Out of the Shadows

by Tiffany Snow

  I didn’t reply, too busy scrutinizing the rocks and waves. Had Mark and Vega really pulled a Thelma and Louise?

  “Or maybe it didn’t,” I said, pointing. There was a clear footprint, the size of a man’s shoe, in the soft mud and sand.

  Devon and I looked at each other. For his sake, I wanted them to still be alive. They were his only living blood relatives, after all. We didn’t say what we were both thinking.

  “What’s going on? What was that explosion? Put your hands up where we can see them!”

  The commanding voices and scurry of boots on gravel had both Devon and me turning and lifting our empty hands. Uniformed men with rifles were directly in front of us, but made way for a man in a suit to walk forward.

  “You must be Ivy Mason,” he said, flashing his ID. He worked for the US Department of Homeland Security. “I’ve been sent to extradite you back to the States.”

  Devon stiffened immediately. “You have no authority for that,” he said. “She’s on British soil.”

  The man looked at Devon. “Ms. Mason called us to turn herself in,” he said. “Do you really think we would’ve come looking for her here in this godforsaken place?”

  “You turned yourself in?” Devon asked me in disbelief. “Why would you do that?”

  Now for the news he didn’t want to know. “Because Vega didn’t have the cure, Devon,” I said sadly. “She never did. My only chance is to get back to the lab at the FBI and see if they can help me.”

  He looked stricken and didn’t speak.

  A helicopter was landing, and when it did, a team of four people wearing hazmat suits jumped out.

  “We need to get Ms. Mason into the chopper,” one of them said, his voice tinny through the suit.

  “I’m coming with you,” Devon said.

  I didn’t know if I wanted that, if I wanted him to see me die. “Devon, I don’t think—”

  “Do not attempt to argue with me.” His tone was resolute, and I thought I’d pushed him about as far as I could, so I nodded.

  “I want to make sure Alexa is okay,” I said. “She was guarding Vega.”

  “Beau went to check on her,” Devon said.

  Just as he said that, I saw Beau emerge, supporting Alexa with an arm around her back. She seemed okay, though a bit dazed and weak. I wondered what had happened, but had no time to ask her. I was just glad she was still alive and appeared unhurt.

  “The chopper’s waiting,” the man said. The other two flanked me, herding me toward the helicopter.

  Maybe it was because the threat was over, that Devon was safe and Vega gone, possibly dead, that made my body decide it now had permission to collapse. For whatever reason, I’d only taken two steps when my knees gave out and pain erupted inside my head.

  The suits tried to catch me, but were hampered by their gear. Instead, it was into Devon’s arms that I landed. For some reason, I felt more like this was really it . . . that I wouldn’t be waking up this time.

  Devon hoisted me up into his arms and started for the helicopter again. I kept my gaze on him.

  “I want you to know that I love you,” I said. “The time we’ve been together . . . I wouldn’t have traded it for anything.”

  “Except perhaps your life,” Devon replied, despair lurking in his voice.

  “It was better to have a short life with you, than a long one without,” I said.

  Devon bundled me into the helicopter onto a stretcher while the hazmat guys climbed up and buckled in, too. He crouched next to me, eschewing a seat or buckle, and took my hand in his. One of the hazmat guys started taking my vitals while the other two recorded the readings.

  It was too loud to talk over the noise of the blades, so I just looked into his eyes and he into mine, saying silently all the things we hadn’t yet had a chance to voice. I held on as long as I could, but the pain was increasing until finally, I had to shut my eyes.

  “Can you give her anything for the pain?” Devon asked, his voice loud enough to be heard.

  One of the guys nodded, producing an IV needle. I hated needles and IVs were the worst, but the prick of the IV was nothing compared to the pain in my head. He hooked up a saline drip, then shot something from a syringe into the IV cord.

  After a few minutes, the pain began to subside, but with it came a wave of exhaustion. I fought to stay awake. I wanted to look at Devon for as long as we had. And I was also terrified that if I closed my eyes . . . I’d never reopen them.

  “Shh, my darling,” Devon said. “Go to sleep.” His hand brushed my hair.

  I was too tired to speak, so I gave a small shake of my head. Sleeping could wait until I was dead. But despite the will I had to stay awake and the fear permeating me at the idea of never waking, I found my eyelids drooping. At last, sleep overtook me.

  They say that being in a coma is like sleeping, that you’re not really aware of what’s going on around you. I have to disagree.

  It’s much, much worse.

  I felt like a prisoner inside my own body, sensing things going on around me, but unable to respond. I could hear conversations and machines whirring. Sometimes I could make sense of it, sometimes I couldn’t.

  Devon’s voice stood out from everyone else’s, though, and was rarely not there. Even when I sensed it was late at night, he was there. He talked to me—told me story after story about his past, things he’d done, places and people he’d seen. He spoke long into the nights, until his voice was nearly gone.

  He held my hand, I could feel it, but I couldn’t make my hand curl around his. It was incredibly frustrating, and if I could’ve cried, I would have.

  “Beau is well,” he was saying now. “And Alexa fully recovered. I believe he’s quite smitten, though he won’t admit it. Alexa’s decided to help out the CIA for a time, so I imagine he’ll be inflicting his rather dubious company on her for the immediate future.

  “I spoke to your grandparents,” he continued. “I didn’t want to inform them of your . . . health . . . until absolutely necessary. However, the doctors . . .” He stopped and had to clear his throat before going on. “The doctors seem to think I should ring them up straightaway, which means . . .”

  His voice trailed off, but I knew what that meant. It meant that I was dying and it wouldn’t be long now. My heart ached for the pain in Devon’s voice and the pain inside me at leaving him alone.

  “Beau found the journal pages amongst Vega’s things,” Devon was saying now. “The scientists are working to re-create the vaccine encrypted on those pages.” A pause. “You lied to me, you know. Well, of course you know you did, it’s just that I didn’t realize. You told me you’d destroyed the diary, when in fact you kept those encrypted pages.” Another long pause. “I can’t fault you for that. It may very well save your life, if they can work fast enough. I just wish you’d told me.”

  I could feel myself drifting off again into that weird place between slumber and awake, and I struggled not to. I wanted to stay with Devon—I didn’t want to leave him to face his nightmares alone. But it was pointless to resist and the darkness dragged me under.

  A harsh light invaded my eyes and I winced, turning aside and making a noise of protest.

  “She’s responsive. That’s a very good sign.”

  A man was talking and it wasn’t muffled like before, but sounded very near. I felt a hand slide into my palm. I squeezed, instinctively knowing it was Devon, then I realized: I could move.

  My eyes shot open and I immediately squinted at the brightness around me. I was in a hospital—if the white walls and fluorescent lighting didn’t give it away, the man in the white coat with a stethoscope around his neck certainly did. My mouth and tongue felt swollen and dry, plus my entire body ached as though I’d gone ten rounds in a boxing ring and lost.

  I tried to think of the last thing I remembered . . . Devon talking, saying he needed to call Grams because I was going to die.

  “I thought I’d be dead,” I said, my voice a rasp of sound.


  “You almost were,” the doctor said, motioning to a nurse standing at the foot of the bed. In a flash, she was holding a cup with a straw to my mouth as he fiddled with the bed controls to sit me more upright.

  “Have a drink of water,” the nurse said, “but just little sips, not big gulps.”

  I wanted to tip the whole thing down my throat, but did as I was told, taking a few small sips that eased the sawdust in my mouth. When I was finished, she stepped away and I could see Devon behind her.

  An overwhelming relief swept over me, sweet and heady, at the mere sight of him. I couldn’t help it—my face creased in a smile as tears stung my eyes.

  “You’re here,” I said. Duh, stating the obvious. And he must’ve read my mind because his lips twisted slightly, too.

  “So I am.”

  I drank him in, from the clear ocean-blue of his eyes, to the breadth of his shoulders, to his hand wrapped around mine. His jaw was heavily shadowed with stubble, so I could tell he hadn’t shaved in a few days, and there were dark circles under his eyes.

  “You’re a very lucky woman,” the doctor said. “It was a close call.”

  “What happened?” I asked, still staring at Devon. “How did you fix me?”

  “The vaccine on those sheets they brought to us wasn’t quite right,” the doctor said. “The closest it could do was send the virus into remission, and only that for a short time. So I’m afraid you were our guinea pig as we tested different variations on you.

  “It’s taken nearly three weeks, but we finally hit on the right one,” he finished.

  Now I did look at him, twisting around in astonishment. “Three weeks? I’ve been out for three weeks?”

  “We induced a coma-like state to help your body fight the virus,” he explained. “We also did a blood transfusion. Today you were showing no further signs of the virus in your blood so we believe that we found the correct formula, and went ahead with plans to wake you.”

  Time passing with me unaware. It was a bizarre feeling. And Devon, by my side the entire time. My hand gripped his tighter.

  “We’ll keep you for another couple of days, make sure everything checks out,” the doctor said. “But I think you’re out of the woods.” He smiled.

  “That’s . . . I’m overwhelmed . . . thank you,” I said. I’d survived. Somehow, through the tenacity of strangers determined to save me, I wasn’t dead. Emotion overwhelmed me, and I looked up at the ceiling, blinking rapidly to dispel the tears in my eyes.

  The doctor patted me on the arm, then he and the nurse left the room. I cleared my throat a few times, then glanced at Devon.

  His eyes were bright with unshed tears and he was smiling.

  “I wasn’t about to let them give up on you,” he said, his voice rough. “I need you.” Lifting my hand, he pressed his lips to the back of my knuckles. “It would’ve been just too tragic to lose the love of my life once I’d found her. Fortunately, they agreed.”

  I’d had close calls before, sudden brushes with death that had come out of nowhere and left no time to reflect on the precious gift of life. But not this time. I drank in Devon and the way he looked at me, acutely aware of how lucky I was.

  “Tell me what I missed,” I said, after an embarrassingly long time of staring into each other’s eyes and holding hands. “Is Alexa okay?” Vaguely I recalled listening to Devon talk while I’d been unconscious, but now I couldn’t recall the details.

  “She’s fine,” he said. “Vega had a bomb on remote that went off. It wasn’t a massive explosion, but enough to knock Alexa out so Vega could get away. Beau found her and pulled her out.”

  Rescued by Beau. Knowing Alexa, I’m sure that had to have rankled her. I couldn’t help a smile, though. Perhaps it would do her a bit of good to be rescued.

  “So did Vega get away?” I asked. “Or did the explosion kill her and Mark?”

  Devon’s expression turned slightly grim. “They didn’t find any bodies,” he said. “But the sea there is very rough. It’s possible they could’ve been lost in the water and washed away and we’d never find them.”

  I couldn’t tell how he felt about that—the possibility that Vega might still be alive. She’d killed Kira, or had her killed, and I knew Devon wanted vengeance. Yet . . . she was his flesh and blood.

  “Do you want her to be dead?” I asked.

  Devon frowned, glancing down at our joined hands. His thumb brushed my skin as he thought.

  “What she did to Kira, and to you, is unforgivable,” he said. “I think what happened to her when she was young warped her in a way that’s difficult for me to understand. Frankly, she’s a high-functioning sociopath. She needs help. Perhaps Mark can get her what she needs. If they survived.”

  There was a knock on the door before it swung open. I looked up to see my Grams and Grandpa rushing toward me.

  “Ivy! Oh my goodness! I can’t believe you’ve been so sick and no one told us!”

  Then she was hugging me, and I was engulfed in the scent of home—bread baking and the fresh air of the farm. Like a trigger that the child inside me had been waiting for, I started sobbing. I didn’t know what it was in particular that moms and grandmas had that allowed an adult to take a breath and revert to the nine-year-old who just wanted to hear it was all going to be okay, I just knew that’s exactly how I felt.

  We were both crying and holding each other, and I was grateful I’d been given the opportunity to have this again. I hadn’t gotten to say goodbye to my grandparents when Devon and I had left the farm several months ago.

  When we could breathe again, she stepped back a little, but took my hand tight in hers. Grandpa hugged me hard, his eyes bright with unshed tears.

  “Glad you’re okay, Ivy-girl,” he said. A master of understatement, but that was the Kansas farmer in him, and I didn’t mind.

  “What’s this?” Grams said, looking at my wedding rings. “You’re married?”

  “I’m afraid that’s my fault,” Devon said. “But I believe I was just following some very sage advice I’d been given.” He nodded toward Grandpa. “Ivy did me the extreme honor of becoming my bride. It was rather sudden, so you have my utmost apologies for not being at the wedding.”

  “So long as you’re married, we’ll get over not being there,” Grandpa said.

  “Married! My little Ivy! I can’t believe it.” Grams started tearing up all over again and Grandpa gave her a handful of hospital tissues.

  They stayed for a while, until Grams could tell I was tiring, then hugged me and promised to be back the next day. Devon had flown them in and was putting them up in a hotel nearby.

  “You should go, too,” I said to him. “You must be exhausted.”

  “I’m fine,” he said. “I’ll sleep when you do.”

  “Have you been sleeping in that chair?”

  “Darling, I can sleep anywhere. It doesn’t matter.”

  But it mattered to me. “Come up here with me,” I said, scooting to one side of the bed.

  He did as I asked, carefully untangling my IV cords until he could take me in his arms. I let out a deep sigh. With my head against his chest, I could hear his heart beating. I closed my eyes and let the sound soothe me.

  “I am sorry,” he said after a while.

  “For what?”

  “You’ve been through so much . . . most of it dreadful . . . because of me.”

  I twisted so I could look up at him. He was looking at my face, his brow creased, and I could see regret in his eyes.

  “Don’t be sorry,” I said. “I’m not. No one said the path to true love was paved with rainbows and unicorns. I’d much rather focus on now and the future, than dwell on the past. Wouldn’t you?”

  He studied me, his fingers brushing my cheek as he looked in my eyes.

  “I’d like that very much,” he said at last. “I’ve never considered my future as being anything but an ephemeral thing, bound to be quite short and likely painful. Now, I find myself dreaming of you and ou
r life together. But it makes me terrified, too.”

  “Why?” I asked. “Why would that terrify you?”

  “Because I love you so much, it hurts,” he said. “And I can’t imagine what I’d do if I lost you. I’ve never felt this way before. For someone used to putting my feelings in a box, it’s rather . . . disconcerting.”

  “Well, you’re not going to lose me,” I said with a smile. “We’ve paid enough to the karma gods. We’re going to be together, and be safe and healthy, and have our happily-ever-after.”

  “How do you know?”

  I smiled, snuggling back into him. His arms pulled me closer.

  “Because that’s how these things go,” I said. “Love stories don’t really end, they just go on, don’t they. And whatever happens, we’ll handle it, as we’ve handled everything else. Together.”

  His lips brushed my forehead.

  “My sweet Ivy, I do believe you’re right.”

  Of course I was.

  Warm enough, darling?”

  I glanced up to see Devon hovering, yet another blanket in his hands.

  “You’ve already put two blankets on me,” I said with a smile. “I’m fine.”

  “It’s quite chilly out here,” he said. “I don’t want you to catch cold.”

  Out here was outside our home off Lake Tahoe. We’d moved here nearly two years ago, falling in love immediately with the two-story log “cabin” (I’d told Devon it was way too big of a home for the word cabin, but he still called it that) right off the lake. I loved sitting near the water’s edge, the huge pine trees watching over me as I gazed at the deep blue water. But it was cold today so I’d bundled up.

  “I’m not going to catch cold,” I said. “Now stop hovering and sit with me.”

  He sat in the twin Adirondack chair next to me. “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m fine,” I said with a patient smile. “And yes, the baby’s fine, too.”

  I was six months pregnant, a circumstance that both Devon and I were thrilled about, but that also managed to send him into paroxysms of worry. Like now.

  “Have you thought about the name I suggested?” I asked, wanting to get his mind off worrying about me and onto something more pleasant.