My Familiar Stranger (2 page)

“Call the infirmary. Get them ready for an incoming emergency,” he said it calmly, but the teammates who knew him so well heard the underlying resolve.

Ram started toward the wall phone.

“Ignore that!” The older man said more forcefully. He was starting to sound exasperated and was glaring at Storm. “Are you not hearing me?” He wheeled on Ram, “Hawking, don’t you move another step!”

Ram hesitated for two seconds, looking back and forth between Storm and Sol, before saying to the older man, “Sorry. You know we do no’ do orders.”

“I’m not joking!” Sol gaped at him. “Two minutes ago you were voting to kill it now.”

Ram looked over his shoulder and shrugged as he punched in the infirmary code. “Stormy’s call.”

Engel Storm was six feet four with shoulders as wide as a doorway, but he still struggled to get to his feet with the thing in his arms. It was heavier than it looked. A lot heavier. Plus all the blood and oozing made it slippery. On top of that his sympathetic nature made him wince internally every time it tried to cry out in pain.

Seeing that Storm needed assistance, Kay had squatted down on the other side of it to help with the lifting. He pinned Storm with a pointed look and lowered his voice. “Might be better to have them send a gurney. You could be causing more damage.” He looked down at the unidentifiable mass. “If that’s possible.”

Storm shook his head to get dark locks away from his eyes and turned that familiar, piercing, no nonsense gaze on his friend. “No time.”

Kay nodded and tried to help lift the whatever-it-was so that Storm could get a good enough grip to carry. “Hope you know what you’re doing.”

Once Storm and Kay had it up and balanced in Storm’s arms, the thing’s head lolled onto his chest and stayed there. He walked as fast as he could. The infirmary wasn’t far, but he was carrying what felt like his own weight. Fluids were leaking so fast that rivulets were running down his pants, onto his boots and under the soles making for slick footing. A couple of times he had to jerk an upright correction to keep from going into a skid on the polished marble flooring.

He was breathing heavy, but speaking quiet assurances, words of encouragement delivered in short sentences. “Hang in there now. It’ll be okay. We’re almost there. Almost there.”

Ram and Kay, passing him on either side, went ahead, crashing through the infirmary double doors a second before he arrived. “Where do you want us?” Ram shouted at the med staff that ran to meet them.

Within seconds the med team had taken Storm’s burden and moved it onto a gurney. The team hustled toward the operating theater firing questions about the nature of the injury on the way. Then the three remaining members of B Team found themselves standing side by side staring at the blank side of a door.

Ram looked at his teammates. “What the fuck just happened?”

“I guess they’re pretty good at their job. At least they’re fast,” said Kay.

Ram nudged Storm on the shoulder. “Stormy. Good call. Let’s go get a drink.”

Kay snorted. “Is there ever a time you don’t want to get a drink?”

Ram looked thoughtful as if he was trying to formulate a serious answer to that question.

Kay just shook his head smiling, “Never mind. You can’t help being Irish, but sometimes I think it’s your answer to the meaning of life.”

The two started away. Looking down at the front of his clothes, Kay realized he was wearing a lot of gore. “We might want to grab a shower and a change first.”

After a few steps they noticed Storm hadn’t moved. “You coming?” He continued to stand motionless, looking at the closed door. Kay eased back to Storm’s side and spoke in hushed tones. “Hey. What’s up? You’ve seen stranger stuff than this.”

Ram had come up on the other side. “Lots stranger.”

Storm blinked and looked down at the bloody mess that used to be his clothes. “These are gonna have to be burned.”

“Yeah. Probably. Let’s get cleaned up and grab a whiskey.” Kay nodded and glanced at Ram like he was projecting telepathically. He was thinking they’d been through a lot and that it might be showing on Storm.

Storm looked at Kay and focused in. He could see that, from their point of view, this would appear to be odd behavior. Truth told, he had been trying to cover up a little depression since Lan’s death. Intellectually he knew he wasn’t responsible, but his heart wasn’t in complete agreement.

“Thanks for the back up.” He looked between Kay and Ram and even managed a little smile.

Kay raised an eyebrow that said, "I’m not buyin’ it", but let it pass. He was a couple of inches taller than Storm with sandy brown hair that streaked blond in summer and Northmen blue eyes. He was a poster child for split personality. At times such as these he was the essence of reason, the counsel you would seek if your life depended on good advice.

Then, there was the other side. Kay was a full blooded berserker from a legendary line that had immigrated to south Texas in the late nineteenth century and settled there. His name was actually Chaos Caelian. When he first landed on B Team, Ram started calling him Sir Kay, after the round table knight who was King Arthur’s foster brother, thinking the play on words was pretty funny. Ram has a talent for keeping himself entertained. It caught on. Pretty soon everybody else was calling him Kay and it stuck.

Ram gave Storm a grin that showed off teeth so white and even you would swear they were veneers. But they weren’t. “Anytime.”

Storm had to admire Ram’s ability to stay upbeat no matter what. He wasn’t exactly what you’d call easy going. In fact, he was downright excitable, but he was also optimistic and fun. Sure, people got mad about the practical joking.

One time he hired a big Rottweiler from a guard dog service and left it in Geoff's pride and joy Porsche on his wedding day. Geoff wasn't especially amused about being late to the altar not to mention the poop. the claw scratches on the leather seats, or the drool marks all over the insides of his windows.

Another time Ram photo shopped Bran’s head onto a porn shot of a guy with a fifteen inch dick and sexted it to the somewhat reserved girl Bran was wooing on MatchMe.com. The fact that the only way Bran could prove he didn’t do it was to offer a nude meet-and-greet didn’t help his case with the prim bachelorette.

Yeah. There were a lot of guys lying awake at night plotting payback. Somewhere in his future was a truckload of revenge coming down the road with a bead on that pretty, peaches and cream forehead. But, if the world was coming to an end, Ram would find a way to make it sound like an adventure and bring his own party. Kay and Storm had decided long ago that he was worth every sweat drop of maintenance.

“I’m gonna hang out here awhile and see what happens,” Storm said. He looked back at the door. “You know. Curious.”

Ram leaned his shoulder into the wall thinking he might as well get comfortable, but Kay surprised him by saying, “Okay. Call if you need us. We’ll be close.” They started away.

“Stop right there!” The door to emergency was swinging closed behind Sol as he stalked toward them.

Ram rolled his eyes. “Uh oh. Stepped in it.” He looked at Sol. “Again.”

Sol motioned them into the waiting room which was empty to avoid a public disciplining of knights.

“Look. I know you three are going through a rough patch. I’ve been there. Lan meant something to you. I understand that better than you think. Teammates always feel that way, but you just took it upon yourselves to make a decision that could endanger everybody in this unit.”

He paused to shift his weight to a less aggressive stance and raked a hand over his nearly shaved head. “I know you’ve got problems with authority. Hell. That’s half the reason why you’re here. But you either compromise with the management - that would be me - or you’re no good to this organization.” He looked pointedly at all three, one at a time. “Is there any chance I’m making myself clear?” They nodded and tried to look sincere. “We have to finish the inquiry.” Seeing their faces fall and shoulders slump he said, “But we can do it another day.” They murmured thanks to Sol.

Kay and Ram slipped away. Storm went back to staring at the door. Sol left instructions at the nurses’ station to call him as soon as they had something to tell about the new arrival. Anything at all. She responded that, based on what she’d seen as the gurney passed, it could be a very long time. Sol returned to Storm’s imaginary post outside the O.T. door and suggested he go clean up and change. Storm thought that it was a small concession he could make to appease the rift he’d caused by disobeying orders and agreed.

He jogged to his apartment on the fourth level, threw the ruined clothes in a plastic bag, showered quickly, and jogged back to the infirmary. He sat down in the waiting area and began to do just that. Wait. After a couple of hours, one of the staff brought him a cup of coffee and asked if he would like anything to eat. He took the coffee gratefully, but declined the offer of food.

Six and a half hours later, the O.T. doors opened. Two doctors and three nurses emerged looking exhausted. The patient was being rolled to intensive care. Storm jumped to his feet and hurried over to the orderly bringing up the rear. “Do you know what it is? Will it be okay?”

The orderly glanced at him, but didn’t miss a step. “Sir Storm, Sol would have my job if I gave you info without clearance. You know that.” They disappeared behind doors. Again.

Storm resumed his routine of alternately pacing and pretending to read “Two Wheel News”. A half hour later Sol walked past the waiting room on the way to one of the doctor’s offices. Storm hustled to fall into step with him. “I want to hear.”

He stopped and looked at Storm. “You’ll be briefed after the intel is evaluated.” When he turned away he felt something pull at his starched cotton sleeve. His eyes found Storm’s hand on his sleeve.

“Please.” The way Storm said the word suggested it felt strange on his tongue. He let go of Sol’s sleeve, but his eyes were still saying, Give me this.

Sol scowled and crossed his muscled arms while he looked at the floor. He wouldn’t want it rumored that he was a soft touch. How do you keep twenty four, raucous, second sons in line if they think you’re easy? The answer is - you don’t. You get replaced by somebody who’s better able to keep his sentimental impulses in check.

Sol liked to believe that he showed no favoritism, but Storm was one of those he had personally recruited. Storm had been a good looking fourteen-year-old, scary smart, and always in trouble. His school and his parents were out of their depth with a kid like him, but he was an ideal candidate for Black Swan. Sol told himself that he didn’t feel any particular pride in Storm’s record as he watched him work his way up to the Jefferson Unit B Team, the crème de la crème of Black Swan knights.

“Don’t be thinking you can get around me with drippy words like ‘please’. This stays between us.”

Storm nodded. “Thank you.”

The two of them were ushered into the office of the unit’s surgeon general. They sat on the other side of the doc’s desk in leather chairs, Sol with a handheld computer, Storm with twitchy hands and legs.

Storm hadn’t been in a room with a window for hours. He knew how much time had passed, but there was a part of him that was still surprised to see that it had grown dark outside while he’d waited.

The door opened and the doc swept in with a rustle of white coat, wearing glasses on the crown of his silver hair, and looking exactly like the person you would hire for that role if you were casting for a movie. The clipboard he carried made a loud clack as it was half-tossed onto the desk. He sat and rolled the tufted, high back chair forward in a business-like manner while pulling the glasses down over his nose.

Rifling through the pages held by the clipboard, he said, “The patient is female, human, or close enough though there may be some slight irregularities. One of those irregularities is the fact that she’s alive. We can’t understand how she survived whatever did that to her. There’s not an inch of her body that is uninjured. In addition to practically being skinned alive, she has multiple broken bones and extensive internal damage. Several organs required repair. We’re going to keep her soaking in an experimental ointment that Monq devised to prevent scarring in hopes that it will help regenerate skin.”

“Prognosis?” Sol asked.

“My medical opinion is that she shouldn’t live to see tomorrow, but, if I had to put up my own money, I’m betting she does. Don’t know about the ultimate outcome or quality of life. But she has strength of will.”

“I want to be kept current on any change. If she does live until tomorrow, the intensive care facility needs to undergo a little remodeling. I’m proposing a large, glass-front room facing the nurses’ station so that the patient can be observed at all times. The enclosure will be designed as secure, but the integrity will partly depend upon cooperation from your personnel.”

“A prison cell you mean,” Storm said. The other two men looked at him like they had forgotten he was present.

Sol spoke quietly. “It would be foolhardy to do anything else until we know more about the… patient. If you were in my position, responsible for the safety of everyone in Jefferson Unit, you’d do the same thing.”

Damn logic. Storm couldn’t argue with that. If he was in Sol’s position, that’s precisely what he would do.