G.H.O.S.T. Teams: Book 1 - Magic

by Bobby Brimmer

  The last occupied bed was Erika’s. She had several pillows tucked under her body and the bed itself was adjusted to an odd angle in order to keep her in that position. Carrot-Top-Doc informed me that she had broken her pelvis, and this was the most comfortable position they could get her in. I reached forward and gently pushed a few stray strands of hair out of her face. It wasn’t a conscious decision and I honestly don’t know why I did it.

  As if she was reacting to my touch, she took a deep breath and turned her head slightly to the side, but she didn’t wake up. I took a few steps back, looking everyone over. I couldn’t help but shake my head and sigh. I was really not happy with myself. I stretched my left shoulder, using my right hand to massage it. Carrot-Top-Doc must have noticed the bandage sticking out of my sleeve and offered to take a look. Normally I wouldn’t pay an injury like mine much mind, especially in the context of my team lying in front of me. But thinking about how delicate and sweet Kara had been when she applied my bandage and then seeing her lying there like that, sapped the strength right out of me. I didn’t care about being tough, so I nodded my head and allowed him to sit me down while he removed the old bandage.

  My shoulder looked much better than it did earlier. I was sure that Kara’s magical assistance had helped, but as I might have mentioned, I heal really, really fast. Since my team wasn’t blessed with my natural healing ability, their best bet lay in Kara working the magic mojo on their injuries. Unfortunately, I had a feeling that she would need to devote a considerable amount of her attention to herself once she woke up. After which I hoped that she would speed the healing of the rest of the team. With a bit of luck they could probably be back on their feet in a few weeks, no worse for wear. I wanted to let that thought comfort me, but my mind drifted to Timothy. I sat there in silence until Carrot-Top-Doc finished my bandage and then I thanked him before heading out of the infirmary.

  Visine was leaning against the doorframe staring at his injured hand. It looked charred, nasty, and completely useless. I asked him if he wanted to let the doc check it out, but he just shook his head and said that he needed food. We walked over to the elevators and parted there. He was heading up to the cafeteria to get some food and I needed to get started on some paperwork. As you might have guessed, paperwork was not my strong suit. But since the regular paperwork crew, my team, was down and out at the moment, it fell on me.

  I won’t bore you with all of the details, but needless to say, it took me several hours to complete. I started by filling out all of the paperwork needed to officially check the sword into evidence and get the forensics examination started. Then I filed a report on the battle so that Dutton would have something to read when he got in. There were several forms dealing with detaining the prisoner and preparing him for questioning that had to be filled out. It was about four in the morning when I had finally finished everything up. On the bright side, it took me so long to finish the paperwork that by the time I had finished, a preliminary forensics report on the sword was ready.

  I won’t pretend to understand everything that the report said, but I got the gist of it. The sword matched the wounds on Dirk’s body, confirming that this was the weapon that stabbed him through the chest. It was also some kind of a very specialized manna siphon. Apparently the sword’s design allowed the sorcerers to suck the immortal energies out of Dirk’s body, hence the end of his life. The report said that this sword probably took decades to manufacture and they thought it was unlikely that the bad guys had a spare. Good news for Visine, although it didn’t do much to help our investigation along.

  I had a feeling that tomorrow, or I guess technically today, was going to be a very long day. So I headed down to the sleeping quarters to catch a couple hours of rest before Dutton got here. I think I managed almost three hours before a knock on the door let me know that Dutton was in his office and he wanted to see me ASAP. Even though the boss was in a hurry, I didn’t think that showing up with bed head was the proper protocol. So I headed to the locker room, took a super quick shower, and threw on the clean jeans and black polo that I had in my locker.

  I got off the elevator on the fifth floor and Visine was standing there waiting for me. He had cleaned up and changed his clothes, although I couldn’t tell if he had gone home last night or found an outfit somewhere else. He wore brown corduroy pants over his combat boots and a fresh white tee shirt under the same tan jacket as yesterday. He wasn’t wearing his hat this time but he did have a black leather glove over his right hand. I looked down at it and then back up at him. He caught my unspoken question.

  “It works, but it looks hideous,” he said.

  I nodded. With Visine’s rapid healing I knew that it was probably only a matter of a day or two before his hand was back to normal. I assumed that his nanites were working in order of priority, so they would start with the underlying muscle and ligaments and such. First order of business was probably to make the hand functional, and then they would finish up with the pretty skin coating. At least that was my assumption for why he was wearing the glove. I’d love to pretend that thinking about his healing hand was fascinating, but the truth is that I knew the boss was about to chew me out and I was stalling.

  I figured I might as well get it over with. Letting out a sigh, I started towards the office, Visine in step behind me. The doors opened just before we got there, Mrs No-Nonsense didn’t even look up from her desk as we passed. We stepped into the office, the doors closing in our wake, and Dutton was sitting in his chair facing away from us. Just as before a trail of cigar smoke was rising up towards the ceiling. It reminded me of the injuries to my teammates and of my failure to keep them safe. While I didn’t want to overstep my place, I figured the proper thing to do was to own up to my mistake before the boss said anything.

  “You don’t have to say it, I know I screwed up,” I started.

  The chair creaked and a large puff of smoke rose to the ceiling as the chair started to slowly turn around. He met my eyes and stayed silent for a moment. I held his gaze, letting him see the shame in my eyes. Visine remained quiet at my side. Dutton laid his cigar in the ashtray on his desk without ever taking his eyes off of me.

  “You’re not waiting for me to disagree with that assessment are you?” he asked.

  “No sir. They were my responsibility, I should have been there.”

  He rocked back in his chair and interlaced his fingers on his stomach. He slowly shifted his gaze over to Visine before bringing it back to me.

  “I know that they left without you, and they will be spoken to. But in the future, I will expect you to anticipate behavior like that, Chang. The Knight’s job is to protect the team, even when that threat is their bad decisions,” he said.

  I couldn’t help but furrow my brow and let the confusion show on my face. Dutton had made it very clear that Freddy was our leader. Now he seemed to be inferring that I had some type of leadership override power. My face must have been very expressive because Dutton had no trouble responding to my unspoken concerns.

  “Yes, as I stated before, Mr. Blair is in charge. But when the shit hits the fan, I hope you know what I expect from you?” he asked.

  “Sir?”

  Dutton leaned forward in his chair, his hands resting on his desk.

  “Before you were old enough to vote you had seen more combat than most people could even imagine. But your squad is very green. The top brass decided to build a team on potential rather than experience. They are the best at what they do, but obviously new to field work. That’s why you were put on this team, so your instincts could keep them alive,” he said before picking his cigar back up.

  Dutton was right. Me claiming that Freddy was the leader was just an excuse. I knew better in these situations. When danger presented itself, I needed to be the voice of reason, as shocking as that might be. In my past I was used to working alone. But now things had changed. There were people counting on my skills to keep them alive. I had failed once already and I was going to do my
best to keep that from happening again. As I was finishing that thought Dutton took a couple of puffs on his cigar before looking over at Visine.

  “The team is currently down a member and in need of a tech expert. Mr. Lazarus, I want you to fill that void until I can secure a permanent replacement,” he stated.

  The tone of Dutton’s voice made it clear that he wasn’t asking. I know that these two men shared a past, but I still expected Visine to tell him to stick it. Visine shocked me by just nodding in compliance. Perhaps I didn’t understand him like I thought I did. Then again maybe I just didn’t give him enough credit as a team player. Maybe I was the only one around here with a loner spirit who needed to learn to work with a team. Dutton let a thin smile cross his lips before he sent us on our way.

  “Now go see if that Troll knows anything,” he ordered.

  Visine and I both nodded in acknowledgement before turning and heading out the door. Once we got in the elevator I looked over and tried to understand.

  “Did you really just let him order you onto my team?”

  Visine let a small smile cross his face. He kept his face forward, not looking at me when he responded.

  “When I start something, kid, I finish it,” he stated.

  I couldn’t help but smile. Corny line or not, I could hear the weight behind Visine’s words. He was with me on this and we were going to see it through till the end. Because I’m me and I never like letting any serious moment hang in the air for very long, I had to respond.

  “I knew you loved being my sidekick,” I said.

  Visine scoffed and shook his head before ignoring me for the rest of the ride in the elevator. We’ll call that one a win for me.

  Chapter 15

  Visine headed down to security to get things rolling with the troll while I checked on the team. It probably goes without saying that safely escorting a ten-foot tall behemoth down the hall is tricky. Hopefully the troll wouldn’t give him too much trouble. I stepped into sickbay and noticed that Carrot-Top-Doc was still working. He looked up from his paperwork and gave me a nod to let me know that it was all right to disturb the patients.

  I looked at Freddy first, who glanced up from his laptop just long enough to give me half a smile. He immediately went back to his computer and continued working. I guess the easiest way for him to deal with the events of yesterday was to bury his mind in work. On the plus side, I was hoping that it meant less paperwork for me to do later.

  Danny lay in the next bed, unchanged from the night before. All of the monitoring equipment looked exactly the same as it had last night. I also assumed that if his condition had changed someone would have told me. I looked over at Kara who was still sleeping. Her ribs were tightly wrapped and I could tell that her breaths were very shallow. There were several new bruises on her face to accompany the ones on her neck. She looked worse now than she did last night. It’s amazing how many small cuts, bruises, and scrapes don’t show up until the next day. As I didn’t want to disturb her, I kept walking down the line.

  Erika was awake and in a new position. Her head was now at the foot of the bed, she was on her stomach, chin on top of one of her arms, which in turn was on top of her pillow. Several pillows were tucked under her waist and legs putting them into what I can only imagine was a more comfortable position. In her free hand she was holding a paperback detective novel, the title of which was too cliché to even mention. As I approached her bed I was greeted with her dazzling smile.

  “How are you feeling?” I asked softly.

  “Been better,” she smiled.

  The death of a teammate and sustaining serious injuries was enough to destroy the morale of any team. But I understood better than most how important it was to keep your spirits high. Especially when things seem to be at their worst. So I defaulted to the branch of comedy that I seem to excel at, the flirtatious kind.

  “I could tell you something that might cheer you up,” I whispered.

  “Really?” she replied cautiously.

  I glanced down the length of her body before meeting her eyes and answering.

  “Your ass looks amazing at this angle,” I smirked.

  “You jerk,” she smiled.

  “Fine, it looks great at every angle,” I corrected playfully.

  “You are such a pig,” she laughed.

  “That’s true.”

  Her laughing stopped abruptly as she forced the words, “Hurts to laugh,” through a painful grin.

  “Sorry about that,” I smiled, “But in my defense, look at that thing, wow.”

  She dropped her paperback on the bed and adjusted her position slightly before striking out with surprising speed. The punch was obviously meant to be playful, but she caught me square in the hip and I felt it. I couldn’t help but smile at the effort.

  “I guess I deserve that,” I said.

  “And more,” she replied with a mock anger look on her face.

  “Oh, more you say,” I winked.

  She hit me again which caused her to wince in pain. Unfortunately that made us both laugh, which resulted in a little more pain for her. To make matters worse we were attempting to laugh quietly, the suppressed laughter causing her body to shake even more than normal. We were in a vicious cycle where the laughter was causing pain, which in turn was driving more laughter. Every time it hurt her she laughed a little more. I avoided eye contact for a bit to help her get the giggles under control.

  “So much for laughter being the best medicine.”

  “Don’t make me hit you again,” she smiled back, “Now did you come down here for a reason or just to torture me?” she asked.

  “I just wanted to check on you all. I’m heading down now to see what we can get out of the Troll.”

  “Good luck. He’s one tough SOB,” she replied.

  “Thanks. Now try and get some rest.”

  “Will do,” she said and picked her book back up.

  I turned and started back towards the door when her voice stopped me.

  “Bruce,” she said.

  “Yeah?” I turned back.

  “Thanks for swinging by,” she said sincerely.

  “Anytime,” I replied softly.

  And because you already know how I feel about serious moments, I glanced at her butt one last time and mouthed the word “wow” to her. She rolled her eyes at me and a small smile crossed her mouth. Like I said before, morale is an important thing. My humor might be a little childish, but she was smiling. After losing a teammate, I will happily take those small victories. Even if it means I get punched in the hip.

  As I headed out the door Freddy looked up and wished me luck with the Troll. His body language made it clear that he wasn’t ready to have a conversation with me yet. I wasn’t sure if he was mad at me for not being there or mad at himself for leaving without me. The safe money was probably on the later thought. I had spent years mastering the art of blaming myself, so I understood what he might be going through. I debated on whether I should try and talk to him or let him have his space. The space plan won out, as I was excited to get to the Troll. I told Freddy that I would keep him in the loop and then I stepped out the door.

  I headed down to the security level and signed in with the guard behind the glass before getting buzzed past the large metal door. I walked down the hall and stepped into the observation room. Visine was in there watching as the interrogation had apparently already started. I stood next to him and watched the proceedings through the glass.

  “Good timing, they just started,” Visine said.

  I looked into the room to see the Troll, in all his enormous glory, shackled at the wrists and ankles to large metal rings on the floor. The chair that he was sitting in was clearly oversized, but his massive form still made it look small. He was hanging his head forward, his shoulders slumped, and his large yellow eyes staring at the metal table. He looked like a man who had given up. I couldn’t put my finger on exactly why, but something about his attitude struck me as odd.

>   There were two other people in the room, both human. They each wore dark suits and looked every bit the part of stereotypical federal agents. The man was sitting at the table across from the Troll. He was in good shape, probably in his early forties, with a completely shaved head. The lady stood behind him, sizing up the Troll. She had narrow features, a sharp nose, and an air of superiority about her. She looked to be in her early thirties and something about her attitude made me think that she was some kind of a head-shrink. I grabbed a stool, got comfortable, and Visine hit a switch on the wall that allowed us to hear what was going on in the interrogation room.

  As the interrogators worked Visine was casually naming the techniques that they were using. I couldn’t have told you the difference, but he was obviously very well versed. The interrogators cycled through every possible method in the book, twice, all of which amounted to a silent Troll and me being bored out of my skull. I don’t know how long we stood there watching, but it felt like forever. Finally I snapped and couldn’t take it anymore. I stormed out of the observation area and made my way into the interrogation room. Visine followed my lead.

  Both of the “expert” interrogators looked up in shock as I burst into the room. They met my eyes, the lady with much more hatred than the man. I didn’t flinch, and made sure that the expression on my face made it clear that I meant business.

  “You two, out now,” I ordered.

  “Yeah right,” the man scoffed.

  “You have no authority in this matter,” the Lady snapped.

  “Maybe not. But I’m the one who kicked his butt in the field,” I said pointing to the Troll, “And unless you two wanna be next, I suggest you give us the room,” I stated.

  They held their ground for a minute, trying to stare me down. This was not a contest that they were going to win. If the eyes really were the windows into the soul, then my past was not something that you wanted to be looking at. I was a killer and unfortunately in those rare moments where I have to be serious, it shows. The look of someone who is willing to take a life is not something you soon forget. It didn’t take long before they both reluctantly walked out of the room.