Without Wrath (Harbinger of Change Book 3)

by Timothy Jon Reynolds

  “How are things, Doctor?”

  He looked stoically at Matt, “There is little change yet as the drug is not even halfway administered. We have seen a slight decrease in their vitals, but nothing dramatic. We’re hoping there is a war going on in them by now. A war the good guys are winning.”

  “How long before we know if you are successful.”

  “It’s going to be several hours, Matt. We are going to need to have personnel in there now, so please wait for us in the ICU waiting room. I will come for you soon.”

  As Matt turned to leave his mom called his name in a way he knew all too well. Anytime there was a grave issue, whether it be a dead pet hamster or a cat found lying in the front yard, Sherry had that tremulous voice. Before he could react though, Jon’s machines went into alarm mode and rushing personnel came sweeping in and immediately got his parents out of the room and then all of them out of the ICU unit, pulling a curtain to seal off the woman he shared a moment with.

  As he was ushered out, he went into that slow motion mode, a mode that had happened to him several times in his lifetime. It was that mode where lives were on the line and one could hear one’s own heartbeat during the event.

  Everyone around him was flying in fast motion and he was in slow. Although his gunshot wound was superficial, he suddenly became very aware of it when a medical cart slammed into him as it rushed by. The doctors had triaged it prior, but he was sure the impact of the cart re-started some bleeding; not to mention his twisted ankle, he had almost forgotten about that. When he was chasing the doctor earlier he was so pumped that he did not even feel it.

  But that wasn’t the only thing he’d noticed in slow motion. The woman he comforted had a pall on her face as they closed that curtain around her. He could see Jon being attended to and the woman’s face, she was just blankly staring at him, in that stare of a million words. He would never forget the anguish and despair on her face; it would haunt him forever. He knew why, too. She had that horror movie quality about her, like she had the inside story that Jon was going to die.

  They were outside the waiting room in the hallway. Doug saw them and came running. Matt’s mom was a total mess, using crying, hysterics, and madness in abundance. His dad was trying to be the rock, and Doug was helping them both inside the ICU waiting room.

  Just like before, Matt’s feet were taking him where his mind and spirit did not want to go. Before he could stop himself he was in the elevator and walking into the empty chapel. He walked right up to the statue of Christ and curled up on the floor, completely contrite and completely defeated. There was no way possible for him to face what was going on there, he was just not that strong. This was a place that no man should ever be, and the place where one found out what ones breaking point was. Matt had found his and he began to weep uncontrollably.

  * * *

  Ray Callahan sat in the most comfortable chair in his mausoleum of a living room. He and Kim agreed on most things but not home decorations—well, at least not what one can do in them. Ray had bathrooms with towels he was not allowed to use, bedspreads that could not be lain on, and a living room one could not sit in. Of course, tonight he was going rebel, as he also had a cup of coffee in his hand when his wife walked through the door.

  Her face told the story, she knew something was up immediately and dropped her briefcase where she stood and came to her husband asking, “What’s happened?”

  Ray gave her a serious look of disapproval, "You mean other than the fact that I am sitting here waiting to find out if part of my extended family gets to live or not?” Ray looked regretful as he said, "Matt called me, but I screened the call with the intention of returning it after our lunch. But with all the things going on, I, Ray Callahan, forgot to call back.” Ray adjusted his posterior while balancing his coffee with expertise. “I just got news that a specialist team was flown in to try to save them.”

  Ray then took a sip of coffee and his wife's eyes bulged at the prospect he might spill a single drop, “Of course, now I will have the sound of Matt’s frantic voice haunting me forever. The one time ever that I ignored a call from Matt Hurst it has to be ‘the call.’”

  Ray then mustered a condescending tone, “And how did your day go, Kim?”

  “Ray, you know damn well how my day went. I am here to get three hours of sleep, shower, change, and leave. I would assume you are in the same boat.”

  In as sarcastic a tone as he could muster to the woman he loved, Ray said, “I’m sorry, I cannot talk about Agency business. It is a breach of protocol to talk about active cases with non-agency personnel.”

  “Well up yours, too, Ray, I don’t have time for this shit.”

  As she was picking up her briefcase, her husband dropped the bombshell. “I told Eric that once we clean this all up, I’m out.”

  “What are you talking about Ray, the Agency is your life.”

  “No Kim, you are my life.”

  Blushing, Kim replied to her husband, “What will you do, go into private practice?”

  “I was thinking I could go to work for your friends, Kim. I believe I have something to bring to the table.”

  “What are you talking about, Ray?”

  Ray looked admonishingly, yet coyly, “Why Kim Sullivan-Callahan, did you really think you could keep secrets from me?”

  His astonished wife gave him his favorite look, the one where he appeared to her as the smartest man in the world, “How long have you known?”

  “For a long time. I knew something was up the minute Matt turned down a job that he told me he had always wanted just the week before. You’ll have to be better than that if you ever want to pull the wool over my eyes, Dear.”

  “Bringing Matt Hurst into our fold was one thing Ray, he wasn’t an Agency legend. You’d be missed. What did you tell Eric? You’re a Director.”

  “Eric accepted my resignation because he has grown weary of me. I’m like a stone stuck in his shoe. Lately the friction has gotten to the point where Eric is chaffed by the sight of me. Plus, I made a big mistake.”

  “Those are words I’ve rarely heard from you, and when I have it’s usually involving the edibleness of our steak. What did you do?”

  “When I pieced together that we had essentially used Hurst to lure Pablo out without as much as telling him, I placed an asset to protect Matt. Unfortunately, I rushed my decision, semi-coercing Frederick into releasing said asset back to active duty even though I knew he was being treated for PTSD. My concern for Matt compromised my judgment.”

  “Sounds like it worked out to me. You saved his life from what I hear.”

  “Yes, but when word gets out of how this all went down, it’s going to look like I power-played Eric again for the spotlight. That’s why he accepted my resignation.”

  “Are you sure you want to do this, Ray?”

  “Chase Viana seems to be a very fair guy, Kim. Don’t think for a second that once I pieced this together, that I didn’t vet him. It’s a well-funded group of patriots and that appeals to me.”

  “Truthfully, once the shock wears off, you will be embraced by them and then you will be empowered in ways you’ve never thought possible.”

  “Can’t say that sounds bad.”

  “I would be okay with all of this if you would show signs you are upset, like with me earlier. You obviously just had a very rough day, yet one could never tell. I know that you are an intellectual force, Ray, but even men like you are allowed to cry, be frustrated, and show emotion. Look at Matt. If there was ever an example of masculine crying, he’s mastered it.

  “What can I say, Kim, I was mentored by Bob Thompson, a man who showed no emotion. He believed that emotion was a weakness. Showing any emotion at all, even in the midst of September Eleven, was unacceptable. The guy was like my father and I emulate him to this day, I’m not embarrassed to say.”

  “Well, Ray, I’m sure to get a lot of heat, but I’m just going to deflect it with humor. I’ve already decided, and I’ve got lin
es all ready. I’ll have you in a maid’s outfit with a feather duster, or a Chef with a big white hat; I will have you painted as a real kept man. Soon, as things constantly roll forward, even Ray Callahan will be forgotten.”

  “That’s good perspective, my dear. Don’t forget, in a few short years, you will be in the private sector, too. Walk up to the average person on the street and ask who Bill Clinton’s Chief of Staff was. Our country has “Short-Timers.” It’s what allows us to move on so quickly in the face of adversity, but it’s also a negative when we fail to permanently embody the ideals of great men.”

  Kim looked at her husband sitting in her antique Versailles Palace chair, drinking a cup of coffee and realized that this was not a marriage that was going to be in the fifty percent failure category. If this was how her husband managed his worst day, then she had the inner belief that she chose wisely, “Well, I’m glad we had this discussion. Chase and Company had a running bet on when I would cave and tell you about TJAC. That is our name, you know. It stands for, Thomas Jefferson Action Committee. They just called me in to talk about you and me.”

  Kim eyed Ray in the chair for at least the tenth time.

  “Why do you keep looking at me in a way that would indicate we should leave this room and specifically that I should vacate this chair, Dear? When one pays a hundred thousand dollars for a single chair, then one should be elated that someone sits in it. It has a lot of butts to rest before it can make up for that kind of money.”

  Kim smiled at her husband. He knew that if there was a fire, she was saving her living room first, “This was a onetime pass, but if I ever find you here again, the tyranny I will perpetrate will eclipse that of our dearly departed shepherd, Pablo.”

  Ray rose out of the chair, careful not to spill a drop of the half-filled cup in his hand. He walked into the kitchen and Kim followed asking, “Do you think they will live?”

  Ray turned and tears where flowing down his face. No words were needed; Kim just hugged him, as even the great Ray Callahan had a breaking point, it appeared.

  * * *

  Brian Franklin cleared his throat audibly. Ever since his windpipe had been crushed by a vicious throat chop by the woman he loved, he had had to clear his throat every thirty seconds or so now as a tick. When one had a crushed windpipe, one tended to get conscious about an action others take for granted, and that would be swallowing. Swallowing became so excruciating that they had to switch him to blended foods. Even then, swallowing was something Brian loathed for many months after his encounter with the woman that started all this madness to begin with.

  He would never forget the day when she altered his life. If it weren’t for one of the fast-thinking PhDs at Conceptual, he would have died a choking, gasping death. Instead he bore the scar where his own knife was used to cut a slit right at the base of his throat. Unfortunately, no one had the right type of pen and it took three more minutes for a straw to be retrieved from the cafeteria. In that three minutes, his only breathing happened when Dr. Varosh squeezed his skin and muscle together to make a small gap. Brian tried to calm himself, as thinking about those three minutes usually brought on a panic attack. That was one more thing he could thank her for, the need for Xanax.

  Before the woman he knew as Nancy Chavez destroyed his life with a single throat chop, he was a confident man; he did not fear life, nor had he ever had a single bout of anxiety. After the incident at Conceptual Labs, he tried to return to work, but the minute he stepped foot into that building, the anxiety started. He went on medication but still could not return to work. Conceptual offered him a severance package and he took it. But living alone and not working, he soon got homesick.

  Growing up in Anacortes, Washington, Brian loved to go home to visit whenever he could after moving to the Bay Area, but would always joke during long bouts of rain that he was glad he could go back home to Sunnyvale, as Sunnyvale was just as one would think it would be, very sunny.

  It didn’t take too long after moving back, however, that he found he had to get out of the house, no matter what he did for work. That’s when he found the hospital security job he currently held. Of course, no one knew who the hell he was or the fact that he was there at the beginning of this unbelievable rollercoaster of death and mayhem.

  He was trying to stem the rising anxiety, but seeing Matt Hurst run by brought it all back. Matt was, after all, an even bigger victim of hers than himself. Right after killing and maiming her way out of Conceptual Labs, Nancy Chavez went right to Matt’s store and ruined his life as well. That one woman ruined so many lives, why would I still give up everything for her?

  Brian was able to hear Hurst’s speech from just outside the main entrance door. Of course, he had to agree with what the guy said—it was all the truth—but be that as it may, Brian really doubted that Hurst or the tech nerd guy, Leme, would be able to make any sweeping change to the country.

  It looked good for a show here, but how many of these people would get home and never take action? Brian bet even money he was one of them. Everyone had delusions of grandeur on how to fix this place, but none of them ever seemed to pan out due to all the infighting this country was known for these days.

  Just then, to Brian’s amazement, Robert Leme appeared through the automatic doors. He looked different than he had earlier. He had obvious concern, as did most that walked through those doors, but he also had a swagger that he’d missed before. Brian felt himself being drawn to it as Robert approached and asked to see Lauren Betton in the ER.

  Brian checked the list, he knew he could deny the man since he was not family and it was family visitors only right now. The hospital was under lock down at the moment—there had been more cops, federal agents, and Department of Homeland Security personnel coming through than he had seen since that fateful day in Sunnyvale that started all this. Instead, he let the man through with a visitor badge. He knew he was a friend of Hurst’s as well, so it was the right thing to do. As Robert left, he thanked Brian and then put his hand on his shoulder in a gesture that showed he knew that he could have been turned away, but instead was given a favor. Brian felt his magnetism as he walked off. Maybe this really is the guy to make change for our country.

  Robert made his way into the hectic emergency room. Fire, military, and flown-in medical staffs were triaging patients in the ER waiting room itself. A makeshift treatment tent was set up in the parking lot and any patients needing minor treatment were being routed outside. Robert did not see Melvin or Lauren. His guess was that hers was not a minor injury. He made it to the front counter where there was an insane amount of people who hadn’t even checked in. Feeling his frustration mounting every time the double doors opened as a patient was being released, new Robert took action and walked straight into the ER unchallenged.

  It took checking several rooms, but he finally found them. She was lying on the patient table with Melvin holding her hand and staring at the door. Lauren was sleeping. As soon as Melvin saw Robert, his hangdog expression lifted. It was obvious he had been torn between duties, and of course chivalry won out and Melvin remained at Lauren’s side.

  “How is she?”

  “She was screaming so bad from the pain that they shot her with morphine. She is going to have to be immobilized for a minimum of two weeks. According to these docs, she never should have been out of a hospital.”

  Robert looked at Lauren and his heart ached. Even in her battered and unkempt state he would love her forever, given the chance. “Her need to confront Hurst was too much.”

  “There’s more Robert, so much more. She was worried that she didn’t document her last two days well enough, so she filled me in during her pain. That guy that broke the story, that Scott Bailey, well he was her college boyfriend. He betrayed her by exposing Matt. She was coming here to blow the lid off this whole thing, but her friend beat her to the punch as she was en route.”

  “Oh my God, Melvin, that explains her suicidal driving when we first saw her—and the crying.�
�� Robert thought for a second and continued, “So she pushed herself to get here and confront both of these guys, I’d imagine.”

  “You have no idea. She was flying from South America since the day before, even after the doctors had begged her not to leave. Then while traveling here, the plane and ferry tragedy happened and grounded her plane in Texas, but she still pushed on to Portland and rented a car. This is a very tenacious girl, Robert. You chose well to bring her on.”

  Robert wondered if it were creepy to fall in love with someone at first sight. He knew that he never stood a chance in hell with a world-class beauty like this one, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t protect and admire her. No, there was no rule against that. “I’m going to make sure she’s safe, Melvin. No, strike that. We’re going to make sure she’s safe and we’re going to watch her grow.”

  “How’d the park go?”

  “It went very well, Melvin, I think people are ready for change and this offers a new kind of hope.”

  Melvin looked admiringly at Robert, “That’s true, boss, all it took was one great American to stop filling his pockets long enough to care.”

  “Any word on Matt?”

  “No, and strangely, that pilot was running around looking for him not twenty minutes ago. I meant to tell you that. Maybe you should go see what is going on, I have things to do here.”

  The two men stared at each other. They knew that their paths were now set. Like it or not, they were the face of a movement. Robert left and when he did, Melvin felt a new power coming from him, a power that wasn’t there five hours ago. Was it possible for a man to realize his dream and make peace with it in such a short span of time? Melvin realized he was watching it—no need to run the variables, sometimes all one had to do was open one’s eyes.