Red Hot Bikers, Rock Stars and Bad Boys

by Cassia Leo

  Oz nodded, saying nothing. He did not want to voice his fear that she may be too injured even to heal herself, this time. For purposes of what we are doing here, I’m operating on the assumption that medicine is the only way to save her. We can’t count on her unreliable ability.

  Jonathan chased Nicolas off, and assigned him to ripping apart sheets for more bandages. Good thinking, Jonathan. Keeps him busy, and we will need them later.

  When Oz brought him the bowl of now sterilized equipment, Jonathan announced, “I need to remove the bullet from Finn.” Oz nodded, and came to his side to assist. Jon extracted a thin pair of tongs from the bowl. “Once we do this, I need you to re-apply the pressure for me. I am going to start drawing blood from Nicolas. While I am doing that, you need to keep Finn’s bleeding down. Once we have enough blood for Ana and Finn, I am going to stitch up my brother. I need you to watch carefully because you will need to do exactly what I do, to Ana. Okay?”

  Oz nodded again. Jonathan was starting to sound like him. Rational. He was relieved to not feel so alone. “Okay, go.”

  It did not take long for Jon to remove the bullet. He found it quickly, and Finn let out a small gurgling cough but did not wake up. He dropped the misshapen and surprisingly small metal ball on the kitchen floor, and it rolled slowly away, under the counter. “Apply pressure.” Oz did.

  Jonathan called Nicolas from his sheet ripping and had him sit in a chair nearby. After sliding the needle into Nicolas, the blood moved through the thin tubes and into a large clear pouch. Jon decided that all of the blood would need to come from Nicolas, as Jon needed to be strong and alert enough to handle the medical needs. Nicolas would be left very tired, and weak, but would recover.

  Oz tried not to look at Ana. He could still feel the rise and fall of Finn’s heartbeat, but he was afraid he might look over at her see her lying still. She had been alone and unattended for a while now. I can’t think about her. I have to focus on what is immediately in front of me.

  “There is a bottle of water in the fridge, and crackers in the pantry. Take both and go lay on the couch for now,” Jonathan advised Nicolas when he was done with him.

  Nicolas looked at Ana wistfully, then nodded and went to go do as Jon instructed.

  Jonathan came back over to the two patients on the floor. He set the pouch of blood on the sheet and checked both their vitals. “Okay, we need to do this fast,” he said. “This isn’t nearly enough, but we couldn’t take more without hurting your friend. So it will have to be enough for now.”

  He handed Oz a thin needle and a box of threading. When Oz looked surprised, Jonathan said, “It’s not as hard as it looks.” He positioned himself on Finn’s left side and motioned Oz to sit between the two. “Watch me very carefully. I am going to start stitching up Finn, and I need you to do the same for Ana. Once I finish with his abdomen, I am going to move over and help you finish hers. Start with her head, then her abdomen, then her thigh, then shoulder, in that order. Keep it shallow.”

  “Will she feel this?”

  “If she wakes up, yes,” Jon said. “I didn’t dig through boxes for pain medication. They don’t have a lot of time.”

  He handed Oz a thick wooden-handled spoon that Oz had sterilized earlier. “Put this between her teeth,” Jon said, as he demonstrated with Finn. “So she doesn’t hurt herself if she wakes up.”

  Oz felt fear rise in him, but he fought it back. He watched Jon carefully, and his hands shook as he went to tend Ana, but after the first few stitches, he found it was not so hard. She did not wake up, but winced a few times, so the spoon handle turned out to be useful.

  Jon was good as his word, switching to help him with Ana after finishing Finn. He was much quicker than Oz and finished each closure twice as fast. When they were done, Jonathan started hooking up the IV needles to each of them, and then the blood quickly flowed through the tubes.

  “You said it won’t be enough?” Oz asked.

  “I don’t know,” Jonathan admitted. “We’re going to have to figure out a way to get them to a real hospital as soon as we can. But I don’t know yet how without working phones.”

  “So now what?”

  “Now we wait,” Jonathan said. “And hope.”

  ***

  58- JONATHAN

  Jonathan had taken Oz’s lead. His emotions were running high at the sight of at first his brother, and then Ana. Although he was the only one there qualified to help them, his state of mind made him highly unsuited for the task. Oz had known that, and had understood what he needed to say to get Jon’s focus.

  He was amazed at how well he had done, “operating” on those two. His father would have been proud. It was not perfect, by far. Both of their wounds were grievous and potentially mortal. The equipment he used was old and dusty, and he only hoped Oz had sterilized everything properly because he hadn’t had time to check. Even trace amounts of bacteria getting in could cause infections that could kill them in their present state. And they would definitely need a blood transfusion—a better one—soon.

  They cleaned up the area and gently moved both patients on top of layers of blankets, spreading even more covers over the top. Both were resting now, and stabilized, for the moment. They would have to be watched closely as this would be the most critical point of their recovery. Jon tried not to be overly critical of his work. To not worry that all he did might not be enough, and that one or both could still die. Neither was out of the woods. Infection was still a high likelihood, even if things had been sterilized correctly.

  He glanced at Ana, wondering if her wounds would be healed as miraculously as they were before. He had seen many things in his career, but never anything like that. If she makes it, I will have to ask her.

  As he had told Oz, it would be a waiting game. Watch closely, wait for things to pass, and hope that soon they could get out of the house and off the island. The phone lines were still down, and their old radio stopped working years ago. The internet had gone out before the phones.

  Jon asked Oz how they had come to the island, and all Oz had said was, We can’t get back the same way.

  Nicolas was resting on the couch. Jon had not been sure what to make of his display at Ana’s side. Jon felt protective of Finn when he saw this new man fawning over Ana, but it had hardly been the time to figure things out. Later, as they were cleaning up, Oz did explain beyond the brief earlier introduction. Nicolas and Ana were cousins.

  “Aren’t they a bit…” Jonathan let the question trail off.

  “Close?” Oz finished. “Ana doesn’t open up very easily to others. Nicolas is her best friend.”

  Still odd, Jonathan thought, but didn’t say it. He had been judged long enough to know it was a hurtful and unfair practice. He had certainly judged Ana quick enough. And then I slept with her. What a mess.

  They were done cleaning up, but there would be no relaxing. Jon prepared to start his vigilant monitoring of the two patients, when Oz reminded him of one huge, glaring, important detail that would have to be dealt with.

  “Oh, Christ. Alex,” Jon said, hanging his head. He had been aiming for him when he hit Finn instead. Oz finished it with one of the cleanest shots Jon had ever seen. Alex likely died immediately. “What should we do?”

  Oz’s look said, How should I know? But then he asserted, “I’m the one who killed him. I’ll take responsibility.”

  Jonathan shook his head. “No. You would not be in this mess if it were not for us. If I hadn’t been such a terrible aim, it would have been me, not you.”

  Oz didn’t argue. They were both clearly tired. “We can’t leave him here in the house. I don’t want Ana waking up to this,” Oz said. “Is there anywhere we can put him? Until the storm passes?”

  “We can try the storehouse. It’s worse for wear after the storm, but I imagine it will be good enough for this.”

  Oz nodded. “I imagine so. Though I have to admit, I’ve never had to give much thought to proper methods of storing a dead body,” he
said, and then surprised Jonathan by letting out a small chuckle. We’re both so stressed, but we are repressing it.

  Nicolas appeared in the doorway. The color was drained from his face, but he looked calmer than he had earlier. “I want to help.”

  ***

  59- NICOLAS

  They didn’t want him to help. They said he should be resting, that he was too weak to be up and about. He argued, and they argued back. Finally, as a compromise, he was allowed to help by cleaning the kitchen after they removed Alex. He didn’t mind that so much, because it meant he could still be near Ana. No one knew yet if she was going to be okay.

  Oz and Jonathan put on their snow clothes, and sloppily wrapped Alex in a handful of trash bags. Nicolas could hardly register the fact that there was a dead body in front of him, or that Oz had been the one to kill him. It should have been me. I should have pulled that trigger, and then kept pulling it.

  He cleaned up as much of the blood as he could, but ruined most of the dishtowels in the kitchen doing so. He hadn’t realized until now how much blood was in the human body. And this had only been Alex’s. They cleaned up after Finn and Ana earlier.

  Nicolas threw the dishtowels away and looked toward the dining room. Ana and Finn were asleep in a sea of blankets. Above them, Oz had duct-taped garbage bags over the hole the stained glass skylight had left, but the cold wind slipped through anyway. We’re going to have to move them before long.

  Jonathan had been over to check their pulse fanatically, every few minutes, and each time he had come back with relief on his face. But now Jonathan was outside with Oz, attempting to figure out what to do with Alex.

  Nicolas started to take Ana’s pulse, but realized he had no clue what normal was. Her chest rose and fell with each soft breath, and she looked peaceful, although he doubted she felt that way. He prayed she was healing herself. She had never made it work on another, but her ability had saved her own life several times.

  When he had made up his mind about coming to Maine, he wasn’t sure what he had expected exactly, but he could say confidently it was not this. He never made predictions about outcome. As with everything in his life, Nicolas Deschanel had simply forged ahead, confidently assuming everything would work out.

  We might have actually saved her. When we came to the house, the situation was already dire, and Alex could have killed all three of them. Instead of lying on the floor in critical condition, Ana could be dead. I probably could have fucking planned a bit more, but the fact of the matter is, if we hadn’t showed up when we did, this could have been a completely different kind of party.

  Nicolas took Ana’s right hand, the one that was not entwined with Finn’s. He could not shake from his mind the look on her face when she saw he had arrived. Her lip had trembled, and the look was one she had only shown to him: one of complete vulnerability, and loss of control.

  “I am so sorry I wasn’t here sooner. I knew something was wrong, and I hesitated,” he admitted to her, keeping his voice low. He almost laughed at his attempt at privacy.

  “I am kicking myself for not fucking coming with you. The truth is, though, my feelings were hurt that you didn’t invite me. I started to wonder if maybe I was smothering you, and that… well… that part of why you wanted to get away from New Orleans was me.” He almost stopped here, but continued on. “We always laughed at the fact that everyone wondered why we never married, and why we did our own thing, and I always thought that was something we shared together, our own private joke at the world. I felt like I was laughing with you at some of the guys you would date. When you broke up with them, I assumed you didn’t care because you never seemed to. But… Oz…” No, not now. I can’t do this now.

  It felt good to get that off his chest. He hadn’t let himself think these things before. Action had always come easier than thought. Even when he decided to reason out a problem or situation, he rarely considered any one perspective for very long. Deep thought simply wasn’t in his makeup. Even when it came to Ana... if he saw she needed him, he was there. He didn’t need to know why, or to brood on it for long.

  “Did I force my own beliefs on you, Ana?” He turned her hand over in his. The scratches were still red but already starting to scab over. Yes, heal darling. He wanted to ask her about what had happened here. What had happened between the last time he talked to her, over a week ago, and the point at which he and Oz joined the insanity they witnessed in the kitchen. Did you run away? Did you run away to be with Finn? I can understand wanting to be away from your father… but how could you run from me? You knew it would break me, like you knew moving to Oxford would. I know that’s selfish, dammit, but you’ve always stayed before. Why did you leave me this time?

  But that was the paradox of the situation, wasn’t it? Instead of staying to protect him, as she once had, she was leaving to protect him. Or am I just telling myself that, when in fact it has nothing to do with me at all? That this time, Ana made a decision about her life that did not include me?

  “I guess I don’t understand, Ana. I’ve never turned my back on you, or judged you. I’ve never made you feel bad about anything you’ve done.” And you could have had anyone in the world and I would have supported you, but Oz? Their indiscretion brought Ana’s behavior, and Nicolas’ conflicted, bottled feelings, bubbling to the surface.

  No, Nicolas would not think about it. Not yet. Not until she was out of the woods. Right now, he would focus only on her recovery.

  Her long red hair looked even more beautiful contrasted with her pale, ashen skin. He used to braid her hair, as long as she promised to never, ever tell anyone. He wished he could see her eyes right now, those piercing blue eyes that cut right to your soul. Have I never married because no woman can ever measure up? Because, truly, I could never love her more than I already do. I would never want more from her than I have now. But being with someone else means that I can’t share this closeness with her the same way. Nicolas would not think about how tonight’s bombshell might impact this closeness. Goddamnit Oz, why did you have to tell me? Why couldn’t you have taken it merrily to your goddamned grave, so Adrienne and I could continue living in blissful ignorance about the people we love?

  He looked over at Finn, in contrast. Finn had rough, ruddy blond hair (So not her type, she likes dark-haired guys), a strong jawline (She always liked the softer types), and dimples that did not require a smile to come out (Too obnoxious). He had a scar above his lip, and his cheeks had a slight red flush to them (Too roughneck). He was handsome, but simply not her type.

  Apparently, he is. Apparently I don’t know her type. Apparently she had her reasons for keeping this from me, just as she kept her fling with Oz a secret. Maybe her shock at seeing me was actually guilt.

  Maybe she’s worried that my love is conditional on her never changing. Maybe she’s been changing this entire time and I haven’t shown her it’s okay.

  “I am so sorry,” he said to her, still holding her hand in his. He curled up next to her and closed his eyes, smelling a trace of copper and rubbing alcohol. “I really am.”

  ***

  60- JONATHAN

  Jon was guilty of murder. It mattered not who pulled the trigger. When he hit Finn, he had been aiming for Alex, with intent considerably more than a warning shot. He would never let Oz take responsibility for something that, in his heart and in his intentions, he was equally guilty of.

  They worked quickly, but quietly. He didn’t mind Oz, and thought that in better circumstances, they might even get along. He didn’t think there would be a better circumstance for them, though. While bound for life with this experience, this was hardly the activity that created friendships.

  “Did you realize your nose is broken?” Jonathan finally asked, as they hauled Alex’s body through the snow and out to the shore. It was a slow haul, with the second storm still in full swing around them.

  Oz laughed. “Yeah. I’m aware of it.”

  “I can set it for you if you want. It might hea
l properly that way.”

  “Thanks.”

  There was no good place to put Alex, so in the end they placed him closest to where the tanks had spilled. They shoved him under a low bench, wedging him in. The sound of the garbage bags crinkling against the snow made Jon cringe.

  “The roof looks unsteady,” Oz noted warily.

  “The whole thing is unsteady,” Jon agreed. “But there isn’t anywhere else to put him. You were right, he can’t stay in the house.”

  “How long are we going to be stranded here?” Oz asked, with a glance back up at the house.

  Jon hesitated before speaking. “I’m going to try to figure out the snowcat, and drive it down to the ferry station to radio for help.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Oz offered.

  Jon shook his head. “You’re the only one who knows what I did to keep them stable. Her cousin in there isn’t in any shape to take care of them alone.”

  Oz nodded, but it was clear he didn’t like the idea of splitting up in the storm.

  “One thing we will need to figure out,” Jon broached, “is what we are going to tell the police.”

  Oz stopped, hand on the back door. He couldn’t be much older than Finn, but in that moment he seemed a hundred years old. “The truth, I suppose. I mean, it’s not like a lie could be any weirder.”

  Jon laughed, his first laugh in a long while, and the sound was foreign and coarse to his ears. “You are most likely right.”

  “What will people here think?” Oz pressed. “About what happened to Alex? Will they miss him? Think it’s all a misunderstanding?”

  Jonathan frowned. “A mixed bag, I suppose. Most residents thought him harmless.”

  “Not you, though.” It wasn’t a question.