The Veritas Codex Series, #1

by Betsey Kulakowski

  “That’s it.” Rowan stood and scooped her up. “You’re going to the clinic.”

  The room spun about her and she felt a veil of blackness returning. “No. Wait. Put me down.”

  “You guys go ahead and get started on the after-action review,” Rowan instructed them.

  Jean-René stood. “I’ll drive.” He grabbed Rowan’s medic kit. “Let’s just take her straight to the ER. The clinic won’t be able to do much for her.”

  * * *

  The doctor stared down his nose over his glasses at the preliminary test results. “It doesn’t appear to be tropical.”

  Lauren curled up in a ball, gripping her stomach, a fresh emesis basin close to her face in case she felt the need to vomit ... again. An IV dripped into her veins and replenished her fluids and electrolytes. She was badly dehydrated.

  “What did you eat while you were in Peru?”

  “I really don’t want to talk about food right now,” she groaned.

  “Did you eat anything while you were in jail?” Rowan asked.

  “Jail?” The doctor’s brows lifted.

  “No.” Lauren rolled over.

  Rowan shook his head. “She ate pretty much the same things the rest of us ate. We followed all the rules, bottled water only, didn’t eat any fruit we didn’t peel ourselves. We avoided street vendors and stuck to pre-packaged rations as much as possible. No raw fish, no raw vegetables. Tacos and margaritas in Cusco, but nothing unusual.”

  “I’ll run a few more tests, but it’s definitely not malaria.” He scratched his nose with his pinkie. “Any chance you might be pregnant?”

  Rowan caught her eye.

  “No,” she said. “Absolutely not.”

  “I’ll run a pregnancy test anyway, just to make sure.”

  “It’s a waste of time.”

  “Probably. But you’d be surprised how often I hear that, only to have the test come back positive.”

  “It won’t,” she insisted. She rose to her elbow in time to vomit into the basin. Jean-René and Rowan blanched. Now the words came easily: “I’m sorry.” Physical weakness embarrassed her.

  The doctor collected his chart and rose. “I’ll send the nurse in with something to help ease your nausea.” He patted her shoulder. “Just hang tight until we figure this out. We’ll get you admitted and find out what’s going on.”

  * * *

  Whatever the nurse gave her, it didn’t ease her stomach, but it did make her loopy. She slept through the afternoon. When she finally came around, her stomach had settled enough that she didn’t feel the need to barf immediately, though her body felt like lead and her head felt stuffed with cotton. The IV in her hand hurt, and the tape holding it in place tugged on the fine hairs of her arm.

  Rowan stood by the window staring out over the wide San Diego bay. The water was dark; winter-stormy. The constant beep of monitors and the acrid smell of antiseptic filled the room, but he was a million miles away. He turned abruptly when she shifted, and he realized she was awake. “Welcome back,” he said, smiling. “Feel better?”

  “A little.” She shrugged, pulling the blanket up over her shoulders. She was cold and she wasn’t sure if it was the temperature or if she had chills.

  “Well, it isn’t salmonella, it’s not botulism, and it’s not any kind of waterborne illness, spirochete, or parasite,” he said, leaning on the bedrail.

  “I guess that’s a good thing.”

  “We know what it isn’t.”

  “What about the pregnancy test?”

  “Negative.”

  “I told him so.”

  “What made you so certain?” He eyed her cautiously.

  “A woman knows,” she said, closing her eyes.

  “Would you have been upset if you’d been wrong? I wouldn’t.”

  “You know we can’t do what we do if we’re tied down with a kid.”

  “So, this is it? This is all we get?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You’re almost thirty. I am thirty. How long are we going to bounce around the world? Can’t we settle down? Stay home for a while? I want to marry you, Lauren. I want to think about a life with a home, with children. Don’t you want children?”

  “I used to,” she said, rolling onto her back, fixing her eyes on the ceiling. “But I love what we do. I like our life the way it is now. I don’t want to mess that up.” She put her hand on his as it rested on the bedrail. She shifted uncomfortably but didn’t withdraw her hand. The plastic mattress cover crinkled beneath her.

  He placed his other hand on top of hers. “Will getting married mess that up?”

  “Will not getting married mess that up?” She challenged. “It’s just a piece of paper.”

  “It’s not just a piece of paper. It’s a commitment.”

  “I made that commitment the first time I kissed you, Rowan. I don’t need some arcane mating ritual to prove that to you. Do you?”

  “I wouldn’t say I need it, but...I want it.”

  “I don’t need it and to be honest, I really don’t want it.”

  “Does that mean...you don’t want me?”

  “Of course it doesn’t.” She softened her stern façade. “I do love you. Really. You know that, right?”

  “You won’t even let the rest of the team see that we’re together.” He slumped. “We can’t live together, and when I do stay over, you make us show up to work in separate cars. I don’t know why it has to be such a secret.”

  “You know why. We both have a professional reputation at stake. Do we really have to discuss this now? Can we please change the subject?”

  “You want something to eat?” he asked.

  She sat up abruptly and puked into the basin. He withdrew his foot just in time to avoid the overflow. “We’ve been through this...before, Rowan.” Lauren choked out the words, coughing as she reached for a cup of water to rinse her mouth out before collapsing back to the bed.

  “Can you just drop it already?”

  “Don’t my feelings count in this equation? You’ve put me off and pushed me away every time this subject comes up. I’m not going to let it go. Dammit! Marry me.”

  Lauren set her jaw as she stared him down, her eyes as black as night, her expression just as cold.

  He met her gaze with equal fortitude. “This is about getting cancelled isn’t it?”

  “What?” Lauren turned abruptly against her pillow. “No! God, no!”

  “You’re afraid if the show gets cancelled then you won’t have any more excuses to not marry me. Fine! I hope they cancel the damn show!”

  The words raised the color on Lauren’s pale face to a red-hot glow. “That’s got nothing to do with it. We needed that stupid alien in Peru to keep our jobs. Five years we’ve been at this, and in five years have we ever found anything? Unidentified hairs and one footprint in Nepal. That’s it! Even the crew of Ghost Adventures has had better luck at finding ghosts than we have. The team looking for the Loch Ness Monster got some halfway decent footage.”

  “I’m not sure a grainy clip that looks like a giant eel counts as decent footage; not even halfway.” Rowan sat on the foot of the narrow bed.

  “We talked about this when you joined the team. The last thing I want is a show where all anyone does is scream at the squirrels rustling in the woods.” Lauren softened. She snaked her hand into his. “Look. If we don’t get these next six episodes produced, the Network won’t have anything to show for their investments and we will get cancelled for sure. If we get cancelled then it’s back to working as an EMT for you, and I have to go off to some university and beg for a job working as a stupid lab assistant. Then, neither of us will be happy.”

  Rowan remained stone-faced. “I’m not happy now, Lauren.”

  “But don’t you love what we do?” She had never really seen this side of him before, and she felt the need to defuse his anger.

  “I love everything we do, but I don’t like who we are. I don’t like this!”
He snapped, and he liked that it seemed to faze her. “I don’t like being held at arm’s length in limbo. I don’t know how much longer I can pretend I don’t love you. Quite frankly, Lauren, I don’t know how you do it.”

  The words were harsh, and they hurt. “But ...”

  Rowan raised a finger in front of his determined face. “Stop. Don’t say it.”

  “What?” Lauren lifted her empty hands in question.

  “Don’t say I love you,” he said. “I don’t need your empty words. I don’t want to hear it.”

  Lauren felt as if the air had been knocked from her lungs. He bowed up like he had more to say, but abruptly turned and blustered out of the room, leaving her in the awkward dust cloud of his anger. She heard the crash of falling dishes in the hallway.

  She understood how he felt. She just didn’t get why he, of all people, felt the need for society’s approval.

  * * *

  Rowan broke through the main doors at the San Diego General Hospital. He hesitated only a moment, caught off guard by the sudden change in the weather, the afternoon rain immediately buffeting his face. Resigned, he stormed down the sidewalk. He didn’t stop until he was standing in the middle of the parking lot of the San Diego Zoo. The miles had passed along with his anger and the afternoon rain.

  Although exhausted and spent, he paid and entered the zoo. He had it nearly to himself at this time of year. He hunched against the wind and trod through the pathways.

  He loved Lauren more than life, but she obviously wasn’t at the same place in their relationship. Their lives as well as their careers were intertwined. He loved the job as much as she did. He loved her as much as she loved the job. But for her everything else came second, himself included.

  He just didn’t know how to get her to see how important she was in his life, and how badly he wanted what other men had—a home with a wife and a family. Didn’t he deserve happiness? Even the lions and wolves huddled snug in their dens. Her words resounded in his head as he replayed the whole argument until it threatened to drive him mad. Somewhere, in a distant cage, a monkey screeched.

  Funny—Lauren could be so brave, standing with her fists clenched against a Peruvian government official, yet too chicken to admit her feelings.

  He surprised himself by laughing out loud. What was he doing here, touring listless, caged animals in the winter, when he should be by her side?

  * * *

  Rowan’s heart was still pounding from the hike. He heard his own pulse in his ears as he went down the long, quiet corridors toward Lauren’s hospital room. He steeled himself before he opened the door. He entered quietly, finding the head of the bed had been raised. Lauren lay with her head back and her eyes closed. An untouched dinner tray sat on its mobile table, still covered, in front of her. Her red face and swollen eyes told him he wasn’t the only one who’d had a good cry.

  She started to say something, but he made a gesture that cut her off as he pulled up the rolling stool and sat beside her.

  “Look, I don’t want to fight right now,” he said, leaning his arms on the rail of her bed. “I shouldn’t have brought it up when you’re so sick, and I’m sorry.”

  Lauren let her head fall back on the pillow, too weak to hold it up and glare at him. She shook her head and closed her eyes, turning away.

  Rowan rolled his eyes, heaving a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry, Lauren. Can we just talk about work for a second?”

  Lauren turned back toward him eagerly. “Really?”

  “It figures, that would get you to perk up. Well, Bahati and Jean-René have poured over the data. They sent the pictures of that...thing... to the forensic anthropologist. He thinks it may be mammalian, but he doesn’t know what it is. The anthropomorphic data has him stumped. The shape of the hip bones, and what look like feet, don’t identify it as a bird—or anything else for that matter. Without the head, it’s just hard to say. We’ll probably have to wait for the lab results.”

  “Fine. What about the disc in the sky?”

  “They’ve replayed that section of the tape hundreds of times. Even in slow motion, frame-by-frame, they can’t get the image to clear.”

  “Did they enhance the video?”

  “They’re working on that now.”

  “Have we finished the post-production voiceovers for the last episode?”

  “You’ve got some left to do. But you’ve got a couple more days before we need to worry about it.”

  “Can I get something to drink? Sprite or ginger ale or something?” The carton of milk and glass of iced tea had been untouched, along with everything else, except for a package of saltines.

  A toothy grin spread across his face. “I thought you’d never ask,” he said, feeling relieved that she needed him for something. “I’ll get it.”

  * * *

  She was sipping ginger ale from a plastic spoon and nibbling ice chips when the doctor came in with her chart.

  “Miss Grayson?” He glanced up at her. “Have you undergone treatment for cancer recently?”

  “No.” She set the cup down, swallowing hard, nearly choking on the ice. Rowan got out of his chair and came to her bedside, paled.

  “No radiation treatment?”

  “No.”

  “Were you anywhere near a nuclear reactor while you were in Peru?”

  “Not that I know of.” Lauren felt nauseated again. “Why? What’s going on?”

  “Our tests show you’ve been exposed to some form of radiation. It appears to be mild, but you will need treatment to remove any residual contamination from your system and we’ll need to watch you for signs of anemia.”

  “Radiation?” Lauren fumbled. “We passed through security x-rays several times during the trip. The airport here, the one in Cusco.”

  “The radiation from those are negligible. This would have been something significant.” He took her hands and examined the skin on her arms. “We’ve got a specialist on call who’s reviewing your chart to develop a treatment plan. Usually people with radiation exposure will have some kind of skin damage, anything from what looks like a sunburn to hair loss or a severe rash. But I don’t see any marks at all.”

  “I went everywhere she went and I’m not sick,” Rowan said. “How can that be?”

  “You may have lesser exposure. But we should probably test you as well.”

  “We should test the whole team. Bahati got sick too, but we presumed it was altitude sickness,” he said.

  “That would be a good idea,” the doctor agreed. “There are several treatment plans, and once the specialist goes over your test results, we’ll be better prepared to discuss your options.”

  Chapter 3

  One of the nurses walked with Lauren as she leaned on the IV pole like a crutch. She’d spent the past few days taking walks like this between treatments, hoping to regain her strength. Today, it tired her out, and she said as much. They stopped at the nurses’ station for her to rest. “Sit down,” the nurse said. “I’ll go get you some water.”

  Lauren complied, leaning her head against the wall. In the med room, two of the staff were having a raucous conversation. “I don’t know why I even bother watching that stupid show,” one of them said. “It’s not like they ever find anything.”

  “I’ll admit, I only watch it to see who’s going to fall off a cliff or trip over a rock in the dark,” the other retorted. “Not like I believe in little green men from Mars or el chupacabra. It’s laughable at best.”

  “I know, it’s all just a bunch of hokum.”

  Lauren stood and directed an evil eye at them both. One of the women saw her. Her face turned red. Lauren could feel the heat rising in her own cheeks. The other turned and gasped. The first tried to apologize, but as soon as she opened her mouth to speak, Lauren took a hold of the IV pole and used the last of her energy to rise stiffly and return to her room. Her anger fueled the effort and she made the decision right then and there that she was going home.

  * * *

 
Lauren was fumbling with the clothes she’d worn to the hospital when Bahati came that afternoon. The IV was in the way. She picked at the corner of the tape, trying to save ripping it off, along with the hair on her arms.

  “What are you doing, Boss?”

  No one else had tested positive for radiation poisoning, and Lauren reached the limit of her patience. The incident at the nurses’ station was the tipping point. She refused to take this lying down. She’d had enough.

  “I’m going home,” she snapped. “I don’t have time for this.”

  “You’re in no shape to go home.”

  Lauren’s knees buckled; Bahati reached out and caught her arm. “Sit down before you fall down.”

  Lauren knew it was futile. She surrendered.

  “Did the doctor say you could go home?”

  “It’s still a free country, isn’t it?”

  “Lauren,” Bahati scolded. “You’re just going to make yourself even sicker. Didn’t you tell me the doctor said it would take a week to finish the treatments?”

  “The treatments aren’t working.” Lauren lowered her voice an octave. “I’m not getting any better...and I sure as hell can’t get any work done tethered to this ... this ...” She held up her hand, inspecting the IV line pathetically. The medication that flowed through it was designed to bind with the radioactive metals that were plaguing her, so they could be flushed from her system “I don’t have time to be sick.”

  “You don’t have the strength to waste fighting what must be done, Lauren,” Bahati sat down beside her. She put her arm around her and ran a hand down Lauren’s long braid. “What’s really bothering you?”

  Lauren hung her head. She choked back her emotion. “We’re going to get cancelled, and it’s all my fault.”

  “You don’t believe that, do you? It’s nothing more than gossip, you know. Right?”

  “Most shows don’t last as long as we have. It’s inevitable. The Network is going to cut us.” She ran a weary hand over her face. “I don’t blame them. We never find anything. It’s all just a bunch of ... hokum.”

  “We have over 800,000 followers on Twitter and Facebook.”

  “We used to have a million.”