Chapter 8 – Storm front
Somewhere in Southern California, 11:38 PM
Dinner alone was bittersweet, with Auditor roaming the town at a company dinner and VAL working nights as a bartender four nights a week, Amos had the house all alone with the dog for the first time in a long while. He shared some leftover chicken pasta with the terrier and drank domestic beer in companionable silence with the pet until Deeoh started to get anxious with his owner gone. The little dog shook like a leaf and tried to burrow behind furniture and dive into any small space. The last straw was seeing the poor thing try to crawl behind Val's headboard; the dog hadn't fit back there since he was less than a year old.
A nice, hour-long stroll eased Deeohgee's anxiety and replaced it with interest in all the smells and people they met. There were cats to chase, patches of tall grass to hike on, yards to roll in, and all the scratches he could get from the neighbors who were also enjoying a walk in the cool evening air. When they got back, Deimos got a cursory glance from the furred lap warmer and allowed to pass without a stiff barking to show who owned the territory.
Amos turned the stove light on in the kitchen and frowned his watch, it was getting close to midnight and while Auditor didn't have a curfew, it was unusual for the demon to be out so long. He was careful not to push at the restrictions placed upon him by the Agency so he could live outside their facilities. Fear of being treated as he had once treated others, specifically how the demon had treated Leri and Valarie, kept him mindful of his actions and he got almost sulky when the threat loomed close.
His old boss never mentioned how he had been kept for so long in the care of what he called 'vanilla' or normal people or even how he'd been caught in the first place. Despite being run down and aggressively forced to live like a human, he kept his pride and simply wouldn't talk about certain things. It was almost as if being asked how, why or what about anything remotely personal was taboo. All you would get for you efforts was a wooly answer that never really satisfied.
The big man covered a yawn and shuffled to the living room with the dog hot on his heels, the storm was loud enough to make sleeping in his own bed a trial of patience and exhaustion, besides the couch was a whole lot more comfortable than his mattress. Rain pattered quietly through the outer walls and a distant rumble of thunder quietly set the mood for the rest of the night.
The couch groaned slightly under his weight and Smith pulled a light blanket off the back and waited for the terrier to settle against his stomach before draping the whimsical blanket over him. It was one of the many things that made this old house feel like home and well lived in, but this item was definitely meant for a girl. Valarie liked white horses running through fields and winged people, not necessarily angels, and cloudscapes.
Deeoh spun in a few circles before settling again with a contented sigh and nudged the human for a good scratch between the ears. The pair listened to the rain drumming on the roof and the distant rumble of thunder and slowly drifted to sleep where their dreams waited to greet them.
~-side arc 1-~
Amos woke with a start and slammed his fist against the wall behind the couch, that dream had seemed so real, the pain, the fear, the coppery smell of blood. He really believed he was back in that Madness. If only he were as lucky as VAL was and able to forget those nightmarish scenes of violence and death. He panted and willed his heartbeat to slow to its normal speed, a quick glance at his watch made the leet groan, he'd only been asleep for an hour.
He had had nightmares for years, flashbacks that felt so real he swore he was back in the A.A.H.W. fighting for his life against the Agency while struggling with his morals. Sometimes he dreamed about routine things like drinking with long dead friends, sometimes he dreamed of being a boy back home with his family during summer vacation, other times it was nightmarish scenes of battle.
The worst were what happened after VAL had attacked the Auditor because he couldn't be sure if that really happened or not, mostly because he couldn't remember anything for nearly a year after he was recalled to his former post. All he had were flashes of blurry images, smells, and emotions that terrified him because they were nothing like what he could remember from his personal experience. It closely resembled how Berger treated his experiments and Valarie knew what that was like but chose not to delve into those memories.
He knew at least part of the story; VAL had been kept in a small room with a bed, a sink and a toilet with hardly any room to move around in and no windows to ease the stress of the sterile cell. She had no storage spaces of her own; no clothing that insulated her from the cold and nothing to occupy her time. Everything she had was on-loan by the despicable souls that kept the girl caged.
To that end she worked hard not to lose anything but no matter what they never gave her two things she really wanted; to see the sun or shoes so she wouldn't have to wander barefoot when moved to the testing rooms. They fed her maybe twice a day and bathed her once every few days yet she suffered through the deprivations that would have pushed anyone beyond their breaking point, it was amazing she was so well adjusted.
In his broken dreams, he was in her old situation, kept in a room that was too small, gassed when he refused to cooperate and given daily injections that made him feel sick. The worst part is sometimes he just gave up and let those faceless tormentors manhandle him to avoid yet harsher treatment.
Amos ground his teeth together and took a bottle of pills from the end table drawer to stop a panic attack before it got enough power to stop him in his tracks. Just thinking about those twisted dreams he couldn't clearly remember put him in a downward spiral and brought on panic attacks every time. Just one of the many side effects of PTSD and one he would love to get rid of.
The big man stared at the ceiling and sighed, he should have taken the pills with water but he could not bring himself to shuffle to the kitchen and get some. If he could have one wish, it would be to sleep well for the rest of his life and to have avoided the violent career he had chosen to support his family. Heaviness settled over him and Amos was nearly asleep when his cell phone came to life and startled him awake to Deeoh's displeasure. The little screen was overly bright and Amos squinted to see who was calling him before he picked up.
"Yes?" Yes instead of hello, if this was a computerized call it would not be able to execute its' recorded messages because they were programmed to start their spiel when you said Hello or Hi.
"Hello, this is Dr. Albert Hildebrandt; I'm calling for a Mr. Amos Smith."
"Smith speaking." Smith propped himself up on an elbow and fought to get his body in gear, the heaviness he'd welcomed so he could sleep was not letting him wake up easily.
"Ah. Do you know a man named Giordano? Salvatore Giordano."
"Yes, we live together."
"Mister Smith, there has been an accident."
"What accident? What's going on are you sure you've got the right number?" Amos felt heat rising under his skin along with a wave of relief. At first, he'd thought he was going to hear some bad news about his family and hearing the Audit's alias eased those fears.
"I can't give any details over the phone but if you'll please come to the emergency care center on University Street I will be glad to give you more information on the situation."
"Alright, I'll be there in a bit." Smith hung up and stared at the phone and dragged himself to the bedroom to be presentable enough to get downtown.
-Five minutes earlier-
Auditor sighed, he was aware of the injuries he'd received and knew he would survive them; it was the hairless monkeys around him that were making a fuss about everything. Two of the bullets had stopped at the shoulder blade and the other ripped through the meaty part of the same shoulder and a hair above the collarbone. The more troubling injury came from the balisong, the wound was very deep and pointed upward between the ribs, a professional insertion would have pierced a lung but that trained little man wouldn't be so lucky against a supernatural being.
The spells he'd weaved to let his Skin ooze bright red blood identical to the man he'd possessed was being put through its paces. Normally he would prefer to leave no blood behind for a great many reasons but a lack of blood here would be even more suspicious than dark blood. The demon grunted and let a pair of good Samaritans ease him to the ground against a car until an ambulance arrived
An off duty firefighter stepped forward to help and eased the demon in human skin to the ground before checking the extent of the injuries. The firefighter asked the demon to move feet and hands and checked his pulse before pealing clothing off. Sal checked off the steps for treating shock in a person, which included but weren't limited to, removing clothing, checking vitals, reducing blood loss and many other things to keep a person alive.
"Hey don't move around much, there might be internal injuries."
Ah yes internal injuries, Humans had gotten so good at creating weapons small enough to carry in a pocket with metal slugs that could tear, concuss and break apart in a body. By all indications, the bullets that had stopped at the bone had fragmented and the bullet with an exit wound had clipped bone as it passed so fragmentation was likely and concussion damage inevitable. The stab wound however presented an immediate problem with its proximity to vital organs.
"There's something in my wallet I need, I have to let them know what's happened."
"Let who know?" The man was now applying pressure to the wounds with help of a bystander.
"The Agency, the one from Nevada." Most people knew the one; it had popped up to fight the Madness, to fight him. After the end of the wars it became an organization that cataloged oddities for the police, now it had progressed to actively police everyone would come out of the wars with special abilities and with it came negative impressions to those affected.
"You're from Nevada?" The firefighters gold flecked brown eyes didn't betray mistrust or fear, only a deep calm and understanding, It was the kind of look that made you want to trust whatever the person said.
"No, I was there when things started happening. Please I have to let them know what happened before the police start making calls."
The man nodded and Auditor heard sirens in the distance, he couldn't tell if it was paramedics or police but he was positive it was not the fire department, their sirens had more body to them. Sylvia called the number on the Index card and Auditor let his mind wander, perhaps it was best to allow her to make the call, she experienced the attack and the rubes on the other end of the line would be more inclined to listen to her than to the demon they so despised.
Moreover, he had a part to play of poor gunshot victim going through shock rather than a lucid demon who is more than capable of shrugging the injuries off like a comfortable pair of pants. He was going to have a difficult enough time in the ambulance to let himself be handled and again when the surgeons started figuring out how they would go about 'saving' him.
Flashing blue and red lights tore through the night and the demon groaned, paramedics first followed by police, this night was getting SO much better with every passing second. He detached himself to see the surroundings and sensations and left Sal in control of their body. It felt like floating weightless and his field of vision was greater than it had ever been, didn't need to turn his head to get a clear look at his peripherals.
Police checked the area for threats and started roping the area off to begin their investigation and to let the EMT's do their jobs. The paramedics were talking to the firefighter, the bystander and Sylvia; the police were doing the same as they were trained to do. Pictures were taken and the Auditor hovered over the shoulders of the police as they wrote out their report on the situation. He watched the fire engine roll up and sighed, all the players were in place so there was no more time to figure out a way to avoid the hospital without a fuss, if only the street had been truly bereft of life so he could reject the injuries and get on with his miserable life.
The demon watched in contempt as the paramedics cut his clothes off and stared at the blinking collar. Just like having an identification card from the agency was a label so was the collar, except you could hide a plastic card from sight, the collar was in plain sight and screamed it's purpose, suppressing Drive created abilities.
The paramedics called the agency to see what they were dealing with and Auditor smiled faintly, astral projection was a chore but in cases like this, it was worth the effort. They checked him for burns, saw ash on his clothes and smelt his breath, they were checking if his body would breath fire, it could but Sal didn't know how to pull it off yet.
He hovered over the scene and watched the blood soaked cloth being removed so a clotting factor could be introduced to the wounds before pressure bandages were applied. Watched the ambulance close its doors with his body inside it and followed it like a ghost, and counted himself lucky to avoid the smells and sensations of that moving cage.
He popped into the ambulance long enough to see a paramedic patting Salvatore's arm and talking to him comfortingly. Say whatever you would about humanity being dark, disgusting and treacherous, this was mostly true. It was these small moments where they shone with the old light the creator had given them. They all had the ability to grant the most minor of miracles but they chose to think of it as something else entirely and to rationalize it.
The old leet yawned as he killed the engine and trotted to the emergency care center, like all hospitals it tried to look nice for the poor souls that had to come here. Manicured landscapes filled with brightly colored plants that didn't require much water and stained concrete walkways meant to resemble natural stone tried to reassure you that this was a nice place. The little reception area was sprinkled with bright abstract paintings and steel sculptures designed to break any preconceptions you had about a hospital but those white walls couldn't hide their purpose. Sterile, clean and orderly without a stain on them, like the doctors' coats and their rubber gloves the walls were impersonal and didn't give a flying rats' behind about you unless you were willing to pay for what you got.
He walked up to the plump woman on a modest work outfit with floral print cardigan sitting behind the desk and took in all the details her dress and body language could offer. She was not a young woman anymore but she clung to those years with thickly applied makeup to hide the wrinkles and bright nail polish fit for a woman in her twenties.
Judging from how she did her eye shadow, she was at least in her mid to late forties but had learned how to use color to make her hazel eyes stand out. She kept her curly red hair cut to a reasonably short length and was colorful if you looked closely enough, not a pure red but a mix of gold, caramel, red, orange and brown with a few streaks of silver here and there. All and all, a handsome woman who was self assured and completely comfortable with her appearance and vanities.
She looked at him as he approached and he noticed she wore a wedding band meant for a man rather than a woman. He didn't want to read much into that but first impression was it was her husbands' band and with it came an untold story.
"Hello, I got a call from Dr. Hildebrandt that a friend of mine was in an accident." He had identification ready to speed the process along; if there had been a major accident then Auditor would likely be suffering through surgery. Dorothy, that was the receptionist's name, directed him to a waiting room and he made his way there in a hazy stupor, none of this felt real at all. He fell into one of the beat up chairs to get a quick nap before he dealt with the reality of visiting someone in the hospital.
Auditor hovered over the scene in the sterile room and watched the anesthesiologist track the vital signs as the gas took effect, it wouldn't go as quickly as it normally did with regular people but the demon knew it would be brushed aside as a quirk of being from Nevada, a lot was swept under that rug and ignored thoroughly. Idly, he thought about an old friend of his who was enamored with human healing practices and fondly wished he was sharing this time on the astral plain with Pride who was the closest person he had to a brother.
The surgeons made quick work of removing the two bullets and fragments but they spent most of their time picking out fragments of bone to small to put back in place and putting the larger bits back together so they could fuse. The specialist watching his vitals called for a halt in the operation so Sal could empty his stomach onto the floor and the demon felt a small pull. If things had not been critical, they would have waited the digestive system out to avoid having a patient vomit under the knife. That tug, Salvatore was not really enjoying the experience his possessor was going to great lengths to avoid.
Auditor knew before he had Fallen that human medicines would never really work for him, his steadfast refusal to acknowledge it as useful had sparked Pride in his research and captivation with human medicine. As time had passed for humanity, Pride had been able to prove that mankind's discoveries did in fact affect the Fallen and demon kind in general but with severely reduced effects. Right now that meant Salvatore was not asleep during the operation but unable to move or do anything about it since he'd been left behind in the body they now shared.
The lights in the room flickered briefly as the demon sighed and drifted closer to see how the surgeons were doing, no matter how much his captive wanted company there was no way in the seven hells he was going to go through the horror of being cut open. When the operation was over and they were in a less unnerving room, he would rejoin the flesh he was so familiar with.
"Mr. Smith? You can see your friend now."
Amos jerked awake and his heart skipped a beat, nothing felt or smelled familiar, the lighting was wrong, had he really woken up? He looked blearily at the young nurse who had spoken and felt heat rising as his thoughts finally caught up with the rest of him. This was the surgery waiting room and it was early morning, working after this was going to be hell.
"What? Sorry, I must have fallen asleep…" He covered a yawn and rubbed his eyes to clear them, the nurse looked like JD from Scrubs if you made some minor allowances for skin color and height.
"Mr. Giordano is in the recovery room so you can see him now. If you'll follow me." Without waiting for an answer, the little Indian man turned and walked briskly away while the big American hopped to his feet and followed. Somehow, this felt like it should be in a sitcom but not quite.
The room was small and looked identical to any other hospital room as Smith stepped in and looked around. There was only one person in the room and the constant beeping of the machines hooked to them made it impossible to ignore them.
A female nurse walked to the bed from a side room and tucked a heated blanket under Salvatore's chin in the time it took the leet to cross the room and look his former boss over. He looked a bit pale and he was shivering constantly. More blankets were set in place before Smith could find his voice.
"Hey." Amos knew what he was seeing wasn't what was real. Auditor could somehow fashion a camouflage layer that looked like a normal person and he could put that outer layer through the wringer without being hurt himself but looking at the person in the padded bed made him sympathetic. He looked pale and groggy, and cold which he probably didn't like.
"You look like you bit a bullet instead of me."
Amos stared at the Auditor and frowned, he looked the same, sounded the same but something was a tad off about the demon. Maybe it was just recovering from anesthesia or he was putting on a good act but something was not quite right.
"Don't look at me like that it's just a flesh wound." Definitely not the demon, he wouldn't quote Monty Python to save his life.
"I've caught a few bullets in my time; you look like six miles of highway in hell." Amos smiled gamely at his charge and watched his statement register; there was the otherworldly person he'd knows for years.
"I resent that remark as I've seen those roads in person..."