Avenging Angels (The Seraphim Chronicles Book 1) (12 page)

fIFTEEN

Evangeline’s rapid descent caused the legs of her ship to strain under the inertia. She received more than a few irritated comments from the ground personnel for blowing people over and scattering their equipment with the hurricane force winds created by her aggressive landing. She touched down a few yards from the throng of emergency vehicles crowded around the heap of mangled metal that had once been Daryl’s TRTV.

Disconnecting from her machine seemed to take hours instead of seconds. She tossed her helmet in her seat and covered the distance between herself and the smoking wreckage in a few heartbeats. Response teams on all sides of the crashed ship were working to extricate the pilot. She could not believe she was involved in her second rescue mission of that day, within two short hours. In the entire time she had been a patrol pilot on Earth, she had never been involved with anything more serious than a traffic jam.

As she sprinted toward the swarm of activity, she could not tell if they had yet freed Daryl from the wreckage. If anything happened to him… she could not finish the thought. She had only met Daryl for the first time a few days prior, but his actions and safety were her responsibility. A new fear stabbed her mind.
What if the spike penetrated into the cockpit and impaled him?
With a shudder, she realized how foolhardy her brash rescue attempt had been. In her attempt to save his life, and prevent his collision into the medical center, she had risked his safety. Evangeline feared she had killed Daryl trying to save him. The cruel irony pierced her soul.

She wove through the cluster of workers, pushing aside medics and emergency responders to cut a path to Daryl. She caught a clear view of the downed TRTV. The damage was extensive - her actions had destroyed it beyond repair. The ruined TRTV was lying on its port side, the weapons pod sprung open. Ordinance officers were attempting to dislodge the exposed rockets and missiles. It dawned on her how the accident could have ended in a horrible catastrophe. If any of the weapons had exploded in the impact, she alone would have been held accountable for even more damage and injuries. Such an outcome would have meant the immediate end of her career.

The responders removed the spike from the hull, the rear plating peeling away from the frame like a banana peel. The legs had crumpled under the weight of the fall; the joints bent and twisted in angles that made her cringe.

The responders were struggling to get the cockpit seat to disengage. After several minutes of prying at the hatch, the cockpit seal gave way and two ground crew members heaved Daryl’s seat from the TRTV. His body slumped toward the ground like a lifeless marionette. He was still unconscious and Evangeline watched the small pool of blood collect beneath his limp body.

The nearest medic shoved a handful of sterile gauze against Daryl’s neck and started checking his vital signs. He turned and gave a thumbs-up to the other medical crew. Evangeline suddenly exhaled - she had not noticed she had been holding her breath since she approached the crash scene. He was alive! She stood there, shocked and stunned that her insane rescue plan had worked.

More medics pushed past Evangeline and crowded around Daryl’s still form. The gauze at his neck was already soaked with blood. They replaced the dark stained bandages with fresh ones as they detached him from the harness. As there was no power left in his TRTV after the blast from her EMP, the rescuers had to disconnect his ports from the machine’s dead neural network by hand. Hours seemed to pass in the seconds it took before rescuers freed Daryl from his spinal tethers.

Evangeline followed the medics as they placed Daryl on a stretcher, and loaded him into the emergency medical vehicle that had the clearest path to the base hospital. She climbed into the medical transport and perched on the bench next to him. She held his limp hand for comfort and stared at his boyish face. He was young and brash. He had the potential to be an excellent pilot, and his life seemed to be ending in front of her. The three hundred yards between them and the hospital took an insufferable amount of time to cross. Simmonds was growing paler by the second.

The medical transport screeched to a stop at the hospital doors after the agonizing trek across the landing field. The medics leaped out and unloaded Daryl’s gurney, speeding him through the hospital entrance. Evangeline trotted to keep up, still gripping Daryl’s weak hand. The highest ranking medic began to rattle off Daryl’ vitals and injury report to the doctors and nurses that meet them on their way in.

The hospital personnel took the gurney and rushed Daryl into one of the examination rooms, forcing Evangeline to release her grip of Daryl’s hand. As Daryl and his medical entourage disappeared from her view, Evangeline stopped short at the sight of Colonel Mark Jacobs standing in the middle of the corridor. Evangeline came to full attention before him. She knew there we be no dodging the serious consequences for her actions.

“At ease,” Jacobs said, but Evangeline was unable to relax. She was playing a mental game of if/then in her head, analyzing over and over what might happen next to Daryl and herself due to the day’s risky events. She knew Jacobs well enough; he would might have ripped her up one side and down the other in the tower, but he would get all the facts before dressing down a subordinate in public.

Jacobs walked past Evangeline and away from the clinic. She spun on her heel and followed in step beside him. Without slowing his pace or looking in her direction, he spoke a single, terse phrase.

“Tell me what happened out there.”

As they entered Jacobs’ office, Evangeline had just finished her verbal report at the point where she walked through the emergency room doors and found him waiting there for her.

Jacobs massaged his forehead. “There’s going to have to be an inquiry. There’s nothing I can do to prevent that,” he said, straining to maintain his self-control. “Even though it resulted in you saving the life of your trainee, you violated multiple safety protocols. That very expensive piece of technology is is now worth no more than scrap,” he growled, pointing out the window in the direction of the wreckage. He plopped himself down behind his desk and Evangeline stood at ease in front of it.

“Yes, sir,” she said, eyes focused on the floor.

“That being said,” he paused with a deep breath, staring at her until she met his gaze. “On a personal note,” he continued, “I’m very proud of you for what you did out there. You handled it better than any other officer on this base would have under such pressure. You saved Simmonds’ life. In addition, your efforts at the collision today were exemplary. I think they’ll go a long way towards easing the tension between Olympus and the LTZ.” He stood up and walked around his desk to face her.

“I’d give you a medal if I could. All I can offer you is this.” He raised his hand to his forehead and gave her a sharp salute. She returned the gesture.

“Thank you, sir.” Evangeline held her position, waiting for Jacobs to be the first to finish, but he maintained his salute. He was showing her the same level of respect that he reserved for his superior officers. She lowered her salute and Jacobs followed suit before he returned to his chair behind his desk.

He crossed his legs and rested his elbows on the arms of his chair, interlocking his fingers on his lap. “I’m going to have to put you on administrative leave while the investigation proceeds. It should only be for a day or two,” he said.

Evangeline had expected as much, but the news still wounded her pride. “Yes, sir, I understand.” She waited a moment, and then spoke again. “Permission to be dismissed, sir. I’d like to go see how Simmonds is doing.”

“Permission granted,” Jacobs answered with a brief nod of his head. As Evangeline moved toward the door, Jacobs spoke up, shuffling a stack of on his desk. “Just one more thing, Captain.”

Evangeline turned her head around, wary of a further reprimand for her actions that day.

“Yes, sir?” she asked.

He gave her a gentle smile. “Let me know if you need anything,” he said. “As a family friend, I’m here to help if you need it.”

A gentle warmth burned in her chest as a small tear welled on her eyelashes. “Thank you, sir. I will.” With that, she gave him another quick salute and closed the door behind her, making her way to the clinic on winged feet. She understood why her mother had held Mark Jacobs in high regards, grateful for the friendship her parents fostered with him before vanishing from her life. At least they had left him behind to watch over her when they could not.

SIXTEEN

Dr. Nathan Park sat in the small clinic break room, reviewing Mr. Roster’s chart for the third time. His unfinished dinner had grown cold while he was engrossed in studying the mystery disease. It had become the most unsolvable puzzle of his career. He was just about to finish his energy drink when he heard his name paged over the PA system.

“Dr. Park. Dr. Nathan Park. Emergency in examination room seven.” The message repeated several times as Nathan cleared the display of his tablet and snatched his white coat from the back of his chair. Shoving his arms through the flapping sleeves of his coat, he jogged down the corridor toward the exam room.

The nurses were clustered about the gurney when Nathan entered. The medics scrambled to get out of his way when they heard his shuffling step behind them. He noted the ashen looks on their faces as he pulled on his sterile gloves. He then turned and stepped up to the gurney to find a young male dressed in a pilot’s flight suit.

“What do we have?” he called out to the room at large. Amber Hutchins, the head nurse on shift, was using a machine to push air through a tube inserted in Daryl’s throat.

“TRTV pilot, male, mid-twenties,” Amber began. “Landing accident involving another vehicle in mid-flight. The patient has not achieved consciousness since medics arrived on the scene. There is a deep laceration on his neck, but no other visible injuries. The medics estimate he’s lost over three pints of blood so far. They have been unable to stabilize the injury. His vital signs are erratic.” The nurses had transferred the pilot to the examination table and pushed the gurney off to one side of the cramped room.

With the assault of information from Amber, Nathan evaluated the situation quickly. If all the data was correct, it should be a simple matter of stitching up a severed artery, given all the blood.

“Alright, start an IV; let’s get some Angel blood in him. I’ll remove the bandages and see if I can locate the source of the bleeding.” Amber was still pushing air through the pilot’s trachea as Nathan gave the orders. Nathen walked around to the opposite side of the table to examine the neck wound.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Doc!” a medic shouted just as Nathan took a hold of the blood-soaked bandages, but the warning was too late. He had already lifted an edge of the bandage, and a sick, sucking sound squelched through the room as he peeled the rest from the pilot’s neck.

Amber gasped and turned her head away, covering her mouth with one hand as the other kept the pilot’s breathing apparatus steady. Nathan stood frozen, holding the bandage in his hand as his mouth fell agape at the sight below him on the table.

“What the…” he whispered.

Along with the bandage, the skin from the pilot’s neck was gone, revealing the underlying muscles, veins, and larynx. Nathan remembered his first day in Gross Anatomy class where he dissected a human cadaver. That experience had been hard to stomach as a first year medical student, but that was nothing compared to what he now witnessed on the exam table.

A chorus of audible gasps throughout the room brought his attention to the present. He stood motionless as the exposed tissue started fizzing, and foaming. White nodules grew at a rapid pace and burst like soap bubbles, expelling pus over the exposed tissues. All the nurses and medics backed away from the pilot in horror.

The grotesque condition of the patient was unlike anything Nathan had ever seen, with the exception of the baffling cases that had stumped him over the last few days.

Nathan lay the bloody bandage on top of the pilot’s abdomen with care. He hoped to return the pilot’s skin back to him before the end of the day. The gore and skin faced him like a macabre trophy.

“Amber!” Nathan shouted. “I need more sterile wrap. You! Medic!” he yelled, jabbing his finger at the medic closest to the door. “Grab your friends. We’re putting this man back on the gurney. He needs to be transported up to the Level Ten Crisis Unit
now
!” Nathan began re-wrapping the bandages around Daryl’s neck with the cold detachment that stemmed from his years as a triage medic in a combat zone.

“How many more of these cases are we going to get?” he thought to himself. “And are they all just going to get worse?”

Five minutes later the pilot, medics, and Dr. Park were aboard the emergency air transport heading up into Olympus. He needed access to better medical equipment and the expertise of his mentor. He activated the communication device he had plugged in his ear and called Dr. Abraham. He was worried about how he would explain the situation with people of low-level clearance in earshot.

“Hello, Nathan,” Saul answered with a jovial chirp.

Nathan covered his mouth with his free hand to muffle his voice. “Saul, we just got another one. And this one is much,
much
worse,” he said in a low voice. “I’m heading to the Level Ten Crisis Unit with him now. This is beyond anything I’ve ever seen. I need you to take the lead on this one.”

On Saul’s end of the line, Nathan could hear the sounds of clattering plates and clinking glasses.

“I’ll meet you there in twenty minutes,” Saul replied. Nathan heard Saul ask for the check before the call disconnected. Knowing Saul was on his way helped ease some of his anxious frustration over these unsolvable cases. He focused his attention back on monitoring the status of his patient.

“Who were you talking to, Doc?” one of the younger medics asked. Nathan recognized him as one of the newer members of the emergency response personnel assigned to the landing field crew. Nathan only new his last name was Robards from the metal plate attached to his uniform. He excused the young medic’s nosiness as inexperience.

Nathan debated in his head how to answer that question, weighing the pros and cons of divulging sensitive information. If he caused panic with rumors of a false epidemic, his credibility could evaporate. He formed a frank answer in his mind that was honest but cautious.

“That was the director of the Center for Disease Prevention. He’s also the chief pathologist in Olympus. If anyone knows what we’re dealing with, it’ll be him.”

This statement was true, but it also was a half-truth. All the previous cases had been much tamer in comparison to what this pilot was battling. Saul was the best in their field, but both he and Nathan remained flummoxed by the growing frequency, not to mention intensity, of the ghastly cases.

Evangeline stormed into the reception area of the base clinic. “I’d like to see Private Daryl Simmonds, please,” she asked. The strain in her voice betrayed the calm mask of her face.

The nurse, Amber Hutchins, checked the system and froze where she stood. The memory of the examination room had been replaying in her mind since Nathan and his team had whisked the pilot away to Level Ten treatment. In her career as a nurse, she had dealt with bruises, cuts, broken bones, and burns. She had never witnessed a scene so horrifying as what she saw when Dr. Park lifted that bandage.

“Excuse me! Lt. Simmonds?” Evangeline prompted, drumming her fingers on the counter. She stood at the counter with her arms outstretched, as if she was going to vault the counter and search the system herself if she had to. Amber shook her head and woke herself out of her trance.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, struggling to keep her voice steady. “What’s your relation to the patient?”

“I’m his flight instructor. We were involved in an accident out on the landing field just now. I’d like to see him and speak with his doctor immediately, please.” Evangeline was growing visibly impatient with the absent-minded nurse behind the counter.

“Was that his name?” Amber asked with a horrified stare. “He was only in here for a few minutes. We never got his name from the medics.” Amber stood up and leaned in close to Evangeline with a conspiratorial air. “What was he exposed to?” she asked in a hoarse whisper.

The question took Evangeline back a step. “Exposed? What do you mean? He passed out in his cockpit and almost crashed into the training grounds!” Evangeline leaned over the counter, getting in Amber’s face. Amber recoiled; she was skittish after what she had witnessed that day.

Evangeline backed off when she saw that the daft nurse found her threatening. “Please,” she sighed. “Please tell me what happened to Simmonds.”

Amber understood Evangeline did not mean to attack her, and she was reassured by her ignorance of whatever had made that pilot so ill. She took a cautious step toward the counter, leaning in close again. She licked her lips and cleared her throat, grasping for the right words. She wished Dr. Park were there; he was more adept at delivering grim news.

“They’ve taken him to the Level Ten Crisis Unit.”

Evangeline stared with unregistering eyes. “What does that mean?”

Amber glanced around the room. A small crowd of visitors and hospital staff had stopped their own conversation to eavesdrop on the tense exchange with Evangeline. She felt a sudden wave of self-consciousness and cleared her throat again. Without speaking, she directed Evangeline around the corner, guiding her into the small file room so they could have some privacy.

“I’m so sorry to have to tell you this,” her voice wavered. “Level Ten Crisis is a quarantine facility. It’s where they take patients that are suspected to have serious or unknown diseases.” Evangeline stared into Amber’s kind eyes. “It’s where,” she took a deep breath. “It’s where patients are taken if they’re not expected to live.”