The First Noelle

by Delia Latham

  “Not a chance. You’ve been drinking, Jason. I’ll call a cab.” Trevor pounded his friend’s shoulder. “And you…maybe you should slow it down a bit, dude. You’ve got somewhere important to be tomorrow.”

  So it was that he was on the highway bound for Hope Springs just after midnight on Christmas Eve morning. Large, fat flakes of snow fell faster by the moment.

  The armored truck came out of seemingly nowhere, traveling much too fast and on the wrong side of the road. Trevor’s driver couldn’t avoid a collision.

  When he opened his eyes, he lay on his side in the snow, a hundred feet from the mangled, overturned cab. He thought for a moment that he was dreaming, because what he saw couldn’t possibly be real.

  The creature stood a couple car lengths away, dark against the white world, and looked like something out of a horror show—bigger than any man Trevor knew, yet not the size of the love-sick gorilla in the old movie he’d loved as a boy. Size completely aside, the thing wasn’t human. At least…not any more, although something vaguely humanistic peered from within red-rimmed eyes that emitted a weird, white glow in the moonlight. That freaky gaze raked the scene, passing over the man lying prone on the ground.

  Shocked, Trevor raised up on one elbow, ignoring the pounding in his head and the warm blood gushing into his eyes from a wound somewhere above them. The creature spotted that movement. It whirled, let out a blood-chilling roar, and rushed toward him, both long arms extended, clawed fingers reaching.

  He couldn’t even gasp, certain he was watching death come to claim him. The thing was impossibly quick. One massive hand swept Trevor’s face, and searing pain ripped along the path it traveled. He cried out as the sharp claw swept downward yet again.

  “Hey, you big ball of mixed up genes and genders!”

  A voice carried across the powdery landscape from behind the armored truck, and the animal-thing whirled toward the interruption with a roar that shook the ground. It raced, lightning-quick, toward the voice, and a shot boomed through the night. The beast stumbled to its knees. Another boom, and it fell forward, unmoving. Trevor turned his head away from the growing red stain in the white snow.

  A man stepped from behind the truck and knelt at his side. The guy wasn’t young, and he wasn’t wimpy. Still, his face went a little green when he took in Trevor’s condition. “You’re in bad shape, kid. What am I gonna do about you?”

  Trevor blinked once and then again. He tried to speak, but all that emerged was a wet gurgle. The sound turned his stomach and zipped terror through his mind. He wanted to scream, but something told him he couldn’t, just like he couldn’t speak.

  The stranger pulled out a cell phone and punched in a few numbers. “Terrell. We got a situation, man. I had a wreck in the blizzard and—” He broke off and moved from foot to foot, attempting to stay warm. “Yeah. Warren got out, and there’s a young man here with half a face to prove it.” The guy cleared his throat. “I shot the thing to keep it from killing this kid.”

  Terror fought with disbelief for no more than a minute. Then Trevor closed his eyes and succumbed to the darkness beating at his mind.

  12

  Michael sat up on the bed and rubbed the back of his neck. He heaved a sigh and glanced at the door. Would Noelle’s parents have let him know if her condition changed? Probably not, but Josie would have awakened him.

  She checked on Noelle regularly, despite the pain in her hips from climbing stairs. The Joys seemed to have no problem with his housekeeper, and Michael thought they’d share any improvement—or otherwise—with Josie.

  He slid down the edge of the bed and sat on the floor with his head against the mattress, his mind still alive with memory.

  After the wreck, which he’d later heard killed the taxi driver, he’d awakened in a room that felt sterile, like a hospital—but larger, more comfortable, infinitely more attractive. Yet he was surrounded by medical paraphernalia, hooked up to an IV, and an array of monitors beeped and whirred around him. His head throbbed, his face ached, and pain seared his throat. Lifting one hand to his face, he found it swathed in bandages…

  He lay still, hesitant to ring the buzzer lying next to his fingertips. He didn’t have to wait long anyway. A nurse entered the room and beamed when she saw he was awake.

  “About time you opened your eyes. You’ve had a long nap, hon.“ She checked his vitals, jotted something on a clipboard, and then moved to his side. “How’s the pain?”

  “Hurts.”

  She showed him how to control the morphine drip and promised he’d feel better soon. “Hang tight. I’ll let Dr. Johnston know you’re awake.”

  Within a few minutes, a tall, thin man with kind eyes strode into the room and laid a hand on Trevor’s shoulder. “Glad to see you’ve decided to live. I’m Dr. Marcus Johnston.”

  Trevor managed one word. “Noelle.”

  “Noelle must be pretty important. You’ve been calling for her ever since you arrived.” The doctor lifted a section of the bandage and peered at whatever lay beneath. He shone a light in each eye, talking all the while. “I wish I could bring her to you, but I’m afraid that’s impossible.”

  Trevor opened his mouth to argue, but Dr. Johnston shook his head. “Don’t fight it, kid. You’re alive. That’s a blessing.” He listened to Trevor’s heart, nodded, and looped the stethoscope back around his neck. His gaze held a world of sympathy. “Someone will be in soon to explain all this to you.”

  He left then, leaving Trevor to stew.

  The man who showed up an hour that felt like three days later was the stereotypical secret agent, right down to the dark glasses he pulled off and tucked somewhere inside his black suit. He didn’t smile.

  “I’m Agent Brent Terrell. Most everyone just calls me Terrell.”

  Trevor noticed the newcomer didn’t mention a specific government agency, but he stayed silent. Let the man talk.

  “You saw something, Trevor—something you shouldn’t have seen. It wasn’t your fault, and it isn’t fair, but it means your life will never be the same. You’ve entered a brand new world.”

  What was that supposed to mean?

  “I know…you don’t understand.” Terrell’s lips quirked into something that might have been a smile, but it was there and gone too fast to be sure. “I’ve never been one to tiptoe around a situation, so pardon me if I’m too blunt. You’re never going back to your old life. You’ll never be Trevor Holden again—yes, we know who you are. You were carrying identification, like everyone should. We know who your family is. We know about Noelle Joy. We know pretty much everything about you from the day you were born.”

  Trevor’s heart raced so fast he felt weak. He forced a few breaths in and out while Terrell watched, but he refused to ask questions. Not yet.

  “You stumbled onto a highly classified government experiment. Unfortunately, that little peek into our world placed your life in real jeopardy—and not only from the creature you met out there in the snow. There are people…bad people, Trevor, the worst kind of human beings, who’d do anything, including torture by methods you can’t even imagine, to get their hands on information about our potential war weapons. If they find out you even glimpsed one of those experiments, you will be in mortal danger.” Terrell blinked, but otherwise kept his gaze on Trevor. “We could’ve left you there in the snow to die—or to live and wind up in the hands of these ruthless mercenaries, but we brought you here instead.”

  Trevor wanted to snort out his disdain. Whoever the collective “we” in Terrell’s little speech, they hadn’t saved his life entirely out of the kindness of their hearts. But they could’ve killed him too, with no one the wiser, so some gratitude might be in order.

  “You were pretty messed up. Already had a severe head injury before our…experiment…took out half your face and dug a chunk in your throat.”

  Trevor was starting to hyperventilate. The agent poured water into a glass, stuck a bendable straw in it, and held it close to his lips. “This is
a lot to take in, but you may as well man up, kid. It is what it is.” After a moment, he hiked a brow. “Better?”

  Trevor nodded.

  “Dr. Johnston was able to repair your face…in a manner of speaking. Your throat wasn’t as bad as we originally feared. You’ll be able to talk, and your voice will probably be pretty much what it was before.” He paused, his eyes narrowing to slits, like a cat fixated on a trapped bird. “Your face won’t.”

  Trevor clutched at the blanket lying across his legs, and Terrell shook his head.

  “Don’t worry, you’ll look fine. But you won’t look like you—partially because the damage was too severe for that, but also because it isn’t safe to look like Trevor Holden. You’ll live a new life, with a new name, in a new place. You’ll sign a government confidentiality contract, and you will honor it, because if you don’t…” What little pleasantry had crept into the man’s voice and expression disappeared. “The criminal faction I told you about…they’re resourceful. They know how to find the people you love, and they’re not squeamish about making bad things happen to get what they want.”

  Please, please let this be a nightmare!

  “On the other hand, you’re dealing with an area of the government few people know about, Trevor. The experiments we conduct—for the advancement of the military, of course—would not be approved of by the American citizens.“ A burst of cold, cynical laughter chilled Trevor to the bone. “Not many government honchos would like it either, if they knew about it.”

  Experiments. Military. Trevor flashed back to the animalistic, glowing-eyed creature who’d swiped at his face with inhuman strength, and terror gripped his soul. He was neck deep in something unholy on many levels, with no way to win.

  “You’re starting to put the pieces together.” Terrell pulled a chair close to the bed and loosened his tie. “That’s good. You’re in this predicament because of our mistake. We should never have had Warren 1—easier to use in conversation than War Experiment Number One—on the road in that kind of weather.” He emitted a cynical chuckle. ”Not in any weather with just one man. But he was, and if our driver hadn’t lived through that collision, believe me, kid, you wouldn’t have either.” He studied Trevor’s eyes through the cut-out circles in his bandages. “But you’ve probably figured that out by now.”

  Trevor gave a terse nod.

  “So. We’re responsible, and we’re willing to pay for our mistake. We’ll make you look like a human again. In compensation for the…end of life as you know it…you’ll receive a settlement that should make you comfortable for a long time, if you use it wisely. That’s our part. Yours…” He paused. “Are you with me?”

  “Yes.” Talking sent sharp spears of pain through his throat, and his voice had an ugly, guttural quality. Like what he imagined a bear’s voice might sound, if a bear could talk. Considering the unbelievable events that had railroaded his life, who knew?

  “Your part of the deal is utter silence about what you saw—for your protection and ours. As of right now, no one knows where you are. Your Hope Springs family and friends only know that you didn’t show up at your wedding on Christmas Eve, and—”

  Trevor grabbed the bed rails and jerked. “How long?”

  “What?”

  “The accident.” He swallowed and winced at the pain. “How long?”

  Terrell’s expressionless eyes narrowed. “Three weeks.”

  “Three—? No!” What must Noelle think? His parents! They’d be out of their minds.

  “You opened your eyes a few times but never stayed with us until today.” The agent sighed. “At this point, everyone thinks you just bailed on your wedding. You’re going to let them keep thinking that.”

  “I…won’t!”

  Terrell leaned in close. “Have you not heard a word I said?” Something unpleasant crossed the man’s otherwise decent features. “Do you want to be tortured for information you don’t even have? Or perhaps you’d like to see someone you love in the hands of these animals?”

  Trevor drooped against the mattress. He wasn’t sure a single bone still existed in a body that felt numb and limp, like a noodle fresh out of boiling water.

  The agent stood, tightened his tie, and pulled the dark glasses out of his pocket. “Give it some thought. I’m sure you’ll see things our way.”

  ****

  “Mr. Michael?”

  Josie’s persistent knocking finally interrupted Michael’s mental trip through a nightmare that never quite ended. How long had she been trying to get his attention?

  Noelle!

  He jumped to his feet, strode to the door and jerked it open. “Is it Noelle?”

  She nodded, her eyes wide and round beneath a ruffled sleeping cap. “Yes. The lass is nae awake, but she struggles, as if fighting the devil himsel’. Her mother said to brrring ye in. Perhaps ye can find a way to soothe the wee girrl’s puir spirrrit.”

  Michael grabbed Josie’s shoulders, kissed her forehead, and trotted off down the hall. He found Ken and Nancy hovering over Noelle, who tossed on the bed as if in the throes of a fever. Michael laid a hand on her forehead. It was cool to the touch. “What’s going on?”

  “We don’t know.” Nancy stroked her daughter’s hair. “She started this about an hour ago, and—”

  “Trevor!” Noelle’s frantic voice sliced through the conversation, and through Michael’s heart. “He’ll be here, Daddy. Wait. Just wait.”

  “I’m going to talk to her.” Michael fell to his knees at her side and lifted a determined gaze to her parents.

  Her father nodded, unspeakable agony in his gaze. “Do it.”

  Michael took Noelle’s hand and held it against his cheek. “Noelle? It’s Trevor. Can you hear me, my sweet Christmas song?”

  She stopped tossing for a moment. Her eyes fluttered opened, but whatever she saw, it wasn’t the three people around her bed. “A dream.” She squeezed them shut again, curled her body into a ball and whimpered against her pillow. “It’s always a dream.”

  “It isn’t a dream.” Michael’s voice was hoarse. “Honey, it’s me. Please wake up. Come back to me, Noelle.”

  A harsh cry caught his attention and he glanced up. The Joys held each other as if for physical support. Sobs wracked Nancy body. The woman was choking in her own sorrow.

  “Your parents are with me, and we all want you back with us. Please, honey…wake up! I need you.” His voice cracked. He pulled in a breath and released it before bending close to Noelle’s face. “I want to tell you why I wasn’t at our wedding.”

  He touched his lips to hers, hoping her dad wouldn’t grab him by the scruff of the neck and toss him through the window.

  Was he imagining it, or had there been a slight response beneath his lips? He kissed her again, and this time he was certain she kissed him back.

  He stared into her face. “Noelle?”

  She went still, and her eyelashes fluttered.

  “That’s it, honey. Open your eyes.” He kept his voice low and soothing. “Look at me.”

  She did. Slowly. And stared straight into his soul. “Why weren’t you at our wedding? I’m listening, Trevor Michael Holden.”

  So she’d pieced it together after finding that telling photo, just as he’d suspected.

  “You…heard?”

  “Not enough. I want to hear it all.”

  ****

  Her parents left the room, allowing them a few moments of privacy, even though Noelle could see they hated leaving her so soon after she’d awakened.

  She watched, unable to force her gaze from his face, while Michael spilled his entire, incredible story. The longer he talked, the more she recognized Trevor in his voice…saw him in the hazel eyes that begged her to believe a tale that sounded like something out of a horror movie. She should have recognized him. Now that she knew, the truth shouted itself in every nuance of expression, the timbre of his voice, the touch of his hand.

  “Noelle?”

  She jumped. How long sin
ce he stopped talking?

  “Sorry, I—I—”

  “It’s a lot to take in.”

  She squirmed into a more comfortable position. Between Michael and her parents, she didn’t stand a chance at getting out of this bed until the doctor arrived.

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  His eyes darkened. “You don’t believe me.”

  “I’ve never known you to be a liar.”

  “Then…?”

  “You brought me here on false terms and hid the truth from me. I had to find it out on my own and…” She blanched, recalling the shock of spotting the photo on his armoire. “I don’t know how to deal with that.”

  “To be fair, they weren’t exactly false terms. I did need an interior designer, and I wanted you for the job. If I’d told you who I am, you wouldn’t have come.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  “All these years, you’ve thought I abandoned you. You recreated yourself so you could forget everything we meant together. Why would you trust a stranger who said he was me but whose appearance said otherwise?”

  “I don’t know. It’s hard even now, Trev—” She huffed out a breath and shot him a frustrated look. “What am I supposed to call you?”

  “Michael, if you don’t mind. That’s who I am now.”

  She went quiet, thinking on all he’d told her. “You’ve broken your end of that awful agreement. Are you in danger?”

  “Not unless the bad guys know I saw what I saw. But what matters is that they don’t come after you or someone else I love…your folks, or mine.” He frowned, his expression puzzled. “It’s odd that I haven’t heard something from the government. I expected to be contacted when you first showed up at Holliday House.”

  “My parents could be in danger?”

  “It’s possible. They’d be safer here, but now that you’re awake, I’m not sure your dad will spend another night under my roof.”

  “He will. I’ll insist on it.”

  “Thank you. Noelle, I—”