by Cindy Combs
"How do you know about sentinels and guides, BT?" Dr. Mike quietly asked.
"From Keegan stories." Puzzled, BT searched the blank faces around him. "Haven't you guys ever heard Keegan stories?"
"No," Jim casually told him, sitting in the chair by the bed. "We don't know much at all about sentinels and guides. How do you know about Keegan stories?"
A frown stretched across the pale face. "From my dreams."
Now Jim was beginning to worry. He could almost see the headache forming behind the serious blue eyes. "Nightmares?"
"No, my good dreams." BT looked up and smiled. "I can hear someone telling me Keegan stories. It always makes me feel safe and loved."
Bedtime stories? It made sense to Jim that the legends of sentinels would be good stories for children.
"Keegan," Dr. Mike softly repeated. "Do you mean Keegan Jeffrey?" BT nodded.
"Who's Keegan Jeffrey?" Major Banks asked.
"Keegan Jeffrey was Harry McHahn's guide," Dr. Mike explained. 'Ohs' filled the room. Everyone had heard of the legendary sentinel from over a century ago, just that no one was familiar with his guide's first name.
However, BT was more worried about what had happened that afternoon than of stories about the past. It still scared him to think how close his protector had been to getting killed. "Jim, what did you zone on?"
Tension drew Jim's face taut. "I'm not sure. One minute, I was enjoying a fall day. The next, I was right back in the camps again." Rafe gently laid a hand on his shoulder for support.
"So something triggered a memory," Dr. Mike mused. "Did you see something? Hear something?"
Jim shook his head. "No, neither. I'm not sure what happened."
"Could it have been a smell?" BT asked. "Scents have a way of triggering memory at a more subconscious level." Dr. Mike secretly stole a glance at the young man, more certain than ever that psychology and human behavior had to be part of his educational background. He decided to remain quiet to see where BT led.
Jim studied the young man more openly. "How do I remember a smell?"
"Close your eyes and think back to when you were on the sidewalk." Seeing the residual fear flash through his friend's eyes, BT laid his hand on Jim's leg. "It's okay. You're safe, and we are all here so you're not alone." Rafe squeezed Jim's shoulder, emphasizing that fact. The rest of the unit stepped closer, lending their support.
With a deep breath, Jim closed his eyes, thinking back to a couple hours ago. Remembering how good he had felt. "You know, I think I was stretching out my senses. I wasn't thinking about it, but it just felt right."
"What did you sense?" BT gently asked.
Jim faintly noted what a deep, soothing voice the young man had, in spite of the slight hoarseness from disuse. He leaned further into the chair as he turned his mind back to the sidewalk. "Warmth of the sun on my skin. Brightness of the light shinning off the windows. Colors and textures from the benches, signs and people's clothing. The sounds of people, walking, talking, breathing around me. Normal sounds. Content sounds."
No word about smells. Was Jim avoiding smells? BT subconsciously lowered his voice, trying to ooze as much support and comfort as he could. "What did you smell?"
Jim's head tilted and his nostrils flared as he searched his memory. "Fuel. Leather and rubber. Wieners, chili, mustard and red sauce from the street vendor. Woman's perfume. People scents. Ro... Oh Hell!" Jim's eyes flew open as he jerked upright. "I smelled Roaches!"
"What?" Banks bellowed. "How could you smell Roaches in Manhaven?"
"I didn't see any Roaches," Brown replied in confusion.
"Trust me, Roaches isn't exactly a smell you forget," Rafe stated, his stomach churning as his own thoughts returned to the camps.
"Could it be just something that you associate with Roaches?" Joel asked.
Jim shook his head, eyes glazed as he searched inward. "It was that smell that warned me when I was hiding out in the jungle. I definitely smelled that particular scent. That's why I zoned." Jim's head snapped towards Dr. Mike. "Didn't you tell me that researchers were being targeted in safe zones?"
Mike nodded, eyes filling with dread. "If the Roaches have found a way to approach large human populations without being noticed, that would explain how they could reach them."
"You mean, we were near a Roach this morning?" BT pulled his bent legs tighter to his body and began to shiver.
Jim immediately wrapped a protective arm around the young man. At the same time, he reached up to grasp Rafe's arm as he sensed Rafe begin to tremble, too. "I don't smell them now. We are safe here." Rafe squeezed Jim's shoulder in acknowledgment.
BT leaned into the safety of his friend. The headache that had started when he had shoved Jim under the truck was growing as the tension from the past two hours took its toll.
The Major looked around the room, witnessing the impact of the enemies' presence in a safe zone on his men and the Doctor. His own gut was contracting with fear at the thought. Worst of all, the young man who was the best guide candidate for Jim had just turned two more shades paler. He had to take action. "That's right. We are safe now, and there is nothing we can do about the Roaches at this time. Why don't we all take a breather before deciding our next move?"
Jim quietly watched as BT slipped into sleep. Thankfully, Sheree had given him the pain meds before they'd left. With the headache growing behind the blue eyes, Jim doubted the kid would have fallen asleep otherwise. Plus he was going to be sore tomorrow. Jim shook his head, still trying to figure out how BT had managed to tackle him. They were lucky both of them weren't dead.
One of the main themes is that a sentinel and guide pair are very protective of each other. Dr. Mike's words returned. BT had been protecting him. Each sentinel is provided with a guide. This little one has been ordained as yours. The panther's words, telling him BT was indeed his guide.
Jim studied the young man. His guide. That magical pair of words Jim had doubted he would ever be able to say. However, was his guide any more prepared for this than he was? Did BT even realize he WAS his guide?
Silently standing up, Jim quietly crossed the room to the connecting door. With another penetrating stare at his guide, he slipped out into his and Brown's room.
Dr. Mike sat on the other side, flipping through a large book. He glanced up as Jim entered the room. "How is he?"
"He's got another headache." Jim sat in the bed opposite the doctor. "I think this morning was too rough on him. He is still so fragile health-wise."
"How are you doing?" Rafe's quiet voice carried from the chair by the window.
Jim gave his younger friend a reassuring smile. "I'm doing all right. I wasn't the one to tackle someone twice his size." Rafe's return smile was faint. He could still see his two friends falling before the truck.
"I suspect BT is a lot tougher than you realize." At Jim's questioning look, Dr. Mike continued. "All on his own, he figured out you were a sentinel and immediately launched into trying to find out why you zoned. That was in spite of his headache or the fact he is now talking. I'm not even sure that fact has hit home yet."
"I know," Jim replied, glancing at the door. "I keep waiting for it to sink in."
Mike shrugged. "Has he mentioned the Keegan stories before?"
Both Jim and Rafe shook their heads. Jim replied, "No. He's only mentioned that nightmare of his."
"Well, I find the whole thing rather enlightening."
Jim turned puzzled. "Why? Because of some bedtime stories?"
"How many famous sentinels can you name?"
Rafe's eyebrows drew together in concentration. "Armando, Hito,..."
"Lawson, Cramer, McHahn, ..." Jim shrugged.
"Now name their guides."
Rafe and Jim looked at each other. Hesitantly, Jim stalled, "Well... Wasn't Cramer's named Thomas?"
"Thompson."
"Oh." Jim paused again, stumped.
"No one ever talks much about the guides," Rafe stated thoughtfully.
> "No, they don't. While all the legends say the guides were important, they usually focus in on the sentinels. However, here is a young man remembering 'Keegan' stories, a Guide's stories. The least-known half of probably the strongest sentinel-guide pair in our history."
"So BT would have a better idea of what a guide is suppose to do than most," Jim concluded.
Rafe thought a moment. "If everyone knows the stories from the sentinel's point of view, then why does BT know them from the guide's?"
"I've been thinking on that," Mike replied. "What if a guide family wanted to make sure the history of their ancestors was not lost, especially in the aftermath of the Center's destruction?"
Jim snapped his fingers. "They would orally tell the history to their children as stories!"
Mike smiled in triumph. "Exactly."
Rafe looked from Jim to Dr. Mike and back. "You guys think BT might be a guide?" Both men nodded. Rafe's eyes widened. Suddenly, BT's leading Jim through the zoneout earlier had new meaning. Jim quickly explained how BT had anchored him in the tunnel.
"So," Jim returned to the earlier thought, "Could BT be a descendant of Keegan Jeffrey? Surely that would be easier to trace than the Clarian lead."
Mike sighed and shook his head. "The main records were destroyed with the Center. I'm going to see if I can dig up anything, but I doubt it would be much."
"Damn," Jim swore. "It would be so much easier on the kid if we had an ID for him."
"Especially if there's a Sam or family looking for him," Rafe commented softly. Memories of his search for Jim after being rescued from the camps weighed heavily on his mind. Rafe didn't even want to think of where he might be now if he hadn't found his older friend, or had never met the Pendergrasts during the search.
The room door opened, letting in Brown and Major Banks. The other three looked up in expectation.
Simon sighed as he saw their faces. "I talked with Jack. Unfortunately, Jim thinking he smelled a Roach isn't enough to really do anything."
"I know what I smelled, Simon," Jim defended himself.
"We realize that. But it doesn't give us anything to work with. Hell, we don't even know where to start looking. Since Jack has been keeping Jim's abilities quiet, there really isn't any way to check up on it.
Jim sighed, inwardly admitting his CO was right. He just hoped they could get through this trip without running into a Roach.
Sam! Sam, answer me!
BT shot up in the bed. For an instant, he thought he was still in the nightmare. But as his eyes began to discern the tall wardrobe and the other bed, he relaxed. He must have slept for several hours, since the room had darkened with the approaching night.
"BT?" Rafe was standing in the frame of the connecting door, looking at him worriedly. "Are you all right?" When the young man simply nodded, Rafe walked over to his own bed and turned on the table lamp to its lowest setting. Sitting on his bed across from BT's, Rafe studied the younger man for a moment. "You had that nightmare with Sam, didn't you?" As BT's eyes widened in surprise, Rafe explained, "You shouted his name."
"Oops," BT mumbled, staring down at his folded legs as a slight blush darkened his cheeks.
Rafe chuckled. "Don't worry. I'll probably be returning the favor tonight."
BT took a quick glance at Rafe. Did the older man really have nightmares, or was he just trying to make him feel better? Then it struck him. He had spoken Sam's name out loud. "I can talk again," he whispered, quiet joy filling his soul.
"Yep," Rafe said with a smile. "We were wondering when you'd realize that."
For a moment, BT soaked up the joyous fact. Then another thought plunged his joy to the ground.
"What?" Rafe asked, seeing the light go out.
"I still don't remember anything," BT stated softly. "I can't even remember my own name."
Leaning down, Rafe caught his eyes. "That's okay. You're still healing from some pretty severe injuries. Talking is a big step. I'll even bet that these dreams are probably just memories trying to get through all the trauma and drugs. They are all good signs."
BT sighed. "Yeah, I know. I just want it all now, you know?"
Rafe comfortingly rubbed his hand across the newly grown hair. "I know."
Jim poked his head around the connecting door. "Anyone hungry in here?"
"I am," Rafe stated firmly.
"I guess I am a little," BT replied.
"Good," Jim replied. "Especially since we are planning this dinner in your honor." At the young man's confused expression Jim shrugged, hiding his smile. "It isn't every day that someone is both a hero AND gets his voice back. We're going to celebrate!"
Two days later
BT leaned back on the bench near the hospital entrance and closed his eyes. Never had he been so glad to be outside in the sunshine. Then he felt two others join him on either side of the bench.
"Someone doesn't look very impressed with the Manhaven Medical Research Hospital," Brown's deep voice commented from the right.
"I'd say he looks downright relieved to be out," observed Janson's voice on the left.
Without opening his eyes, BT sighed, "Oh, Dr. Sloan and the rest of Sheree's doctor friends were really friendly and considerate. I just feel like a bruised and squeezed pin cushion that has been asked almost every embarrassing question in the book."
Both older men chuckled. "Sounds like the vampires," Rafe replied, pulling out an old nickname from his past.
"Hey! My future wife is one of them," Henri protested.
"And a very nice one, too." Rafe paused a moment. "For a vampire."
BT laughed and ducked as Henri tried to hit Rafe over the top of BT's head. After avoiding Henri's swing, Rafe laughingly asked, "Where's Jim?"
"Oh, he's talking with Sheree and the doctors. He should be out soon. I just needed to get out of there."
Janson and Brown traded looks over BT's head, wondering what the doctors had found. Each intended to find out from their own source as soon as possible, but neither wanted to discuss it in front of BT. Henri glanced at his watch. "Well, Jim better be out soon. I'm starved."
"Me, too. Where are we going to eat?" BT asked.
Rafe lifted an eyebrow. The kid was hungry? That was a switch. Maybe they'd finally be able to get some weight on him. "Well, there's an outdoor restaurant not too far from here."
"Carino's?" Henri asked. "That sounds good to me."
"Sounds good to me, too." All three heads lifted to see Jim standing over them. "Let's go. I'm starved."
It had been a good morning. Nash Branson so rarely had a day to spend with Cassidy, his twelve-year-old daughter. He enjoyed talking with her, playing games in the park, feeding the fuzztails, just BEING with her. With the demands of his research and the war effort, it was hard to find time for his child. Yet if he didn't work so hard, Cassidy's future might disappear under the weight of the Roaches advance. He quickly ran a hand through his sandy blond hair, shoving the horrific images from news reports out of his mind. He returned to watching the slim girl, brown hair in a long ponytail, feed a nut to the black and grey fuzztail.
Running his fingers through the grey-green moss grass, Nash reflected back. The day had not started well. Cassidy wasn't happy about leaving her friends and home to go to the new research facility. Nash had to be his charming best to cajole her into thinking of it as an adventure, pointing out that his friends' children, JJ and Lucinda, were coming and that she would meet new people. When that didn't seem to be working, he pointed out that they would have a chance to see some of the northern wildlife first-hand. That had helped, since she loved animals. How she would feel about it once she realized how isolated the base was would be something he'd deal with later.
Nash truly wished she could stay in Manhaven with all the opportunities here. However, his ex-wife was swamped with her refugee work near the front lines and had agreed their daughter was safer with him. His sister was also swamped with her government work. Stacy would have a hard time looking after
her niece with her odd schedule. Nor was his eccentric father Nick able to handle the bright and quick girl for long periods. Sometimes it felt like the practical Cassidy was baby-sitting Nick instead. Besides, Nash felt better knowing she was close by and safe. After what happened to MacGregor, Nash himself would feel safer once they were in the new facility.
Cassidy stood up and brushed the dirt off her pants. Nash marveled at how pretty she looked in her royal blue sweater against the reddish-blue fall foliage. Turning, she asked, "Daddy? Are there any more nuts?"
"No, they're all gone," Nash replied with a smile as he held up the empty bag. "How about if we feed ourselves and bring some more nuts to the fuzztails later?"
"Okay," she agreed amicably, walking over to him.
"Where would you like to go?"
Cassidy thought a moment, then her pale blue eyes lit up. "Could we go to Carino's and sit under one of those big, red umbrellas?"
"Sure, sister, sounds good to me."
In the shadows of the trees, two men watched the father and daughter turn and walk away from the busy park. The path they took was one of the shaded, less traveled paths. One announced to the other that this was their chance. Only it was not spoken aloud as humans normally spoke. It was all done by a change of scent.
They were standing on a corner, debating which way led to Carino's.
"I'm sure it's on the other side of the park," Rafe insisted.
"No, I think it was on Riverside," Henri disagreed.
Impatient and hungry, Jim decided to try smelling for the food. He had barely had the thought when he was slammed with a familiar stench. Almost immediately, he was falling into the swirling void of a zoneout.
BT felt Jim suddenly tighten with tension. Glancing up, he realized that the sentinel was barely breathing. "Jim? Jim, can you hear me?" Urgently, he grabbed his older friend's arm, catching the attention of the other two men.
Amazingly, Jim heard the soft, urgent voice. He latched on to it, following the sound back to the world around him. Shaking his head, he discovered three worried pairs of eyes on him. As Rafe opened his mouth to speak, Jim announced tersely, "I smell Roaches!"
