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Blurb
Nate Leighton lives in a world full of static. He’s a victim of his own surplus bioelectricity, but he’s always sought to hide his problem - the original mechanical man in an age where electronics rule.
When he’s stranded without his medication, Nate begins to discover how severe his problem can be. His existence becomes a nightmare of voracious rodents, arcing electricity, and shifting lights.
It's too late to hide. Too late to run. Too late for anything, except fear...
Static
Also by N. D. Hansen-Hill
Vision
Elf
Trolls
The Light Play Trilogy
Light Play
Light Plays
Lightning Play
The Grave Images Series
Grave Images
Graven Image
Grave Imagery
Grave Imagining
The Trees Series
Trees
Crystals
Mud
Shades
Fire
Light
N. D. Hansen-Hill
Static
©Copyright September 2002 by N. D. Hansen-Hill
First published electronically in 2002
by Parade Books (an imprint of Argyle House Press)
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
Cover design by N. D. Hansen-Hill
To Byron Hansen...
***
Static
Burning spikes of living fire
Arrayed within like heated wire;
Potent surges to the fore,
Arced escapes to damage more
Magnetic mayhem on the rise,
Tortured truths within the lies,
Concealed from others all the while,
Fear reconciled within a smile.
Drowned 'n electromagnetic flood,
Fighting a flux that's in the blood.
Stigmatised by staticked cell,
Challenged by surges straight from hell.
Until the time when hiding fails;
Peace displaced by a friend's harsh wails.
Bioelectric migrations on the rise,
Burnout, blasts, as someone dies...
by N. D. Hansen-Hill
***
Prologue
The fluffy white cumulonimbus was a wisp of vapour in the air. No traces yet of billowing grey, lashing black streaks of rain onto the land. No signs of the hardened hailstones, or hints of the electrical turmoil which would soon be stirring within. Like a newborn infant, the growing beast had no idea of its future.
No suspicion of the latent energy that rested in its mass.
In the house, far below and as yet, far distant, a man lay in restless dreams. The clues had all been there, but he'd never read them. Never understood his past, nor the dormant power which lurked within.
His dreams were of hot light, and roiling energies.
A nightmare. Only a nightmare.
He sat up and checked the windows, seeing only a clear night with a sparkling of stars.
Calm, peaceful. He relaxed, and wiped the sweat from his face with the sheet.
Safe - for now.
It was the best he could do. Take the now as it comes and don't sweat the future.
He smiled, a little foolishly. Only a dream.
He, more than most, should have realised that all things change...
***
Chapter One
Nate Leighton chucked his day pack onto the worn sofa and made a big point of tossing in a pair of socks.
"I'm not looking," Aje Morton warned him. "I don't want to know." Behind Nate's back, he gestured to Brandon Weisner. There was a lot of wild pantomiming, but Brand had no trouble interpreting the mouthed "no fuckin' way!".
"I saw that," Nate told them, grinning. "Think of the hike -"
"I am. That's the part I don't want to know about."
"Up in the mountains," Nate continued, "away from all this city air." He smiled, then shook his head disparagingly. "Damned sceptics. It's a pollution survey, pure and simple."
Brandon Weisner snorted. "'Pure'? If it's so far away from all that pollution, why are you surveying for it?"
"Because he's simple," Aje supplied.
Nate smirked, then turned quickly, to stuff a shirt into his pack. "Lichens are a great monitor of air qualit-"
"I knew it was a crock! This is one of your 'collecting' trips." Aje shook his head disgustedly.
"That's my cue to leave," Brand said. "See ya."
Aje leaned against the door, to block Brandon's exit. "No way you're leaving first. Then he'll expect me to come along."
"The last thing I'd expect - hell! The last thing I'd want is to haul your big, dumb ass up a mountain -" Nate began.
"So now it's mountain climbing, is it?" Brandon lifted one eyebrow.
"And if I don't come along, then I'll get a phone call later. 'I'm stuck on a ledge, but don't tell anyone'," Aje mimicked.
Nate said reasonably, "That only happened once. It could've happened to anyone -"
Brandon looked at him pityingly. "'Anyone?'"
"He was just lucky his phone wasn't out of range or he would've been out there all night."
"Go to hell, Aje," Nate said genially.
"You're telling me his phone was charged? It actually worked?" Brandon asked dryly. "Only thing I find surprising."
"Who the hell dumps on a ledge, anyway? What'd you think you were doing there?" Aje gave him a mocking smile. "Brandon really wants to know."
"Brandon doesn't give a shit," Brandon replied, "so long as Brandon doesn't have to winch you off any ledges."
"Pollution studies. Measuring lichens." Nate grinned. "No coprophilous fungi involved."
"Whatever - Hubert." Aje grabbed his coat off the rack. "Let's just say I have plans for Saturday."
"Anyone I know?" Brandon asked him.
"Known her for years," Nate supplied. "First name's Play. Last name's Station."
"You should be so lucky," Aje retorted. "Not that it's any of your business, but her name's Antoinette -"
"First name Marie?" Nate offered helpfully.
"- and I met her at the Club."
Brandon grinned, and yanked open the dilapidated door.
Aje peered out. "Damned streetlights are out again." He scowled at Nate. "Why don't you complain?" Then he flicked the porch light switch, only to find it was out, too. "Is this thing broken again?"
"Surges?" Brand suggested. "Lights in your house, too?"
"Pop all the time," Nate admitted.
"Damned fire trap," Aje complained. "Let me out of here."
"You should move to a better part of town," Brand said.
"And have you guys visit me more often? No thanks. Besides," Nate added, munching on an apple he'd taken out of his pocket.
"I've seen him put other stuff in that pocket," Aje muttered distastefully.
Nate grinned. "Relax. It's been washed."
"Besides -?" Brandon prompted.
Nate looked at him blankly for a moment, then remembered. "Some neighbours might object to my hobby."
"I can't understand why you don't keep that crap at work, with your other stinking fungus."
"Contamination." Nate took another noisy bite. "Nobody wants dung in their lab."
Brandon looked at the apple, and shook his head. "I'd better go before my nachos do." He rubbed his stomach. "Thanks for the snack - I think."
*
Communing with nature. Nate loved these times, when he could get out, and see only open spaces around him. As much as he liked working in the lab, there were too many constraints - like being in a box. Not only the workspace, but the protocols - the procedures. All systematic, all carefully mapped out. All scientific, and all about proof. Repeatable, verifiable, measurable proof. Proof that frequently required analysis on a computer.
Which is why he relished the freedom of his coprophilous studies. They were a type of systematics research he'd been introduced to as an undergrad, and that he'd really enjoyed. No matter how well he could predict what kind of fungus would grow out of a piece of rat or dog or elephant dung, there were always surprises. So far, he'd discovered eleven new species.
In contrast, now that he knew which techniques he could use, there wasn't all that much that was "new" about the stuff he was doing down at work. Mostly verifications of plant diseases. Testing for specific proteins. They'd learned early on not to let him near any of the computers, spectrophotometers, or electrophoresis gels.
Despite what Aje and Brandon had said, there wasn't that much of the "stinking" or "dirty" about his dung studies, either. Each specimen was in a covered container, and he discarded the source material as soon as he'd isolated its fungi.
It's just the whole idea behind it, he reasoned, grinning. But if it really grossed them out, they wouldn't drop by so damn often…
His first year at his "hobby" he'd had a standing order at the zoo, for samples of dung from different animals. A lot of the results had been standard stuff - nothing to rattle the systematics texts. But there had been that one new species, and it was enough to get him hooked. A few months later, when the zoo had started contracting all their dung out to a fertiliser company, Nate had been forced to go further afield. So he'd started taking these hikes up into the mountains. It was something he'd done as a teenager, years before, and he'd forgotten how good it felt to visit all that fresh air. Now, he got away at least once a month if he could. He'd already decided that some day, when the labs turned fully computerised, he'd go from specialist, to generalist - opt for being a field biologist, and turn the analysis over to someone else.
Today he'd found a path he'd never taken before - and he'd already promised himself he'd never take it again. Nature had been communing with him big time. He'd been tramping for less than two hours when the skies suddenly opened. Rain and hail - and they were coming down so hard it hurt. Nate was soaked before he could drag his rain gear out of his bag.
Good thing Aje isn't here, Nate thought. I'd never hear the end of this…
I probably won't, anyway. Aje, despite his protestations, would have half an ear tuned on the weather report.
Nate had never expected him or Brandon to come along. It was just a way of covering his ass, without sacrificing his pride. Brandon always insisted he needed to tell someone when he was going hiking on his own, and Aje had been adamant about it since that ledge goof-up. So, he'd tell them, they'd give him a hard time, and that was that. Except he'd always get a call on Sunday - just in case. In Aje's words, "If I have to save your stupid hide, I want to know before I make other plans."
Nate's thoughts were interrupted by a loud rumble, and a flash of brilliant white, that lit up half the sky. Lightning!
No! It was the thing that terrified him more than anything else. The thing that sometimes invaded his dreams. There was probably some name for it - for this kind of irrational terror, but right now, he didn't know - or care. The lightning was coming - heading his way.
A burst of adrenaline shot through him and he started to run, slipping and sliding in the muck and leaves. Panicked, he ran off the trail, heading toward an overhanging knob of rock.
Solid. Safe. It can't get me there.
It's okay, Leighton. You'll make it…
Only, he wouldn't. It was at his back, watching him ominously from the skies, and it was going to get him.
There was a tingling in his shoulder blades.
It was going to stab him, right in the back.
He'd never told anyone. How, when a lightning storm came, he'd hide behind the door, or in a closet. Deep in his house, or burrowed beneath the desk in his office.
His mother had said he'd been struck once, when he was little. A baby. He didn't remember it, but some part of him did. He'd been running from the stuff ever since.
It was coming. His hair was standing on end and his gooseflesh was doing a shivery dance. The pressure in the air was so thick he couldn't breathe…
The next moment, his world exploded, and was gone - in a massive blast of overwhelming white.
*
"Brand?"
Brandon looked at his watch and growled into the phone, "It's eight-thirty am - on a Sunday. This better be good."
"I think he's been out there all night."
"Nate?"
"Yeah."
"D'you know where?"
"You were there. He didn't say."
Brandon was already yanking on his pants. "Did you check his house?"
"What d'you think?" Aje said sarcastically. "I'm here now."
"What about his cellphone?"
"Not in service." Aje hesitated. "I could be wrong. Maybe he just took off to have breakfast or something."
"Any sign of his day pack, or other gear?"
"Nope."
Brandon nodded. He knew Aje wouldn't have called him unless he thought there was something to worry about. The storm the night before had been the biggest in years. A bad night to be out in the weather.
Maybe we should have checked a little sooner.
"I'll be right there. I'll call in his plates on the way. Maybe somebody's seen his car."
"Nate's gonna love that. An APB on his hide."
"Better than a DOA." Brandon slammed down the phone, gave Rita an apologetic nuzzle, and tore out the door.
*
It was the cold that nudged him awake. Invasive, numbing his body -
Like a slab of meat in the deep freeze. He'd gone beyond shivering, and his first thoughts were nigglings of panic. Too cold. Gonna die if I don't get warmer.
There was a heaviness in his chest; in his limbs. If it weighed him down any more, he'd never get up again.
Gotta move.
Only, moving was synonymous with pain. With a sharp, stabbing pain in his chest, and a nasty pang in his gut. With the throb in his head, and the twanging aches in his leg.
Don't move the patient.
Better to stay here…The cold could numb him again, and then it wouldn't hurt. Some part of his brain assured him it was sensible, and he started to drift. He was almost there, in that chilly darkness once more, when the chills began.
He shivered, and groaned. His damned metabolism had been stirred up by those brief moments of wakefulness. The shivers were never going to let him have any rest. And the irregular movements were sending jolts of agony through his chest, his leg.
Hey - better I can feel. With the kind of stunting I must've done, it coulda been a helluva lot worse…
His headache was tightening his cranium like a vice, and he kept his eyes scrunched closed. He tried to force himself to relax, to ease the pain in his head…
Think about something else. Like where you are.
There were wet leaves. Under his face. Something was crawling across his neck. A whole lot of somethings. Ants.
Hope they're not the stinging kind.
Negative thinking, Nate -
He heard something buzz his head.
Yellow-jacket. Nate remembered catching a fish as a kid, and finding it later, covered in wasps. They'd stripped the flesh, and eaten their way down to the bones.
Nate for dinner.
Nate-carcass - stripped down to the bones.
Nate au tartare.
He realised he was drifting again, and brought himself back on track. It was time to get into action, and find his way home.
He opened his eyes, but everything was blurry. He fought to focus, and was rewarded with a painfully haloed version of his world.
It's the best I can do.
He wasn't on the trail, or even near it. Bleary-eyed, he sought the big chunk of rocky overhang he'd been heading for, and saw it far above him, and way to his right. In dawning horror, he realised how far he'd flown.
Hey, Leighton - on the plus side, you're a lot further down the mountain that you thought. And, you're still alive.
He tried to gauge by the light how long he'd been out. The air held a residual chill, although the storm had apparently passed. Maybe an hour, he thought. Be home before dark.
He grabbed a branch, and tried to pull himself to his feet. Home before dark.
The sun was growing hotter, and he was getting confused, but he couldn't read his watch. Something was wrong with the sun and the time. Something was wrong with his head, too, because he wasn't moving. He suddenly realised he was lying on the ground once more, and he didn't remember getting there.
Then, for a long time, he didn't remember anything at all.
*
When he opened his eyes again, everything was strange. He guessed that he'd missed dinner. The sky was dark, but it was the only thing that was. Everything else was sheathed in colour. He lay there stupidly, his eyes blearily studying his surroundings. Until he reached out his hand - and saw a bright white light emanating from his skin.
I'm dead…
His heart pounded, and his throbbing head kept time. In the next moment he vomited.
Dead people don't hurl.
I'm alive.
There's something wrong with my eyes. He started to panic again.
They can fix it. A little laser treatment and you'll be good as new.
But only if you're around for it. He shuddered, and groaned. Only if you can get out of this cold.
His eye was caught and held by a brighter patch in the near distance. Someone has a light on, he thought.
A light. People. Warmth.
Nate began to crawl.
*
"They're waiting on satellite recon, but they don't hold out much hope. Too much overcast."
"Did they try the dogs?"
Brand nodded. "The rain washed away most of his trail, but they managed to track him nearly to the ridge. We've covered this side."
"Where next?"
Brandon donned the professional look he always used when he was trying to deliver bad news. "Down in that gully."
"Down there?" Aje squeaked. It was such a long way down. He didn't see how Nate could have survived a fall like that. He had a sinking feeling in his gut.
Brand nodded. "Yeah, dammit."
*
They were watching him. Nate opened his eyes to bison and woolly mammoths - lions and crocodiles and men dressed in animal skins. They were snagged in an eternal hunt upon the walls. It was only that weird light sheath - the one that pulsed in time to his headache - that made them seem to dance and shift.
Amazing, he thought, momentarily forgetting his discomfort in his astonishment.
Cavemen.
No. That was wrong. He was lying on the dusty floor, in touch with the pressure of their final footprints in this place.
Not cavemen. He closed his eyes, and saw a score of tunicked and cloaked intruders passing through. Fair, tall, robust.
It was a flicker - there, for a moment only, then vanishing as quickly as it had come. He'd had flashes before, but never taken them seriously.
You don't run your life on superstition and daydreams.
Only now, it seemed like daydreams might well be all he had left.
*
"W' f'd 'm." It was staticky, and Brandon could barely make out the words.
"What's that?" Aje released the branch he was holding, grabbed Brandon's arm, and forcibly yanked him around. "Did they find him?"
"Shut up! I'm trying to listen -"
"Can't you just call 'em back? You're a cop, for crissakes!"
Brandon gripped the front of his shirt. "Shut the fuck up!"
He listened for a minute longer. There was a garbled conversation going on - something about mice or deer or something. He lifted the radio higher, hoping that he'd get a little better reception. "They're going to bring a helicopter in as close as they can," he told Aje. He shrugged, and shook his head. "I just can't get the rest."
"Is he alive?" Aje whispered.
"He must be. Otherwise, they wouldn't take a chance on bringing in the helicopter at night."
Aje nodded. "They'll take him to Central?"
"Yeah."
"See ya." Aje turned and started climbing rapidly back up the slope.
He heard Brandon scrambling up behind him. "We'll take my car."
"No, thanks."
"It'll get us there faster."
Aje didn't say anything, but when they reached the top he just kept going - in a determined stomp toward his car.
Brandon caught up with him, and gave him a shove. "I'm a 'cop' - remember?"
Aje hesitated. "Red lights?" he asked. He knew this was as close to an apology as he was ever likely to get from Brandon. "What about the siren?" he pushed.
Brandon clenched his teeth. "Whatever it takes," he replied, opening the rear door.
"I'm not a prisoner -" Aje argued.
They'd been searching for nearly thirty-six hours, and Adrian Morton looked it. He was unshaven, dirty, ripped and scruffy. Damned unsavoury. Brand hid his smile. His temper had already snapped, back there on the mountain. He knew Aje's wasn't far behind.
"Get in, you dumbass. Otherwise, it'll be lights, siren - and cuffs - if that's what it takes."
*
Aje was at the hospital by seven the next morning. They hadn't let him or Brandon or any of Nate's well-wishers in to visit him the night before. Aje hadn't paid much attention at the time, but it seemed the numbers in search parties had tripled as soon as Nate's name was released on the news.
Aje wasn't surprised. Nate was one of those people everyone wanted to know. Not even his "hobby" was a deterrent. His personality drew people like a magnet.
Hell, look at Brand and me, Aje thought, amused. One thing he was sure of, though: if it had been him or Brandon out there, Nate would have been out searching, too.
After he and Brand had reached the hospital, it had taken an unbelievable three hours for Nate to arrive. By that time, Aje was sure they were waiting in the wrong place, and Brand had made a couple of calls. But it was Nate who was in the wrong place at the wrong time - in every way.
When they'd finally wheeled him in, the little Aje could see had scared the shit out of him. Nate was white and drawn and bloody. One side of his face was bruised, and his left leg was in a blow-up splint. They'd immobilised his head and neck.
It appeared that nothing had gone right with the rescue, either. The helicopter which had airlifted him out of the gully had nearly gone down before it cleared the pass. Something about the instrumentation going haywire and having to make an emergency landing. They'd taken him by ambulance from there.
It didn't get any better. The gauges in the ambulance were screwed, and none of the monitors worked. They were blaming the faults on surplus electromagnetism in that area - maybe even some remnant of the storm. Aje blamed it on the faults in the system.
Brandon wasn't so sure.
Things hadn't improved when they'd reached the hospital. The monitors kept screaming, and the third time the crash cart had come running, they'd turned the damn things off. There were complaints of "trying to work in the dark", and then they were all yelling when the lights in the room flickered out, and they actually were working in the dark.
"What the hell's going on?" Aje had asked Brandon. "It's like some kind of sabotage."
Brandon shrugged, and gave him a grim look.
The silence began to play on Aje's nerves. He paced, then found he was just too damn tired after all their mountain-climbing. "Leighton finally got us out there to do some hiking," he mused.
"At least we didn't have to gather any specimens," Brand murmured, with a smile.
"Think he'll be okay?"
Brandon nodded. "As long as it's not his spine." He stretched out his left leg across several of the chairs. Brand had been shot in the thigh three years before. He never complained, but Aje knew it stiffened up on him sometimes.
"Leg hurting?"
"Nope."
Of course, he wouldn't admit it. Wouldn't do anything that might prematurely curtail his police work, or stick him behind a desk. He loved being out in the field.
Like Nate.
Aje grinned. Brandon like to think of himself as a rock - igneous and staunch as hell. Right now he looked like he'd have trouble routing a pebble. Just then Brandon sighed, and his head tipped forward in a doze.
A few minutes later, Aje stuck a steaming cup of coffee into his limp hand. "Wake up, Brand. Quit drooling on the furniture."
"I wasn't drooling…"
"Just snoring. The patients were starting to complain." Aje gave him a nudge. "We're going. Hospitals suck."
"What about Nate?"
"Surgery. He won't be out for hours. The nurses begged me to take you home, so they can get some sleep. You're too close to the staff room."
"Very funny."
Aje jiggled some keys. "My big chance. I've always wanted to drive a police car." Brandon tried to snatch them, but Aje was already heading toward the exit. "What button was it that made the siren go?" he threw back over his shoulder.
Brandon grunted, and stumbled after him down the hall.
*
Aje sat impatiently in the chair next to Nate's bed. He'd told his boss he'd be an hour late for work, but he was having trouble sitting still. It was damn boring watching someone just lie there. He was sure Brandon could do it all day.
A stake-out.
"Wake up, Nate!" he muttered, just loud enough for Nate to hear him, but not loud enough for any of the nurses outside to claim he was bugging him.
He sat there for a moment longer, then casually booted the bed - gently at first, then with a repetitious thunk-thunk-thunk. "Wake up, you dumbshit!"
He remembered Nate calling him a dumbshit a few days before, and sentimental tears sprang to his eyes.
It was what they were worried about - the waking-up bit. That, and the fact Nate couldn't be monitored by a machine. A staff member wandered in every five minutes, just to check his vitals.
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Aje wiped his eyes. He'd be damned if they'd catch him weeping. Thunk-thunk. "If you don't wake up," Aje said solemnly, "I'm going to personally dump out your latest batch of cultures. Take 'em out of that stupid incubator, and flush 'em down the sewers. After that -" thunk-thunk, "- I'll start in on those crocks of shit. Too bad." At this he managed to invest a little enthusiasm into his tone. "One of them had this really interesting purple mould on it this morning -"
"Which one?"
Aje grinned widely. Leave it to fungus. "I lied. So, shoot me." He plopped a newspaper onto Nate's chest. "Did you know you're famous?"
Nate opened one eye, then quickly closed it against the light. "Can you whisper?" he pleaded.
"You're famous," Aje told him in a loud whisper. He punched in a number on the phone by the bed. "Hey, Brand - yeah, it's a bad connection," he said loudly, and Nate groaned. "Here - talk to someone."
"Arrest 'im," Nate pleaded. Nate opened one eye and looked at Aje. "I can't, Aje," he whispered. He'd gone really white around the mouth. "Sorry -"
"Talk to you later," Aje told Brandon abruptly, and slammed down the phone. "You okay, Nate? Want me to call the nurse?"
"No." It seemed like he slept for a while, but when he woke up, he realised someone was still there. "Aje?"
"Yeah?"
"Why'm I famous?" He smiled weakly. "My prat fall?"
"Your discovery." This time Aje was quiet as he moved the folded newspaper to the bedstand. "The cave paintings. Leave it to you to go hunting for faeces, and find some Neolithic art."
"Not cave men," Nate told him earnestly.
"What do you know about it?" Aje retorted sarcastically, then remembered where they were, and Nate's diminished condition. "What do you know about it?" he asked again, but this time, in a whisper.
"Vikings," Nate told him, his eyes becoming distant. "Norsemen."
"And my ass is brass," Aje scoffed. "Speaking of which, my ass is going to be canned if it doesn't get a move on." He was about to head out the door when he stopped. "Brand and I must've climbed forty mountains searching for your worthless hide. So don't do anything today to wreck it," he warned. He sounded slightly choked.
Nate forced open his eyes, and grinned weakly. "No way."
"And - don't let this go to your head - but it's damn good to have you back." Aje was smiling as he went out the door.
*
Brandon was going in, just as an orderly came tearing out of Nate's room.
The man's obvious panic made his stomach sink. "What's wrong?" Brandon asked. Something in the guy's reaction didn't sit right. He was definitely distressed - but there was something else there, too.
Revulsion.
"Rats," he gasped, pushing Brandon aside.
Wuss. Brandon shook his head in disgust, then pushed open the door.
And froze when he saw the company Nate was keeping. "Holy shit!" he whispered.
Nate's bed was littered with furry brown bodies. There were a few restless newcomers scurrying across the floor, but the rest were curled up on the bed, in a kind of soporific disarray. One fat sewer rat had so forgotten himself as to lie on his back, mouth hanging open.
Brandon had never seen anything like it.
And I never want to again.
His eyes went to Nate's face, but he appeared to be sleeping, as peacefully as the rats. Sleeping or passed out. Brandon didn't have to wonder which it would be if it were him.
I hate rats…
A few of the smaller ones had crawled onto Nate's chest. Brandon wondered if any had found their way under the covers.
They might be chewing on him, even now.
Jesus Christ!
Brandon couldn't control his shudder.
Bubonic plague. Rabies. Vermin. Brand's lips curled back in disgust. What kind of hospital is this? How could they let this happen?
"Nate!" he whispered, wondering if it was the safest move.
Maybe the rats won't want to go, Brandon. Maybe they're perfectly happy clinging to that cushy bed.
"Nate!"
The giant sewer rat twitched. Brandon took a wary step back, and rested his hand on his gun. Some of these fuckers were mean. If it went for Nate's eyes - or any other vital bit - he'd let the ugly fucker have it.
That's right, Weisner. Shoot off a few rounds in the hospital. I'm sure the captain won't mind…
Brandon stood there blankly - the only weapon he had that could safely deal with that ugly rat was the only one he couldn't use.
It took him a moment longer to make up his mind. Open the windows and go for broke. If he didn't, he'd lose his nerve. He could picture himself jumping around on a chair while rats and mice seethed around his feet. No good to anyone.
Brandon tightened his jaw and grabbed a newspaper off the table. Determined now, he rolled it up.
This is pitiful, he thought, looking a little desperately from his pathetic weapon to the fat piece of vermin lying near Nate's feet. There were a couple of others, too, that were nearly the same size. Somehow, though, Brand was sure the fat one was gunning for him.
It had this look…
He gulped. Its eyes were open. Staring right at him. Showdown time.
"Two things wrong with this scenario, Weisner," he muttered in a soothing monotone. He even smiled, so the damned rat would get only good vibes. "One, your 'weapon' would barely flatten a housefly. Two, it means you have to get close enough to beat on the damned thing." He gave the rat a particularly sweet smile. "Of course, you could always smash it with the chair. Nate might object to that, though…" Brand moved closer; trying to shift sinuously like a snake, in hopes of mesmerising his victim. "When I get to you," he warned it cheerfully, "I'm gonna bash you off the bed, then crunch you with my boot…"
At that moment, Nate woke up.
*
"How did he take it?"
"How do you think? How would you take it, if you found yourself buried under a tonne of stinking rats?!" Brandon smirked as he recalled the scene. "Nate started yelling and kicking - rats and mice flying everywhere." He chuckled. "One of 'em ran up my pant leg, and I couldn't get it out. I was hopping around and shaking my leg, until - wouldn't you know it? - I hopped right onto the big one." Brandon shook his head. "I'll never forget that squeal till the day I die."
Aje snorted with laughter. "What was Nate doing?"
Brandon grinned. "Going nuts. He kept shouting, and chucking things. Here I was, trying to shake the mouse out of my pants, and all this stuff flying my way. I didn't mind his pillow and cup, but he got me with the water pitcher. The last thing to go was his IV."
"Where'd the rats go?"
"I opened the windows," Brandon admitted.
"Three storeys?" Aje asked. He wasn't exactly a rat lover, but he looked slightly shocked. "Anybody get 'rained' on?"
Brandon looked a little sheepish. "Rita," he admitted.
Aje looked blank.
"My girlfriend. She was coming to meet me for lunch when 'the skies opened'."
Aje's lips twitched. "Does she know it was you?" he asked seriously.
"Could be," Brand said dryly. "My yells of 'take that, you fucker!' just might've given me away."
"A little thing like that." Aje was trying to stifle his laughter. "You'd think she'd be more understanding." Brandon was silent, so Aje added, with mock seriousness, "I know you don't give a rat's ass for my opinion -"
"Shut up, Aje," Brandon said.
*
"Get 'em off me!"
Clawed feet and fanged teeth. They were crawling all over him - trying to squirm in, under the sheets - wanting to slice and bite his skin on their way to gnawing off his toes. Nate lashed out in a panic, and somebody grabbed his arms.
"Relax, Dipshit! They're gone!"
Aje. Nate stopped thrashing, but it wasn't so easy to rid himself of the nightmare. He lay there, panting slightly; unaware that he was trembling. "Just a dream," he muttered. "Sorry."
"Yep," Aje said in a voice that was just mocking enough to be soothing, "you owe it all to Brando. He's giving up police work to go into rat wrestling."
"Half the time that's what I'm doing anyway. Only, the rats are a lot bigger." Brandon grinned and relaxed his grip on Nate's other wrist. He lowered the arm with the IV back onto the bed. "Thought they were gonna have to redo it again."
"Sorry," Nate muttered. "Caught a whiff of Morton, and thought it was rat."
"Everyone disparages my character -"
"It wasn't your character I was disparaging."
Aje smirked. "That means so much coming from a man who plays with faeces."
Brandon grinned. "Did you do any damage this afternoon?"
"Not as much as you did." Nate grinned. "That room was a mess."
"I meant to yoursel-"
He was interrupted by a knock. Nate's co-workers had arrived.
More well-wishers arrived moments later, as Nate's friends and neighbours descended en masse.
"They shouldn't let so many people in," Aje complained. "He looks wiped."
"If they decide to de-select people, I'll remind them to start with you," Brandon whispered.
"And I'll remind them the rats arrived about the same time you did." Just then Nate's obese supervisor stepped crunchingly onto Aje's foot.
"Oh - sorry." The man shifted out of Aje's way.
Aje grinned his okay, but Brand noticed he was limping a little as he moved over against the wall. "Anything about this remind you of this afternoon?" Aje whispered jokingly. "Want me to open any windows?" Aje waited for Brandon's response. At his continued silence, Aje told him, "In that case, I'll just use the door."
Brandon would never tell Aje, but his own thoughts were running in a similar direction. Something about all the people crowded around Nate's bed did remind him of the rats.
A magnetic personality.
For just a second, he wondered whether he and Aje were just two more rats in the pack.
No way, Weisner, he decided, remembering with amusement the fat rat, lying there in open-mouthed slumber.
And I'd be damned if I'd ever consider curling up on his bed…
Brandon gave an involuntary snort of amusement, that made Nate's boss look at him strangely.
Probably thinks I'm telling "fat-man-on-foot" jokes.
Brandon decided to go before any more unfortunate comparisons sprang to mind. Still grinning, he waved to Nate, and followed Aje out the door.
***
Chapter Two
No!
Bubbles of thick, gurgly sound streamed by her, racing to the incredibly distant surface. A surface that shivered and shook in the moon's reflective wash.
Then it was all kicking and clawing, as Delgado fought to get past her - to use her as one more piece of leverage in the fight for his life.
My life! She was trying to help - to haul him towards the surface. But he was too gone on coke dust and water. He was choking, and she didn't think he knew any longer which way was up.
"Let me go!" She bellowed the words, in a blast of bubbles.
He was still screaming - or maybe it was her. He had her by the hair, and he wouldn't let her go. A death lock, that even death wouldn't break.
She punched him, but it was no use. She could see it in his eyes. Those wide-open staring eyes that mocked her.
You're next…
She twisted and jerked, but he had her tangled. Panicking, desperate, she kicked at him, and clawed at his outstretched arm - the one that had her trapped. She tried to yank away - better bald than dead - but there was nothing to push against but his lifeless form - and he co-operated with justice as little in death as he had in life.
Through squinted eyes, she caught a glimpse of those ascending bubbles - taking her life with them.
"No!" she screamed again. Casavas was up there. He'll come… Fury filled her at the futility of it all.
"Jim!" she screamed, willing him to hear. He was her partner. Her back-up.
He'll be here…
As the last of the air bubbles left her throat, she closed her eyes against the encroaching darkness.
It was the only way to separate the water from her tears.
*
Someone's knocking.
Bump. Bump-bump. "Come in," Nate said drowsily.
Only, the damn fool wouldn't enter. He just kept pounding on the door.
Can't he figure it out?
"Come in!" he repeated.
Did I lock it?
He couldn't remember locking it. But then, he couldn't remember much of anything at the moment. His brain felt as numb as his body.
He's not gonna stop till I answer the door. Nate sat up, and rubbed his eyes.
And remembered where he was. It was the first time he'd awakened in the dark, since those terrifying moments in the gully.
I didn't think it was real. And what could be ignored or discounted in daylight, took on a terrifying intensity at night. His room was aglow with a weirdly fluxing radiance.
It had taken forever and some painkillers to get him to sleep. He body was still set on "slumber", and he wished he'd stayed there.
To pretend this is all some nasty dream…
It might have been possible if it hadn't been for the knocking. Nate flopped back, and gawked, with a kind of dulled wonder, at the brightest object in the room.
Only, it's not in the room, he realised. It was right outside it. The glimmering intensity of its fretful flight sent little ricochets of light flickering through the air.
It was a bat. A big one. Beating itself against the glass.
Beating itself to death.
It was so vibrant - so alive with its flapping wings and shimmery light... He flinched at the thought of it battered and broken on the ground. Like me.
Yawning loudly, he shook his head to clear it, and threw back the covers.
There must be something I can do...
Nate limped heavily along the wall, grateful for the painkillers that kept him numb. There was a dull ache in his gut, and a matching one in his leg, but nothing he couldn't handle. He stumbled cautiously toward the window.
The bat was drenched in its white-orange light. Every time it thumped the glass, the rostrum would flicker a dense red. The vibrant light would dissipate down the body, until it disappeared.
Pain? Nate looked down, and was only moderately surprised to see a similar colour ensheathing his left leg. Pain, he verified, nodding stupidly.
That moment of shared suffering did it. Nate opened the window as far as the latch would allow.
"Go," he urged, reaching out his hand to the poor beast. His anxiety had been replaced by an almost desperate sadness. This reminded him of the rodents that had invaded his room.
Not their fault, he suddenly knew.
Then whose?
Suddenly, he was desperate for the bat to go. He swung his hand a little wildly, inadvertently slapping one wing. Not leathery. It was neither coarse nor leathery.
More like the webbing on a duck's foot.
What bothered him most was the reddish cast along the creature's wing - pain he'd inflicted.
It was a lot easier when I was oblivious…
Stop it! The drug's doing your thinking for you, Moron.
A flicker of anger stirred.
"Go!" he said again. This time, as he touched the bat, a spark jumped from his fingers. The bat jolted and dipped, then lost its lift and plummeted towards the ground.
What have I done? Horrified, he watched the bat's bright trail as it tumbled downward.
"Fly!" he yelled.
The bat fell, landing with a crackling of branches in a stiff-branched Abelia bush. An Abelia that - to Nate's eyes - also glowed in luminescent glory against the backdrop of night.
Murderer.
He watched for a few seconds - hoping to see the bat's bright energies lifting skyward. Nothing.
He had his hand on the call bell before he realised how stupidly he was acting.
What're you gonna tell her, Nate? "Could you run downstairs for me, and check on my bat?" The hospital was already buzzing over the rat incident. One more rodent escapade, and they'd be ready to lock him up.
In the shrub, there was a flicker of shifting light.
It's alive. Nate watched, but other than a few odd flickers, nothing came of it.
It's stuck.
And so am I - in this room.
Not necessarily. Not like the bat.
A quick trip down in the elevator, a rummage in the bushes, then a quick trip back up. No one would be the wiser.
Except me. Next time I'll be wise enough to look and not touch…
Nate rummaged in the closet, and out of frustration, opted for the robe. "Leave it to Aje," he muttered. It was a garment which would have done a pimp proud. All red satin, with gold embroidery.
"Impress your guests," Aje had said. He'd burst out laughing, and Brandon had made a hasty exit, which meant he'd been in on it, too. Now, Nate looked at it, and wondered how the hell he was going to be discreet.
Your mind's gone, Leighton, to be doing this at all.
But, then, there was the bat. Abelia was one of those shrubs with branches going every which way. Scratchy, sometimes brittle.
No way to spread those wings...
Nate remembered the way they'd felt - and how the radiance of that flapping, furry body had filtered through the glass, to brighten his room. He couldn't just lie here, and pretend it hadn't happened.
Nate grabbed the crutches and slipped his arms through the supports with a trace of excitement. As a youngster, he'd envied all those broken kids who got to hop around with crutches. It always looked like such a great game. And, of course, in those days, anything anyone else had always seemed like more fun that what you had yourself.
Kids! he thought, grinning foolishly. He yawned, then realised he'd lost track of things again. Damned drugs.
Focus, Nate. Time to try these babies out. Gripping the crutch grips tightly, he gave an experimental hobble.
Not too bad, he decided, swinging the cast high in his enthusiasm.
Too high. He was surprised to find himself sitting on the bed.
Oops. Not a good exercise when you're operating "under the influence". Nate snorted with suppressed laughter.
Be discreet, you fool.
Crutch-Man to the rescue. He did another practice hobble toward his door. Not too bad at all. Grinning, Nate peeked out, into the hall, then disappeared cautiously through the door.
*
"Fuckin' hell!" He'd been battling it out with Delgado's hired hands. And now Chaz was missing…
Jim Casavas wrapped his fist in a cloth to stop the bleeding, as he raced along the dock. It was the last place she'd been, and she, like he, had been fighting for her life. Now, there was no sign of her.
A boat. There must've been a boat. No one was crazy enough to corner himself on a dock, with no exit except through your enemy.
No one could be that stupid -
Or want to take out his enemies that much…
Delgado could. Because they'd busted him and destroyed his operation.
And because he was too far gone on his own product to care…
No!
Jim didn't want to believe it. He looked out across the water, desperate for some sign of a getaway.
At that moment, several air bubbles sifted to the surface.
Oh Jesus fuckin' Christ…
Jim hit the button on his phone that would bring Hollebeck running, and tossed it onto the dock. Then, with dread weighing heavily in his gut, he jumped off, into the water.
*
By the time he'd reached the exit, he'd remembered the other thing about crutches - they were damned painful on your arms. They could also make you damn tired. He'd managed to avoid the orderly in the hall, and the two nurses at the nurses' station, but now he almost wished he'd run into someone. Someone who could have advised him on a more sensible course of action, like returning to his bed. The vision of the bat's finer points was fading fast.
Nate leaned against the building, and searched for the guilty shrub. Any awe he'd felt for the glowing leaves, or the weird colours the night had taken on, was long gone. It had never occurred to him he'd have trouble telling one shrub from another. The problem was, the landscaper had made his shrub-of-choice Abelia. The darned stuff was everywhere.
Very picturesque, I'm sure, Nate thought tiredly.
It would have helped if he could locate his window. The truth was, he couldn't even remember what floor his bed was on - or what room. Everyone who'd come to visit him had known where he was, so he hadn't bothered to think about it. And this was the first time he'd been up since he'd arrived.
And the last for a while, he vowed. If I make it back to bed, I'm not moving for a week.
The shrub to his right gave a suspicious wriggle, and Nate pounced. He bent and broke and pawed at branches - until he realised he'd never even thought about rabies or plague or anything else the bat might be carrying. That's what you get for letting them dope you up - then acting like a dope…
He'd left his hesitation till too late. The bat came crawling out - walking forward on those bent wings that acted like legs. Nate could see it clearly in its haloed light - right down to the blindly beady eyes, squashed snout, and vicious mouth. In the eerie glow, it looked far from the elegant creature that had fluttered outside the glass. It looked much more like a squat gargoyle, with evil on its mind. It scuttled forward, and Nate let the bushes go with a horrific twang.
Which made the bat sproing outward - right into Nate's horrified face. Nate flopped over backwards - feeling the crunch in his leg and gut as he went. Moments ago he'd come close to feeling no pain. Now it seemed like his world was full of it.
The bat reacted to his agitation. It clawed and scratched and danced its devil dance on his face and hair, all the while making these high-pitched squeaky-squawks and gyrating around on those stiff, flappy armwings. The bat-stench was unbelievable, and Nate began to gag - at the same time fighting not to open his mouth.
It'll blind me!
It'll bite me!
In a panic, Nate ripped the bat off his face. It turned on him, squirming to get at his hand. Howling now, he flung it skyward.
After that, he couldn't do anything. He was gone. Used up. Spent. Flopped where he lay.
And praying like hell it wouldn't topple anywhere near him.
Something swooped past his head, coming in low - a glowing gargoyle straight from Hades.
It was the last thing he remembered for a while.
*
Duncan Hollebeck stood on the dock and looked out at the water. All he could see in the wavery chop was the eerie reflection of the half moon. He felt a brief spasm of pity for Casavas, and how it must have been for him. Finding her had been a mission in itself.
I failed her. Hollebeck had known how quickly this one could turn bad, and he should have shortened the time frame. Casavas would hold it against him forever, but not nearly as much as Hollebeck would hold it against himself.
Live and learn. Only, Chaz Ransford would never have the chance to learn more. Hollebeck didn't want his lessons to come at the cost of his operatives' lives.
He'd read it wrong, opting for clandestine, even when it forfeited security. I should have taken the chance on wiring them both.
I backed her up - but not till she had her back to the wall. Not until they'd had to fish her out of the water.
Then there'd been twenty minutes of CPR - a useless gesture, because they knew she was already gone. The farce had continued as they'd loaded her onto the helicopter. It was an act of respect, but more than that, it was a necessary illusion - to convince Casavas and the others that Duncan Hollebeck had done everything in his power to offer her his support. Without the power of the illusion, he would have forfeited the power of his command.
However strong the illusion, Hollebeck knew it would never have the strength to conceal his shortcomings - from himself.
*
Nate opened his eyes and saw it, far in the distance. It was coming for him - its glow flickering uncertainly in the roar of its arrival.
Not the bat. He lowered the arm that had been shielding his face, and blinked to clear his vision. It was a helicopter, and it was about to land.
A helipad. They must have a helipad. He just hoped it wasn't anywhere near him. He latched onto the Abelia, and tried to pull himself to his feet.
The next moment, he was sitting in the Abelia, much as the bat had a short time before. Only, he didn't fit nearly as well as the bat. Spent, he perched there and waited for the helicopter traffic to hustle by.
This could be really embarrassing, he thought, discouraged. His room was seeming further away all the time.
There was someone on the stretcher. He froze, watching with his newly heightened perspective.
It was a woman. She was drenched - and to his eyes, her skin wore a glaze of blue marble. Near her heart, her head, though, some sparkles of light lingered.
"She's gone…"
Nate heard the words, and stiffened. It was too close to the time when he'd been the one on that stretcher.
He looked regretfully at the red glow that was now ensheathing his leg. He realised what a fool he'd been, to take a chance like this - to take his survival so lightly.
I'm sure she'd think so. His eyes went to the woman's still figure once more.
And was stunned to find a heated yellow glow surrounding her - a response to the man's words.
She heard him, Nate realised, shocked. She's angry, because they're ready to give up on her, before she's ready to die… The thought filled him with a grim horror.
Almost involuntarily, he put out his hand in her direction, and a stray glint of her light - of that pulsingly heated glow surrounding her - passed into his skin. He gasped at the sensation - at the tingle of warm energy running up his arm.
"She's gone." They were wrong, but they were going to call it, as soon as they got her inside. It shocked him, in some fundamental way, to realise that they really didn't know. Didn't know she was still here. Didn't know they hadn't lost her after all.
They still had a chance, if only they'd take it.
They were moving swiftly now, away from him. Anxious to get this done; eager to get past their failure. Too swiftly for him, but too slowly if they were going to save her. Not the way they would have moved if they'd thought she stood a chance.
But there wouldn't be any more attempts at saving.
Buried alive.
And, by the time her coffin was lowered into the ground, it really would be too late.
Nate clawed his way out of the shrubbery, yanked up his crutches, and hobble-hopped after them into the building.
*
"I'll call it." Adam Saracen looked at the clock, then at the still figure on the table. Some kind of cop, they'd said. He tried not to react - not to let the pity in. Keep it light. No sense in bemoaning what you can't change.
Think of the ones you've saved.
"Time of death -"
A man pushed - no, almost fell - through the swinging door. Kate Morgan was arguing with him. "You can't go in there! If you want to see the doctor -"
Dan Yergano, from Security, latched onto the intruder's red robe. At that, the man on crutches nearly lost his balance. He started to topple forward, and Dan let go - undoubtedly seeing visions of lawsuits dancing through his head.
"Problems?" Adam asked.
Jude Lawson caught the man's arm and steadied him. "He's got a bracelet," she said.
Adam nodded. The garish garb had thrown him off. This was the one who'd been brought in the other night. The one who'd toppled off a mountain. "Shouldn't he be upstairs?"
Kate shrugged. "I'll ring up to three."
"Let me take a look at him first," Adam told her with some asperity.
He caught the warning glint in her eye. He was letting his impatience show - and his intolerance for fools who were patched up, then proceeded to damage themselves again in a repeat performance of their stupidity.
So, Adam made an effort. He squared his shoulders and pasted on a polite smile. "What's your name?" Adam asked Mr. Red Robe.
Red Robe didn't seem to hear him.
Jude looked at the bracelet. "Leighton, Hubert N."
"Mr. Leighton?" No response. Adam turned to Jude. "Check on his meds. Could be some kind of reaction."
"They didn't even know he'd left," Kate said, putting down the phone. "Ben's coming down."
*
Nate wasn't listening - no, the truth was, he could no longer hear what they were saying. His eyes were focused on the drenched figure lying on the table. The radiant lights surrounding her were pulsing dimly now. Something stirred inside him, and at first he thought that it was pity, or horror, or even some remnant of the tingling buzz which had entered his skin in that moment of contact.
Then he was afraid, because he suspected it was something else.
He wanted to turn away then, before it could happen. The sensation building in his chest was familiar. It was a heat, that turned his limbs to ice. Molten, and roiling - almost alive. He'd been afraid, all his life. Afraid that it would build like this - and somehow get away.
The worst part of it was that it somehow belonged to his past. To the blasts of static electricity that sent him scurrying under the bed.
Only, this time, I'm not gonna be able to run and hide.
Because it's not coming from the sky...
He stood there, leaning on his crutches, and unaware that he was wobbling. His balance was the traitor, and he had to shift his feet in order to stop from toppling. In that instant, he heard a crackle of static.
*
The man was oblivious to their chatter, and Adam's eyes met Jude's. "Mr. Leighton?" he tried again.
Then, he noticed where Leighton was looking - at the dead woman. "Cover her up," Adam ordered. The man was suffering from shock, all right, but he'd misjudged the cause. And the fool's gawking irritated the hell out of him. "Let's get him out of here," he said abruptly.
At that, Jude fluffed around - did everything, in fact, but cluck disapprovingly.
Adam's annoyance faded. "But first, we'll put Mr. Leighton in two, and make sure everything's okay before we send him on his way."
*
That crackle of static terrified him - as though it were telling him more than he'd ever wanted to know.
Go! Now! While you can…
In that instant, he was tempted. Tempted to walk away before they knew what he was seeing - before he could act on his vision.
Before he'd be forced to admit what some part of him already knew: that something about him - some innate part of him - had changed.
Nobody walked out on you, Nate. When you fell off that mountain, they kept looking, until they found you.
And when the helicopter failed, they still brought you out.
Those glints brightening her heart, her brain, were drifting. The white blanket enfolding her body was rapidly becoming a shroud.
Bring her back, Nate…
He gulped, and a sensation like heartburn ate at his chest.
He had the sensation of being burned alive. From the inside out.
*
The lights flickered.
"Not again," Adam said. All eyes followed his - to gaze at the ceiling.
*
Nate moved. He shoved the doctor to one side, and launched himself at the table. In his efforts to offset the cast, he overshot his mark. He landed right on top of the dying woman, and sent the gurney rolling across the floor.
It was obscene. Appalling. And it was obvious the doctor felt the same way. His "What the hell!" reverberated through the room. And twanged the tension in Nate's already-overwrought nerves.
The trigger for the cataclysm.
Stop! Nate clung to the table - curling up in a ball; fighting the hot wires screaming through his middle. He was being burned in a thousand places…
And now all he could hear was a crackling rush of sound - white noise with a signature.
The hush before a strike. Every hair on his body was dancing…
Run!
The white hot wires singed his heart - his lungs - any more and he'd self-immolate…or explode…
And all he could see were those damned lights, jiggling and dancing everywhere he looked.
"Don't touch me!" he screamed. Don't take them with you.
Just her…
Nate pulled her chilly flesh against his own - knowing a momentary relief at that instant of cold - and let the explosion come.
*
The lights flickered, buzzed and went out. One of the bulbs blew out of its socket, but nobody noticed.
Blue arcs of light warred with white lightning bolts across the ceiling and floor of the emergency room. The man, Leighton, was screaming - a hoarse cry of agony that got shriller as the arcing went on - and on.
Electrocution. Adam tried to tell himself that's what he was seeing. Somehow, an unseen source in the floor had been tapped, and the wetness of the women's clothing was acting as a conduit.
He also told himself he should be finding some way to cut the power - to push the bodies out of reach - to prep the crash cart - but he couldn't seem to move. Those white and blue arcs held him and his co-workers as tightly bound as Leighton's arms did the dead woman.
The room was filling with misty smoke. Adam heard the drone of Dan's voice in the background, as he rang the fire department.
It was Jude who first saw the "smoke" for what it was - the humidity being generated by the moisture rising off the woman's clothing. It was enough to make Adam sure that what he saw next must be a mistake - had to be a mistake. For, as the last of the crackling died from the air, the woman in Leighton's arms opened her eyes.
Adam nearly lost it then. Gooseflesh danced down his arms and legs, and he gave an involuntary shiver.
Not dead. All he'd ever read as a kid about zombies and voodoo came back to haunt him. In that moment of time, he was no longer a doctor - and he was as horror-stricken as any of his co-workers.
Until she began to cough, and was, once again, simply another human being. She shivered and gagged, then vomited water, across the floor. Across Leighton, who still held her loosely in his arms.
Across that improbable red robe and its even more improbable owner. Adam had this weird feeling he was in some other reality, characterised by garishly bright red brocade garments, resurrected bodies, and people who could shoot lightning bolts out of their fingers.
If it weren't for the stench of singed hair…
The woman coughed again, then wheezed, sucking in big deep breaths of steamy air - air that had risen from her own dead body.
The lights came back on in Emergency, but Leighton was as oblivious as he'd been before.
No, Adam thought. That's wrong. The man turned to look at him, pain and despair in his gaze. Horror, at realising what he'd done.
Adam recognised the look. He'd seen it in his own face, the first time he'd messed up a diagnosis. The man was as terrified of himself, as he was of other people finding out.
Adam realised he'd come to some conclusion about Leighton - and about what he'd just witnessed. It was no bare wire, or electrical short…
Leighton wanted to leave now - was desperate to leave. He pushed himself up, off the gurney. Off the woman who was still silent and damp.
Only, the man had no strength left. It was as though he'd tapped his inner reserves, and had left nothing for himself. Adam got the impression Leighton was fading, right before his eyes.
Adam's still-stunned, and inanely inadequate "Are you all right?" was met by that frightened stare, until the man's eyes lost focus and he sagged against the gurney. Until he accidentally touched the woman's hand, and jerked his own away.
Almost like someone afraid of getting burned.
It was the last gesture he was to make that night. As Adam watched, Leighton sighed, then toppled over onto the floor.
*
"Take it." The phone's blipping sounded unnaturally loud, now that the last helicopter had left.
Ian Termill nodded. Duncan Hollebeck was in no mood to be diplomatic, and he knew better than to argue.
Ian listened for a moment, then promptly dropped the phone. When he picked it up again, he was looking a little stunned. He held out the phone to Hollebeck.
"What is it?" Duncan asked coldly. At the same time, his stomach sank. Another emergency. His own failure was too close for him to interpret Termill's actions in any other way.
"It has to do with Chaz -"
At the mention of her name, Hollebeck felt a qualm he had trouble concealing. The last thing he needed now was information on some needless suffering - some useless input into how she'd died.
There'll be plenty of time for that - too much.
Hollebeck's expression hardened. "Keep it brief."
Ian Termill sighed, then gave what may have been a smile.
Hollebeck could have pounded him.
Until he heard the man's next words. "Chaz is alive, Duncan - and she's asking for you."
*
"Brandon? It's Angela."
Nate's mom.
"Do you need a ride back to the hospital?"
"It's not that, Brand," she admitted. She was hesitant; reluctant to talk.
Not like Nate's mom. Usually, she yakked his ear off.
"What's up?" he pushed.
"There were some people here asking questions - about Nate." She paused. "I didn't tell them much."
"Didn't tell them much." Brandon's police instincts took over. "About Nate?" What was there to tell? "What kind of questions?"
"There was an incident at the hospital last night. Did you know he's back in ICU?"
"No," Brandon said, concerned. "I saw him yesterday. He was doing great."
"Brand, are you and Nate still pretty close?"
Brandon smiled at her choice of words. He was just glad Aje wasn't here, to twist them. "We're friends, yes, if that's what you're worried about."
"Nate's never going to forgive me for this," she said worriedly. "But it's for his own good - and his safety."
Shit! What the hell was the dung-lover into? Brandon's mind jumped to drugs, theft, larceny. He catalogued Nate's minimal belongings. If he was living a life of crime, he sure as hell wasn't benefiting much from it.
Therefore, whatever it is, it can't be too bad.
She's exaggerating again. Dramatics. One of the reasons Nate had moved so far away.
Maybe not the only reason, Brandon's logic supplied.
Shut up, he told it.
"I'll come to your hotel," Brandon offered.
"Not the room," Angela said quickly.
Too quickly.
Brandon frowned. What'd she think? They'd have it bugged or something? "I'll meet you in the restaurant," he said. Unable to resist, he jokingly added, "I'll take a cab, just to make sure I'm not followed."
"Make it the restaurant near the hospital," she told him. "And it might be better if you switched cabs halfway there. Eleven sound okay?"
His job had been eating at him lately. It was getting harder all the time to believe that the pimps, the pushers, the gangs, the thieves and the murderers were in the minority. That the majority of people didn't have any urge to beat their neighbours to death, or club their wives. That most people wouldn't cheat or steal, pound on their children, or vandalise other people's property, if given the opportunity.
Brandon had a sudden urge to hang up the phone. If one of his friends was involved in something "shady", he'd prefer blissful ignorance to guilty deceit. He'd learned a lot about flexibility since he'd started this job. If the rules needed to be bent a bit, he'd prefer it to be painless - so he wouldn't have to live with either the stress of deceit, or the discomfort of guilt. It was the only way he could reconcile his job with his life. And there was enough of him in both things to make the reconciliation necessary. It didn't sound like the reconciliation, when it came to Nate, was going to be an easy one. He had an uncomfortable feeling that after today, his and Nate's friendship would never be the same.
"Brandon?"
Angela. Worried about her son, and what he was into. Worried about protecting him. Brandon felt weighed down - and nearly as bad as he had when Nate was lying in that gully.
He sighed. "Eleven will be fine," he said.
*
Not only Nate's safety. Aje's.
In the four hours since Brandon had seen Angela, he hadn't done anything constructive. Instead, he'd gone back to the mountains, and sat for a while, trying to imagine what it must be like to be struck by lightning. Then he'd driven to Nate's house, and checked out the cars assembled there. They were undoubtedly searching the premises, and Brand was tempted to storm in there and demand to see a search warrant. He would have, too, if he hadn't already known how little there was for them to find.
I wonder what they'll make of his dung collection?
Brandon had smiled at that one, and he realised things might not be as grim as they seemed. It was all a matter of coming to terms with these new aspects of Nate's personality. Nate had been living a lie for years. Either that, or he was in some weird form of denial.
Brand idly noted a few of the licence plate numbers on the otherwise unmarked cars, knowing it wouldn't do him much good. He was angry at Nate for hiding his handicap, if that's what it could be called, but maybe Nate didn't see it as such.
Yes, he does. How could he not? The amount of innovation it would take to get through even a single day at work was mind-boggling. What bothered Brandon the most was the lying Nate had done.
Lying by omission. Omitting to tell his best friends about his problem. Endangering them rather than admitting the truth.
Well, Brandon'd be damned if he'd be guilty of the same kind of omission when it came to Aje. Adrian Morton deserved to know what was going on, if only to protect himself. Brand picked up the phone, and punched in Aje's number.
***
Chapter Three
"You look good."
She looked lousy, but Jim knew better than to tell her so. She was white and her eyes were watery from coughing. The dark circles underneath didn't help much, either.
Still, it beat the blue colour she'd been when he'd pulled her out of the water. Or that dead white he'd seen outside the emergency room.
"Feeling great," she croaked.
Jim pushed the chair forward with his foot, then plopped into it. "Donna's gonna come see you tomorrow. She would've come tonight, but Kirsten's got the sniffles."
Chaz blew her nose loudly. "I can sympathise."
Jim grinned. "'Better out than in'. Want a bucket? Maybe a big towel to hang under your chin?"
"You're disgusting. Thank God Donna doesn't know what you're really like."
"Oh, she knows." He booted the bed. "Says she pities you, and that I'm only allowed to 'inflict my company on you for fifteen minutes at a time'."
"She does know you," Chaz said tiredly.
Jim noticed. "My fifteen minutes're up. I'll report to Hollebeck that you're feisty, but unfit."
She frowned. "Are you serious?"
"About the reporting? No." He grinned. "But maybe if I file one I'll get paid for that gagworthy meal I just ate."
"Get out, Casavas." She smiled. "Tell Donna I can't wait to see her - but to leave you at home." She added with a grin, "It always amazes me how a woman with so much taste found someone as tasteless as you."
"Hey, I'm not the only one who knows how to pick 'em. Hollebeck's checking out your two-legged defibrillator."
She sat up abruptly, which started her coughing. She finally managed to choke out, "What?"
Jim pushed her back against the pillows. He'd been wondering how to bring it up. She needed to hear what had happened - and it was better coming from him. He sat down again. "Do you remember much?"
Her eyes darkened. "Delgado's face. Air bubbles streaming past my head." Tears welled up in her eyes, and gooseflesh danced on her skin.
Casavas saw, and put a hand on her arm. "You were dead, Chaz. I could've sworn…" He sounded choked, and he gave her arm a squeeze. "I couldn't find you at first - then, when I did -"
She laid a hand over his, in an effort to reassure him. "I don't remember any of it."
"We - they - did CPR for twenty minutes, Chaz, before the helicopter got there. I rode back with you, so they could treat my hand."
She knew it wasn't the only reason. He was her partner, and he'd gone with her as a mark of respect.
The way I would have if he'd been the one to die…
Dead. Her limbs went icy, and her heart started pounding. "Jim -"
He looked at her - at the pasty lips and the white face. "Fuck it!" he said, pushing the bell for the nurse. "Sorry, Chaz," he muttered, fussing around. He tossed another blanket over her, then took off his jacket and plunked it onto her feet. "Sorry I said anything…"
She didn't remember him leaving, but he must have hung around outside, because she was almost asleep when he came back in. "I'm sorry -" he began again.
"Tell me about - my 'two-legged defibrillator'."
"Word is, he shot off lightning bolts all over the ER."
She thought he was kidding. "Lightning bolts?"
"Arcs or bolts, or whatever they're called. He dove on top of you -" he chuckled at her expression, "- then proceeded to fry both your brains out. A real 'shocker', I heard. Whatever he did, it woke you up."
She lay there for a moment, staring at the wall but not really seeing it. "He was in a red robe."
"Yep. Bright red and dressed for action. Only action he got, though, was taking up where you'd left off. They managed to resuscitate him, but everything else they've done has backfired."
"Is Hollebeck going to drop it?"
Jim shrugged. "Maybe. Depends on what he finds out."
"I owe him."
"Hollebeck?" Jim grinned.
"Very funny."
"You don't owe him any 'action', if that's what you mean." Jim snickered.
"Tell Donna I pity her. Get out, Casavas."
"Gone." As he reached the door, he turned back. "By the way, I'm with you, Chaz - on the Leighton issue."
She looked at him blankly.
"The guy in the red robe." He hesitated, not wanting to upset her again. "Without his little energy blast, all that hot air I gave you would've been wasted. I owe him, too."
She smiled. "Jim - thanks. For everything."
"My pleasure," he told her lasciviously, wiggling his eyebrows. Then, grinning widely, he waved and went out the door.
*
Brandon took a generous swig, cleared his throat, then told Aje, "I had a talk with Angela."
Aje looked at him pityingly. "A lo-o-ng talk, I'll bet."
"Long enough." How do I say this? It was one thing deciding to spill Nate's guts, and another doing it. Maybe I should have told Aje over the phone.
He would never have believed me.
"He's been hit before," Brandon blurted.
Aje looked at him blankly.
Brandon frowned. "By lightning."
"Talk about your world's records," Aje joked.
"Anyway, I was talking with his mom -" Jeez, this is hard, Brandon thought.
"You two've been getting pretty chummy since you played 'rat droppings' with Rita," Adrian commented. "People are beginning to talk."
Brandon looked at him dourly. "No people worth listening to."
"Go on. You were about to tell me how you've been nosing around in Nate's business."
"There're some things you should know."
"The biggest one being why one of his 'friends' is prying. Second one is why you're narcing on him."
"I'm not telling anybody," Brand replied with some asperity.
"First, I'm not worth listening to. Then, I'm a nobody. You have no people skills."
"Shut up, Aje, and listen. Nate has real problems."
Aje sobered. "Not that I've noticed."
"Have you ever noticed he has no computer? Pretty weird for a scientist."
"Why should he? The labs must be full of 'em."
"No TV, no radio - that work, anyway. He's the only person I know without a microwave."
Aje was silent, but his expression was grim, his eyes narrowed.
"It's not because he's poor," Brandon went on. "He has plenty of money floating around."
"Checked into that, too, did we?" Aje retorted sarcastically.
"What about his lights? And the way they're always going out?"
"You said yourself it was a bad neighbourhood."
"But maybe not so bad for him…"
"How convoluted!" Aje's voice was dripping sarcasm. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"That Nate knows he's got a problem."
"If you mean he's scared of electricity or something, it may be a little weird, but it's not sick."
"I'm not talking phobias, Aje. Nate's problems are bigger than that."
"So, he's been struck by lightning twice. Wrong place, wrong time. Big deal." Adrian's face was flushed, his eyes angry. "Did you ever think your policeman's brain is making you read this all wrong? Maybe Nate's house's in one of those weird places where gravity or the magnetic field throws everything off -"
Brand looked at him shrewdly. "All I mentioned were the lights."
Aje frowned. "Is this the way you cops work? Picking apart everything anyone says?" He added, "No wonder they used to call detective-types 'dicks'."
Leave it to Aje. Brandon's smile flickered. "His mother said -"
"Now there's a reliable source!" Aje commented brightly. "So glad you questioned her." He lowered his voice. "Just to remind you - this is also the woman who named him Hubert."
"It's serious, Aje!" Brand told him impatiently. "It's not just the second time Nate's been struck by lightning."
It was Aje's turn to look impatient. "You said -"
"It's the ninth."
*
"So, give me your best explanation, Doctor."
Damn the man. Adam Saracen had suspected nobody would let the incident rest. Wasn't it enough for Hollebeck to know his agent was alive? Why did he have to pursue this into the ground?
Because he's wondering whether there's something about Leighton he or his department can use.
Or need to protect themselves against.
For the tenth time, Saracen wondered how fate could have tossed things this way. Why did Leighton have to "help" the one person on hospital grounds who could draw the most attention to something he desperately wanted to hide?
Adam was suddenly glad he wasn't working upstairs. He'd have had a difficult time controlling his curiosity where Leighton was concerned, or his resentment toward Ransford. He couldn't believe the woman's ingratitude. How could she dismiss what Leighton had done so lightly?
If it were me, I wouldn't tell anybody.
Just like he didn't intend to tell Hollebeck now. Adam was incredibly curious about the source of Leighton's energy, and he would have loved to discover whether it was internally generated, or more of a channelling exercise. But, there was no way he was going to follow up on it until Leighton was no longer the centre of attention.
The man had been in critical condition ever since he'd collapsed in the emergency room. He'd been so depleted that he'd gone into arrest, and they'd had to resuscitate him twice before they could move him. Once he was upstairs, they couldn't monitor him properly, because he kept throwing off the machines.
Something about his chemistry was wrong, and his electrolyte balance was way off. When they'd tried to bring it into normal levels, he'd almost expired once more. He'd been in and out of coma for the past ten hours.
His family was really worried, but silent. There'd been an unending stream of visitors to the ICU, and not one had mentioned anything weird. Adam was just glad there'd been no repetition of the rat-mouse incident. Everyone on staff knew about it, and he wondered when Hollebeck was going to hear.
"Simple case of electrocution," Adam said. "That's what's going on the record."
Hollebeck looked at him shrewdly. "What record? Apparently, until he was blown off a mountain, Hubert Leighton had never been to a doctor."
"No medical history?" Adam couldn't quite conceal his surprise. "No immunisations or 'well-child' checks?"
Hollebeck shook his head. "Not that we can find. Believe me, we've looked."
"What does his family say?"
"Just that he had all the 'normal' things done."
Adam considered it. Leighton's records could be really important right now in determining treatment. If they were going to stabilise him, it would help if they didn't have to rediscover the quirks in his physiology.
Hollebeck suspected the doctor was being deliberately evasive. What he couldn't understand was why - unless Saracen thought what had happened in the ER would reflect badly on him. The family was another matter: "silence unto death" may well have been their motto. That's what it was going to be, too, if Leighton didn't get the appropriate treatment soon.
Does it matter?
Leighton had, in some bizarre way, saved Chaz Ransford's life. Saracen might not be reporting it that way, but the two nurses and the security man were.
And I saw Chaz at the lake. In Hollebeck's mind, she'd been dead without question, and he and the rest of the team had already begun to mourn her. Now, she was back, and there was no "medical" solution for it. Only a man with an overdose of electricity at his fingertips - and who'd had no business downstairs, in the Emergency Room.
Leighton lived on the fringe. He had a modern occupation, but few of the modern conveniences. Jim Casavas had been appalled at the lack of TV or stereo, toaster or microwave in his home. No modern conveniences, and half the lights out of commission. Jim had even suggested that Leighton must actually live somewhere else, and that this was some extension to his "lab".
The dung collection had really thrown him. Jim had called Hollebeck in personally to take a look. It seemed they were dealing with some weirdo with a particularly odd fetish.
Hollebeck had almost left it at that. Put it down to a series of bizarre circumstances that weren't worth investigating. But Chaz had insisted that they do something to help the man out. In her mind, Leighton had given his life for hers - or nearly.
"I owe him," she'd said.
Which meant Hollebeck owed him, too - at least to the extent of rooting out his medical records. Something which would give his doctors a place to start.
Adam Saracen was still thinking things over.
Hollebeck waited patiently, but no suggestions were forthcoming. His lips quirked in what could have been a smile. "I was thinking about giving his mother our standard treatment for acquiring more information. You know - beating the soles of her feet with sticks, bamboo under the fingernails - not to mention 'drug therapy'…"
Adam Saracen scowled at him.
Grudging co-operation. Hollebeck suppressed his amusement. "Anything to add, Doctor?"
"Some of Leighton's friends were here for hours. I could ask one of them. See if he knows the name of Leighton's doctor."
Vague, non-committal. It was about what he'd expected. "Any names you'd like to give me? So we could do the asking?"
"With sticks and bamboo?" Adam's lips creased in a smile. "No thanks. Might ruin my reputation."
Duncan Hollebeck grinned. "You'll let me know what you come up with?"
Adam told him honestly, "No." He leaned back in his chair. "It's on a 'need to know' basis only, Hollebeck. I'll tell the people who need to know."
*
Brandon felt like a fool playing all these surreptitious games. He wondered if avoiding the people who were investigating Nate was the same as obstructing justice. If so, he'd overstepped the bounds.
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Still, the doctor, Adam Saracen, had seemed to agree with him. He'd been damned surreptitious, too. "If you know anything about his medical records, or the name of his doctor…" he'd begun.
And Brandon had found himself volunteering. "I'll do my best to find out," he'd said. Now, sitting here talking to Nate's mum (this is Angela Leighton - not some kind of Mata Hari), he felt as though he'd entered the Twilight Zone.
"It was easy," she admitted, shrugging. "I just took Hubert into the receptionist's office, where they kept the computer. One of my cousins lifted the hard copy."
No problem. Brandon's eyes had widened slightly. The ease with which she discussed it told him it wasn't the only time the family had covered for little "Hubert". No wonder Nate had moved away.
"He shouldn't have left home," she said now, upset. "But he was so set on being a scientist. I tried to tell him it wouldn't work - that it would only get him into trouble."
"He was doing fine until the 'accident'," Brand reminded her. "It must've been hard on him."
She nodded. "Not so hard now as it used to be, when he was a kid. As long as he stays on his meds he can get by." She looked worriedly at the clock. "He needs them, Brandon. They'll never stabilise him without them."
"What 'meds'?"
For the first time she wondered if she was making the wisest decision in telling him all this. She lowered her head, avoiding his eyes. "He thinks his liver doesn't work right - that he needs medication."
"Angela, he must've figured out his electrical problems by now," Brand told her sarcastically. "He's a smart guy."
"Which is probably why he lives in that hovel," she admitted. "But he thinks it's limited to buzzy TVs and messed-up computers."
Brandon looked at her doubtfully. How could a guy get struck by lightning that many times - especially someone as smart as Nate - and not figure it out?
Angela told him earnestly, "He doesn't know how bad it can get. And we never told him about all the lightning strikes." She looked slightly embarrassed. "He'd never remember much afterwards, so I let him think it was some kind of transient seizure, brought on by his liver trouble."
"Shit!" Brandon couldn't totally conceal his shock. Here, I thought I knew these people so well…
"Exactly." Misinterpreting his reaction completely, she flashed him a smile. "I told him he should have stuck to a mechanical field - that some people just can't use computers. We never had TV or radio, so he really didn't know what he was missing. He got that scientist idea from reading."
"He still doesn't have TV -"
"Of course not," she said, as though he were being deliberately obtuse. "He interferes with them. Not even the meds can totally stop that." Her eyes darkened. "He learned pretty early that he couldn't go visiting, like other kids." She added, a little bitterly, "Most of them preferred their TVs to his presence. I tried to make him believe that was normal, too, but I don't think it helped." She sighed. "We tried everything - did all the reading we could on bioelectric fields and feedback. Gave him all kinds of 'medicine', just to see if something would work."
Brandon paled.
Angela didn't notice. "Finally, my cousin came up with a mixture that seemed to help. After that, Hubert could sometimes go to school. It didn't help with the lightning, though. After the fifth time he got hit, I used to keep him home whenever there was a storm warning." She smirked. "Or whenever someone got suspicious."
"Did he get to play football, or anything like that?"
She shook her head. "I wouldn't let him. You can see why, can't you, Brand? Why I didn't want him to have too much contact with other people? To be labelled a 'freak'? School was pretty safe because they didn't know he was 'special'. If he'd start to feel sick, they'd call me, and I'd adjust his medication. His electrolyte balance is still really sensitive, which makes it stupid for him to live alone." Her jaw shook, and Brandon knew she was close to tears. "He thinks he's 'normal' - but he could die so easily." Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, she added, "I hated it when Hubert started taking those long hikes into the mountains. Teenagers do that kind of thing, but I didn't know he was still into it. There's not only the lightning, but …"
Brandon was no longer listening. He was thinking how it must have been for Nate, growing up with this woman - and her family. Everything hidden, and all those "adjustments" to whatever medication they'd come up with.
It also did a lot to explain Nate's solitude. He'd probably learned a long time ago not to "inflict" his company on other people. Suspected in some way he'd be hazardous to either their health, or their prized possessions.
But, it didn't stop the people from coming to Nate. Maybe it was because he'd been alone for so long, that he'd been forced to develop more personality to compensate. He was well-read, interesting, and could talk about anything. What got people the most, though, was Nate's smile.
Now that he knew Nate's background, that smile made Brandon feel as though he'd been gut-punched. Nate always found something to smile about, or joke about - something to enthuse over in the ordinary.
Maybe because he'd never had any "ordinary" - and he was just so glad to be alive, and away from everyone "protecting" him.
Angela was still talking. "…If I can get him his meds, they might put yesterday's incident down to some stray electrical charge." She looked at Brandon a little desperately. "They're watching me, Brandon. Closely. If Hubert doesn't get this stuff, he'll die."
"What's in it?"
"Sodium and some metallic salts to balance his electrolytes. Otherwise, the electricity will start to burn him up, from the inside out."
"Like a short circuit."
She fidgeted nervous