shield to make sure he was the one who was talking to her, and not some imaginary voice.

  "Do what?" She almost stammered, but instead dug her fingernails into her biceps.

  He turned to face her, for all the good it did with the sunglasses. "Break it off with Grey."

  Had McNamara asked him to pressure her? Oh, hell, now her anger rose up against her panic. The toxic mix damn near made her sick. "No. No
, I am not going to break up with Scott. What the hell is it with people trying to talk us out of our relationship? Just leave us the hell alone."

  Good Lord, did he actually smirk at her outrage? Damn him, anyway. The elevator opened and she stormed out into the next corridor, which was just as bright, but much larger and busier, with other doctors, interns, and orderlies milling about. McNamara stood off to one side, talking on his phone.

  Leaving the Shield in her wake, Hannah stormed over to McNamara. He held his hand out to her, pulling her out of the department's foot traffic. She huffed, but waited quietly. It wasn't his fault that she couldn't decide if she was scared, crazy, or just pissed off.

  He disconnected the phone. "Jimmy isn't here or over at the clinic. Want to tell me what this is all about?"

  Hannah looked around. The open corridor, the bright lights, the Shield standing at her back. No, she didn't want to talk about hearing voices in her head or through walls or vents or anywhere where anyone else could overhear her.

  "Not here. In fact, not tonight. I'm too tired and I really just need to go home and have dinner."

  She could see McNamara look at the Shield. She imagined the Shield responding by not responding at all, or maybe by giving his boss a casual "she's an emotional kid, what were you expecting" shrug.

  "Okay. Give me ten minutes and I'll — "

  "No." She had to get out of here, and not with McNamara or his bodyguard. "You're busy. I'll get Alek or Evan to bring me back. It'll be faster and you can finish your job."

  More eye contact between the two men. "If you're sure."

  "I'm sure."

  She didn't wait for their response. Pushing herself back into the flow of traffic, she returned to the hated elevators. Neither man followed her. She punched the number for the garage level. Her body shook during the entire ride, but once up there, she pulled out her phone. "Alek, it's Hannah. Could I bother you for a lift home from the hospital?"

  17

  Scott parked as close as he could to the hotel at the harbor boardwalk. The extra-wide front steps led up to a wraparound porch with circular dining tables belonging to the interior restaurant. People milled about talking in low tones. He suspected many of them were survivors from the Star Haven delegation, left here until the investigators from both cities could interview them. They gave him the side-eye when he walked by, either because they recognized him or because they were suspicious of anyone not part of the delegation and assumed he was an Alt.