No Light (24 page)

             
"General," he muttered. His eyes flicked to the others standing with him and then back to Farran. "I-" He coughed. "We wanted to inquire about your marked."

             
Farran scanned the group. "Did you? Why is that?"

             
Eitad visibly swallowed. He opened his mouth, then quickly closed it.

             
Farran nodded. "I see." He took step forward and bared his teeth. "You have very little time to remove yourselves from my sight."

             
The four of them snapped to attention. They nodded and hurried down the hall.

             
He watched them go and shook his head.

             
"Is it not a positive development for the regiment to consider your marked?"

             
Farran glared at Motlin. "I would prefer they not consider her in any fashion."

             
"As you say," the colonel replied. He gestured toward the door.

             
Farran gave him a warning look and stalked into the office. Three sets of armor lay across the large desk. A twinge of something unnamed went through him. His fingers trailed across the closest breast plate. The metal shone under the harsh fluorescent lighting. It had been over six thousand years since he touched the armor of his people. He shook his head at himself.

             
Tradis stripped out of his suit, as if he could not wait to get the human garment off. He tossed it away from him and reached for the soft skin guards. Farran reached for his own. The fabric of the under-tunic slid between his fingers like water. He found himself smiling, as he pulled it over his head.

             
The under-breeches were far thicker, built to keep muscles warm on long treks through frozen wastelands. He jerked them on. They fit perfectly, as if no time had passed. His smile widened. He lifted the breast plate to his chest. In a burst of movement, the armor flowed over him. Hundreds of tiny, moving parts melded together to form a solid barrier. It fully covered his back, chest, and shoulders. Smaller plates formed bracers on his forearms and legs.

             
He stepped back from the desk with a feral smile. His eyes moved to take in his colonels in full battle attire. Their faces held the same brutal glee he felt.

             
"The pinnacle of gratification," Motlin murmured, seemingly to himself.

             
Farran smirked. "Agreed." His smile slowly faded. "I will join you at the hotel entrance."

             
Motlin and Tradis glanced at him, but did not speak. They nodded.

He turned on his heel and walked from the room. He strode down the hallway to the staircase and took the steps two at a time, until he reached the upstairs hallway. The guards outside Sarah's room bowed their heads at his approach. He gave them a snappy nod and pushed the door open.

              The light from the hallway spilled into the room. It splashed across the carpet and stopped just short of the large bed. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. His gaze fixed on the small body in the center of the bed. Sarah splayed across the bedspread, her damp hair a tangled mess around her head. His lips curved.

             
He moved further into the room. She did not stir. Her small fists lay on the pillow on either side of her head. The black sweater rode high on her waist, revealing a thin strip of pale skin. He stared hard at her face to keep from looking at it. Her nose wrinkled in her sleep and she let out a heavy sigh. He tipped his head to the side. Something warm filled his chest.

             
She turned her head and a tendril of hair fell across her face. It moved with each exhale. He knelt next to the bed and lifted it out of the way. She made a soft sound in her sleep, something between a sigh and a wordless murmur. He studied her, taking in the curves and planes of her face. Finally, he shook his head at himself.

             
"You are a stupid woman," he muttered under his breath. "A stupid, beautiful woman."

Chapter Thirteen

Blood and Sand

             
Bright light splashed through the window to jerk her out of sleep. She wrinkled her nose and rolled to face the dresser. A faintly spicy scent clung to the pillow under her head, and she twisted to press her face into the soft material. It was familiar. She inhaled and her eyes widened. Farran. She jerked away and glanced around.

             
Faint voices murmured outside the door, but she was alone. She sighed and sat up. Her eyes scanned the room. Everything looked the same. A stack of clothing sat at the foot of the bed. She raised her eyebrows, and reached for it. Another sweater, this one a warm brown, and another pair of jeans.

             
"Who?" she muttered.

             
Farran's face floated through her mind. She shook her head at herself. Another small stack lay beneath the jeans. Her face heated. She quickly snatched her underwear and wrapped it in the sweater. She crawled off the tall bed and padded across the room to the bathroom.

             
After she used the complementary toiletries and changed her clothes, she popped her head out of the bathroom. The room was still empty. She glanced at the door.

             
"Hello?"

             
A second later, someone rapped on the door. "Ms. Mackenzie," a deep voice said in acknowledgement.

             
"Am I allowed to leave the room?"

             
The door popped open an inch. "The General would prefer you did not."

             
She leaned forward to peek through the crack at the speaker. "Oh, it's you!"

             
He coughed awkwardly. "I had intended to thank you for your actions..."

             
She smiled. "You don't need to thank me." Her eyes moved over his armor. There were no visible breaks in the metal. She wondered how he put it on.

             
"As the marked of our ki-," he broke off and cleared his throat. "As the marked of our General, your importance supersedes mine."

             
She looked at his face and frowned. "You didn't get in trouble for what happened, did you?"

             
He met her eyes, then quickly looked away. "If it pleases you to accompany Private Ambrac and myself, you may leave the room."

             
She spoke past the guilty burn in her stomach. "Are you sure it's okay?"

             
He gave her a curt nod.

             
"Okay, I'd like to go see my brother."

             
He gave her a strange look. "Your brother is-"

             
"At the hospital."

             
He blinked at her interruption, but nodded. "As you say. You are prepared to depart?"

             
She nodded. "Let me just grab my coat." She looked around. "Where is my coat?"

             
"It was disposed of yesterday."

             
"Oh." She bit her lip. "I'm not sure-"

             
"Another coat has been provided for you." He raised his chin. "One moment."

             
She watched him step back and close the door. He muttered a few words to someone, and quickly returned with a heavy coat in hand. She looked from the proud tilt of his head to the wool pea coat and back.

             
"Thank you."

             
He nodded. "Of course." He helped her into the coat, and she smiled up at him.

             
"Thank you."

             
He gave her a small smile. "Shall we depart."

             
She nodded. As she walked through the door ahead of him, she paused. "Do you have any idea who brought my clothes?" She stared up at him.

             
He glanced over her head. "I am unsure."

             
"Oh." She followed his gaze to another Dem. "Do you know?"

             
He dropped his eyes to her. "We have been forbidden from entering your room."

             
"Then, where did..." she trailed off, and glanced at the first Dem. "Who brought my clothes from the house yesterday?"

             
"The General."

             
She felt her cheeks heat. "So, he probably brought the things today." She imagined his hands sifting through her clothes. Touching her under things. She blushed harder.

             
"A fair assumption." He cleared his throat. "If you are ready to proceed."

             
He was obviously trying to change the subject. She let him and nodded. He started to turn away, and paused. "You may call me Private Eitad." He glanced at the other Dem. "He is Private Mahdi."

             
She nodded, committing the names to memory. "Thank you, Private Eitad."

             
His lips quirked up. "After you." He gestured down the hall.

             
Private Mahdi stepped in front of her to lead the way. They passed several Dems between her room and the lobby. Each one paused to nod at her. She opened her mouth to ask Eitad about it, but thought better of it. She waited until they reached the sidewalk out front, and turned to him. She tried to organize her thoughts, before she spoke.

             
"Everyone is acting like I have a rank," she told him, a question in her tone. When he did not immediately reply, she thought she had phrased her question the wrong way.

He exchanged looks with Mahdi. "Your actions toward me on our last engagement..." he trailed off. He seemed to be thinking. "You are worthy of respect."

              She blinked. "I am? Just because of what I did?"

             
He gave her a curt nod.

             
"Oh." Mahdi started walking again, and she hurried to catch up. She pondered the meaning of his words until Mahdi stopped at the front door to the hospital.

             
She watched a Dem approach the door. He pushed it open and scanned the three of them.

             
"She has permission to be here?" His tone made it obvious what he thought.

             
"With a guard, Sergeant," Eitad answered.

             
The Dem nodded. "Enter." She felt his eyes on her, as they crossed the lobby.               "Take the stairwell." She saw Eitad nod from the corner of her eye.

             
“Yes, sir."

             
Mahdi took the stairs two at a time, and she had to run to keep up. He paused at the hall and glanced both ways.

             
"Left."

             
He nodded to her and stalked toward her brother's room.

             
As she jogged past the nurses station, a woman's head popped up from behind the counter. She paused.

             
"Mackenzie," the nurse said softly. The blonde eyed her with obvious interest.

             
Sarah nodded. "I just came to check on my brother."

             
The woman hummed in the back of her throat. "I had to move him." Her gaze flicked to the two Dems. "We need to talk. Privately."

             
A sinking feeling started in her stomach. "He's okay, though?"

             
The woman did not answer right away. "It would be better to talk somewhere else."

             
Nothing could happen to her brother. The thought repeated in her head, as she followed the woman to a nearby room. The nurse gestured her inside and closed the door with an ominous click. She turned to face her.

             
"I would have gotten a hold of you when it happened, but I wasn't told-"

             
"What happened," Sarah interrupted, tossing aside her manners.

             
The woman licked her lips. "Well, it's called a generalized seizure."

             
Sarah stared at her. "Okay." She rubbed at her arm. "So, what does that mean, exactly? He's getting worse?"

             
"Yes."

             
The one word answer, rubbed her the wrong way. "What are we going to do about it?"

             
The woman looked away. "It's been several weeks, Ms. Mackenzie," she started.

             
Sarah nodded. "I know. So, what are we going to do to fix it?"

             
The nurse gave her what she assumed was supposed to be a pitying look. She frowned.

             
"Ms. Mackenzie. A coma is not a stable condition. Every day your brother is in a coma, the likelihood of him waking is reduced." She sighed. "He suffers anoxic encephalopathy. His brain was severely deprived of oxygen during the fire."

             
Sarah swallowed hard. "I know that."

             
"Then you also know, after a week, recovery is extremely rare. The condition usually progresses to a persistent vegetative state, or de-"

             
"I know," she interrupted.

             
"I read in the file, that Dr. Jones spoke to your parents about the situation. Maybe, it's time to consider letting nature take its course."

             
Sarah's eyes snapped up to her, and narrowed. "Don't ever say that to me. Not ever. That's not going to happen."

             
"Ms. Mackenzie," the nurse tried again. "I know it is difficult for you, but you need to resign yourself. He's not going to get better. At this point, he will only continue to get worse. You are drawing-"

             
Panic rose up inside her. "You don't know that!"

             
The nurse's eyes widened, and her gaze swung to the door in alarm. "Please, keep your voice down," she whispered frantically.

             
Sarah took a couple deep breaths to regain her calm. "I'm sorry. I apologize for yelling at you, but you don't know that for sure."

             
The woman sighed. "I'll do what I can."

             
Sarah knew she was just trying to appease her. She gave her a sharp nod. "Thank you. That's all I ask." She turned away before the nurse had time to reply. As she pulled open the door, she came face to chest with Dem armor.

             
"Sarah." Farran's voice made something tingle in her stomach.

             
She tipped her head back to look up at him.

             
His gaze moved from her to the nurse behind her. His eyes narrowed. "You have duties that require your attention." He stepped aside to let the nurse hurry past him, before his eyes landed on her again. They seemed to soften.

             
"Do you mind if I see my brother?" She asked quietly, the nurse's words still sharp in her mind.

             
He gestured for her to proceed him. "You may."

             
She wondered at his tone, but did not ask. She felt him fall into step behind her.

             
"Your brother's condition declines," he said, when she paused outside the hospital room.

             
She glanced over her shoulder at him. "Yes."

             
"I see." He motioned toward the room.

             
She turned to the door and pushed it open.

             
The room looked similar to the first one, but several more machines crowded around the bed. She stepped inside and closed the door behind her. John lay motionless on the bed, the only movement caused by the ventilator at his side. She swallowed hard and drifted closer. In the bright morning sun, his face was deathly pale.

             
"Hey," she said softly. Her fingers trailed over the back of his hand. "I have so much to tell you."

             
He did not respond, but she did not expect it. She sighed and perched on the edge of the bed.

             
"Mom and Dad kicked me out of the house." She shook her head ruefully. "I know. I'm not surprised either." In her mind, he frowned. "I'm okay, though."

             
She glanced away from his still face to stare out the window. "The nurse thinks I'm selfish. She told me there was no way you were ever coming back." She swallowed hard. "And you were just going to keep getting worse, until-" She broke off and rubbed at her face. "I don't know what to do."