My Familiar Stranger

by Victoria Danann

  “She’s human? Or essentially human?”

  “Yes. Essentially human. And, as further proof of the parallel nature of her reality, she understands and speaks a dialect of English, albeit with either an accent or a handicap resulting from her injuries. We won’t know which until healing has progressed.”

  “She will definitely recover from the trauma?”

  “Physically. Yes. Actually, this slight variance in cell density is probably going to assist her recovery. The live cells I’ve been working with have been trying to repair themselves with uncanny speed.”

  Sol gave a big sigh. “Other differences?”

  “We’re sure to learn more as we go along, but I expect her natural temperature will burn a degree or so warmer than 98.6.” Monq stopped again. This time Sol made a circular motion with his hand adding a little impatience to the gesture. ”Because of the increased cell density, she’s heavier than she should be. And very likely stronger, too.”

  “How much stronger?”

  “That would only be a guess at this point.”

  “Strong enough to be a security risk?”

  “She featured prominently in the other Monq’s journal. He was quite fond of her as a student, thought she was extraordinary in several ways. Based on reading the personal thoughts expressed in his journal, I have no reason to suspect a threat.”

  “But you don’t know that for sure.”

  Monq shook his head. “You already know the answer.”

  “For all we know the journal could be part of a complex cover.”

  After another half hour’s discussion, it was agreed that they would proceed to study the subject and maintain a reasonable level of alert meanwhile.

  ***

  CHAPTER 3

  As was the usual custom when a team member has been killed, B Team was given leave to go home and encouraged to spend time doing ordinary things with friends and family. The more ordinary the better. Storm decided to forego leave and stay on base. He was waiting at the main entrance to see Ram and Kay off. They would be driven to a private landing strip on base a couple of minutes away. Ram was taking a “company” jet to Edinburgh where he would transfer. Kay was hopping a small charter to Texas.

  Putting an affectionate hand on Storm’s shoulder, Kay said, “You know that ‘Confucius say’ about being responsible for someone if you save their life?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Well. It’s not true.”

  Storm laughed good-naturedly. He was touched by Kay’s concern for his well-being. Neither of them would hesitate to die for the other and both hoped they would never have to prove it.

  “I’m good. It’s what I want. Go home. Make home movies of you having marathon sex with your girl. Shop at the grocery store. H.E.B. isn’t it? Annoy the hell out of your sisters. And I’ll be here when you get back.”

  Ram gave Storm a shoulder bump, strapped on an army issue duffle, flashed his signature, killer smile and swung up into the jeep transport. That duffle caught Storm’s attention. He was thinking that Ram could afford the most expensive luggage in the Universe and people to carry it for him, too. But, instead, he chose to throw his stuff into an unbleached canvas, surplus bag with “ARMY” stamped on the side.

  Storm watched them drive away and then headed back to the infirmary.

  Elora looked a little better every day. In fact, her rate of improvement was remarkable. Her caregivers whispered to each other that she was beginning to look human. Scrapes and cuts turned into scabs. The swelling that once obscured her features receded so that the structure of bone and cartilage underneath was becoming visible. The skin that originally appeared to have been flayed from her body was restored to a random abstract of mottled blue and purple with an occasional streak of yellow or splotch of sickly green. Medical staff often develop a macabre sense of humor to cope with their jobs. One nurse joked that the patient was a work of art – a watercolor relief in an otherwise completely white room.

  One day a nurse came in to check the I.V. and left the door open out of habit. Elora heard a masculine voice in the hallway just outside that caught her attention. He was asking questions about a patient. She couldn’t place it at first, but knew the sound was familiar and comforting.

  One of the young doctors entered with the squishing sound of soft soled shoes. On the way past the foot of Elora’s bed she said to the nurse changing the I.V., “You left the door open again, Janna.”

  “Sorry, doctor. It’s hard to remember to keep doors closed.” The doctor peered over Elora with dark, almond shaped eyes and her best bedside manner. “Good morning. I’m Doctor Ivagi. Can you tell us your name?”

  “Lorrr Aikei”. Elora Laiken wasn’t going to be possible until more of the swelling around her lips receded.

  “Lor, can you tell us how you’re feeling?”

  “Urzzz.” Pause. “Berrrr.”

  “It hurts, but you’re doing better?”

  “Hmmm.”

  Dr. Ivagi smiled at that. “Okay. Good girl. Now I need you to listen to this carefully. I’m putting a device with a button into your hand. Feel that? You’re going to be able to control your pain meds yourself from now on. When you need more, just push the button and a measured dose will release into your I.V. Do you understand?”

  “Ezzzz.”

  The medical community ascertained that patients would typically administer a smaller dosage of pain medication when they could self-regulate. As disabled as she was, Elora welcomed regaining even that little bit of control.

  Improvement continued so rapidly that the medical staff looked forward to coming on duty so that they could marvel at the change from the day before. Everyone involved knew they were witnessing something unique, part mystery, part miracle.

  One day when Monq stopped by the infirmary to check on the patient’s progress, he found Engel Storm standing in the hallway looking through the glass of the newly constructed recovery room. Quietly he asked one of the nurses if Storm came by frequently. The nurse snorted at that and said he was a fixture, that the staff was so used to having him stand in that spot that they walk around it even when he wasn't there.

  Gleaning a kernel of opportunity, Monq suggested to Sol that Storm be asked to assist with the discovery phase of evaluating the subject for threat risk. Storm was called into a private meeting during which Sol and Monq proposed giving him carte blanche clearance to visit within limits of medical advisability and suggested that he use the time to learn what he can. They went on to say they would provide him with a list of questions.

  Storm was indignant. “I’m not a spy and, frankly, I’m surprised you’d ask this.”

  Sol leveled his gaze and spoke evenly. “It’s not spying, Storm. It’s simply gathering information so that we know the best way to proceed. We do that every day.”

  “You want me to pretend to befriend her for the sole purpose of gaining information and reporting what she says. Sounds like spying to me.”

  Sol glanced at Monq then continued. “Her name is Lor. So far she hasn’t said much, but she is responding to treatment and soon we expect her to be able to talk without difficulty. We’d like her to be thinking of you as a confidante by then.”

  Storm shook his head, turned his back, and walked away, but stopped at the door. “It feels... wrong. It isn’t what knights do.” He turned around to face them. “And you both know it. Since when do we compromise principle for expediency? Or have we always done that and I’m the naïve tool who thought we were better than that?”

  Monq started to interject. “Storm...”

  Storm waved his hand and cut him off turning to Sol, “I’ll do it.”

  A moment ago Sol was mentally digging in for what looked to be a lengthy debate. Switching gears, he nodded. “I thought you’d see things our way. You know you’re one of the...”

  Storm shot him a look that stopped Sol mid sentence, but spoke softly. “Save it.”

  Sol’s jaw tightened as it was his turn to be offended. �
��Remember not to disclose anything about who we are, where we are, or what we do.”

  “Like you need to spell that out,” Storm sneered.

  Sol opened his mouth to say something else, but Monq interrupted. “We have a sincere respect for you and your loyalty, Sir Storm. We know that you will always act in the best interest of The Order and the work we do to preserve the lives of innocents.”

  “Yeah.” Storm threw one last challenging look Sol’s way before he left wondering who’s looking out for the best interest of that poor thing suffering in the infirmary who could very well be an innocent herself.

  The nurse told Storm that the patient was resting quietly with eyes closed, but that she was awake and would respond if he spoke to her. Storm approached the bedside for the first time. Elora was dozing, drifting in and out of a morphine-hazed cloud, thinking she smelled aftershave and a hint of cigar.

  “Hello,” he said quietly. “My name is Engel Storm. People usually call me Storm. I’m the one who brought you here and, look, this is important. Before you respond I need you to know that everything you say and do is being monitored and recorded. You have no expectation of privacy... except in the bathroom... you know.”

  Two floors below, Sov. Sol Nemamiah, observing the exchange, rose from his chair so quickly it turned over. That was followed by spluttering a string of curses that would make a beet turn red. If Engel Storm wasn’t the very essence of knighthood, Sol would personally kick his hard ass to the curb.

  Monq, on the other hand, was smiling with approval. “Excellent. He told her the truth, but solicited her trust at the same time. Smart move.”

  Elora stared up at Storm. Did he seem a little embarrassed about mentioning the bathroom? Unquestionably handsome. And he was charming the caution right out of her - without even trying.

  She would guess he was late twenties and big, almost imposing at that proximity. Locks of hair fell onto his forehead when he leaned over the bed. She was thinking that the world was full of people with dark hair and eyes and yet somehow it looked unique on him, like he was the only person who had eyes so black you couldn’t distinguish pupil from iris. They reflected the light like black mirrors giving him a look of intensity and something else, sincerity maybe.

  “So your name is Lor,” he continued. She shook her head no, slowly, with as little movement as possible. He looked confused. “That’s what they told me.”

  “Elorrr,” her voice rasped, but the ‘ah’ at the end got swallowed on an inhalation. It didn’t sound like her. She realized her mouth and throat were dry. She’d been taking all her liquids through the I.V. and couldn’t unclench her teeth without her face hurting. Plus, her voice hadn’t been used much and may have been damaged from the screaming. “Elor?”

  She knew that confirmation or denial were equally futile so she decided on blinking and staring. He smiled. From a reclining position in a hospital bed it was impossible to tell how tall he was, but he was certainly a lot taller than the nurse who had just left. The room was bigger than a typical hospital room, but he still seemed to occupy a lot of it with size and presence.

  He wore jeans and a black tee shirt that showed off a hard, athletic body kept in perfect condition. She couldn’t see his footwear, but suspected he was wearing worn, brown, leather boots with squared off toes.

  “Elor, I’m going to come see you whenever I can if that’s alright with you. I know you can’t say much right now, but, when you can, and when you want to, I’ll be here. We’re all very curious about how you came to be… our guest… and about what hurt you like this…”

  The nurse came in. “That’s enough visiting for today.” He nodded at the nurse over his shoulder without taking his eyes away from the pitiful creature in the bed. “Do you need anything? Something we may not have thought of?”

  Elora stared at his face with a pained expression and spoke with effort. “Hwinnn.Doh.”

  Storm frowned just a little, but enough for a couple of small lines to appear between his eyebrows. A window was out of the question. They had just built this… holding cell… especially for her. And it had no windows. “We don’t have a room for you with a window. I’m sorry.” He seemed genuinely apologetic. “Is there something about not having a window that would retard your recovery?”

  Elora shook her head almost imperceptibly and thought Storm might have looked a little relieved. “You just like to look outside?” Tiny movement of her chin in an up down direction. “Yeah,” he smiled. “Me, too. Okay. I’ll be back tomorrow.” He turned away then thought of something else. “You know, when you’re better, maybe we can go outside sometimes. That’s even better than a window.”

  “Thane ooh.”

  His smile illuminated his eyes, brilliant and beautiful as a cloudless night. “If there’s anything else…”

  “Ah ke.”

  He frowned again. “Sorry. I don’t know what that is.” The patient seemed to respond with agitation and he knew it wouldn’t aid recovery if she was upset. “It sounds like ‘ah ke’ to me. Is that what you’re saying?” She shook her head no almost imperceptibly. “You’re not able to say the word clearly because of the swelling around your mouth?”

  She sighed. “Hmmm.”

  “Pretty soon, maybe even tomorrow you’ll be able to tell me. For now, I’ll think of it as a puzzle and try to solve it.”

  He said he would come whenever he could. That turned out to be every day for most of the day. Elora’s speech started to improve and soon she was able to enunciate her full name and correct the misimpression.

  Storm didn’t ask a lot of questions nor did he reveal anything pertinent. He would make small talk about weather and ask how she was doing. Every day he asked if she needed anything and everyday she answered that she wanted a window, but one day she followed that with a request for “locket”.

  “Locket.” He looked perplexed. “You had a locket with you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you sure it was with you when you came here?”

  “Yes.” Although she could form words at this point, it was still with great effort so her sentences were as efficient as possible. “Saw them take.”

  He said he would try to find it. He asked the nursing staff about the locket, but no one was on duty who had been there when she arrived. While he was there, he made sure they understood that the bursar in the Operations Office had been instructed to release funds for whatever she wanted when she was able to ask, unless it was a weapon or something that could obviously be used as one. He anticipated the day would come when she would want some of her own clothes or toiletries and such.

  Storm came back into the room to let her know he would look for the locket and asked if there was anything else before he left for the day.

  “Where am I?”

  “You’re in a hospital unit on a military base. We don’t know how you got here, but, when you’re better, we’re hoping you’ll tell us. Right now just use your energy for getting well. That’s your only priority. Everything else can be sorted out later. Right?”

  “Okay. And thank you. It’s nice they assigned me to somebody named Angel.”

  “You speak German?”

  “Some.”

  “Well, don’t start setting the bar too high. It was wishful thinking on my mother’s part.”

  Sol looked up from reading a brief when he peripherally noticed a shape standing in the open door of his office. Storm was waiting for an invitation. Sol took his feet off the desk and turned the swivel chair toward the door motioning Storm inside. “Sir Storm. What can I do for you?”

  “Sovereign.” Storm replied in kind, using Sol’s formal title, nodding in the way men with combat experience greet each other, as if there was an unspoken fraternal consciousness that only they share. “It’s about the patient upstairs.”

  Sol’s mouth, held semi-permanently in a rigid line, turned up just a little at the corners. “I suspected as much.”

  “She says she had a locket when she
arrived. Do you know where they would have put something she had on her person that was salvageable?”

  Sol scrutinized Storm while contemplating whether it could do any harm to return the locket. He realized, of course, that the hesitation had already given away that he did, in fact, know something about it. The near-imperceptible release of tension in Sol’s shoulders was the tell tale signal that he had decided to give up the information.

  “Go see Monq,” was all he said. When Storm left without another word, Sol called Monq and told him to expect a visitor momentarily. Then he gave Monq clearance to release the locket and brief Storm on the intelligence gathered so far.

  After hearing Monq out, Storm paid a second visit to the infirmary. Elora was sleeping. So he pocketed the locket, planning to return the next day.

  He decided to spend the evening researching Elora’s supposed counterpart in his dimension. He grabbed a club sandwich to go from the hub diner and took it back to his quarters. When Monq had mentioned the similarity between his name and the owner of the locket, Storm had reasoned that, if Monq’s hypothesis regarding near-parallel experiences held, there would be an Elora Laiken, or someone with a similar name, in their reality.

  With relatively little effort the investigation revealed that there was, in fact, an Elora Laiken, born twenty three years earlier, died at the age of twelve, daughter of a Briton royal clan. Cause of death was a freak case of pneumonia that didn’t respond to any known treatment.

  There was a short article written about her with a photo of her in equestrian gear, wearing a shy smile and holding a trophy with blue ribbon that was far too large for her.

  The article said she had just won a steeplechase event and that she had personally trained the black, thoroughbred jumper named Crowers Keep. He noticed the photo had a video link. When he clicked it, the photo came to life.