Red-Line: The Shift (Volume One)

by J. T. Bishop

  “What?”

  “When she shoved you back, she shoved him away, too.”

  Declan looked over at the still form of his brother on the floor. “How is he?”

  “He’s alive. She didn’t kill him when she let go of him. Hannah’s helping him now, but we need to get Sarah into some water before she burns out.”

  Declan shook his head in pain. “She’s all yours, Leroy. I don’t need another sucker punch. I’m not touching her.”

  “You call that a punch? She barely touched you. If she’d wanted to, she’d have sent you right through the wall.”

  “Are you telling me I should be grateful?” Declan rubbed the back of his head.

  Leroy regarded him. “You just saved your brother from a painful death, and you’ve got a bump on the head to show for it. I’d say you got off easy. Now your good deed for the day is not done. Help me get her into the water and I promise I’ll give you a nice lollipop for your efforts. How does that sound?”

  “You’re all heart, Leroy.”

  “That’s what they say. Now get up, slowpoke, and go run the bathwater.”

  Declan stared up at Leroy, still rubbing his head. “And just why, exactly, is my brother friends with you?”

  “Because I’m so lovable. Now move.” Leroy stood and turned away as Declan glared at him. He stopped, though, when Declan attempted to rise, holding his midsection and groaning. Leroy turned back, leaned over and offered his hand. Declan paused, looking up at Leroy, before gladly accepting the offer of assistance. Leroy pulled, hauling Declan to his feet.

  Leroy patted Declan’s shoulder lightly as Declan gained his balance. “And in case I didn’t mention it,” said Leroy, meeting Declan’s eyes, “thanks.”

  Declan said nothing as Leroy broke the brief contact and returned to the bed to retrieve Sarah, resuming his previous authoritative state. Surprised at having glimpsed the affectionate side of Leroy, Declan smiled to himself, turned, and gingerly headed toward the bathroom.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  * * *

  SOME HOURS LATER, as Sarah lay in bathwater in a rolling boil, and Ramsey slept in an almost unconscious state on the bed after Declan and Leroy had returned him to it, there was a loud but brief knock on the door.

  Leroy reluctantly opened it to face a stately Morgana wearing a stylish brown and white pantsuit, her hair swept up in its usual sleek chignon. She scrutinized Leroy up and down before entering. “You look like hell,” she said.

  Leroy began a sarcastic retort but was interrupted by Declan.

  “Morgana. Charming as always.” Declan regarded her as she stood at the door. “Please come in. Don’t mind the mess.”

  Morgana scrutinized Declan as well. “What the hell is going on here? Don’t you two shower?” She bustled in as Leroy and Declan stepped aside. She stopped to observe the condition of the house. Glass and spatters of blood littered the carpet, and assorted broken furniture lay strewn over it. The back window was broken, covered by a large piece of plywood. The only section that appeared relatively untouched was the kitchen, but even that had dirty plates and cups piled in the sink, and the counters were littered with crumbs and open food containers.

  “Apparently, you don’t clean either.”

  Declan answered first. “We fired the housekeeper.”

  “And between you and me,” Leroy said, “Hannah’s a bit of a slob.” He shut the door behind him.

  Morgana turned and fired a glare at both of them, her stately and elegant posture looking out of place in the broken remains of the house. She looked like a queen in a farmhouse.

  She ignored their banter and went straight to the point. “Where is she?” When they both stood there, looking spent and saying nothing, she asked, “What, are you deaf as well as dirty? Is she still alive?”

  “Who, Hannah?” asked Leroy. “She’s fine. A little tired maybe, but—”

  “You know who I’m referring to.” Morgana’s patience had deteriorated as fast as Leroy’s.

  “Gee,” replied Leroy, crossing his arms, “and I thought you were here to check on us.”

  Morgana narrowed her eyes at him. “When the fate of our people rests on your well-being, you’ll be the first to earn my undivided attention, but for now, Leroy, get over that inflated ego of yours and answer my question.”

  Leroy’s impatience snapped. “You can take your undivided attention and shove it up your—”

  “Yes, she’s alive and well,” interrupted Declan, glancing at Leroy, warning him to stay cool.

  Leroy pursed his lips, and Morgana looked over at Declan, dismissing Leroy. “Well, at least you’ve accomplished something in the midst of this disaster.”

  “Disaster?” asked Declan. “Next time we face a situation like this, feel free to take the reins, Morgana. I’d like to see you do any better.”

  She didn’t answer him, perhaps because she knew she was taking out her frustration with her own problems on them. She allowed the comment to pass.

  The three stood staring with hardened features at each other as emotions ran high. But none of them spoke. Finally, Morgana, realizing that angering them accomplished nothing, decided to take the initiative and attempted to calm the choppy waters.

  She looked around her surroundings. “Perhaps one of you could offer me a drink?” She pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down, her back straight. “I assume you’ve got something stronger than milk or orange juice.”

  Leroy watched her and, releasing some of his tension, uncrossed his arms and headed toward the kitchen. “That’s the smartest thing you’ve said since I’ve known you.” He went straight to the liquor cabinet and pulled out a bottle of Scotch. He grabbed a few glasses and put a fingerful in each. He brought them over and sat them down as Declan joined him at the table. Leroy took a sip and let the heat slide down his throat, then watched Declan and Morgana do the same. He allowed himself a moment to enjoy the warm sensation as it blossomed in his belly and radiated through his midsection. He took a deep breath and sighed. He felt a little better, especially after taking a few more sips of the dark liquid. The libation seemed to calm the frayed nerves at the table. They each continued to sit and drink, but no one said anything.

  Placing her empty glass back on the table, Morgana finally broke the silence. “Where’s Hannah?”

  Although Morgana was looking at Leroy, Declan answered her. “She’s with Sarah.”

  Morgana did not react, except to ask the next question. “And where, pray tell, is Ramsey? It’s unlike him to miss an opportunity to annoy me.” She shifted back in her seat, her back still straight, and waited for the answer.

  Declan and Leroy said nothing initially, but Declan shifted his gaze over to Leroy, who did not return his look. After a quick second of silence, Declan asked Leroy, “You didn’t tell her?”

  Leroy remained quiet.

  Morgana’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me what?”

  Leroy debated his answer before saying anything.

  “Leroy, what is Declan referring to? Where is Ramsey?”

  Leroy put his empty glass down. “I may have kept out a few minor details when I talked to you yesterday.”

  “Minor?” asked Declan.

  Morgana said nothing as she watched the exchange between the two men. She knew from her experience as councilwoman and leader of the Community that when dealing with egocentric men, there would be times that tact and reason were called for in order to obtain a desired result. She rarely used them, though, and tonight was no exception.

  She aimed her pointed stare at Leroy. “Then how about you stop wasting my time and tell me everything.”

  “Morgana…” Leroy started to object.

  “From the beginning. And don’t leave anything out. If you can’t tell me the truth, then I’ll find somebody else who can, and you can all go home. I don’t have time for games.”

  Leroy held her stare, but he didn’t answer. Various offensive and colorful remarks came to mind, but he held his ton
gue. He surmised that if Morgana was like a poker player right now, then she was holding all the cards, and she never bluffed. Deciding to keep the peace, he started from the beginning and left nothing out.

  **

  RAMSEY SLEPT DEEPLY, dreams of his father alleviating some of his mental weariness. Baseball games, both in the family’s backyard and at the ballpark, played through his head as his father’s reoccurring phrase, “Trust destiny,” echoed through his mind. Immersed in the comfort of his memories, he had no desire to leave his dream state, but another, more pressing need, pulled him away. He awoke with a start as his bladder stretched uncomfortably. He wasn’t sure where he was at first, and he shook his head to clear his mind. Needles of pain shot through his eyes to the back of his skull, and he immediately regretted the movement. He sat up slowly, every muscle protesting, and he considered returning to bed, but his bladder would not hold any longer. Painfully, he pulled himself to an upright position. He took a few minutes to gather some strength before attempting to stand. Making small movements, he pushed himself up and put his hand on the wall for support. Feeling fairly certain he wouldn’t pass out, he began to take small steps into the bathroom. His mind still foggy, and with his destination the only thing on his mind, he walked into the darkened bathroom and stumbled, bumping into something.

  “Aah!” he yelled as his balance faltered, but painfully misused muscles engaged, and he managed to catch himself before falling.

  “Hey!” Hannah let out a similar cry, abruptly emerging from her doze as she sat on the floor.

  “What the…?” Ramsey tried to see, but his eyes had not yet adjusted. He fumbled for the light.

  Hannah, looking up to see Ramsey stumbling around, tried to stop him before he flicked the switch. “Leave it off, Ramsey!”

  Coherent enough to hear her but not comprehending, he continued to feel along the wall.

  Hannah tried again. “No lights!”

  Finally, her meaning penetrated his muddled head, and he stopped and looked down at the floor. His eyes better adjusted, he could see Hannah’s form.

  “What are you doing down there?” he asked, looking just like a man frightened by a harmless assailant. “You almost killed me.” To make his point, he put his hand on his chest as his heart thudded painfully.

  She gave him an absurd look. “What are you doing up? Go back to bed.”

  His bladder, which was on the verge of bursting, reminded him of his original purpose, and he stepped over her and headed into the smaller toilet area.

  “Nature calls,” he said as he entered the room and closed the door.

  A few minutes later, he reemerged, feeling greatly relieved. The light remained off, and Hannah was no longer in the room, but now he heard the gentle bubbling sound of water. The soft light from the bedroom illuminated the area well enough for him to see Sarah lying in the tub, looking as if she was asleep. Water bubbled around her as the faucet ran a continual stream of water. He stopped and watched her, amazed to see her revived and apparently well.

  “She’s doing fine.” Hannah’s voice interrupted his thoughts, and he looked up at her as she leaned against the doorframe. “I turned out the lights because she was showing signs of light sensitivity. I sat down while keeping an eye on her. I guess I dozed off.”

  He nodded his head but stayed quiet. His memory of his encounter with her was fuzzy and out of reach, but he retained the feeling of it. As he stood there and watched her, he felt the pull of their previous connection, and he swayed as a wave of dizziness seized him. He reached out for the wall, but Hannah stepped forward and grabbed him, putting his arm over her shoulder to support him.

  “Easy there. Hold on.” She took much of his weight and guided him back to the bed, where she sat him down on the edge. Eyes closed, he bent over to bring his head closer to his knees.

  “Deep breaths. Deep breaths,” said Hannah, her hand on his back as she helped him recover from the dizzy spell.

  Slowly, as his head stopped spinning, he sat up. He took another deep breath and opened his eyes. Thankfully, the room did not move.

  “Better?” she asked.

  “Better is relative.”

  “Hmm. I suppose so. Better than five minutes ago?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Now get back into bed.”

  “How long have I been out?” He looked around the room. He had no idea what time it was.

  “Depends.”

  “On what?’

  “‘Out’ as in connected, or ‘out’ as in sleeping?”

  “Is there a difference?”

  “There most certainly is, you moron.”

  His shoulders shrank, and he brought his hand up to rub his temples. “And so it begins.”

  “You’re damn right. What the hell were you thinking?’

  “I think that’s obvious.”

  “It was stupid.”

  “It worked, didn’t it?”

  “It almost didn’t. You came close to being Ramsey à la King.”

  “Sounds tasty.”

  “Not really. You’d no doubt give everyone food poisoning.”

  At the mention of food, Ramsey grabbed his stomach. “Speaking of food poisoning, I could eat something. Is that PB&J still available?”

  “What, from forty-eight hours ago?”

  “Forty-eight hours?”

  “Yes, that’s how long you’ve been ‘out,’” she said, using her fingers as quotes, “although only about eight of them have been actual sleeping. And by the looks of you, you could use about twelve more.”

  He looked grimly at her. “Are you saying I look bad?”

  She stared at him as if he’d asked “Do birds fly?” and she reached over and pulled out a small cosmetic mirror from one of her bags on the floor. She opened it and handed it to him.

  “Just my opinion, but connecting with a Red-Line does not diminish the aging process.” She took a good look at him. “But it’s a hell of a weight-loss plan.”

  He opened the mirror to look at himself and almost gasped. His head looked shrunken in size as his skin sank into the hollows of his cheeks. Like potato sacks, heavy bags under his eyes hung deeply over his cheekbones, and his eyelids were puffy with retained fluid. His frizzy hair stood on end, as if he’d been electrified, and most shockingly, his skin glowed a vivid pink.

  “I guess I’m not ready for my Mr. Universe audition.”

  Hannah kept a straight face. “No, I think the crispy look disqualifies you from competition.” She perused his features. “Actually, you’re looking better. Initially, you were fire-engine red.”

  His eyes widened as he continued to stare at himself. “You’re not kidding about the Ramsey à la King.”

  “It was either that, or refried Ramsey. Take your pick.”

  “Okay, I’m getting the point. Things got a little dicey.”

  Hannah glowered at him. “No more heroics, please. At least not for the next twenty-four hours, if you can help it. Between you and Leroy, my heart can’t take it.”

  “I’ll see what I can do. Hopefully, no more will be required.”

  As he stared at his reflection, he felt a strange tingle move through his fingers. Small cracks formed in the mirror, and the glass began to split and break, and tiny shards rained on the carpet.

  He held the mirror away from him as the glass fell. “What the…?”

  Hannah sighed. “Really, Sarah?” She called toward the bathroom. “Another one?” She bent over to pick up the glass from the floor. She looked up at Ramsey as she did so. “Your Red-Line is a bit destructive.”

  “My…?” He ignored that comment. “Destructive?”

  “Yes. That’s the third mirror she’s broken. Not to mention a vase and a couple of light bulbs. At this rate, the house won’t be standing much longer.”

  “What do you mean? She’s breaking things?”

  “Well, if you recall, she, or her energy or whatever it is, broke that bathroom mirror first.” She pointed to the r
oom Sarah now occupied. “Well, not an hour after we got her back in the water, the mirror shattered in the second bathroom, the one across the house. That was a bit startling, especially since Declan was in it when it happened.” She giggled at the memory of that—Mr. Security Tough Guy letting out a little-girl shriek as the mirror shattered while he used the bathroom. She’d heard him from the kitchen as she got some breakfast. She was going to appreciate that one for a while.

  “Then,” she continued, “as Leroy was using the phone in the front office, one of the few remaining unbroken vases shattered on the coffee table next to him.” She paused and thought for a second. “Oh, and as I sat outside on the porch to get a little fresh air and stretch my legs, both porch lights popped and broke.” She looked toward the empty frame of what had been her mirror. “And now this.” She waved her fingers toward the broken fragments. “She’s done it around all of us, and now you. Maybe it’s her way of saying ‘Hello.’”

  Ramsey looked at the empty mirror in his hand and thought about what Hannah had told him. “Maybe,” he said absent-mindedly. He wondered if there were other reasons of importance to consider. “Are there any other mirrors in the house?”

  Hannah knitted her brows. “What?” She thought about it. “No, I don’t think so. Why?”

  “Nothing. Just thinking.” He rubbed the shell of the cosmetic mirror in his hand.

  “Great. That never ends well.” She watched him for a few seconds, as he seemed lost in thought. “Hey, how about you get some more sleep?”

  He broke from his concentrated thought and looked over at her. “Where’s Leroy?”

  She froze for a second, almost imperceptibly, but Ramsey still caught it. “He’s busy at the moment. You need to rest. You lay down, and I’ll get you something to eat.”

  She started to rise, but Ramsey stopped her. “You’re the worst liar ever, Hannah.”

  “I’m not lying. He is busy.”

  “But you’re keeping something from me. What is it? Is he all right?”

  “Yes. He and Declan are both fine. They’re just…in a meeting right now.”

  “Meeting?” He gave her a strange look. “With who?”