Brain Storm (A Taylor Morrison Novel Book 1) (42 page)

Hughes snapped his fingers in front of my eyes. Not once, but twice. How rude. I slowly turned to look at him working hard to keep the irritation from showing on my face. The man with the fire suit stepped up next to him. He was big even without the additional bulk from the suit. With it, he managed to block out most of the rescue scene I had been watching.
 

“What?” I mumbled, sounding completely confused.

“There’s a body in the house.” Hughes spoke slowly and annunciated every word like he was talking an imbecile. “Who is it?”

If they didn’t know who it was, I had no intention of telling them. They could figure it out on their own. I hesitated just a moment and then burst into tears, muffling my sobs in the blanket.
 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to question her right now, Sir.” My medic, who had retreated to the background when Hughes had strode up, was now pushing him aside to check my pulse rate again. “They’re bringing in Sean right now and we need to get her ready to roll.”
 

He was helping me to my feet and onto a seat that was tucked into the back of the ambulance before turning away to help load Mac onto the gurney secured against the opposite wall.

Safely away from Hughes, I lifted my head to watch. Mac was deathly pale and I couldn’t see if he was breathing or not. They had left him strapped in the rescue basket and were loading both him and the basket onto the gurney. Not a good sign.

The other medic climbed in and the doors swung shut behind him. Mac’s lips were blue, and I prayed that I hadn’t had him throw the blankets off too early. It had taken longer than I’d expected for Hughes to get there. The medics were ripping open drawers, pulling out needles and tubing at record speed. I pressed back, trying my best to to stay out of the way as they worked on him. By the time we started moving, they had started an IV and had him hooked up to monitors. I let myself breathe again as the faint, slow beat of his heart filled the air. He was alive. For now that was enough. I would worry about the rest later.
 

IT TOOK ONLY twenty minutes to get back to the Agency. During the drive, Mac had warmed up and his pulse rate had grown steadier. He was still very pale, but at least he wasn’t blue anymore. I looked out the windshield as we pulled through the gate. The sun had come up during the drive, but the complex was still dark, lost in the mountain shadows. I hadn’t been able to see if Hughes had left people on site or not, but had to assume that he had. I just hoped they were concentrating their efforts on the house and not the mountainside where Mac had gone off. I glanced down to check on Mac and was startled to find him looking back at me. The medics were busy packing things away in preparation for transferring us and hadn’t noticed he was awake. He threw me a quick wink and closed his eyes again as we rolled to a stop.
 

The fact that Mac was awake made me a feel a little better. My stomach had been in knots from the moment they’d closed the ambulance doors. Hughes was nothing short of a monster and I’d just served us both up to him on a silver platter. The door opened and medical personal moved quickly, transferring Mac out of the back, basket and all, onto a waiting gurney, the medics following him out with the IV bag and monitors in tow. I moved to the door, pausing to look up at the mountainside that flanked the underground entrance. It had been nearly four hours since I’d made the call to Hughes. If things had gone according to plan, it was entirely possible Bryan was already in place, somewhere on that mountain, keeping watch and waiting.
Be there, Bryan
, I prayed, counting on Hughes only being able to sense my emotions. If he could read my thoughts it was over before it started.
 

I took the hand that suddenly appeared to help me step down out of the back and was shocked to feel the vibration that traveled up my arm. I flinched in response, trying to pull away only to have a second hand grasp my elbow to hold me in place.

“Easy there, Ms. Morrison. We wouldn’t want you to fall out.” I looked down into a pair of startling green eyes, instantly recognizing the voice. The Director of the Agency. The man I had spoken to on the phone, begging for help. Small and compact, I doubted he reached 5 feet, but the energy was coming off him in waves, giving him the presence of a man twice his size. To say he was intimidating was a gross understatement. I found myself hoping with every ounce of my being he was on our side. If he wasn’t . . . I couldn’t even finish the thought. The implications were too immense.

“I’m so glad you called,” he whispered, guiding me to the wheelchair waiting nearby, dismissing Hughes who was hovering nearby with a wave of his hand. “You’ve had us all very worried.”
 

He placed a hand on my shoulder sending a pulse of energy surging through me. I had no idea what it was, but it was powerful. More powerful than anything I’d encountered and it scared me to death.
 

He moved quickly to the entrance door and held it open as the nurse wheeled me through and then proceeded to turn the chair around to back me into the waiting elevator. The Director stood there waiting, watching me as the doors closed quietly between us, leaving me to wonder what on earth I had gotten us into.

THE ELEVATOR SHOT down in a trip that was longer than I wanted to contemplate. When Mac had said there were underground facilities, I was thinking “root cellar” underground. Not “bowels of the earth” underground. I had to remind myself that this wasn’t Cheyenne Mountain and we weren’t at Norad, but I wasn’t sure it was all that different. The aboveground facilities gave the impression of isolated luxury. This reeked of secret government installations, sending shivers down my spine. The elevator doors opened to a main corridor from which several hallways branched out. We took the one to the right and ended up in what I had to assume was considered the medical wing.

They may have been underground, but the medical facilities at the Agency rivaled any hospital I’d ever been in and the room they put me in rivaled most luxury hotels. Obviously, the government had spared no expense. I had to wonder if the local authorities knew about all this and what kind of relationship they had with the Agency. Not that I necessarily wanted the locals involved, but it’s always good to know who your friends are.

Three hours after we arrived, I found myself lying in a hospital bed hooked up to an impressive array of monitors and machines and the inevitable IV drip. I’d been the victim of endless poking, prodding, scans and x-rays and the only thing they’d found wrong with me, aside from the bumps and bruises one would expect from being thrown around, was a concussion that was making its presence felt in the form of a throbbing headache. What I had assumed were shotgun pellets had turned out to be splinters of wood that had flown from the impact of the shotgun. They had quickly dug them out and covered the spots with band aids. Everything said and done, I had been incredibly lucky.
 

The nurse left, promising to return with some pain killers for my head, after informing me that my blood pressure was high and my pulse rate way too rapid. Big surprise there after the night I’d had and now I was trapped underground in a hospital gown. One of my least favorite things. They’d taken my clothes, although I had to admit, what with them covered with Brown’s blood and other things I didn’t want to think about, I was happy to be rid of them.
 

I could forgive them the hospital gown, though, simply because of the bathroom. After all the tests, they’d brought me back to the room, and ushered me into the private bathroom. The towels were heated along with the floor and the shower was a thing of beauty. I’d left the nurse waiting outside for a good 45 minutes while I indulged in what had to be the best shower of my life. I don’t know if it was because of the multiple streams of hot water, the aromatic soaps and shampoos or the fact that I could finally get rid of the grisly reminders of the hours before. Whatever it was, I decided to relax and enjoy the moment. It might not come again for a long time.
 

As soon as I got out, I asked again about Mac, but no one seemed to know anything yet. I had to be content for now that he was at least being taken care of. When I’d been lying there in the cold, waiting for help to arrive, I’d had moments of doubt. Big ones. Fears that once Hughes had me, he’d just finish Mac off while he was helpless. Hughes had killed a child trying to find me. I didn’t think he’d balk at taking Mac out, if he thought he needed to.
 

That he’d been acting his role as Head of Security was a comforting thought. He might have others working at the Agency for him, but not everyone. Right now, there were doctors and nurses keeping an eye out for us and while that certainly didn’t guarantee our safety, it was going to make it a lot tougher for him to get to either of us.
 

The nurse came back in, bearing promised pain medications. It had been a rough night and now that the adrenaline and the effects of the hot shower had worn off, I was definitely feeling it. Mix in lack of sleep and tons of stress and I was pretty much dead on my feet. Hughes and the Director hadn’t shown up yet to question me, but I knew that had to be on the agenda soon and I needed to be able to think clearly. I knew the drugs would mess with my head, but I also knew I needed rest and this might be the best time to get it. The events of the night had been unexpected and I was pretty certain Hughes hadn’t had time to plan out his next move yet. Feeling at least somewhat secure, I downed the pills and waited as the nurse took my vitals, yet again, and then began messing around with the strange paper like blanket they had on the bed. She attached a hose at the bottom and reached over to a nearby machine, flipping a switch. Warm air immediately began to flow into the blanket, puffing it up to the size of a regular comforter, but amazingly light and toasty warm.
 

State of the art, I thought, my eyes beginning to droop already from the effect of the pills. I hoped Mac was getting the same treatment I was. I reached out a thought to him, not knowing if he could hear me, to let him know everything was alright and drifted off to sleep.

THIRTY-SEVEN

I WOKE WITH a start, completely disoriented. It took a minute to remember where I was and why. The room was dark and had an unusual smell that I couldn’t put my finger on. The monitors were quietly beeping away, their lights casting strange glows around the room. I slowly lifted my head from the pillow, pleasantly surprised to find my headache gone and my neck and back nowhere near as sore and stiff as I had expected. I slowly sat up, wondering where the light switch was, when I realized that the room was gradually growing brighter on its own.

“It’s set to respond to your movements.” I looked over to see a young woman who had slipped quietly into the room while I was watching the lights. “The lights are tied into the monitors. They dim when you’re tired, encouraging you to rest. Go dark when you’re asleep and gradually come on when you waken.”

She’d come across the room as she’d explained and was now checking the monitors and noting figures on my chart. The fact that her entrance was timed perfectly wasn’t totally lost on me. Apparently the lights weren’t the only things tied into the monitors. I sincerely hoped I hadn’t talked in my sleep.
 

“You’re suspicious.” She said it as a statement, a smile in her voice. I just watched her as she finished up with the chart and slid it back in it’s holder. “I don’t blame you. I would be too, but I assure you, you have nothing to worry about.”

She had no clue how much I had to be worried about, but I wasn’t going to contradict her. The less I said, the better, as far as I was concerned. My continued silence didn’t seem to bother her. In fact, she seemed to take it in stride.

“My name is Jenny. I’ve been taking care of you,” she informed me softly. “How’s your head feeling? Any pain?”

“You’re a Doctor?” I asked, shaking my head in answer to her question. She didn’t look like one. There was no lab coat, no stethoscope. No attitude.
 

“We prefer the term Healer. Doctor is too limiting a word for what we do here.” She checked my eyes and seemed satisfied.
 

“How is ... Sean,” I asked, barely catching myself in time. Mac had said they only knew him as Sean here. I had no idea if that was his real name or an alias, but it didn’t matter. She knew who I was talking about.

“His injuries are severe, as I’m sure you had guessed. It will take time.”
 

That was hardly an answer and she knew it, but it was obvious she wasn’t going to volunteer anymore, so I let it go. For now.
 

The door opened and the Director walked in, his presence filling the room. His hair, which had looked brown in the early morning shadows, was actually a deep mahogany red. He wore it longer than most people holding an executive position would have, but then most executives didn’t work in jeans and sneakers. That he did and still managed to exude power and authority was a testament to his ability. Frankly, I was surprised he could be in the same room with the monitors as much power as he gave off, but maybe it didn’t effect machinery the same way it had me.

“How’s our patient, Jenny?”

“Your patient wants to know how Sean is doing,” I said, cutting her off. “In fact, I’d like to see him.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible.” He waited for me to respond, but I stayed quiet and just watched him, waiting. “He’s alive, Taylor. That’s all I can give you for now. It will have to be enough.”