Fear

THIRTY-THREE

Nathan drove the car behind the adobe wall at Blaine the Pain’s house. His hands gripped the wheel as though fused to the plastic.

‘Nathan, be cool…’ Miles started.

Nathan pulled trembling hands free from the wheel. Suddenly he seized the rearview mirror, tried to wrench it free from the ceiling.

Miles leaned forward and grabbed his arms. ‘What the hell? Calm down!’

‘Can we go inside now? Please?’ Celeste shivered as though she’d fallen into snow.

Nathan aimed the mirror away from his face. Miles helped Celeste out, hurried her under the shelter of the porch. Nathan followed them. Miles opened the front door and held his breath, tried to imagine the explanation he would give if Blaine was back from Texas.

‘Mr. Blaine? It’s Michael, from the gallery,’ Miles called. No answer. Blaine was still out of town.

Miles flicked on a kitchen light, leaving the other lamps doused. If the neighbors knew Blaine was out of town, he didn’t want to increase suspicion.

Celeste collapsed on the couch, pulled her knees close to her chest. Nathan scanned the room as if he were stepping on enemy territory.

Miles shut the front door behind him. ‘We can stay here, at least for tonight.’

‘Is it safe?’ Nathan ran from room to room, as though he expected a shambling horror to lurch out from a dark corner.

Miles followed him. ‘We’re fine, I promise.’

‘Is this your house? How many doors? How many windows?’ Nathan went into the hallway bathroom and a few seconds later Miles heard a sudden, sharp crack.

He pushed past Nathan. ‘What the hell?’

The mirror stood broken, a vicious crater in its center, cracks radiating outward. Nathan dropped a heavy soap dish to the floor.

‘I hate mirrors.’ Nathan retreated from the shattered glass.

‘Why?’ Miles took him by the shoulders, kept his voice calm. ‘You can tell me.’

His jaw trembled; his eyes held a haunting fear. ‘They – they look at me. From the mirrors. My friends.’

‘Your friends that died in Iraq.’

‘How do you know?’ Nathan lurched away from him, running down the hall. ‘I don’t want them to see that I’m here…’

Miles caught him at the bedroom entrance, staring at a mirror atop a bureau. ‘They can’t see you. They can’t.’

‘But I see them. They went away for a while. But they’re coming back, they live in the mirror and it’s not my fault, it wasn’t my fault…’

Miles steered him away from the mirror. ‘We’ll cover the mirrors, okay? Celeste, help me.’ Miles took Nathan into the messy kitchen. Dirty dishes piled the sink, a sour odor rising from the trash. Nathan sank to the floor.

‘Find towels, or blankets… cover every mirror you can find, please,’ Miles said to Celeste. She seemed much steadier with four walls around her, and she nodded and left the room.

‘Nathan. Pull it together, man, you’ve come so far tonight, you can’t lose it. Stay steady.’

‘It’s like – withdrawal. I was better, now I’m worse.’ Nathan startled with a jerk as a car rumbled in the street.

Frost. They’d been feeding him Frost, and probably he’d gotten his last dose on Tuesday. Maybe the drug’s effects started fading without a daily dose.

Nathan shrugged Miles’s hands off his shoulders, closed his eyes, steadied his breathing. Celeste ran back into the kitchen. ‘I covered all the mirrors.’ She knelt by them. ‘You’re bleeding. Your legs.’ And Miles saw spatters of blood, dried and fresh, on the scrubs he wore.

Nathan ignored her. He reached a finger out toward her face and she flinched back. ‘You were on Castaway. Holy smoke.’

She nodded.

‘So you killed Hurley. He was a bad guy – bad doctor, bad breath, bad hair.’ Nathan laughed, a broken giggle. ‘You did a good deed, ma’am. Now if someone would kill Groote for me… if I don’t get to do it myself.’

‘No one’s killing anybody,’ Miles said.

Celeste reached for Nathan’s face.

‘No.’ Nathan backed away from her. ‘Don’t touch me.’

‘Just let me check.’ Celeste spoke in a soft voice, quiet and reassuring.

He stopped his retreat across the kitchen. Nathan tensed while Celeste touched his jawline, inspected his face. A swollen lip, a slight cut on the cheek with a bruise rising underneath it. ‘They punched you.’

‘Just once or twice.’ His voice shook. ‘Then hoses on my back.’

‘Let me see.’ Celeste eased up the back of Nathan’s shirt: a quilt of vicious bruises covered his spine.

‘Groote stuck a screwdriver against my bones. It hurt.’ Tears came into his eyes and he shuddered. He shoved up his sleeves, pulled bandages off his arm, and showed them the constellation of welts; deep bloodied punctures. ‘Cut down to the bone, jam the screwdriver against the bone. Then… turn. They did it on my legs too. Patch me up, then do it again.’ He gritted his teeth.

‘Oh, my God,’ Celeste said. ‘I’ll see if there’s a first-aid kit.’ She ran from the kitchen.

‘I can’t go crazy again,’ Nathan said in a hoarse whisper. ‘I can’t.’

‘I won’t let that happen,’ Miles said, and Nathan laughed, a short broken giggle.

‘You got spare sanity in your pocket?’ Nathan asked.

‘I know what you survived, Nathan,’ Miles said in a low voice.

‘You don’t know anything, man, not a thing about me… you don’t want to.’

Celeste ran back into the room, carrying gauze and Band-Aids and an antiseptic gel. ‘Get the scrubs off.’

Miles helped Nathan stand. Grimacing from the pain, Nathan shucked the scrubs down to his knees. Purple dominated the back of his legs where Groote had whipped the hoses. Four brutal gouges marred his leg. Celeste medicated and bandaged the wounds. ‘These wounds are deep. He needs a doctor.’

‘No,’ Nathan said.

‘You’re risking infection,’ Celeste said.

‘No,’ Nathan said again. ‘No doctors. We can’t let Groote find us.’

Miles rummaged in the cabinet, found aspirin, poured a palmful into Nathan’s hand, got him a glass of water. Nathan ate the aspirin like candy, a few at a time. He wiped the white dust from the tablets onto his shirt, finished the water. ‘Thank you.’ His eyes went glassy with exhaustion.

‘When was the last time you ate?’ Miles asked him.

‘Tuesday.’

Miles rummaged in Blaine’s nearly bare refrigerator, found a fancy-seeded bread and jam, cracked open a new jar of peanut butter, and made them all sandwiches. Nathan devoured his dinner in seconds, shivering with hunger.

Miles sat on the floor across from Nathan. ‘You know what Frost is.’

‘Yes. Allison told me it’s medicine to cure your trauma. She told me when she got me the passkey, said I had to run.’ Nathan wiped a hand across his mouth. ‘At first I thought Frost was the code name for the virtual-reality treatments they give us.’ He explained how the VR treatments worked – confirming what Miles had seen in the tech room.

‘They made you relive the bombing,’ Miles said.

‘Bombing?’ Celeste asked.

‘I’m a war hero.’ Nathan sat up straighter. ‘Iraq. I volunteered after 9/11. I wanted to fight the good fight, protect the country I love.’

‘Brave of you,’ Celeste said softly.

He ducked his head in embarrassment. ‘During the invasion, I was with a battery company, thirty miles out of Baghdad. We launched our missiles, right after midnight, on target for a palace of Saddam’s, but a U.S. jet pilot got confused, got bad info, he believed we were Republican Guard, he fired a heat-seeker’ – he paused, swallowed, kept his gaze on his feet – ‘killed four of my buddies. Nearly killed the rest of us.’

‘I’m sorry, man,’ Miles said.

‘Parts of my friends hit me. I got a broken nose from a leg flying into my face.’

Miles and Celeste said nothing, because words had no power now.

‘I got hurt in the blast, just burns’ – he pointed to the peppering of scars on his cheek and nose – ‘but it messed me up inside. I couldn’t – I couldn’t do my duty anymore.’

‘PTSD,’ Celeste said. ‘It’s not your fault.’

‘Pathetic Terrible Stupid Disorder,’ Nathan said. ‘That’s what I call it. I got freaky. I’d go nuclear in two seconds flat. Beat up an orderly at the psych ward in Germany they sent me to. But I got the honorable discharge, got the medal for standing ten feet further away from the battery than my friends.’

‘And then you ended up at Sangriaville,’ Miles said.

‘When I didn’t get any better. My folks were good to me, but after a couple of years, they’re saying, Nathan, get over the sadness now. Stop whining. Stop seeing dead people in the mirrors. Stop being this freak, be our son again. Tried selling furniture at their place in Albuquerque; went from supporting missile systems to futons.’ He tried to laugh. ‘I wasn’t good at moving the merchandise off the floor. I punched a guy when he couldn’t decide between two recliners. Jesus, it’s not a life-or-death decision. Pick after thirty minutes of shopping and sitting and fricking reclining. So the folks found a vets’ program in Phoenix that got me free treatment – then my folks found out about Hurley’s program and moved me to Santa Fe.’

‘I read about those virtual-reality treatments,’ Celeste said. ‘But they’re considered promising, and they don’t involve drugs.’

‘I didn’t sign up to test drugs, none of us did, I signed up to test the virtual-reality treatments.’ Nathan closed his eyes. Miles put a steadying hand on his shoulder. The trembling stopped. ‘I didn’t know about the drugs till Allison told me.’

‘It’s all cool. Just tell us what you know about Allison’s death,’ Miles said. ‘Start at the beginning.’

‘Sorenson – he’s lying.’ Nathan took another bite of sandwich. A dribble of strawberry jelly lay near his lip. ‘I didn’t kill her. You got to believe me. I would never…’

‘I believe you.’

‘Th-thank you. For getting me out of the torture chamber.’ He clenched his fists, pressed them into his face. ‘I thought I was fixed but now I feel worse than ever. Allison was the only person who helped me-’

‘I swear I’ll help you, Nathan,’ Miles said. ‘But you have to help us.’

‘Help you what?’

‘Find justice for her.’

Nathan laughed. ‘How high and mighty. Justice.’ Nathan cleaned the jelly off his chin with his thumb, the way a child would, sucked the jelly off the nail.

‘She was our friend,’ Celeste said. ‘Our doctor.’

‘You can’t help a dead person,’ Nathan said. ‘They’re dead, end of story.’

‘Not end of story. She tried to help you,’ Miles said.

Nathan’s mouth went into a thin slash. ‘I want to know what I’m getting into, I still don’t know why you use two names.’

‘I’d like to know why, too, Miles,’ Celeste said quietly. ‘Which name do you prefer?’

He could unfold the confession he kept in his pocket, let them read it. But he wouldn’t. He needed Nathan to trust him, but he wasn’t sure yet he could trust Nathan. He knew the attitude was wrong – when he preached cooperation to a scared, beaten kid – but he couldn’t help himself. So he kept the explanation edited. ‘My dad died. He owed three hundred thousand dollars to a crime family in Miami. They forced me to work with them to pay the debt. They had me spy on their rivals. I finally cooperated with the feds, testified, and went into the witness protection program. The government moved me to Santa Fe and named me Michael. But I’m not in witness protection anymore.’

‘Tell them the whole story,’ Andy hissed from the kitchen table. ‘I’m waiting.’

Celeste, as though she heard Andy’s whisper, put a hand on Miles’s arm.

‘That’s your trauma?’ Nathan said. ‘Jesus, that’s fricking nothing, man.’

‘Stop it,’ Celeste said. ‘This isn’t a competition.’

‘I’m just saying I don’t see how being in witness protection would drive you nuts,’ Nathan said.

‘I killed a man,’ Miles said suddenly. ‘He tried to kill me and two undercover cops who had infiltrated the ring. I shot him.’

‘What caused him to go postal?’ Nathan asked.

‘I don’t remember,’ Miles said. ‘We were just talking to him and he pulled his gun and he tried to kill me.’

Nathan glanced at Celeste. ‘Be careful what you say.’

‘Don’t joke. You owe this man your life,’ she said.

Nathan shut up.

‘There’s my truth, Nathan. Your turn. Finish your story. Allison was getting you out.’

‘Yeah. I was supposed to get to her house, wait for her. We were going to disappear, go where no one could find us, she said. She said we had to run Tuesday night. I don’t know what made Tuesday special.’

‘What about Groote?’ Miles asked.

‘Never saw him, or Sorenson, before Tuesday.’

‘You ever hear of a man named Quantrill?’ Miles asked.

‘No.’

‘Allison should have just called the state board on Hurley and Quantrill,’ Miles said. ‘Why run? Why hide? She could have simply gone to the police. She asked me for help. She sounded like she was making a stand to fight. But then she tells you she was running.’

Nathan said, ‘Maybe she wanted your help in hiding herself and me. Since you know all about it.’

Miles shrugged. But the explanation didn’t ring true to him, part of the story was bent, a piece was missing.

Nathan creaked to his feet with a wince, washed his face in the sink.

‘If Frost was fixing you, why would you want to leave?’ Celeste asked.

Nathan dragged a finger across his lips. ‘Allison said Hurley was going to do extra experiments on me. Because my trauma was so bad. Eventually – take apart my brain to show how Frost worked on it.’

Celeste said, ‘Oh, God, they’ll kill all the patients?’

‘No, they couldn’t risk so many people dying without explanation. But I was supposed to meet with an accident, Allison said.’ Nathan put a hand across his eyes. ‘I need to sleep.’

‘Answer one more question. Do you really think Frost helped you?’

‘I used to not be able to function at all. But I can now. So I guess I’m better. But lately, I can’t always think straight. I get panicky.’

‘Same with you, Celeste?’ Miles asked.

She shrugged. ‘Nathan, do you feel-’

‘I don’t want to talk anymore!’ he nearly screamed. He threw his plate into the sink. ‘Please. Just… I need to sleep. Let me sleep.’

Miles helped Nathan walk upstairs to a guest bedroom. Nathan eased himself down on the sheets, grabbed Miles’s arm.

‘If you try and hurt me while I’m sleeping, I’ll kill you.’

‘Dial it down a notch, man. I saved you. We’re on the same side.’

‘No,’ Nathan said. ‘No one’s on my side.’

Nathan fell asleep in five minutes. Miles stood in the doorway, watching the slow rise and fall of Nathan’s chest.

‘He’s dangerous,’ Andy said. ‘You can’t trust him.’

‘You’re one to talk,’ Miles said and went back downstairs. Celeste had brewed a pot of decaffeinated coffee and sat at the kitchen table.

‘Do you believe him?’ she asked.

‘Yes and no. We know she stole Frost and sent it to this Mercury Mountain host. Allison doesn’t use her own computer, or one at the hospital, or a public one in an Internet cafe or a library. She uses yours. She takes the pills she tested on you.’

‘She told me Frost was an antidepressant. Medical samples so I didn’t have to bother with a prescription, since I don’t – didn’t get out much. I don’t much like being a guinea pig.’

‘She might have been giving you the pills purely to help you, if she was sure they would help,’ Miles said. ‘And then she took them back to protect you in case the hospital got suspicious.’

‘It’s unethical.’

‘I won’t disagree. But you’re out of your house, you’re functioning.’

‘True. I don’t doubt Allison’s good intentions.’

‘But I don’t understand why Allison didn’t go straight to the police, especially if Hurley planned to carve into Nathan’s brain.’

‘He’s lying,’ Celeste said.

‘You think?’

‘I do. But I don’t know which part of his story isn’t real. I just get the vibe he’s not being entirely honest.’

‘I get one vibe from him. He wants to be a soldier again. Strong. Capable. Confident.’

They sipped coffee in uncomfortable silence.

‘I killed a man today,’ she said. ‘The words don’t fit right in my mouth.’

‘ Killed is ugly. You saved me.’

‘Did I? You’re a big, strong guy. You kicked Hurley away, into me, the gun fired. It wasn’t as though I fortified my courage and aimed to kill. I could have waited. If you stopped him with your fists, no need for my gun.’

‘You did what you had to do.’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘That’s the problem.’

Andy sat across from him at the kitchen table.

Celeste caught his quick squint at empty air. ‘Your invisible friend. He’s here?’

Embarrassment flooded him. ‘No.’

She took a bird’s sip of coffee. ‘You told me you killed your friend. You didn’t say he tried to kill two cops too.’

Miles shrugged. ‘It doesn’t change the fact that I killed him.’

‘If you saved lives, you did the right thing, no matter how devastating.’

‘I disagree with her,’ Andy said. ‘What does she know?’

Miles was quiet, not wanting to listen to either of them, tired to his bones.

‘We have to have a plan, Miles. We can’t hide here forever,’ Celeste said.

He put down his coffee cup. ‘We find Frost. It’s the only way, first to prove we’re not crazy and, second, to exonerate what we’ve done. Me running from witness protection, you shooting Hurley.’

Celeste hugged herself, as if cold. ‘I’ll like jail. Since I love being indoors.’

‘You’d hate it.’

‘Have you been?’

‘No. But WITSEC, when they take you into the program, they put you in a facility where you can’t leave for several days, you don’t see other people. No bars, but it’s jail.’

‘I did the same thing you did,’ she said. ‘Walked away from my life. Put myself away from the world.’

The silence between them grew awkward and he said, ‘I need to tell you about what I found in the hospital. Sorenson had beaten the crap out of this Groote guy and was trying to kill Nathan. He suggested Nathan killed Allison, that he knew about explosives. Now, maybe he was just trying to create doubt in my mind, but Nathan was in the army, and we don’t know details of his service…’

‘But why would he kill Allison when she was helping him?’

‘Don’t know. Let’s say Allison stole Frost, then Sorenson stole it from her or killed her. I understand why Sorenson would face off against Groote, but why would Sorenson attack Nathan? How is Nathan a threat to him? He pretends to be a doctor, he kills Allison, he then tries to kill Nathan. I don’t get how this all connects.’

‘We’ll get Nathan talking tomorrow. Right now I’m going to find a bed to sleep in.’ She got up, pulled a knife from a storage rack.

‘What’s that for?’ he asked. ‘You don’t need to cut-’

‘It’s not for me,’ she said. ‘For protection. In case the bad guys come in the night.’

‘I’ll stand guard.’

‘You can’t, Miles. You got drugged, you’ve been through hell. This isn’t a horror movie, sitting around the campfire, waiting for the boogeyman to jump out. We bring our boogeys along with us.’ She thumbed the edge of the knife. ‘Good night, Miles.’

‘Good night, Celeste. I’m sorry I brought all this trouble to you.’

‘You didn’t.’ She went up the stairs.

Miles put his hands flat on the table. My God, he just wanted his old life back. His imperfect, dumb, but wonderful old life, him and his dad running the private investigation agency, no Andy gone mob, no crime rings extorting him to work off his father’s debts, no reasons to hide, no hallucinations.

He drank another cup of coffee. Choose a next step. His head buzzed with a dozen questions, trying to fit together the mismatched pieces of the jigsaw that was the battle for Frost. But he knew with clarity that the only way to beat Groote, to beat Sorenson, to take the fight to them, was to locate the stolen Frost research. The bad guys didn’t want it public; their fear was their only weakness he could exploit. He would find Frost and destroy them with it. So the next step was to find Mercury Mountain, Allison’s recipient of the stolen research. If he couldn’t find anything out from that angle, then he had to find this Quantrill guy in California – he was the chief, the money behind Frost. Follow the money; it had been his one rule in spying for the Barradas, and it never failed him. Except he’d never had to bring two innocent people in tow when he followed the money. His stomach twisted at the responsibility of protecting them; but he had no choice. He would simply have to keep them safe and try not to think about how he had failed Andy and Allison.

‘I’ll make it right,’ he said to himself, to the empty air, to Andy.

He fell asleep across Blaine’s unmade bed, the Beretta under his pillow, the way he had slept in Miami a lifetime ago.