by Cat Connor
Nineteen
Hey Ya
A scream.
Startled from sleep, my eyes flicked open. Disoriented.
My heart pounded too fast and too loud and made swishing noises in my head. I touched the bed next to me.
Cold. Empty. Confusing.
Where did the scream come from?
Was I awake? My hand hit the base of the bedside light. A warm glow illuminated the room.
The room. Not my room.
Where was I?
From the bed, I could see two closed doors, one window, a nightstand, a set of drawers and a mirror on the wall. No artwork. Nothing of mine. Nothing familiar. I pushed the covers back. A hospital gown?
I looked around the room again.
It wasn’t a hospital room. Or was it?
My legs worked. I swung them over the side of the bed and dropped to my feet. Standing was okay. Nothing hurt. My arms were free of tubing. These were good signs.
“Mitch?” I couldn’t see anyone. He always heard me when I called.
No one came.
“Mitch!”
I twisted the door handle on one door. It came off in my hand. I dropped it on the ground and it disappeared. Weird. I tried the other door. Locked or stuck. I tried again. This time shaking the door handle. It didn’t budge.
The room shimmered. I walked back to the bed and sat down. The walls bulged and heaved. Not good.
Thick black outlines appeared around the furniture, the doors and window. Everything flattened. I closed my eyes for a second. A door opened then closed.
“Mitch?”
“No, Ellie. I’m not Mitch.”
I opened my eyes to find Chance standing in front of me. Could’ve been worse but he wasn’t who I wanted to see.
“Where am I?”
“I told you they said you were close to the edge, looks like you jumped right off,” he said with a grin and sat next to me. “You okay?”
I shook my head. “No, when I went to sleep last night, I was at home with Mitch. This doesn’t work …” I waved my hand at the flat scene we sat in. “I don’t feel right being in a comic.”
He grinned. “You’ll get used to it. It’s just like when you visited me in my office but … different.”
“Why are you here?”
“Troy.”
“I suspended him and removed his security clearance pending an investigation.”
Chance nodded. “Troy met with someone last night.”
“He’s under surveillance.”
“But this won’t look suspicious. He met with someone from the legal division.”
“So, he’s getting advice. Smart.”
“No, he’s discussing the case with someone.”
“Friend or co-conspirator?”
“I’m guessing the latter,” Chance said.
“Ah crap, it’s not just him.”
Not that I thought it was.
“Ellie, you should lie down.”
“Why?”
“You’re bleeding,” he replied, pointing to my abdomen.
I looked down. The gown had stuck to me; blood seeped through the fabric creating a large red wet area.
“Oh, that’s probably not good.”
“Lie down.”
The ceiling undulated as I lay back on the pillow. Chance leaned over me. His hand pressed on my stomach. I knew what I needed.
“Mitch!”
“Ellie, he’s not here,” Chance said. His hand pressing harder. Blood bubbled through his fingers.
“He’ll come,” I replied. “He’ll come.”
“How can you be so sure?” Chance’s voice faded into the ether.
My eyes closed.
“Because he loves me,” I whispered into the cold darkness. “Please come, Mitch. There’s something wrong and I’m cold. So cold.”
I had no idea whether my eyes were still closed or if they were open. There was nothing but dark.
Glowing letters circled above me. They twisted and joined.
Words.
Speech marks.
My name.
A line. It wasn’t a line it was a sentence.
“Ellie, I want you to wake up.” More glow in the dark words made another sentence. “El, open your eyes.”
I saw the words and heard the voice. I was right. I knew he’d come.
My eyes opened and blinked. Light. It hurt. With a rush, I pushed the blankets off me. No hospital gown. No abdominal wound. Naked. Hands pulled the blankets back up.
“Hey, you were dreaming,” Mitch said.
“Dreaming?”
“Yes, you woke me up with a scream. Lie down?”
I didn’t. Mitch sat in bed next to me.
“Chance told me to lie down.”
“Who’s Chance?”
“Too hard to explain.”
“What were you looking for when you woke up?”
“Abdo wound.”
“Did he tell you about that?”
“No. Yes.”
Mitch chewed his lip. “You saw it.”
“Yes.”
“El, what exactly did you see?” Worry lines etched across his forehead.
Go me. Wake him up with a scream then scare him with my craziness.
I tried to smile. “It was a nightmare.”
“A nightmare,” he repeated, unconvinced. “El, you see things and they happen.”
“It was different. It was a nightmare, not me seeing smoke or anything while I’m awake.” I tried the smile again. “And you didn’t see it?”
He shook his head. “I didn’t see it. Are you sure it was just a nightmare?”
Do I lie? Not to him.
“I think I just saw my death.”
He slid an arm around my shoulders and pulled me close until we were lying together again. Skin on skin. Hearts beating as one. The life I wanted stretching in front of me. Finally safe. No one is taking this away. Not now.
I let Mitch’s heartbeat soothe me. Steady, strong, life affirming. He held me close and kissed me. So loving and sweet. From that place, I could afford to let things line up in my mind.
I shuffled everything to do with the case until it was in order. I checked and double-checked.
What was this case about?
Terrorism.
What did it have to do with New Zealand?
Nothing.
Troy called me with his suspicions hours before we were supposed to leave for New Zealand. I never told him we were leaving.
Did I tell him?
No.
Did he access my case notes?
He wasn’t cleared for my notes.
This can’t be about Troy.
It’s something else.
Delta separated.
Why?
Why send Delta so far away?
Not to divide us but to have the whole team at the bottom of the world. If that was the plan, it failed.
The target changed. To get to POTUS, they’d have to incapacitate more than just Kurt and me. Something about the potential threat to POTUS didn’t feel right but it spun Danni Lane in the limelight. The question I’d asked Kurt and Chance sat front and center in my mind. Research? All about me? Studying me in various situations?
A small chuckle escaped.
“What’s funny?” Mitch asked, his voice thick with sleep.
“For a minute I thought this case was all about me.”
“It’s not always about you, El,” Mitch replied with sleepy amusement.
“Not when you’re around, Mitch.”
Not when you’re around.
Backup.
Delta expanded. We grew up. We have lives and partners. This has something to do with all of us.
I reached out and picked up my cell phone.
“Sleep, El,” Mitch said.
“In a minute.”
I sent a text message to the whole team. It sounded nuts, it probably was, but if there were any truth in it, I couldn’t ignore it. I closed my ey
es when I opened them again the crazy text was still sitting on the screen:
‘Delta A may have become targets of whatever this is in D.C, just because of what we do. I believe the original intended target was Renegade.’
I pressed send. Slid my phone back onto the nightstand and curled up with Mitch.
Twenty
Seek And Destroy
Morning didn’t creep in under the curtains and lazily waft across the room. It blasted its horn and hammered on the front door.
Mitch groaned, rolled out of bed and pulled on jeans. He searched in the semi-darkness then straightened up and dragged a sweater over his head. Barefoot, he left the room. I heard him running down the stairs. The man liked to run up and down stairs. He just liked to run.
The pounding continued.
Kurt could let himself in, so could Sam and Lee … they were still away. Dad could let himself in, but didn’t if he knew I was home. He didn’t pound on doors. Aidan did. He had a gate code but couldn’t let himself into my house. Trust issues after the time he poked through my stuff and published my poetry.
Aidan’s voice. He sounded agitated. Damn. I was going to have to get up.
“Where is she?” Aidan’s voice floated up the stairs and down the hallway to my room.
“In bed,” Mitch replied. I had to listen for his reply. He was in calm-Aidan-down mode. It reminded me of when we were kids. I fell back on the pillows. The clock next to the bed showed five-thirty. Too early for Aidan and drama. Way too early.
“Ellie, get up! We have to talk!” Aidan hollered.
Mitch’s voice followed. Quiet, determined, steering Aidan away from the stairs.
I took the opportunity to shower. My brother’s hysteria could wait. Also, I knew if I showered first, coffee would be ready by the time I got downstairs. Priorities.
When I joined the men in the kitchen, coffee was waiting. Aidan had calmed down and Mitch smiled. All good.
“What’s happening in D.C?” Aidan asked.
“No, good morning Ellie, how’d you sleep?” I replied, filling my coffee cup.
“Yeah, yeah, good morning, now what’s going on?”
I smiled at the coffee maker and hoped the smile had gone when I turned to face Aidan.
“We’re having some problems.”
“Ellie, I’m an insurance assessor. Problems? Ya think? These problems are going to cost my company a rather large fortune.”
“Shit happens, Aid.” How much it would cost his company wasn’t my concern. “Might pay to keep out of D.C. for a while,” I commented. “Unless you like delays, rubble in the streets, explosions and panic.” He didn’t. My messy world was not one Aidan enjoyed.
“I intend to. Who is behind it?”
“Don’t know. Part of my job is to find out.”
“The city looks like a war zone.” His voice was flat.
“I know, Aid, I know.”
The taste of the dust in my throat and seeing offices disappearing to the street below were things that wouldn’t go away.
I sipped my coffee and watched Aidan and Mitch.
“We’ll be okay, Aid,” I said, pouring more coffee into everyone’s cups.
“You can’t know that,” Aidan replied. Still flat.
“Nah, I can’t. But let’s pretend we will be. Trust me on this, okay?” Just like when we were kids. It was my job to make everything better.
“How many bombs in how many buildings, Ellie?”
I did a quick count. Navy Yard – multiple bombs, Newseum – one bomb we thought. Hoover building – multiple bombs. The non-event of a cellphone IED in the Hard Rock Café and judging by the messages I missed yesterday, the same sort of devices in the Natural History Museum and the Castle.
“Three buildings were badly damaged. It’s unknown at this stage exactly how many bombs.” Best to avoid any talk of the people killed or injured. My brother could cope with building damage but not when it came to people.
“It feels like it’s just getting started,” Aidan said with a heavy sigh.
“I’m rather hoping it’s finished,” I replied.
Hope and reality, two very different beasts. I glanced at Mitch. He leaned against the kitchen counter, watching me. Our eyes met. He smiled. A thought wandered into my mind.
I can do this. We’ll be fine.
“Ellie?”
“Aidan?”
“When did this happen?”
“What?” When I looked at him, his eyes jumped from me to Mitch and back again.
Oh, that this.
Mitch grinned.
“It’s been coming for a while now,” I replied.
“A long while,” Mitch agreed. “Problem, Aidan?”
Aidan shook his head. “No.” He smiled. “Guess that explains why Mitch isn’t wearing socks and his sweater is inside out.”
Mitch glanced down and laughed. It was inside out.
“Back to topic, Aidan, as much as I hate to talk about it. You need to keep out of D.C, tell Holly and Dad. Don’t go into the city, not until we know what’s going on and we can control it.”
“My office is in the city,” Aidan replied.
“Use the Fairfax office, Aidan. Yours is inside the cordon anyway, so you can’t get in there.”
“There’s a cordon?”
“Nah, Aid. We let people blow up whatever the fuck they like in the Capitol and have no regard for the safety of the public and the Federal personnel working in there. What do you think?”
“Don’t be like that,” he grumbled.
“Then don’t be stupid.”
Mitch’s expression changed. He frowned, not much, and it was fleeting but I saw it and I remembered when we were teenagers and how much he disliked name calling.
My phone rang. Mitch’s phone rang. The kitchen phone rang. I answered mine as Mitch answered his. The kitchen phone rang on. I pointed to Aidan. He answered it.
Stupid.
I walked into the hallway talking to Caine.
“How bad is it?”
“I need you in my office.”
“You still have one?”
“Nope. Washington field office. A-sap.”
“Can I drive into the city?” I had a feeling the answer would be no.
“Sending a helicopter for you.”
Crap. That was bad.
“When?”
“You should hear it soon. It’ll land in the field at the end of your street.”
“Thanks.”
I hung up. From the doorway, I could see Mitch still talking on his phone. Life as we knew it was over, of being able to be home and feel safe, over. I didn’t know when I’d be back. Images from the night flashed into my consciousness. I didn’t know if I’d be back.
Eyes watching me. Mitch.
He shook his head. Don’t think that.
He heard it?
The smile on his face told me he did. He heard my thoughts. Mitch put down his phone and walked over to me. He took my hand and pulled me close, wrapping his arms around me. A shield against the evil in the world.
Breathe.
“You’re coming back,” he whispered. “I’ll be here when you do.”
“So sure?” I whispered back.
“Yes.”
Right there, that moment, wrapped in his arms, feeling his heart beating, I believed him.
Twenty-One
Creeping Death
Parts of Washington weren’t recognizable from the air anymore. Sad. Yes, that’s how I felt flying into the city. Sad. The fight had been close before. September eleven sprang to mind. This was different, I couldn’t explain how I knew that, but it was. I’d always felt safe in D.C. The irony of that thought swirled around me. Shot in the city going for coffee, yet I always felt safe?
The part of the city worst affected was under a cordon. I spotted Marine uniforms and Army uniforms, and more police than I’d ever seen in one place before. Emergency personnel still worked at the Newseum site. Dogs and handlers. I wonde
red if they were rescue or cadaver dogs. It didn’t pay to think about that too long. The Hoover building hadn’t fared too badly considering. Dogs were there too. We wouldn’t be allowed back in anytime soon.
Triage tents dotted the area.
Something caught my eye. I looked toward the Mall. A blinding flash lit the interior of the helicopter. We tipped right, then left, then right again. The pilot’s voice was clear through my headset.
“Brace for impact. Mayday, mayday.”
The ground tilted then disappeared. Tossed around like a kid’s toy for what seemed like minutes, but I think it may have been seconds, we spiraled ever lower. Dizzy. Sick. My brain couldn’t process the changing view from the windows.
“We’re going down.”
I couldn’t see the ground anymore. My head hit something hard as the helicopter lurched sideways. Thick black smoke streamed past the window. Another violent lurch, followed by a crunching metal sound. Mitch’s voice in my head telling me I’d be back faded but I could see his face, the last thing I saw before the nothing took over.
The nothing shook and hollered.
It vibrated through me and smelled like fire and fuel.
I heard noises that sounded like words but I couldn’t see them in the dark. I tried to turn my head. A little bit of panic edged in when my head wouldn’t move. My arms? I moved my fingers. They flexed. Good sign. My right hand touched my face. I couldn’t feel my face. Something pushed my hand down again.
A moan came from somewhere. It sounded close. Me?
More words. This time a bright light. Bright. White. In my face. How did I know? My eyes were open. The light hurt. It moved, came back and then disappeared. I knew that light.
More words.
If my eyes were open why couldn’t I see who held the light?
Nothing made sense and it was all too much work. I recognized my name and my eyes wanted to close.
“Ellie, stay with me.”
My eyes closed. The nothing came back. I liked the nothing.
Dark, soothing, quiet.
I liked the dark. The light couldn’t get me.
Twenty-Two
For Whom The Bell Tolls
Mitch
I sat down at Ellie’s desk, laptop in front of me, and coffee in my hand. I’d only been there about two minutes when I stood up again. I placed the cup on the desk and picked up my phone.
