The Evolution Trigger (Evolution Trigger Trilogy Book 1)

by C. S. Won

  Gabe gave him a puzzled look. “For what?”

  “For slugging him when I shouldn’t have.”

  “Call me heartless for what I’m about to say, but I don’t think you should apologize. He said some pretty nasty things back then. He deserved to be punched in the face for it.”

  Jae waved off the suggestion. “The guy has one foot in the grave. It’s petty to bear a grudge now. If he wakes, I want him to know that I harbor no ill will toward him.” He sighed. “An apology from me probably won’t mean much to him anyways, but it’s something I want to do. Hopefully, it’ll count as the first step toward a reconciliation of sorts.”

  “Good luck with that.” Gabe rubbed his temples. “No, you’re right. It’s just . . . I don’t know. Why is he so difficult to be around? He’s always confrontational and always doing his best to put you down. He’s so damn good at it, and it’s easy to hate him because of it. Not apologizing just seemed easier to me.” He shifted in his seat, turning towards Jae. “I have to ask. You’ve worked with him longer than I have, right? Was he always like this?”

  Jae sat back in his seat, shaking his head. “No. I mean, he was always a stubborn, angry, weird guy. And sometimes he could get a little aggressive and in your face, but he never really went out of his way to put someone down. Not that I know of, at least.”

  “What changed?”

  “His divorce, if I had to guess. A real nasty split from what I understand. It utterly broke him, made him bitter and angry, more so than he already was.”

  “I remember hearing about that. I started working when he was already in the middle of his divorce, so I only knew bitter, malcontent Adam. I think that was five or six years ago, or something like that.” Gabe cupped his chin. “So then, why does he hate you in particular? What did you do to him that made him turn his sights on you?”

  Jae shrugged. “I have no idea. I don’t know what I did to piss him off.”

  “I think it’s just good old-fashioned envy. He wants what you have—the beautiful girlfriend, the respect of his peers, the happiness—but he doesn’t know how to work for it, so he’s frustrated. It’s jealously, pure and simple.”

  “Maybe.”

  A doctor entered the waiting room and walked over to a younger couple huddled near the corner. The doctor looked drained, her face heavy with fatigue. The couple looked up at her as she approached, their eyes puffy with dried tears, their shoulders hunched, their hands interlocked. A husband and wife, Jae guessed. The doctor knelt down beside them. She spoke in hushed tones, lips barely moving, and as she went on the couple became increasingly despondent. The color drained from their cheeks. What little light remained in their eyes faded like a squelched flame. Once the doctor had finished, the wife threw her face into her hands and broke out into sobs, shattering the peace that had settled over the waiting room some time past. Her husband wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pinched the bridge of his nose. The doctor looked at the ground and bit her lip, cupping the sobbing woman’s knee with an apologetic hand. Jae felt a lump jump in his throat. He looked away from the sad scene.

  “Have you talked to Madeline lately?” Gabe asked.

  Jae frowned. “Not really.”

  “Why not? Whatever happened to your marriage proposal?”

  “Postponed for now, I suppose. I’ve been too preoccupied with Adam to think about anything else.”

  “When was the last time you saw her?”

  “Not for a while.”

  “You’re not avoiding her, are you?”

  “Of course not. Why would I?”

  Gabe gave him a knowing look.

  “What?” Jae asked.

  “If it’s about what Adam said, it’s not true.”

  Jae frowned. “It’s not that.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “Like I said, it’s Adam. I need to know that he’s going to be okay.”

  “He’s not going anywhere. He’s in good hands, bro. He’s being cared for 24/7 by some of the best doctors in the state. Go home; be with her. Propose to her.”

  “I never knew you cared so much what about happens between me and Madeline.”

  “Of course I do. We’ve all been friends since, like, the first grade. You two are like family to me.” Gabe unfolded his hands and set them on his lap. “And she called me the other day to tell me you haven’t been home in a while, or at least not home when she has been. She said you sound distant, even cold, whenever she talks with you on the phone. She can’t help but wonder if she did something to annoy or anger you.”

  I fucked her raw, and I fucked her good. Jae shook his head. “She can be like that sometimes. She’ll get worried if she doesn’t hear from me. It’s the same thing with her sister.”

  “So you’re not mad at her?”

  “Of course not. I’m just tired and exhausted; that’s all. I’ll call her soon enough. Don’t worry.”

  “She misses you, man.”

  “I know, I know.” Jae’s stomach growled, reminding him that it was still there and still hungry. The woman in the corner was still crying, using her husband’s shoulder as a handkerchief. Feeling helpless, Jae thought it would be best if they gave the room to the grieving couple. He placed a hand on his belly, soothing down its noisy protestations, and grabbed the food next to him. “Want to go to the cafeteria?”

  Gabe appeared as though he was going to decline, shaking his head as he lurched out of his seat, but he stopped himself. He looked down at the ground in contemplation. “Sure, why not? Maybe that nurse will be there.”

  “Excuse me, are you a part of Fire Station 4?”

  A petite blonde woman wearing a white nurse’s uniform stood at the entryway to the waiting room, clutching a clipboard. Gabe sat at attention, clearly intrigued by her arrival, and flashed his brightest smile.

  “Yes, we’re a part of Station 4. I’m Jae; this is Gabe.”

  “Mr. Jae, Mr. Gabe, we’ve cleared Mr. Adam Erste for visitation. Would you like to see him?”

  Their shoes clicked across white limestone tiles, echoing throughout the corridor. Jae looked at the ground to see his own muddled reflection matching his somber gaze, keeping pace with his hurried stride. The floor is pristine and spotless, just as it always is. Even the walls and ceiling were immaculate, sparkling beneath the dull glow of fluorescent lighting. The halls were so clean that looking at them nearly hurt. But they had to be like that. This was the burn ward, after all, and sterility had to be maintained.

  It was a place Jae was familiar with—intimate, even. He had visited many wards in the past, at times to treat his own wounds, visit survivors, or donate toys to burned children. Familiarity, however, didn’t breed comfort. Pain and loss was a constant. The air always stunk with tragedy, floating unseen like a miasma, clinging to his skin and weighing him down. Crying mothers, depressed fathers, and distraught loved ones decorated these halls. Smiles were a rarity, rarer than any precious ore in the world. Even those suffering from injury seemed to look the same no matter when and where he visited—men, women, and children unrecognizable from the last, bodies and faces burned and disfigured beyond any sort of distinction.

  Sobs echoed from the far end of the hall. They were a song full of anguish and sorrow, oscillating between high-pitched wails to low, soft moans. Jae pressed his lips together into a tight frown. Lives were forever changed in these halls, often times for the worse. It reminded him of something his father used to say, during moments of somber reflection. Do we really deserve to be called heroes when the people we save often end up in a state worse than death? An older man whose face was half covered in bandages came toward them from the opposite way, grimacing as he shuffled one bandaged foot in front of the next. He paid them no mind as they walked past. Another nurse walked alongside him, accompanying every agonizing step. One hand gripped his arm; the other wrapped around his lower back. She wore a look of gentle patience. And what’s at the end of the road for us? Jae’s father continued. Adulation? Respec
t? No. Nothing but scars and regrets and the tears of those we failed.

  “Is he awake?” Jae asked the nurse guiding them.

  “No, and please be careful not to touch him or make too much noise. He needs his rest.”

  “How is he holding up?” Gabe asked.

  “He’s resilient. His outlook improves every day. He’s a fighter, that one, but a tough road still lies ahead, so he’s not out of it yet. He’ll need your continued support and prayers.” She stopped in front of a door. “Here we are.” The door was of simple design, finished with a glossy wood varnish and framed by a metallic, silver trim. Placed in the middle was a small viewing window, which was blocked off from the inside by a curtain, dusty brown with faded streaks of yellow running down its length. Despite its advanced years, it did a good job shielding the victim inside from prying eyes, but a small, upturned flap promised a glimpse for anyone nosy enough to look. Jae, unable to resist, took the opportunity to look through the opening.

  The shades were drawn, bathing the room in a bleary cast, but a bandaged hand was visible near the edge of the bed. Unmoving and still, the hand was dressed tightly around the fingers and wrist. The fingers were curled inward, almost into a fist.

  The sight gave Jae an unsettling pause. His heart pounded, a rush of heat caught in his throat, and the hair on his arms and legs rose. Numbness washed over him. Even breathing became difficult, the heavy hand of anxiety pressing in from all sides. This was not how he expected to react. He was supposed to be happy and relieved that he finally had a chance to visit Adam, but all he wanted to do was run and curl up into a ball in some deep, dark pit. The prospect of seeing his colleague in such a state no longer seemed bearable. The first time was enough.

  Gabe looked even more spooked. Beads of sweat congealed on his brow. His lips pressed into a thin, sunken line. Muscles clenched in his jaw, and his face went as pale as winter’s breath, eyes staring intently ahead at nothing. Firefighters were supposed to be the toughest of the tough, but given a reminder of their own mortality, reminded that they walked a fine line between life and death, and they clammed up just as easily as anyone else. It was never easy to deal with something like this, no matter what one did.

  The nurse gazed up at Jae, her hand holding steady on the doorknob, with a look that told him she knew what he was going through. Jae closed his eyes, swallowing down his fear, beating down the sickness in his stomach. Face him, he told himself, pushing his breath through his nose. Just remember, this is not your fault. None of it is. Don’t blame yourself. He opened his eyes and gave the nurse a nod. She nodded back and turned the knob, pushing the door open.

  The first thing Jae noticed was the smell, sharp and metallic, pinching him swiftly in the nose as he entered. It reminded him of a burning alkaline battery, or the aroma of rusted iron. But the smell was nothing that innocuous. Blood, Jae thought, throat tightening. The room stunk with it, clinging to the walls, the ceiling. He remembered smelling the same thing when he carried Adam out of the apartment, coat burned through to a crisp, skin charred, muscles cooked, hair singed. The only thing that seemingly remained of Adam was a boiling suit of blood. The pollution of grilled human flesh filled the air that day, a smell Jae would never forget.

  In the soft, warm haze of the room, Adam almost looked okay. The dim lighting helped hide the most grievous of his injuries, and from a certain angle, one could be convinced that he didn’t look all that bad. But as the nurse walked around his bed and drew the curtains open, allowing the afternoon sun to stream its light into the room and peel away the darkness, the severity of his agony became all too apparent. Bandages, stained brown and black with crusted flesh and dried plasma, covered almost all the estate of his body. Only a small patch on his left arm was untouched, the skin still pink and firm. A thick, white brace curled around his neck, holding his head steady and squashing his chin and cheeks upward.

  “Oh Jesus,” Gabe said, paling even more.

  Jae missed it when he came in, but he saw when he paced around the bed. He immediately wished he hadn’t. Half of Adam’s right arm was gone, removed cleanly just below the elbow. The stump lied still against his side, ending in a knot of bloodied bandages. It was a wound that Jae was far too familiar with, sad to say, having witnessed many other survivors suffer the same fate. To see one of his own—a comrade and a peer—in such a sorry state was a new and uncomfortable experience. For a moment Jae was unsure what to think, or do, or say, mind racing as it tried to make sense of what it saw. He looked toward Gabe for answers, to seek clarity for his troubles, but the stunned expression on Gabe’s face told him to look elsewhere. So, he looked back at Adam, at his broken, disfigured body, and began to despair.

  All he knew, all he could think of for the past two weeks, was Adam. The way he burned, the way he bled, the way he smelled, and the way he felt when Jae carried him out of that burning apartment complex. The very memory of it was seared into his mind, tattooed onto every wrinkle of his brain. From the moment he woke in the morning to the exact moment he closed his eyes to sleep, the first and last thing that popped into his head was Adam burning underneath that rubble. A growing puddle of blood oozed around the fallen firefighter every night, his eyes gazing up through the foggy, burning, and bloodied window of his mask, fear and anger and rage cut into his face.

  The world went upside down. Jae took a few raspy breaths and felt the room spinning, the spicy taste of vomit tickling the back of his throat. He groped around for a chair. He stumbled backward and tripped over his own ankle, waving his arms around like he was trying to balance himself on a tightrope. The nurse moved quickly, steadied his arms, and led him to a chair near the window. The cushion sighed as Jae sat down. A cold sweat broke out. How could I let this happen to him?

  The nurse looked down at him with a sad look in her eyes. “I’ll give you guys a few minutes. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask. I’ll be right outside.”

  Jae could only nod. He heard her footsteps shuffling across the floor. The door clicked open and then creaked shut. Gabe took the adjacent chair and exhaled into his shirt. They sat in silence, mired in their own thoughts, the sun beating down on the back of their necks. Could I have done more? Could I have prevented any of this? Jae looked at the stump and felt the pangs of sickness punching at his belly. I failed. I’m incompetent. I’m unfit for this job. If I can’t even protect my own man, then how can I expect to protect anybody?

  “Go home,” Gabe said. “Go home. Be with Madeline. I’ll stay and look over Adam.”

  Jae could only mumble. He didn’t even hear what Gabe had said. All he heard were words strung together in an incomprehensible jumble. They made as much sense as a riddle from the Sphinx. The only voice he could hear, the only voice that seemed to matter, was his own guilt chanting in his head. My fault, my fault, my fault, my fault . . .

  “I know how you feel. I can tell because it’s written all over your face. You’re being hard on yourself. You think you’re to blame, but this is not your fault. None of it is.” Gabe took him by the shoulder and shook him until the world rattled back into clarity. Words, incomprehensible just moments before, tumbled into his ears, rushing in to wash away the thoughts in his head. “You did all you could. You did your best. That’s all anyone could ask for.”

  Jae turned with a befuddled expression on his face, as though this was the first time he noticed Gabe sitting there. “No, you’re wrong.” His voice felt dry and raspy in his mouth. “Look at him. His body is broken and covered with burns. His arm is missing. It may be months before he wakes. How can you say that was my best? Do you think Adam will say this was my best?” He shook his head. “I failed him, Gabe. I’ll have to live with that for the rest of my life, and Adam will have to live with my failure for the rest of his.”

  “You can’t control everything that happens in a fire. You know that. That’s firefighting 101. You can only control what you do. You were in a bad situation—a really bad situation that was not of yo
ur doing—and you had to make a choice: save him or leave him, and you saved him. Adam would be dead if it wasn’t for you.”

  “Look at him,” Jae said in a croaked whisper. “That’s not saving. That’s torture.”

  “Better that than dead. He can still turn it around. It happens all the time. People have climbed out of deeper holes. The guy is a stubborn bastard. He’ll survive. This could even be a turning point for him to become something more. It might even fire him up a bit.” Gabe grimaced at his own poorly timed pun. “And you, my friend, you have other people you need to take care of. Cherish what you have. You haven’t seen Madeline in a while. She misses you. She wants you close. Be with her. And don’t forget you still need to propose to her. I hate to sound like a sap, but you have to make her your woman forever. She does a lot of good for you.”

  “Madeline . . .”

  “Yes, Madeline. You remember her, right? The woman you’ve been with for nearly your entire life? Your childhood friend? The love of your life? Does any of that ring a bell?” Gabe gripped Jae under the arms and tried to haul him out of his chair. “Come on, up you go.”

  Jae shifted his gaze and looked at Adam out of the corner of his eye. Would his body dissolve into dust if I touched him? Could a breeze scatter his body into ashes? He entertained the idea of testing the theory out. In a mad moment, he nearly ran over and did so, finger ready to prod until nothing remained but a mound of dust. People would have been angry with that, but it would have been the merciful thing to do—to end this charade and let Adam slip peacefully into a never-waking sleep. No one deserved to suffer like this. Jae couldn’t even begin to imagine the pain.

  “I should have done more,” Jae said.

  Gabe released his grip and sat back down, sighing. “We all wish we could have done more, not just you. But you did what you could, and no one blames you for it. We’re only human, and we can only work with what we’re given.”