by B D Grant
“How soon will my friends be returned to Mr. McBride’s people?”
He turns to screen eight, pursing his lips in thought. “They’re guessing a week’s recovery time for your young friend.”
He’s making that number up. There’s no way that they have already given him a wellness date if he was just deemed stabile.
“But,” he says, patting the gun in his lap as if it’s absentminded, “if your deal is to get them out of here stat, I would be willing to say twenty-four hours.”
“And they won’t be harmed, in any way?”
“You have my word.”
I rub the scruffy stubble on my cheek. We haven’t been allowed razors but with supervision, we are given a trimmer to share one day out of the week. Boston had been talking about taking bets on which of us could grow the longest facial hair before he learned how unbearably itchy it can become.
A screen off to the side of screen number eight catches my eye. Dr. Baudin is strolling down a corridor that I haven’t been down before. He appears to be deep in thought. A former classmate of mine crosses his path, and as he gets near. Dr. Baudin’s mood immediately brightens. He turns his back to the camera as he talks with him.
“Dr. Baudin,” I say pointing at the screen he’s on. There’s no way it’s a coincidence that these guys were watching him when Kian and I came in. “He has to go with them.”
He shakes his head at me. “He’s one of mine.”
“Let him go with Boston, Glensy and Lena,” I say, rubbing my temple. “And I will tell you precisely how I do what I do.”
He goes to the door without hesitation and opens it. “Christopher Baudin, now.”
Dr. Baudin is silent when he enters the surveillance room. Kian hasn’t moved from the chair. He hasn’t let go of the pistol either. It still rests in his lap.
“You know young Mr. Edwards, don’t you?” Kian asks my old professor.
“I was his teacher,” he answers, looking at the screens that are on beside me. He gives a minuscule smile at the large screen where Boston is front and center. He must not have known Boston was stable.
The fingertips of Kian’s left hand tap his leg absentmindedly right next to where the gun is resting. “You must be an exceptional teacher.”
The pistol on Kian’s lap is now pointed in Baudin’s direction. Baudin doesn’t appear the least bit concerned by it, though. “I was a crap teacher.”
“Kelly isn’t making it sound that way. He is requesting that you leave our little compound with three others of his choosing.”
“Shows how great of a teacher I was, if he’s wanting me to leave,” he says jokingly.
I shift my weight to the other foot, glancing at Kian’s gun. If I were him, I wouldn’t want to stay.
“That’s not why I want you to go,” I tell him.
“Kelly wants to save you,” the old man says to him boisterously, “He thinks you’re here against your will, like him. He is making a deal with me to release you and them.”
Dr. Baudin narrows his eyes at me and then at Kian. “What do you want from Kelly?”
“What I asked you here for was to see if you would do as Kelly has requested and bring Boston, Glensy, and…” He looks over at me.
“Lena.”
“Lena,” he says with a nod. “to the Seraphim whom we acquired them from.”
“I’m not going anywhere unless I have to,” Baudin tells him. I can’t figure out if he’s faking loyalty or if it’s genuine.
“Kelly’s important to me. Keeping him happy will make the transition simpler for all of us.”
“If you’re telling me to go, I will. But if you’re asking me,” he looks pointedly at me, “then I want to stay.”
Kian seems happy with Baudin’s answer. He takes the gun from his lap and stands. “What’ll it be, Kelly?” He rolls the chair under the desk. Baudin and I stare at each other as Kian leans under the table to slide the gun back in its holster that’s attached under the desk.
“This is where I want to be,” Baudin says to me. “I’m needed here.”
If I thought he would comply, I’d ask the old man to give Baudin and me a minute alone. None of this is adding up.
“You’re the only one I know who wasn’t shooting at students during the raid,” I say. “So, for the safety of my friends, I’m insisting that you at least bring them to McBride. I don’t trust anyone else. It’s up to you if you want to come back or not.”
Baudin scratches the back of his head as he appears to mull it over. “That’s fair.”
Kian goes to the door. “More than fair,” he says, opening the door. He motions for Baudin to go. “Be ready in the morning. As soon as the one with the injuries wakes up, you will be going.”
“Yes sir,” Baudin says, heading to the door.
Baudin pauses in the doorway. His eyes meet mine in a cold gaze.
Chapter 11
A nurse stops by my room at the crack of dawn to inform me that I am to stay put. I have already changed into my normal clothes, just after they stopped by each room announcing that the charter bus is here for Seraphim pickup.
“Mr. McBride’s orders,” she tells me. Of course it is. I hear everyone else gathering in the hallway in anticipation to leave. They’re tired of being here, just like I am.
The last time I spoke with my uncle, he didn’t mention whether Dad would be strong enough to leave with everyone else. Since I’ve been in a coma he’s been fighting with pneumonia, but his appearance is improving. His skin has its natural pink hue again giving his face some color. I know that if it were just me being told to stay put than my dad would insist to stay as well.
I listen intently from my room as the hospital staff tells their patients goodbye. I lay back on my bed, the leg in a cast laid gently over the good one.
Boredom sets in less than twenty minutes after things get quiet outside my room. I wait patiently, flipping through the channels on the tiny television before finally sitting up to pull my leg caddy over.
I roll out of my room into a hall. There’s only one person walking the hallway. He rolls a large trashcan behind him, stopping at each room to empty the smaller bins. If Dad is still here, there’s no way he’s slept through all this.
I don’t get far before I hear the elevator door’s ding and stop as the elevator opens and a hulking shadow fills the hallway. John, my uncle’s personal security guard, emerges from the elevator. His hair grazes the top of the elevator as he steps out. Another man, not as tall, exits behind him and branches off down the other end of the hall.
“Miss Jameson, what do you think you are doing?” he asks, not looking surprised to see me out of my room.
His is still as big and intimidating as I remember. I haven’t seen him since I was at The Southern Academy. “You’re not supposed to be out of your room,” he says firmly.
“Who told you that?” I ask. The nurse hadn’t given me any instructions to stay put. It may have been implied, but she didn’t say it.
“Who do you think?”
I nod, guessing he’s spoken to my uncle. John walks over to me as I watch the man who exited the elevator with John turn into Jake’s room.
“Did Jake not leave?” I ask.
“He’s coming with us.”
“Us?” I repeat rather slowly.
John cautiously takes a look around, sliding his hands into the front pockets of his thin jacket. He tilts his head, gesturing for me to follow. “We can chat in your father’s room.”
John follows me to Dad’s room, knocking loud as he enters the room behind me.
Dad stirs in his bed. When he sees the two of us, he looks instantly more alert.
“What’s going on?” he asks John.
I glance over at John and then back to my dad. “You know him?” Dad’s never been to my uncle’s school where John works.
“William’s introduced me to all kinds of people while you were in that coma,” Dad tells me. “Has anything happened?” he asks.
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“I was on my way to see you. I haven’t heard anything from Uncle Will.”
“Yeah, something’s happened,” John says gruffly. He shuts the door, unzipping his jacket to reveal the gun on his hip. I tighten my grip on my leg caddy. If he makes a move for that gun, I’m picking up this caddy and swinging it at his head like a baseball bat.
Dad pushes himself to an upright position. “What is it?”
John moves closer. I slowly lower my hurt leg off the caddy and onto the ground.
“We had a second charter bus scheduled to pick up captives’ from the raid,” Dad nods along as if this is old news, but his expression changes when John says, “It never showed.”
Dad swings his legs over the side of the bed, filled with energy I haven’t seen in him since before the kidnapping. “Should we be worried?” he asks. He stands, but it’s all too fast for him. He pauses as soon as he’s vertical and begins wobbling.
John is across the bed and to his aide before I even have my leg back on the caddy. He sits Dad back down, helping him carefully onto the side of the bed.
“It’s being checked out already,” he assures Dad. “Mr. McBride’s called Detective Doherty. He’s sending people to the bus station to figure out what happened.” John helps Dad slip on the house slippers that Uncle Will’s people had supplied for everyone. “Mr. McBride wants me to move the two of you—”
“And Jake Angelo,” Dad adds, in his ‘this is not up for discussion’ tone.
John nods in agreement. “And young Mr. Angelo. Everyone is being told that the three of you are staying here, and we are keeping it that way. The same two nurses are assigned to all three rooms, one for the day shift and one for the night shift. They know to keep your charts active. No others will be allowed in your rooms. Once we’ve left, the day nurse will make it look like you’ve been quarantined.”
“Who else knows?” Dad asks.
“The chief physician. Other than that, no one. And let’s keep it that way.”
“What about the man that went into Jake’s room?” I ask.
“I’ve already initiated our cover story by telling him that there’s some particularly nasty staph infections going around that they weren’t going to let leave with the others in fear of spreading it. He’s a Dyna, not a Veritatis, so he has no idea I made it all up. Besides that, he’s only been told to tell Jake to get dressed. The only thing my guy is going to be worried about is getting out of here without touching anything.”
I go to the sink in Dad’s room and open the cabinet below it. I pull out the spare clothes Uncle Will had brought in the same time I got my street clothes for my dad to wear today. I roll back to the bed and lay them out next to him.
“Do you need any help?” John asks him as I move sluggishly towards the door.
“I’m not that weak,” Dad insists.
“Alright. We’ll collect Mr. Angelo and then come right back,” John says, following me into the hall.
When I step back into the hallway, I see Jake standing outside of my room. He’s alone. The man who had been with John is nowhere in sight. Judging by how big Jake’s eyes get when he notices John stalking behind me this must be the first he has laid eyes on him.
As soon as we’re close enough that I can keep my voice low, I say “Jake, this is John. He works for my uncle.”
“Nice to meet you,” John says, offering his hand to Jake.
Hesitantly, Jake gives the oversized hand a shake. “Likewise.”
“We’ll talk in Mr. Jameson’s room,” John tells him, and before either of us can say another word, he turns back to Dad’s room.
Jake looks to me for an explanation. “Top-secret,” I whisper.
I wait patiently outside of Dad’s room. It’s rather fun to watch Jake scrutinize John out of the corner of his eye, John keeping a steady watch on either side of the hallway.
After a minute, Jake notices John’s gun sticking out from under his jacket. “Nice piece,” he says, moving closer to John to examine it. It’s a calculated move. I can tell he’s doing it to appear as if it gives him a better view when he’s really just placing himself between John and me. It’s a protective move that I appreciate beyond words. Jake’s been so distant since the raid that just this simple move makes me feel warm inside.
There’s a smirk playing on John’s lips as Jake acts interested, which makes me think that he knows what Jake is doing too.
“The better to protect you with,” he says, grinning at Jake. He leaves the gun in its holster.
Jake narrows his eyes at him. “How did you get it past the metal detectors?”
“What metal detectors?” I ask them.
“The ones that were installed at every entrance,” John says, losing his grin. “After every Seraphim was explicitly told not to leave their floor.”
John gives us both an accusing stare, although obviously I haven’t been in or out of any entrance. Jake narrows his eyes as well. “Answer the question.”
“I have permission from my superiors to carry it. What I’d like to know is how you knew that they’ve added metal detectors to the ground floor.”
Thankfully, Dad calls us into his room. He is tottering on the edge of his bed, pulling his shoes on slowly. The shirt he’s wearing gaps open, exposing his abdomen as he leans over to loosen the laces on one his shoes. I can tell that he needs a wider shoe. His feet are still healing from their fractures.
I get to Dad before the guys realize what a struggle he’s having. I loosen the laces and then widen the shoe enough to allow his swollen feet access.
“You really should let them fix your toes,” I say. Two of them were shattered when we found him. They have clearly healed, but have set themselves at wrong angles around the joints.
On one of my eavesdropping sessions outside of Dad’s room when he didn’t want me in there while he spoke with the doctors, Dad admitted those particular toes were intentionally made to set incorrectly. His doctor had told him that they would have to fracture them again. They clearly haven’t gotten around to it.
I’m not sure of the time, but the sun has already set giving us as much cover as we’re going to get leaving the hospital. With nothing to bring with us everyone is ready to go, we follow John to a generic, tan Toyota Camry parked in front of the hospital. It’s parked in one of the few ill-lit spots in the parking lot, out of reach of the street lamps.
I think about calling shotgun, and with a pang, I remember squabbling with Jake over the front seat in what feels like ages ago even though it’s only been months since I was living a normal life with mine and Jake’s family. Dad offers the front seat to me before I say anything. “You’re the one with the cast,” he says. For the first time ever, Jake climbs into the backseat without a word.
Once on the road, John tells us that he has a bag of clothes in the trunk for each of us. My bag, John tells me, is what my uncle collected from my room at The Southern Academy; Dad and Jake’s were purchased by one of the school’s guards so John warns that the sizes may not be quite right, but he’ll address it once we’ve made it to the safe house.
John instructs me to retrieve a phone from the glove compartment. I find a prepaid phone still in the store’s hard plastic display box. John hands me a pocket knife from his front pocket. I struggle with it, slicing at the top of the plastic until it has enough give that I can squeeze my fingers inside to separate the front from the back. I pull it apart enough to pop the cheap phone out from its slot. I try not to let Jake see how much I’m struggling, knowing that he’d only give me trouble for it.
When the phone is free, I hand the phone over to John and then shove everything else back in the glovebox.
“Where is this safe house exactly?” Dad asks from behind the driver’s seat.
“New Orleans,” John says. After a pause, he adds, “Mr. McBride has people there who are willing to give us asylum until detectives can get the Rogue situation under control. They still haven’t caught a lot of the Rogues who g
ot away from us during the raid. Thanks to the body cameras some of us were wearing they had good enough images of their faces to match them to the Rogue school’s faculty records detectives collected from the campus when they started their investigation.” John pauses. “And now they’re redirecting guards to watch the Rogue captives since the bus never showed for transport. There’s no telling what those people have up their sleeve.”
“My only concern is whether or not our safe house is really safe. If Rogues did find out about something as simple as a transport bus, finding out where we’re at won’t be too hard. If we’re going where I think we are, I’m not sure if it’s a smart move,” Dad tells him. I’ve told Dad about Mom and me going to New Orleans after he had been kidnapped and who we stayed with.
I turn around to look at Dad. “Mom trusts them,” I say. “She would want us with them.” Immediately, I feel bad for mentioning Mom.
Dad turns to the window looking out at the soft landscape unfolding around us. “We’re still putting them at risk,” he says quietly.
I had told Dad about Clairabelle Dubose and her son, Miles once it got easier to talk after waking from the coma. Clairabelle had been the one who brought my mom and Uncle Will to Aurora when they were kids so that they could be with other Seraphim. Although they weren’t Seraphim, they knew more about us than any non-Seraphim I’d met. I’m happy that my uncle chose them to house us. I hadn’t realized that I missed them, but the thought of seeing them again feels comforting. Clairabelle has an easy way about her, a calmness that’s contagious. I trust her as much as my mom and uncle do. Maybe Miles will even have some new music recorded. I’ve just about memorized every song from his band’s last C.D. I got from him during my stay at their house.
I lean my chair back, reclining comfortably as I settle in for the drive. I rest my cast over my good leg to elevate it a little. I think about seeing how far I can lean back before Jake gets annoyed, but I decide it’s not worth testing whether I can encroach on his space. I’d rather just rest.
An annoying ringtone goes off inside the car. The little jingle plays over and over again, the same set of four notes in rapid succession.
