Red-Line: The Shift (Volume One)

by J. T. Bishop

  About an hour later, after walking through the other areas of the house and keeping watch, he checked in on Sarah again and heard her moan softly in her sleep. He adjusted her blanket and wiped her brow again when there was a knock on the door. Sarah jumped and moaned again. Once she had stilled, he left her and headed cautiously to the front of the house. The curtains had been drawn, but he was able to look out the peephole.

  He saw a woman with long straight auburn hair and a round face at the door. She had chunky sunglasses perched on her nose, and long silver earrings dangled from her ears. She looked to be a few years younger than Ramsey.

  He cracked the door open, leaving the chain on. “Can I help you?” he asked through the crack.

  She peered at him through the sliver of space. “Hi, my name’s Hannah Marsh. Morgana sent me.”

  “What’s the password?”

  “Excuse me? Password?”

  He studied her for a moment through the crack in the door, watching her eyes and body language. After sensing she was who she said she was, he unlatched and opened the door. “Come on in.”

  She studied him, then slowly walked through the doorway. She carried a large overnight bag and her purse. Once inside, she took off her sunglasses and assessed her surroundings. “I was told you needed my help?”

  “Who’d you talk to?

  “Morgana.”

  “Anybody else?”

  “No. I was told this was to be kept confidential.”

  “How do you know Morgana?

  Hannah made a face, as if she were about to say something else but then thought better of it. “I helped her out a few years ago. She had injured herself after a bad fall.”

  “What are your qualifications?”

  She paused. “I was a nurse for six years, working at a doctor’s office and then at the county hospital. But I left to work privately with home health-care patients.”

  He didn’t let up. “You’re good at what you do?”

  She considered that. “I am. I haven’t had any complaints.’

  “You married? Kids?”

  She hesitated again, disliking his nosiness, but answering. “I’m divorced. No kids.”

  Ramsey felt her discomfort, but he needed to know her situation in case he was putting her at risk with this assignment. “How’d you meet Morgana?”

  “At a council meeting a few years ago. They asked to meet with some Community medical professionals regarding some concerns over possible health issues. I accompanied a doctor I was working with at the time.”

  “And you made an impression on Morgana, apparently.”

  “We talked during the meeting. We had a long conversation. She trusted me with some personal information, which I kept confidential. She remembered that. And I have a good bedside manner. It’s a plus in my profession. I can put up with a lot of annoying people and keep my cool. I’m doing it right now, as a matter of fact.”

  She met his gaze, and he stared right back.

  “Fine. You’re hired.”

  “I thought I already was.”

  “Not by me, you weren’t.”

  She crooked her lips in a half smile. “You must be John Ramsey. Morgana told me what a delightful person you can be.”

  “Morgana should know. Would you like to know how delightful I think she is?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “Good, because we don’t have the time.” He steered her toward the living room. “How much did she tell you about the situation?”

  “She told me you’d fill me in on the details. But I’m assuming there’s someone who needs my medical assistance.” She looked him over. “It’s not you, I hope?”

  Ramsey considered her question. “I don’t deny I may need some sort of assistance, but none that you can help me with, Hannah.”

  “Well, I suppose that’s good news for me.” She perused the house. “Then who am I here for?”

  Ramsey faced her before he spoke. “Let me be direct with you. Everything that happens in this house stays between these walls, is that clear? I can’t use you if I can’t rely on you to keep this confidential. And that means no communication with Morgana either. Can you do that?”

  “She won’t like that.”

  “I don’t give a damn. There are other people involved here who deserve to have their privacy protected, and I don’t need her personal mole in everybody else’s business. If she’s got a question, she can ask me directly. Do you have a problem with that?”

  She contemplated Ramsey’s ultimatum. “I agree to honor doctor-patient confidentiality. Will that suffice?”

  He opened his mouth to make a comment but reconsidered. “Actually,” he said, “that should suffice. The patient is my main priority. The rest of it I’d likely tell her anyway, only with a lot more flair and sordid details.”

  “I’m sure.”

  “All right then. Let’s start with a quick tour of the house, and then I’ll introduce you to the patient and explain the situation as it stands at the moment. I assume you’re available to run a few errands if I need you to?”

  “I’m here to help. Just let me know what you need.”

  “Good. Then let’s get started.”

  He quickly took her around the house and showed her the basics. He explained that another guest would be joining them, but he would give more details later. When he arrived outside Sarah’s door, he stopped. He assessed Hannah and chose the direct approach. It seemed to be working so far.

  “The patient is a woman named Sarah. She is going through her Shift. I am assigned to assist her through it. I need you to help her with her personal needs. Help her bathe, use the bathroom, dress—you get the idea.”

  “Hold on. Her Shift?’

  “Yes.”

  Hannah scrutinized Ramsey.

  “What’s your concern?” he asked her.

  “Someone’s Shift is very personal. It’s not usually done with assistance, but then it shouldn’t require assistance. Aren’t we overstepping our boundaries here?”

  He could feel his impatience rise, but he took the time to answer her. “It’s true. In most cases, you are correct. Typical Shifts last no more than two to three days and don’t require outside assistance. Each individual experiences it differently and profoundly. But in some cases, a member requires a little help. There are various reasons why this is necessary, and I’m familiar with all, well, most of them. It’s my job.”

  “Your job?”

  “Listen, Hannah, I could spend a lot more time explaining this, but I’ve never been described as a patient person, so you’re just going to have to jump right in and trust me on this.”

  Her uncertainty hung heavily on her face, but he could tell she was too curious now to back out.

  “Why is she different?’

  That was something Ramsey couldn’t answer, and not just because of its secretive nature.

  “I can’t go into detail about that right now. All I need you to do is help her out with her personal needs and let me do the rest. Can you do that for her?”

  After a brief contemplation, she nodded. “Yes. I can do that.”

  “Good.” He turned and opened the door. Sarah’s symptoms were escalating, and she appeared to be experiencing increasing sensitivity to light and sound, so he entered the room quietly. He had replaced the torn curtain, and the light in the room was minimal.

  It was bright enough for Hannah to see the occupant once her eyes adjusted. Not much was visible, though, since the person on the bed was covered with a blanket and conveyed the appearance of sleeping. Her occasional jerky movements and quiet sounds of discomfort belied any suspicion that she was enjoying her rest. Over the course of Hannah’s career as a medical professional, she had successfully utilized her own sensitivities in her work, and while not as advanced as others in her field, her abilities had proven worthwhile when attempting to anticipate a patient’s needs. Watching the woman in the bed now, Hannah surmised from the feeling of erratic energy emanating
from her and even Ramsey’s own anxiety that this encounter would be unlike any case she’d witnessed before, or maybe would ever again. She hoped her agreement to assist would not be something she’d come to regret.

  Ramsey gestured for them to leave the room, and she followed him out. He shut the door.

  “We may be here several days, so I’d like you to go the store. I’ve made a list of items we’re going to need.” He handed her the itemized list. “Here it is. Feel free to pick up whatever you want as well. Use this card.” He handed her a credit card, and she took it. They walked back up to the front of the house, where she headed for the front door.

  “I’ll be back soon,” she said as she exited.

  Ramsey watched her leave and moved to lock the door. Now if he could just deal with his next visitor as easily.

  He fought the urge to check the house again. He’d already done it twice. Everything was locked up tight. He reached out with invisible waves to pick up on the energy and sensed nothing unexpected. He wondered with interest how Declan would arrive. Declan never played it small. His younger stepbrother always appreciated the big entrance. He just hoped it wouldn’t affect Sarah when it happened.

  As if on cue, his invisible inquisition of the surroundings picked up on Sarah in the bedroom. He tensed and immediately headed for her room.

  “Sarah?” he asked as he opened the door. She was no longer on the bed. He looked anxiously around the room without seeing her. He noticed the open door to the walk-in closet and moved toward it. When he looked inside, he saw her curled upright in the corner, the blanket wrapped around her. He got down on his hands and knees and crawled over to her, staying small and making quiet movements.

  “Sarah, it’s me. It’s John.”

  She was breathing heavily and appeared to be staring off at some fixed point. She failed to react to his inquiry.

  He tried again. “Sarah, I’m going to take you back to bed. Just hold onto me…”

  Before he could touch her, she spoke with urgency. “No, no. Don’t do it.” She moved her head back and forth and retreated further back. She still did not break from her fixed-point stare.

  He reached out to touch her arm. “Sarah, don’t worry. I won’t hurt you.”

  “Don’t hurt him. Stop. Please.” Her voice sounded desperate. Ramsey realized then that she wasn’t reacting to him but was seeing something else entirely. He stopped his approach and let her vision play out.

  Her hands reached out to invisible agents, and her distress increased. “I will if you ask. Only if you ask.” Her face changed from fear to sadness. Tears broke from the rims of her eyes and fell down her cheeks. “Don’t leave me. Why did you leave me? Please come back.”

  Ramsey froze as he watched her displays of emotion, and he battled with himself over how to handle this. In his experience with past Shifts, he had occasionally come across a delusion or two, but they had usually been more of the purple elephant and winged pig variety. This was entirely different, yet similar to one assignment from his past that unfortunately continued to be triggered by Sarah’s case. He knew the two were not related, but the similarities were eerie. Watching her now confirmed that Sarah’s transition as a Red-Line would be unusual. He debated with himself. Should he let this play out or bring her back? He had no idea.

  She continued to interact with the unseen adversary, if that was what it was. He knew she could be potentially communicating with anything from her past, present, or future. There was no way to know. Her tears were still falling. The cries turned to sobs, and her breath caught as she tried to take in air. “Please let me go. I don’t belong here.” She stopped as another sob escaped. “I miss you. I miss you so much.”

  Ramsey couldn’t take anymore. He moved closer to her on the closet floor and put his arm around her. She sat sideways to him, and she immediately accepted the comfort and rolled her head into his chest. He brought his other hand up and pulled her into his body, offering comfort but being careful not to frighten her.

  “Hey, there,” he said, moving in a slow rocking motion. “Shhh.”

  She brought up her free hand and grasped his shirt, then moved her forehead up to the crook of his neck. Her crying began to slow.

  He kept up the rocking motion but stayed quiet. He felt the need to let her emerge from her vision slowly. Delusion didn’t feel right to him. Something more profound was occurring here, and he decided to let her take the lead as much as she could.

  “Take your time, Sarah. Just breathe.” He didn’t know if she was registering his voice or not. “Just relax.”

  They sat that way for several minutes. To be honest, he wasn’t sure how much time had passed. Her crying had stopped, and now she was taking only the occasional jagged breath. He continued to hold her, and he felt the contraction of her energy the moment she came back. The tension in her body changed, and she pulled away from him. Eyes wet and looking exhausted, she sat up and stared at him directly. Then she looked at her surroundings.

  “Oh, God. Where am I now?”

  He couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “You do have this penchant for waking up in odd places.”

  He felt bad when he realized her confusion. She looked lost. The brief moment of clarity she’d had when she’d reemerged had disappeared. She wasn’t back in her altered stated, but she’d clearly returned to her pain-filled world.

  She put her hands up to her ears and crumpled forward. “So loud.” She grimaced.

  His concern ramped up again. “Sarah, what’s wrong?’

  Her reaction was immediate. She moved away as if he’d hit her. Her hands, already clamped around her ears, gripped them harder. She silently whimpered her pain.

  He didn’t know what to think until it dawned on him what her body language conveyed. The sound. Noise. It was painful. It hurt her to hear it. He had noticed earlier that she’d seemed sensitive to sound and light, but now it seemed those sensitivities had increased dramatically. Thankfully, he had not turned on the closet light, but he watched her as she continued to hold her ears and attempt to block whatever sound assailed her. He and the house were both silent. He wasn’t sure why she was still in pain. But then he heard it. In the normal way most people block out recurrent everyday noises, he had not noticed until now the whirring of what was likely a neighboring lawn mower. It was a distant sound to him, but obviously to Sarah, it might as well have been mowing right over her.

  He started to say something but stopped, realizing the futility of it. He got up and put a hand on her shoulder, trying to communicate to her to hold on, that he would take care of it. He ran out of the closet, through the bedroom, and out the front door, closing and locking it behind him as quietly as he could. He listened to the running mower and headed in the direction of the offending neighbor’s yard. On the way over, he concocted some silly reason as to why he was about to ask a neighbor he’d never met to stop mowing for the next few days. He’d done some crazy things on his assignments in the past, and this would be one more to add to the list.

  Fifteen minutes later, the mowing stopped, and with an invitation to the monthly neighborhood lawn party, he headed back to the house. Hannah drove up just as he made it to the front door. He helped her grab a few grocery bags while explaining to her the need to move through the house in silence. He told her the basics of what had happened, and she understood.

  They entered the house, making no noise. Hannah headed toward the kitchen and he to the closet. He found Sarah still on the floor, but lying down now, without her hands over her ears. She was as limp as her bed sheets. She was awake, but her eyes were slits. She didn’t react when he picked her up and brought her back to the bed. He started to cover her back up, but then thought better of it when it occurred to him that she might feel better after a bath. He’d learned over the years to trust these random thoughts that popped up out of nowhere. They’d always turned out to be good indicators, and they’d served him well in tough situations. He made sure she was situated on the bed befor
e he headed into the kitchen. Hannah was putting up the remainder of the groceries.

  He whispered to her. “I want you to give her a bath. I think it will help her relax, make her feel better.”

  Hannah turned after putting a can of peas in the pantry. “Okay,” she whispered back. “How do you want to handle it?”

  “Well, typically, you run some water, add a little soap, you get in, and voila, you’re taking a bath.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “Thanks, Einstein. That’s not what I mean. Running bath water isn’t exactly silent.”

  He hadn’t considered that.

  “How about this?” said Hannah. “I’ll run the bath on the other side of the house, and when it’s done, we’ll bring her over and bathe her there.”

  He thought it sounded as reasonable as anything else that had happened that day, so he agreed and Hannah left to go run the bathwater. Thankfully, the sun was almost down, and moving Sarah through the house without bright sunlight aggravating her eyes would not be a problem.

  A few minutes later, Hannah was ready. He picked Sarah up from the bed and carried her through the house to one of the two guest bedrooms that shared a bathroom on the opposite side. He laid her down and let Hannah take it from there.

  “I’m going to need your help to get her into the tub,” she whispered.

  He looked at her blankly. “What do you need me to do?”

  “She’s not strong enough to get into the tub by herself, so I’ll get her undressed, wrap a towel around her, and then have you carry her to the water.”

  He appreciated Hannah’s professionalism. Right now, he just needed to be told what to do. He left the room and waited.

  Hannah emerged from the bedroom not long after. “We’re ready.”

  He followed her back and found Sarah lying on the bed, wrapped in a towel. She still carried that half-conscious look, as if she was caught somewhere between this world and another. He didn’t like it.

  “Her skin’s sensitive also, so be careful when you pick her up.”

  He did exactly that. He couldn’t have been gentler if he’d been carrying the Mona Lisa over hot coals.