Array: Byte shorts and other stories

by Cat Connor

  “And this whatever it is with Mitch works for you?”

  “Yes, it works for me.”

  Kurt nodded, finished his tea and set the cup down on the table. “Don’t you think you should invite him to the next team dinner, so he can put faces to the names?”

  “Because you’re so sure I talk about you three?”

  “Do you?”

  “Yes. You’ve come up in conversation.”

  Kurt’s smile was way too knowing for my liking.

  “Bring him to dinner, Conway.”

  “So you three can interrogate him? I don’t think so.”

  “Conway, if he can’t handle a little light questioning …”

  “Have you met yourselves?”

  Kurt laughed. “Sam did a background check, you know that right?”

  “Yes, and that’s my point. I like him, Doc. A lot. Don’t scare him away.”

  “If we can do that, then he has no business being here.”

  Oh good grief.

  “We’re not dating.”

  Kurt’s face registered surprise. “All this,” he said waving his hand at me. “And you’re not dating. Okay now I get the cat thing.”

  “About time.”

  “You were away together and nothing happened?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “How is that possible?” Kurt smiled, his eyes flicked up to meet mine. “He’s gay?”

  I laughed. Nope he really isn’t. I chose not to answer his question about Mitch’s sexual orientation.

  “I’ve been away with you plenty of times and nothing’s happened.”

  “Away working. Not away vacationing,” Kurt replied, sinking into the chair and stretching his legs out.

  “He’s my best friend. Nothing happened.”

  “Conway, he’s way more than that or you want him to be.”

  Biting my lip did not stop the smile. “He’s my safe place. What I want may never happen.”

  I watched him trying to digest that. It was entertaining.

  “That being said, serious question for you … birth control?”

  “Really?” Didn’t expect that.

  “Really. Do you need me to write you a prescription?”

  Not a conversation I wanted to have. At all.

  “We’re friends.”

  “I know. I see friendly and I raise you – birth control and I know you’re not on the pill.”

  He was right. Rowan was never around long enough to make long term birth control an issue.

  “Okay, write the prescription but we’re friends.”

  “I know, Conway. I know.” He reached down beside his chair and rummaged in his bag. Moments later he lifted out a prescription pad and a pen, he also dropped a box of condoms on the coffee table. “Just in case.”

  I was pretty sure he didn’t usually walk around with a box of condoms in his medic kit. Time to deflect.

  “You know that both Sam and Lee are seeing people right? And I know that there is someone in your life … but I just freaking bet, they don’t know that.”

  “And your point is?”

  “My point is … we all have a life outside of the team. And if you want to meet Mitch then y’all need to be up front and bring along your significant others.” I leaned back in my seat and picked up my phone. If we were going to do it, it needed to be now, before I backed out. “Shall we do this, T.G.I. Friday’s tonight?”

  Kurt nodded. He dropped the prescription on the table then pulled his phone out of his pocket. He text while I made a call.

  Mitch answered on the second ring.

  “Hey, are you busy?”

  “No.”

  “Wanna go get a drink tonight?”

  “Sure, name the place.”

  “T.G.I. Friday’s.”

  “You okay?”

  “Yep. Time you met the team. Let me apologize in advance.”

  His voice never faltered. “Sounds like fun. I’ll pick you up.”

  “I’ll be waiting.”

  I hung up and turned to Kurt. “Done.”

  “Everyone will be there. Lee and Tara, Sam and Sandra, and Rachel.”

  “I’m going to change.” I extracted myself from the chair, unwrapping my legs and stretching them before I stood up. “Let yourself out and we’ll see you and Rachel tonight.”

  The End.

  7. One and Only/Mitch.

  I leaned back in my chair. Coffee time maybe. I looked at my watch. Had it really only been forty-five minutes since my last break. Hopeless.

  All day focus had been hard to come by, so not like me, hence I was still at work and everyone else had gone home.

  Where had my reliable work life balance gone? Usually I was heavily weighted toward work with a little life.

  Today, the last few weeks even, life fought back with vengeance. Even winning the internal battle if that was possible. Ever since returning from our vacation my thoughts never strayed far from Ellie.

  I got a coffee and sat down at my desk. Without conscious effort, Ellie was again the center of my thoughts. A strange shiver ran down my back. I smiled and took a sip of coffee. Hot. Nice.

  My fingers tapped away on my keyboard.

  Missing you appeared on my screen. Great start. Now she’d think I was stalking and needy.

  Delete? I thought for a second. I wanted to be strong not needy. Was I needy? Probably. I could feel the smile on my face. That certainly wasn’t helping. Ellie was strong and surrounded by strength.

  I took a breath and made a decision.

  I was going to be strong. I was not going to delete.

  I was strongly going to be myself or the new me that came from somewhere.

  That felt like a good compromise.

  My keyboard started to tap again.

  ‘I’m having another coffee. Living on the edge, I know. Cheers Ellie, hope you’re having a nice day.’

  I pressed send and waited … knowing that sometimes timely replies from Ellie weren’t guaranteed. Could be hours, or even days.

  Bing … as I sipped and stared blankly at my screen a reply bounced back. Ellie said she was having tea with her work mate Kurt.

  Hmmm, what was that about? She didn’t like tea. Tea felt like a code word for a fact-finding mission. Work mates asked questions. I considered that was especially true when cups of tea were involved. And this workmate was Kurt.

  I’d heard a little about Kurt. He was the other SSA in Ellie’s team. She trusted him with her life. They were close.

  No problem with that, but I still wondered what they were talking about. What was Ellie saying? About me?

  Crap, I’d become the stalking, needy, paranoid type. That was not me. That couldn’t be me.

  Brain in gear. Now would be good.

  I replied to Ellie. ‘How’s the tea? Anyone in particular being discussed or is it work stories? Smiley face.’

  Okay, that still sounded a bit needy. I hoped the smiley face made up for it.

  I sat back and waited for a reply. My mind slipped away into a silent drift. Smiling.

  Why do I keep doing that? Ellie’s face appeared. That was why.

  There’d always been something about Ellie. Something comfortable when we were together, but there was something else. She lived inside a protective shield. I wasn’t convinced it was just a figurative shield either. It was hard to break through but when we chatted and laughed there was a glimmer of what lay beneath. Cracks in the surface emerged that widened with each conversation. I smiled again. One day, maybe, she’d let me in. No rush.

  My phone rang snapping me back to the present.

  There was no shaking the smile on my face.

  Ellie’s name appeared on my screen. I fumbled for the buttons as quickly as I could.

  “Hi.”

  The End.

  8. Some Nights

  The darkness edged in slowly at first, I hardly noticed. By nightfall the pace increased, faster, deeper, darker, and unrelenting. My mood plummeted. It wasn’t
a migraine. That much I knew. What was it? What was this thing that took over my mind?

  I pulled my legs up underneath me and curled into the living room sofa. The dimming light pulled shadows from the corners and set them free. I took a breath and held it. Exhaling I counted to ten. And repeat.

  It didn’t help.

  Images bounced across my mind, jumbled, confused. Flashing pictures on a screen. Voices collided with one another. They didn’t match the images. Not out of sync but didn’t go with the pictures I could see at all. Confusing.

  Cold swirled around me.

  I blinked hard. The pictures wouldn’t leave and I didn’t want to see them. Been there, done that, have the scars to prove it.

  As more images pounded my mind it became harder to breathe. Murder victims. Body parts. Blood. So much blood. Crime scenes. Mac lying on the wet ground. Windows breaking, glass flying past me.

  Something hit me.

  Darkness fell, then broke wide open.

  Images gave way to sirens, screams, loud voices, gun shots.

  More blood.

  My hands shook. Icy blades burrowed into my bones. Grabbing the throw rug from the back of the sofa, I wrapped it around me. Shivering. So cold.

  An ache traveled my right arm from my inner wrist to my elbow, then became a throb. I tugged my sleeve up revealing a gaping wound. Blood ran over my hand and off my fingers. Drips splattered onto the blue leather sofa. Confusion reigned.

  Unsure reality became a crazy glued dream. A glimmer of sanity asked one question, why was there pain? Unable to answer my own question I stared at the wound. It wasn’t right. I’d been there before. It looked real. It felt like now. It hurt.

  The fingers of my left-hand wrapped around my right forearm and squeezed the edges of the wound together. The blood flow slowed.

  Breathe.

  I looked at my arm again. How? My eyes closed. This wasn’t good. A black sharpie wrote words across kitchen cabinets. ‘Darkness folded images like cloth. Wrapping the past in a gilded bow.’

  Familiar words.

  I let go my arm and leaned over the side of the sofa. Fingers searching for my cell phone. Finally finding it and bringing it into view. I pressed the bottom on the top of the screen. The phone sprang to life. I swept my finger upward, unlocking the phone and then swept left revealing favorite contacts. Kurt, Lee, Sam, Dad, Caine, Mitch.

  A voice in my head told me to call Kurt. It sounded awfully like Mac.

  My finger hovered over the icons. Mac was in front of me, lying on the ground, paramedics kneeling next to him. He turned his head and looked at me. “Call Kurt.”

  “Dead men can’t talk. Shut up!” I watched him splutter blood. “Dead men can’t talk.”

  My finger shook then touched the image of Mitch on the screen. I waited. Mac faded into a reddish puddle and washed down the gutter.

  I waited.

  Images slid across my line of sight. The many faces of the dead, so many faces. I knew all their names. I didn’t forget anyone.

  Pain came in waves. Blood ran from my right arm. Blood dripped down my face, obscuring my vision. Blood trickled from my upper left arm. I wiped a hand over my eyes. Red droplets flicked across the room.

  Maybe I should’ve rung Kurt.

  “Ellie?” Mitch said.

  I stared at the phone in my hand. I could see his picture but his mouth didn’t move. Did he speak? Other voices smashed into me, they screamed, cried, pleaded, gurgled last breaths. Underneath the cacophony was the one voice I needed to hear.

  “Ellie?”

  “Hi.” That was all that fell from my lips. Words eluded me.

  “You all right?” he asked, then changed his mind. “You’re not. Where are you?”

  Concentrate. Stay with his voice. Don’t let go.

  “Home.” Tears spilled over my eyelashes. No amount of blinking or squeezing my eyes shut would stop them.

  “El?”

  He was moving. I heard his footsteps. “Hang on, putting you down for a minute.”

  I said nothing. Listening to him moving around was oddly comforting. It took a lot of effort to stay with him.

  The room shimmered. Stones, sand, a river. A marine barreled toward me with a KA-BAR in his hand. I really hate knives. I ducked sideways. He missed, over balanced, regained momentum and came back at me. Mitch’s voice from the phone stopped the marine in his tracks. He melted into the sand.

  “El, I’m on my way,” Mitch said. “You want to stay on the line?”

  “Yeah.” Speaking felt out of my reach. Everything was out of my grasp. Tears fell. I tugged the blanket tighter around myself.

  Mitch’s voice soothed the rising panic.

  “Honey, can you tell me what happened?”

  “I need you.” Couldn’t, can’t. It’s not real. “Mitch …”

  Terror pounded, keeping time with my heart.

  “Right here. On my way.”

  Traffic noises. Dread filled me. He was going to be too late. The noises in my head dragged me into an image that wouldn’t let go. Cars flew past on the highway. I saw a woman standing by her car. The hood was up. She seemed distressed. I pulled over.

  The smell of exhaust fumes hit me as I climbed out of my car and hurried to the upset woman on the side of the road.

  A small child in the car cried. Something felt wrong. I dropped one of my cards on the shoulder of the road and stood on it.

  Hoping that if anything happened to me, she’d pick it up and make a call.

  No one knew where I was. A series of images bumped the road sideways.

  Suddenly I was in the back of my own car.

  Handcuffed.

  Tape across my mouth.

  Unable to move. My head hurt. Thoughts crowded me. I knew where we were headed. Fort Belvoir. I doubted I’d survive whatever would happen next or that the woman found my card and called for help. Memories stolen by the night. Time sliding dividing light. Who I was suddenly died.

  I closed my eyes. It didn’t help. The phone fell. When I looked for it there was no phone, no carpet, and no living room. Trapped inside a horror show. My world imploded. I ripped a shower curtain back revealing Roy’s headless body swarming with flies. Blackness punctuated by bright yellow devoured me.

  From behind somewhere I heard a noise. Glancing over my shoulder I saw nothing but dimming light. Pinned under something heavy, I struggled to move. Sam’s voice broke through and expanded to fill the small gap around me. The world shook. A hard wave of air hit me, knocking me back. Voices yelled in my ear. A fine red mist covered everything. The weight above me lifted. A mask. Oxygen. I could breathe again. Kurt peered into my eyes. Something caught in my throat. Coughing. Blood.

  We missed something. Sinking into the red vapor my eyes closed.

  Everything hurt. Everything.

  Carla screamed. I blinked to clear my vision. She was in front of me. Taped to a headstone. A man with her. I fired. He dropped. Bits of brain sprayed across the ground behind him.

  The next thing I knew I was kneeling next to my own body, it felt bizarre, but I wasn’t dead.

  If she was Gabrielle Conway then who the hell am I?

  No one.

  A figment of someone’s sick imagination.

  I moved and something pressed against my hip. My hand sought the object and closed around the grip on my Glock.

  A sigh of relief escaped. I was armed.

  No one else was going to come for me. Sliding off the sofa still clutching the blanket with one hand, the Glock firmly seated in my right hand, I crawled into a space between the sofa and one of the big blue leather armchairs.

  Never again. Flashing pictures on a screen. Unsure reality dripped through a dream. Shadows deepened all around me. Some moved. Some didn’t. All felt threatening.

  Noises bombarded me. Images swirled, taking pieces of my life and throwing them into a jumbled heap. A ringing fell upon the voices then stopped.

  Gunfire echoed into a cavernous space. I g
lanced left, Sam fired the shotgun at the door in front of us. Three breaching rounds. With a small kick the door fell inward.

  I racked the slide on my Glock.

  In the distance a metallic knock resounded. Someone was there.

  My breathing slowed as I raised my arm and aimed at a shadow moving toward me from the darkness.

  A flashlight beam played across the walls. Then moved in a sweeping motion across the floor.

  Voices hid behind the light.

  The light hit my face. My finger slid onto the trigger.

  “Conway?”

  Conway? It felt familiar. Who called me Conway like that? Kurt. Kurt did.

  Turning my head to where Sam was a few moments ago I saw nothing but the blue of the sofa.

  “El?”

  Another voice. It rolled around in my head then cemented. Mitch.

  “Conway, put the weapon down.” Back to Kurt.

  Weapon? I looked at my hand. Weapon.

  The air pressure changed. I twisted but wasn’t quick enough. A hand closed over mine and gently took the Glock from me.

  “Chicky Babe, we’re here,” Sam crooned.

  We’re here? His words felt warm like they should mean something.

  “Where am I?” I asked, as Lee helped me to my feet.

  Mixed emotions. Confusion reigned.

  “At home,” he replied. “You’re at home. Mitch is here.”

  “Mitch?”

  “Right here.” The main lights flicked on. Mitch wrapped his arms around me.

  “Right here,” he whispered.

  Lost in time too tired to run. A safe place came to be.

  The End.

  9. Pictures of You

  My eyes flicked open. The clear image in my mind expanded into a full-screen video clip of Mitch. Watching internal footage wasn’t exactly new for me. I considered it the next step from hearing songs no one else could hear. A tired sigh escaped. There was someone who could hear my songs. We found that out by accident. Mitch.

  He stirred in his bed. As I watched, he rolled over and picked up his phone. The glow from the screen lit his face. Sleepy but not asleep. He put his phone down on the nightstand and rolled onto his back. For days, I’d been seeing images of Mitch doing various normal things. Every night for a week, he woke me at the same time and I watched him check his phone.