Maybe it was the continued pounding in my head, or the aching in my body, or even the lingering adrenaline coursing through my system that kept me from thinking entirely clearly. Either way, I quickly realized that I was severely lacking enough information to make even a wild-ass guess.
After cleaning up and changing into fresh clothes, I returned to the main office area. The place was buzzing with the activities of half a dozen agents.
I spotted Agent Sanders and made my way to her. She looked up at me with a penetrating expression and gestured to a spare chair before her desk. To my surprise, there was already a cold container of a sports drink waiting for me.
Apparently, she remembered my drink of choice.
“Feel better?” she asked. “Your nose stopped bleeding, I see.”
“Yeah, thanks,” I replied. Then I reconsidered her question. “Actually, that’s not entirely true. To feel ‘better’ would require that I wasn’t pissed off that someone tried to kill me and members of my family.”
She nodded but stared at me warily.
“Who are you exactly, Logan Bringer?” she asked. “I’ve never seen anything like what I saw happen this evening.”
I drew in a deep breath and slowly exhaled, wishing that I had proper answers for her, and for myself.
“Yeah, I’m still coming to grips with that myself,” I replied. “Two weeks ago, I’d have said that I was just some lucky schmuck who managed to live through brain cancer. But today…hell if I know.”
She’d asked a fair question, really.
Who am I? What am I?
An uncomfortable silence grew between us, and no less than two agents slowed as they passed Sanders’ desk, each openly staring at me with mixed degrees of curiosity.
“Thank you,” Sanders offered in a quiet voice.
I looked into her hazel eyes with surprise, and then realized what she’d meant.
The bullets.
I felt really good about what I’d managed to do, and I couldn’t keep from breaking into a wan smile.
“You’re welcome.”
She was the first to break eye contact, instead glancing down to some printouts before her. She had beautiful eyes.
I opened the sports drink and started chugging. Unfortunately, the sweetness of the liquid was mixed with the lingering taste of ash and smoke. That aside, I quickly appreciated the subsiding pain and aching in my head within a matter of minutes.
Electrolytes; my newest little friends.
“What happens next?” I asked.
“Procedures dictate—” she started to say but stopped midsentence.
She sighed. “Actually, Mr. Bringer, I’m afraid that we’re way outside standard operating procedures right now.”
Something in the back of my mind sensed she was distracted, almost as if torn between decisions at that moment. Frankly, I found her indecision mildly comforting; I wasn’t the only person who felt completely out of their element.
Difficult circumstances were more bearable when shared.
“How’s Agent Burroughs?” I asked.
Her expression darkened.
“He’s in surgery right now.”
I nodded. “Listen, Agent Sanders, both of us have people we care about at the hospital right now. Maybe we’d be best served there.”
I thought I caught a brief flash of relief cross her face before she composed herself again, back to the ever-clinical looking FBI agent.
“Okay, we can talk about that phone call you received earlier this evening on the way there,” she conceded.
“Sure,” I said.
“Then maybe you’ll tell me a little bit more about how you came to stop bullets in mid-air,” she added in a subdued tone.
“I’m afraid that’s a bit more incredible,” I said.
“Try me. I have a fluid imagination,” she countered with an arched brow.
I was beginning to like Agent Sanders in ways that I hadn’t expected.
Chapter 6
By the time we reached the hospital, I’d described to Sanders some of the abilities I’d developed since my last treatment. To say that she’d appeared surprised bordering on disbelief was an understatement. Somehow, I got the impression that if she hadn’t seen the bullets suspended in midair before her, she’d have immediately delivered me to the Guthrie County Psychiatric Hospital.
I finished describing the mysterious phone call that I’d received at the park as we pulled into the hospital parking lot. Sanders remained silent, appearing contemplative, as we strode through the emergency entrance.
I followed her to one of the hospital’s surgical waiting areas, which frankly reminded me of an oversized doctor’s office waiting room. Though a number of people were present, a worried-looking woman who appeared to be in her thirties immediately caught my attention. Beside her were two young girls who were almost spitting images of her, each with a head of blonde hair.
Sanders strode immediately to the woman, who rose to embrace her.
“Sally, I’m so sorry,” she said. “How’re you and the kids holding up? Has anyone met with you yet?”
Sally appeared to struggle to hold back a wave of tears.
“We’re doing the best we can,” she replied in a near whisper.
Sanders took a moment to simultaneously hug the girls, one under each arm. It was apparent that she cared a great deal not only her partner but for his family.
I sighed. Waiting rooms always brimmed with an aura of helplessness, anticipation, and sometimes dread.
My mind quickly gravitated to my own family, who were located somewhere else in the hospital. I turned to address Sanders, but she was already glancing at me with a somber expression.
“Go. I’ll come find you later,” she said.
I nodded and made my way to the nearest information desk.
* * *
Two hours passed before I finished my visit with Lexi, Kevin, and the kids. I was so relieved that they hadn’t been seriously harmed. Lexi and Kristie had suffered minor smoke inhalation, but were expected to be released by morning.
Unfortunately, I learned very little about the fire. As far as they knew, it seemed to erupt spontaneously somewhere near the kitchen or utility room.
“I guess I’d better call Mom and Dad,” I ventured.
“Too late. I already called them,” Lexi said with a smirk.
I couldn’t help but chuckle at my sister’s innate sense of efficiency despite her distress. With a final hug, I insisted I had to meet with the authorities further. Lexi knew that I’d already been interviewed by the police and FBI following the explosion at the Wallace Building.
“Wait, Logan,” Lexi insisted. “Does somebody think that our fire was somehow related to your case?”
I did the only thing that seemed sensible at that moment. I lied.
“Nah, I think they just want to go over some additional details, that’s all,” I reassured her.
There didn’t seem to be any point in worrying them when I didn’t have all the facts myself. What was I supposed to tell them, anyway?
Sure, Lexi, mysterious people from God-knows-where are out to get my family and me, but there’s nothing to worry about.
Lexi frowned at my response but let it drop. I signaled to Kevin to follow me into the hallway as I made my way out. As soon as we closed the door to Lexi’s room, I turned to him.
“Listen, I don’t have all the details just yet, but maybe this is a good time for you to take Lexi and the kids to my Mom and Dad’s for a visit.”
Besides being a hell of a talented architect, Kevin was a good man and a great father and husband. He looked me in the eye as if patiently assessing me and nodded.
“You think this is related, don’t you?” he asked.
“Honestly, Kev, there’s a crap-load of stuff that I don’t know yet,” I replied. “But you can damn well bet I’m getting to the bottom of things
real soon
. Right now, my highest priority is to make sure that you, Lexi, and the kids are safe. And right now, your safest place may not be in Nevis Corners.”
I could almost see the wheels turning in his brain as he pursed his lips. Then he nodded.
“The kids could stand to miss a few days of school anyway, given what just happened,” he temporized. “And Lexi needs a few days to rest, according to the doctor. But if I know her, she’d just run herself ragged trying to sort through the mess at the house. For that alone, being out of town is definitely a good idea.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve got some good friends who can go over to help out with the house,” I said.
My friend Travis could see to that. The guy was like a walking Swiss Army knife; he had a solution for every situation.
“Yeah, I’ve already received a call back from my brother and sister-in-law who pretty much said the same thing,” he agreed.
We shook hands like two men who had just agreed on a business deal or something.
“Logan, be careful, and let us know as soon as you learn anything,” Kevin insisted.
I nodded and headed down the hallway to the elevators. In the midst of the chaos, it felt good to experience a momentary glimmer of encouragement. For some reason, just like back in Afghanistan a few years ago, I felt like I was conducting damage control in a war zone.
By the time that I made my way back to the waiting room where I’d left Agent Sanders, both she and the other family members were gone. A quick consultation at the information desk confirmed that Burroughs had already been moved to a room upstairs. At least that meant he’d survived his surgery.
“Logan!”
I turned to see Maria Edwards briskly walking down the hallway toward me.
“Maria? What are you doing here?”
“I saw the news report on TV about the fire at your sister’s house,” she explained. “They reported that some people had been transported to the hospital. There’s also a story about a shooting in your neighborhood.”
“The press must be having a field day. Nevis Corners has practically turned into an action film,” I murmured.
“Yeah, well, it probably won’t take long for the press to correlate the two events as being related to you and your family. Then they’ll tie your affiliation to the Nuclegene bombing.”
Good point.
“Yeah, great,” I said. “But why are you here?”
She paused and pulled me into a nearby unoccupied family conference room and closed the door behind us.
“I’d hoped that I’d find you here,” she said. “Logan, I’ve been reading through more of the information that I downloaded from Nuclegene’s systems regarding your treatments. One of the researchers hypothesized that there might be a way to refine your abilities.”
“And you couldn’t wait to tell me
because
?” I asked.
“As soon as I saw the news footage showing the ragged opening around your sister’s upstairs window, I suspected that you’d harnessed your abilities further. Nobody kicks part of a wall and brick facade out, no matter how much adrenaline is flowing in their system. Then, when I heard about a shooting at your home, I thought that somebody must be after you. Logan, I felt that I had to try and help you somehow.”
I appreciated that she cared enough to try and help me so much.
“Tell me what you discovered.”
She extracted a small syringe of clear fluid from her purse and held it up.
“I acquired the base elements from a nutrition center in town and then combined them into a liquid form. There’s a combination of extracts, including Taurine, L-Carnitine, Ginseng, L-theanine, and Inositol. Together, they’re supposed to enhance vital chemical processes in your brain that strengthen and refine your abilities. Oh, and there’s a spectrum of B vitamins to boost your body’s energy levels, as well.”
I stared at her as if she were a mad scientist.
“I was a chemistry major, remember? Look, I went to a lot of trouble here,” she said with a stony expression. “Do you want my help or not?”
One thing was certain; I needed my abilities to be as sharp and strong as possible for what may lie ahead. I pulled my shirtsleeve up over my shoulder and she rubbed an alcohol wipe across my skin. Then she injected the entire contents of the syringe into my arm.
“There. If this works, you should begin to feel the effects within the next few hours,” she advised.
I nodded and then adopted a mischievous expression.
“Speaking of abilities, you wanna’ hear something interesting?” I baited.
After I’d described what had transpired at my home with the bullets, she plopped down into one of the nearest cushioned chairs with a shocked expression.
“My God, Logan,” she finally said. “I’ve never heard of anything like that before. Of course, there’s certainly nothing in the medical records about any previous patients doing anything like that.”
“Thankfully everything worked; although I experienced a brief nose bleed after I stopped the second set of bullets,” I added.
She considered my statement with a grim expression.
“There’s some kind of force-feedback taking place,” she estimated. “Logan, there’s no telling what kind of damage that might cause to your brain.”