With the M.D....at the Altar?

by Jessica Andersen

  Sudden panic welled, and her pulse hammered so fast she could barely hear the sounds the intruder was making over in the corner farthest from the door. Moving slowly, she reached down to where she’d left her shoes, and felt for the flashlight.

  Once she had the light, she raised it and aimed it toward the corner, where the shifting, scraping noise had become a low growling sound. Almost like a moan.

  Bracing herself, Rox held her breath and turned on the flashlight.

  LUKE AND BUG were on night shift. Having already done their first set of rounds, they’d hunkered down in the hallway, arguing over the best way to go about curing the poor townspeople who’d already come down with what they were calling Dark Line Disease—or DLD for short.

  “We can’t just universally block the steroid receptors,” Luke said, running the possible scenarios in his head. “That’ll mess with everything, not just the hormones being up-regulated by the DLD.”

  “So we’ll have to target the enzyme that’s coming from the fish,” Bug said, nodding his agreement. “What if—”

  He broke off as the muffled sound of a woman’s scream came from Rox’s room.

  Luke was on his feet in an instant, adrenaline buzzing with the sudden kick of his pulse. “Roxie!”

  He bolted for her closed bedroom door with Bug on his heels, and cursed bitterly when he found it locked from the inside. Damn thing was way too heavy to kick in, too. Pounding on the panel, he shouted, “Roxie? Unlock the door.”

  There was no sound from the other side of the thick wooden panel.

  “Go get Thom,” Luke said urgently. “There’s a blowtorch in the SUV, and a crowbar. I want you to—”

  He broke off when the lock clunked open with a heavy-throated rattling sound. The door to Roxie’s room groaned open and there she was, standing fully clothed in the doorway without a scratch on her, clutching a flashlight in bloodless fingers.

  Her face was deathly pale, her eyes dark holes in her head, as she stepped out into the hallway and very deliberately shut the door at her back.

  She didn’t throw herself into his arms, but she did look scared out of her wits.

  “Nightmare?” Luke said, pulse leveling off a little once he saw that she was unhurt. “Rat?”

  She shook her head. “No. I think…I think I just saw one of the monastery’s ghosts.”

  Luke snorted. “No, really. Was it a rat?”

  She glared at him. “No, really. I’m pretty sure it was a ghost. Or else—” She broke off, and some color returned to her cheeks, staining the skin with a blush. “Or else this monastery isn’t as straightforward as it looks. Rumor has it there are secret passageways all through this place. Maybe someone was playing a joke.”

  But she wasn’t laughing. Nor was she backing down from her insistence that she’d seen something…and Rox had never been one for hysterics or seeing things that weren’t there. If she said she’d seen something, he was willing to believe her.

  Question was, what had she seen?

  He took the flashlight and opened the door. “Let’s take a look.” He glanced at her. “You want to go wait in the kitchen or something?”

  She shook her head. “No. I want to know I’m not losing it.”

  “Then stay behind me,” Luke ordered. “Just in case.”

  He stepped inside and flipped on the lights and saw…nothing out of the ordinary. The room looked just like the one he was staying in—a rectangular cell decorated in Early Solitary Confinement, with the addition of a carved pillar in the corner. Rox’s belongings were strewn across the room, but he knew her well enough to realize that was standard Rox, not an interrupted search.

  Thom and May joined Bug in the doorway, having been called from the field lab by the commotion.

  “Everything okay?” Thom asked.

  “Fine now,” Luke said shortly. “You don’t have to stay.”

  Thom lifted a shoulder. “Machines are doing their thing. I’ve got a few minutes.”

  Rox flushed, but said, “I was asleep, and something woke me—a scratching, shuffling noise, maybe a few clicks. I got the flashlight, thinking it was a rat, like Luke guessed. But it was something…” She faltered, but soldiered on. “It was human, there’s no doubt about that. But it looked like it’d been dead for days, and was in an advanced state of decomp, with flesh hanging off it, gray-green skin, stringy hair.” She shuddered. “If it was a mask, it was a good one.”

  Based on her story and the lack of evidence supporting an intruder, Luke was rapidly rethinking his belief that she’d seen anything at all, because the whole flesh-hanging-zombie thing sure sounded like a stress-induced nightmare to him. Most likely, she’d heard a tree branch scratching the room’s single window and seen the shadow of her own foot, amplified by the flashlight beam.

  When he’d first heard her scream, he could only think that one of the Violents had gotten loose and gone after her. But this was…This was just weird, and not at all like the Roxie he’d known. Which made him wonder what else about her had changed.

  “So, say it was a mask,” he began. “What would be the point? And, not to be picky on the details, but where did this zombie creature go after you screamed? Your door was locked from the inside and the window’s got bars across it.”

  She was already across the room, poking at the carved pillar and the wall on either side of it. “Come on. Help me look for a mechanism or something. There’s a secret passage here, there must be.”

  But the pillar was just a pillar, and there was no sign of a pressure pad, no seam in the stone that looked as if it could be a doorway.

  The longer they looked, the more sheepish Roxie got, until she finally called a halt to the search. Blushing, she said, “I’m sorry, guys. Luke must’ve been right in the first place. It was just a garden-variety nightmare bogeyman.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Bug gripped her shoulder. “You’ve dealt with two real-life bogeymen since the last time you slept. I don’t blame your brain for cooking up a scary dream or two.”

  She smiled. “Thanks.” Her smile fell away when she looked at Luke. “Sorry to bother you guys.”

  The others filed out, but he stayed behind, not quite ready to leave her alone yet. He couldn’t get past the terror on her face when she’d opened the door, or his own quick panic when he’d realized she was locked inside and he couldn’t get to her. “You want to switch to a room without a pillar?” he asked.

  She started to refuse, but then said, “You know, I think I will. Is there a spare room set up?”

  “Take mine,” he said automatically.

  “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

  “I’m not suggesting we share.” He lifted a shoulder. “I’ll grab what I need for tonight. You take my bunk, I’ll take yours, and tomorrow we can swap out our suitcases and stuff.”

  And if there was a small chest-beating part of him that just flat-out wanted her sleeping in his bed after her scare, she didn’t need to know about it.

  She nodded. “Okay. Thanks.”

  “And don’t lock the door this time.”

  He waited while she collected a few things from the mess strewn across the small chamber. Typical Roxie, he thought with an inner grin. Her treatment area, first-aid kit and field notes were always hyperorganized and meticulously complete. Her personal space, not so much.

  Once she was out the door, he took a long last look around, trying to see something her half-asleep brain would’ve turned into a flesh-hanging-zombie creature, but nothing jumped out at him. Shrugging, he stepped out into the hallway, closing the door at his back.

  Thom, May and Bug were waiting for him, expressions grim. Roxie stood nearby, and she’d gone ghost-white again.

  “Boss,” Thom said. “We’ve got a problem.”

  Luke’s pulse quickened. “What happened?”

  “It turns out Rox’s nightmare wasn’t a nightmare at all. It was a distraction intended to get us all in one place.”

&nbs
p; A very bad feeling took root in Luke’s gut. “What happened?”

  “Someone trashed the field lab.”

  TRASHEDWAS THE operative word, Rox realized the moment the four of them stepped into the enormous kitchen. The food prep machines at one end of the big room were untouched. The field lab, though, was a disaster area, with machines tipped over and liberally streaked with spray paint and white foam, with parts scattered across the floor.

  “They cut the power cords and took them,” Thom reported, voice hoarse with anger. “The laptops are gone, the sequencer is full of what looks like Silly String, and the little punks filled the injection ports of the gas chromatograph with shaving cream.”

  “Kids,” Rox said, ashamed that she’d bought into their ploy and screamed like a baby when she saw the “ghost,” and even more ashamed that it was kids from her town that’d done the damage. “It has to have been some of the high schoolers—they’re up in arms because Captain Swanson has been talking about canceling the prom later this week. They must’ve broken curfew and gone looking for trouble.”

  “They found it,” Luke said tightly. “Call Swanson. I want the cops to check houses and find out which kids aren’t where they’re supposed to be.”

  Rox nodded and went to find her cell phone. She had just enough signal to make the call. “He’s on his way,” she reported, returning to the kitchen a few minutes later. “He said not to touch anything. They’ll want to take pictures and document the damage.”

  Luke, who had his own cell pressed to his ear, nodded in her direction. “Thanks.” Moments later, he raised his voice and snapped, “I don’t care where the equipment is supposed to be going and how much Donegal thinks he needs it. I want it here tomorrow by noon at the absolute latest, understand?” Apparently the target of his wrath got the idea, because he nodded. “Good. Make sure it does.”

  Snapping the phone shut, he said, “We’ll have replacement machines here in the morning.”

  You could’ve tried saying “please” and “thank you” before biting the poor person’s head off, Rox thought. But she didn’t bother saying anything of the sort because that was another “been there done that” fight between the two of them.

  She cared about feelings, he cared about results.

  “Bug and I will meet with Swanson,” Luke said. “Thom and May, you’re off-duty, so get some cot time. Roxie, I want you to tell the cops what you saw, and then try to get some more sleep. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”

  “Like today was short and sweet?” But she nodded. “I’ll take you up on a few more hours of z’s.”

  But it was nearly two hours later before Swanson and his men had arrived, gone over the scene and taken her statement. They gave her room—or the room that had been hers, anyway—a thorough going-over, but couldn’t find any trigger mechanism or evidence of a hidden door.

  There had to be one, though. She hadn’t imagined what she’d seen. The vandalism was proof of that.

  Wasn’t it?

  By the time the cops left, dawn was staining the horizon salmon-pink and she was wide-awake. Knowing there was no way she was getting back to sleep at that point, she elected herself to do morning rounds.

  After sticking her head into May’s room to let the clinician know she was off the hook for the 6:00 a.m. shift, Rox pulled on a white coat over yesterday’s clothes and donned latex gloves and a mask.

  Granted, she hadn’t used the precautions earlier during the outbreak and had remained healthy, but now there was a reverse risk that she would transmit a secondary infection to the patients who’d been sick the longest.

  The last set of tests had indicated their white blood cell counts were plummeting, suggesting that they were becoming immuno-suppressed. If their bodies lost the ability to fight off other diseases, they could die from something as simple as a cold while Rox and the CDC team raced to find a cure for the DLD.

  Suitably protected, she made the rounds, starting with the nonviolent patients. Jeff and Wendy were still holding their own, as were the others, with the exception of the youngest member of the Prentiss family, four-year-old Tony Prentiss, whose white count was continuing to fall. Worse, he was starting to develop fluid in his lungs.

  They needed a treatment soon, or more people were going to die.

  Thankfully, Captain Swanson had acted on their information and enacted a temporary ban on fish sales in and from Raven’s Cliff, and suggested that surrounding towns do the same. He’d also ordered the local fishermen to catch and kill as many of the overlarge fish as they could find, and preserve the bodies for scientific examination. Samples from the DLD fish and human patients were on their way to the main CDC lab, as well as several area veterinary schools and the Fish and Game Department, on the theory that the more scientists they had working on the problem, the better.

  All of that meant there shouldn’t be any new cases, and there was some hope that they’d have a treatment in hand sooner than later, God willing. But as Rox continued her rounds, she couldn’t get past the feeling that they’d only seen the tip of the problem, and that there was worse yet to come.

  Maybe it was the vandalism and the knowledge that someone outside the team and the patients had been in the monastery with them, or maybe it was just the eerie quiet of the halls, but she almost felt as though someone was watching her as she moved from room to room, checking vitals and changing IV bags as needed.

  “Don’t be silly,” she said aloud, trying to talk herself out of the creep-factor. “You’re imagining things.”

  She got through the nonviolent patients without incident, but when it came time to do the other end of the hallway, she stalled.

  Call her a wimp, but she didn’t want to go in those rooms alone. Aztec and Jenks were catatonic and restrained, but each of them had tried to hurt her. Intellectually, she knew she’d be safe, but still, the idea of being in close quarters with either of them—not to mention Doug Allen, who’d killed two people, and Jake Welstrom, who might’ve done something equally terrible if the cops hadn’t found him just as his symptoms became apparent…

  Rox let out a long breath. “Don’t be a wuss. You can do this.”

  But just as she was dredging up the courage to unlock the first of the doors, she heard Luke call, “Wait up, I’m here.”

  The hail was followed by the sound of his footsteps as he came around the corner from the main entryway. Wearing bush pants and one of his indestructible field shirts, with his short brown hair casually tousled, he looked incredible.

  She would’ve resented that he looked that good when she was feeling achy, overtired and frumpy…except she was too glad to see him just then to resent anything.

  He ducked into the supply room, where they’d organized their protective equipment and basic supplies, and quickly pulled on a white coat, gloves and a face mask. When he rejoined her, he said only, “Ready to tag-team the Violents?”

  She nodded. “Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  And as she moved to unlock Aztec’s room, she realized he actually meant it. He wasn’t looking for applause, wasn’t trying to be a hero. He’d noticed she was doing rounds and hadn’t wanted her doing the Violents alone, and he’d quietly stepped up to help her out.

  The Luke she’d known before would’ve made a big production out of it, would’ve made sure everyone knew what a great guy he was.

  As they set to work, she said, “You’ve changed.”

  She halfway expected him to brush off the comment, or make light of it. Instead, he stopped what he was doing and crossed the room, ushering her out into the hallway, away from the patient, and then moving to stand very close to her.

  His body heat warmed her even through her clothing and protective equipment, and she caught her breath, thinking he’d taken her comment as an invitation and was unsure how she’d react if he made a move. On one hand, she knew all the reasons she should stay away from him.

  On the other, though, the attraction was
undeniable, and if he’d changed, if he’d grown out of his wanderlust ways…

  Almost as though he’d caught her wistful thought, his voice went very low, very serious, when he said, “Maybe I’ve changed some in little ways, yeah. But I’m the same guy, Roxie, make no mistake about that.”

  She shivered a little, fighting a strong sensual pull that was part memories of the man he’d been, part attraction to the man he’d become. “I don’t know what that means.”

  He eased closer and pulled down his mask, then did the same for hers. “I’m the same guy—the guy you ate with, slept with, worked with….” He leaned closer still, until his breath feathered on her suddenly sensitized lips as he said, “I’m the man you made love with, the man who loved you as best he could.”

  He hesitated for a second, their lips a whisper apart. Either one of them could’ve closed that gap and made the promise of a kiss into a reality.

  But then he eased back a fraction and said, “But I’m also the guy who can’t stay in one place for longer than a few weeks without it being time to move on. I’m a grandstander and a fly-by-night and all the things you ever called me. None of that’s changed.” He paused, and his eyes went dark with a passion she felt in her own core. “If you want a reprise for old time’s sake, just let me know. The chemistry’s still there, and sex was never our problem. But don’t go telling yourself that I’ve evolved, or that things will be different this time, because I can promise you they won’t be. I’m still the same guy.”

  Rox blew out a breath. “Well. That was blunt.” She wasn’t sure how she felt. She was disappointed, yes. But also maybe a little relieved, in an odd way, to have it out in the open between them.

  The corners of his mouth tipped up. “One of the few things you never called me was a liar.”

  “That’s true.” Or it had been, she realized, until the day he’d left her. He’d told her he loved her, and as far as she was concerned, that included an implied promise not to abandon her in a foreign hospital, sick and alone.

  That memory should’ve been enough to have her backing away right then and there. But she’d been alone for too long in Raven’s Cliff, even before the outbreak. And she was so cold now, from the chill of the stone monastery, and from the sense of watching eyes. So rather than doing the smart thing and backing away, she took a step forward.