Only Shadows Ahead

Chapter Thirty-Nine

She peers down at him worriedly, tucking her hair behind her ear as Kwame paces back and forth at the foot of the bed. A nurse stands close to the IV, checking Wheeler's vitals.

"He's doing great, guys," the nurse says softly, giving them a smile as she leaves the room; closing the door behind her. "Won't be long."

The surgery went well. Arteries and blood vessels have been repaired and the wound has been cleaned. The drugs are in the process of clearing his system — they're now waiting for him to wake up.

Ma-Ti is asleep in the spare bed in the next cubicle and Gi has gone to get another coffee. Linka's not sure how many she's up to, but the Water Planeteer has been bouncing off the walls for the past two days.

Linka sighs, dropping into the seat beside Wheeler. She hunches over him, running her finger along the ridge of his nose. There's an eyelash clinging to the outer area of his eyelid and she rubs it away gently.

She sweeps her eyes over his face. He looks like a little boy. Red hair tousled over his forehead. Usually clean-shaven, he has stubble covering the lower part of his face and neck. She reaches out, feeling the roughened texture beneath her thumb.

"He awake?"

Gi has returned. She's holding a steaming cup in one hand and a rolled up magazine in the other, plonking herself on the end of Wheeler's bed.

"Nyet," Linka replies, giving Gi a tired smile. "Nurse said it will not be long."

"Why don't you take a break, Linka," Kwame says, pausing his frenetic pacing to look at her with sympathetic eyes. "We can let you know if —"

She shakes her head, folding her arms on the narrow armrest and resting her chin there. "It is fine," she says, stifling a yawn.

"There's a guy in Emergency," Gi says, taking a sip of her coffee. "Got a certain something stuck in something. Pretty entertaining down there. Crowd's gathered."

"Something stuck in something?" Linka says, a crease in her brow. "What are you —"

"Vacuum cleaner hose," Gi volunteers, hiding a smile. She raises her eyebrows. "Hoping the suction was worth it."

Kwame snorts loudly, clapping his hand to his mouth. His cackling is infectious and soon they're all wheezing with laughter.

"Oh, goodness," Kwame says, rubbing his face. He's grinning — a load has been lifted off their shoulders. It's the first light moment they've had since the shooting. "That is hilarious."

"I thought so," Gi says, grinning more at Kwame's reaction than anything else. "Should have seen the nurses trying to keep a straight face."

"I am sure they have seen a great deal worse," he says. He shakes his head, pulling the curtain back and settling himself in the chair beside Ma-Ti. He nods towards Wheeler. "Pity he is not awake. I doubt he would have passed up the opportunity to run down and witness that."

"Da," Linka says, reaching for Wheeler's hand and clutching it tightly. She runs her thumb over his knuckles, stroking his long fingers. "That is true."

"When are we back to work?" Gi asks.

"I do not know," he admits. "Let us call it an indefinite break."

"You mean —"

"I think we need to have a long conversation once he is discharged," Kwame says softly and Linka closes her eyes. She knows what that means. "I think we have officially reached the point of no return."

She glances at Gi, noting the stiffened body language. Gi looks away, concentrating on the contents of her cup of coffee and biting her lip.

Linka nods, turning back towards the bed and she jolts. Wheeler's blue eyes are open and staring at Kwame.

"Yankee?" she whispers, her heart racing. Linka grins, squeezing his hand tightly, overjoyed to see him finally awake. "Yankee, how are you feel —"

"Where am I?" he rasps, wetting his lips. His voice is slurred; thick with sleep and Kwame rises and steps forward, relief etched on his face.

"You are in the hospital, my friend," Kwame replies. "You were —"

"Meetin' him at the pool," Wheeler mumbles, glancing around in confusion. He raises his hand in the air, flopping it around as he stares at the tubes trailing down. "We're goin' swimmin'."

"Uh huh," Gi says, patting his leg affectionately. "Okay then. Good to see you awake, Wheeler."

"You a doctor?" he asks Gi and she shakes her head, amused by his current condition.

"Uh… no champ."

"Oh," he says. He tries sitting up and both Linka and Gi move to gently push him back down again. He falls back against the pillows, raising a shaky hand to his eyes. "Did I miss the game? Coach'll tear my hide if —"

"Is this normal?" Linka peers at Kwame worriedly. "He does not sound right."

"I guess it is the sedatives," Kwame says, shrugging. "Probably going to be —"

"Where's Mom?"

Linka blinks, glancing at the others. "She is not here yet, Yankee."

"Oh." His blue eyes are unfocused. "She asked me to get…"

"Get what, Yankee?"

"Can't remember," he mumbles. He runs a hand through his hair, wincing in pain and staring down at his chest. "What the hell —"

"Glad to see you back with us." Ma-Ti is awake now. He swings his legs around and sits on the edge of the bed, watching on. "You had us very worried, my friend."

"What happened," Wheeler says. Moments of clarity seem to be pushing through the disorientation. He tries again to sit up and Linka gently pushes him back down. He gives up. "I'm in the hospital? Feels like I've been hit by a truck."

"You were shot," Ma-Ti says. "Twice in the chest. We nearly lost you."

"Lost? I don't remember?" Wheeler says, staring hard at Kwame. "You get a haircut, Deon?"

"I think we might continue this conversation tomorrow," Kwame says with a smile. "You seem a little out of it."

"Higher than a kite," Gi volunteers.

"Are you sure this is normal?" Linka asks, peering down at him worriedly. "He may have hit his —"

"Oh, wow," Wheeler rasps as his attention finally focuses on Linka. He narrows his eyes, squinting up at Linka's face with a goofy smile. He squeezes her hand and she can't help but grin back at him. "Holy crap, you're gorgeous."

"Uh, thank you," she replies. Her hair floats above him and he reaches out; attempting to grasp the thick strands and missing by several inches. He pinches the air instead. "Are you sure you —"

"What's your name?" he asks and Linka's trying so hard not to smile at the expression on his face. He gestures wildly in the air again. "Geez. Hot nurses. Seriously, I'd sell both my kidneys for a night with —"

"Oh God," Gi laughs. "He's fine."

"That looks disgusting," Gi says, wrinkling her nose as the lunch trolley is wheeled away. "Sloppy peas and rubbery steak."

"Who cares," Wheeler grumbles, concentrating hard on cutting his unpalatable meat with the provided cutlery. "I'm starvin'. So over the slop they've been feedin' me."

Gi nods towards the food he's now attempting to hack into. His movements are cautious, wincing due to the painful, restricted movements through his shoulders and arm.

"Want me to cut it up for you, princess?"

"Fuck you, buttercup." Wheeler springs the middle finger on her. "I'm hungry."

"I doubt you are going to fade away, Yankee," Linka says, patting his thigh. She's seated beside him on the bed, thrilled to see him looking so well. Keeping him close. He's sitting up — the color has returned to his face and he looks so much better than the days before.

"Anyone willin' to spring me a burger?" Wheeler asks, leaning back against the pillows and pushing the plate away untouched. "Gonna waste away to nothin' here."

"I have some tic tacs in my purse?" Linka says and he nods eagerly. She reaches across him to gather up her handbag from the bedside table, also adorned with flowers and cards. She's careful not to nudge his chest or wrist, aware of the tubes and bandages still jutting out of his body.

He downs the half-empty box in two mouthfuls. "Any leads on who tried to turn me into swiss cheese?"

"Do you want the official or unofficial version?" Ma-Ti asks and Wheeler shrugs.

"Surprise me."

"Mexican authorities are saying it's a robbery gone wrong."

"Bullshit," Wheeler mutters. "Came nowhere near me."

"The contact was a fake," Kwame says. "We are ninety percent sure it was Plunder. He set up the meeting, had the getaway driver ready. We think the plan was to take one of us out."

"You drew the short straw," Linka whispers and Wheeler glances at her.

"Jesus," he says, his face pale. "Pissed him off a few too many times, I guess."

"Got a talent for it," Gi says.

"Okay," he says, shaking his head. "You guys still in that shitty apartment down the block?"

"Yes", Kwame says. "Any idea when you are being discharged?"

"Few days, maybe." Wheeler settles back against the pillow. His bare arm nudges Linka's and she settles her head against his good shoulder, eyeing his wound. "Drain's hopefully gettin' removed this afternoon. Just wanna get outta here."

"Gaia wants to meet with us," Ma-Ti says. "We think she's going to disband the Planeteers."

"It is getting too dangerous," Kwame adds. "When you're well enough, we'll need to have a team meeting. Just forewarning you."

Wheeler nods and Kwame moves to stand, reaching forward to shake his hand.

"Anyway," he says, "We'll come by again tomorrow."

"Good luck with the drain," Ma-Ti adds.

"Yeah. Highlight of my totally fucked-up week," Wheeler says sarcastically.

Kwame and Ma-Ti wave, heading out together and Gi moves to follow. She pauses, hovering in the doorway; evidently waiting for Linka who has made no move to leave Wheeler's side.

"Meet you back there, Lin," she says. She turns and her footsteps echo down the corridor.

They sit in silence for a while. She's relaxed and comfortable, even more so when Wheeler slings an arm across her shoulders and hugs her tightly.

"You all right?" he asks quietly.

She nods. "Da."

"Kwame said you've got another meetin' with those CIA goons?"

"Tomorrow." She nods again, turning her head slightly, pillowing her cheek against his chest. She can see the bandage, and the tube held in place with adhesive tape. "They are in damage control now. I am not sure what help I can be."

"Still worried they'll upload the virus?"

"They are exploring other options at the moment," she says. "They have pushed the virus aside, thank goodness."

"Mmm," he replies, tipping his chin against the crown of her head. "Sure you're all right? You're really quiet."

"Am I not always quiet?" she says, a hint of a smile on her face.

"I dunno," he says. "You haven't bugged me about the physio exercises I'm meant to be doin'. Or that I'm not drinkin' enough water. Haven't nagged me about —"

She scoffs. "You do not need me to —"

He gestures towards the copious amounts of floral bouquets lining the windows and bench space. "Or why I have bunches of flowers from chicks I've never heard of."

"What?" she laughs, reaching across him to grab the small card hanging off the basket of flowers on his bedside table. She reads the message. "Who is Jess?"

He shrugs. "Told ya — never heard of most of 'em."

She tosses the card back and settles down, eyeing his chest again. "You scared me half to death."

"Tryin' to tell me you were worried about me?" he teases in a low voice and she nods, choosing not to deny it.

"I thought you were going to die." She blinks back tears, wiping her face and his arm tightens around her. "I thought we were going to lose you."

"Too stubborn for that," he says, dropping his mouth to the crown of her head. "Can't get rid of me that easily, babe."

"Evidently not."

"You plannin' on hangin' around?"

"Do you mind?" she says, her tone hopeful. "I can go if —"

"Got a date with an x-ray," he says, poking his chest tube. "Then an evening watchin' trashy soaps on TV if you're down with that?"

"Da," she replies happily, eager to enjoy his presence and his company. She's missed him. "I am 'down' with that."

"Oh," he says, nodding towards the bedside table. "Nurses found somethin' in my pocket when they air-lifted me in. Think it's yours."

She frowns, curious as she sits up and reaches over him. "I do not remember giving you anything?"

"Nah. Pretty sure it's yours."

A small satin bag is pulled out of the draw, no bigger then the palm of her hand and she stares at it in confusion. "No, I definitely did not —" she begins, trailing off as she opens the drawstring and sees the glint of silver inside.

"Oh God," she says in wonder. "Yankee, when did —"

"I'd actually grabbed one for you earlier in the day. Before… well, you know," he says softly, watching on as she pulls out the silver belcher chain from the market.

She beams at him, thrilled at the unexpected gift. "I cannot believe…"

"Was plannin' on puttin' it under your pillow." He leans back and takes the chain from her, draping it around her neck. "Obviously didn't get the chance."

"You did not have to do this," she whispers, tipping her head forward as he brushes her hair aside. The gentle brush of his fingers on her skin sends a thrill through her. She can't stop grinning, rubbing the chain between her thumb and index finger as he fastens the clasp. "I do not know what to say."

"Doesn't mean we're engaged or nothin," he says self-consciously and she giggles, blushing. He leans back against the pillows and reaches for her hand, clutching it within his lap and twining his fingers through hers. She squeezes him back.

"Thank you," she says, snuggling into him and closing her eyes. "I love it."

He smiles. "You were worth the thousand pesos after all."

Kwame had no concept of time. It was dark here. Damp. There was an acrid smell in the air. It was heavy; invading his lungs. The smell of chemicals and something else. Something unpleasant: biological.

Every now and then he'd get the sense that there was someone else in here. Scampering sounds, or the odd muffled scrape. Faint noises and voices but for the most part, the pit was silent.

He grunted, struggling against the ropes but it was no use. His hands were tied behind his back and he was tethered to a link in the wall. A coughing fit tore through him and he heaved, gagging at having to inhale so much of the noxious air.

Filtered light appeared, causing him to blink. Unsure if his eyes were playing tricks on him, he squinted in the darkness. The light vanished just as quickly but he was certain someone else was with him now. He could hear steady breathing.

Kwame swallowed nervously. A shuffling noise could be heard, almost a slither. Something dragging.

The hackles on the back of his neck rose. Heart rate increasing, adrenaline pumping through his system. Pitch black greeted him, but his other senses were on overdrive trying to compensate for the lack of vision.

A laugh. A feminine titter and Kwame's blood ran cold. The slithering noise stopped, followed by a solid thump. Slow, careful footsteps and Kwame recoiled as a hand skated over his thigh.

"Jesus," he hissed in fright. That feminine titter sounded again and the voice was alarmingly close now, right in front of him.

"Not Jesus," came the whispered response. The hand travelled upwards, crawling with stomach-churning grace up his chest before gripping his chin firmly. "But I am the Messiah."

The voice was smooth and sultry and Kwame's heart sank. He was under no illusions as to who he was with.

"Blight?" Kwame asked. Doing his best to maintain his outwardly calm exterior when inside he was shaking in terror. Something didn't feel right. "What are you —"

"I am the Messiah," she repeated. He shuddered in revulsion as she leaned forward, still gripping his chin and forcing his head to the side. The featherlight touch of her lips whispered over his exposed throat and for a moment he squeezed his eyes shut, certain she was about to rip his throat out.

"The Messiah?" Kwame said. He recoiled, desperate to get away but unable to avoid her unwelcome advances. " What do you —"

"I am the one. I have been chosen," she said simply, leaning back. He could feel her breath on his face in the darkness. "Revolution is coming, dear boy."

"Revolution?"

"I will lead them," she whispered. "We will start again."

"By killing everyone?" He gritted his teeth in anger. "You have spent the past two years trying to obliterate us. Why would you —"

"To create, you must first destroy."

"We are already destroyed," he seethed. "Your program saw to that —"

"AND YOUR LITTLE BITCH HELPED DESTROY HIM!" she screamed and Kwame jumped in fright, kicking out at her blindly. "HE WAS EVERYTHING TO ME!

"He was a computer program gone rogue," Kwame said. "They had no choice but to —"

"I sure fixed Blondie," she whispered. Her breath was hot against his face and he turned away, nearly gagging. "Those little brats belong to her?"

"Yes," he seethed. "You —"

"Too bad," she purred. "Mommy was naughty. Shouldn't have crossed me."

"You know that's not true," Kwame said. "You always blamed her. It was misplaced, it always was. The CIA —"

"You're all going to burn. It's my greatest creation yet."

"God, Blight. What have you done?"

"Ruined me."

"You ruined yourself, Blight!" he retorted. "You have well and truly —"

"I will lead them. I will save them. The great fire is coming."

"They'll stop you," he said, panic rising. Sweat was coating on his brow. "Linka included. You're not going to —"

"Life will rise from the ashes," Blight whispered. "And once that carbon-copy brat has served her purpose, I'll take great pleasure in wringing her little fucking neck."

A match flared in the darkness and Kwame blinked, unaccustomed to the light. The match hovered; coming to rest in front of him and Blight's face grinned beyond it.

"Oh my God," Kwame moaned.

Barbara Blight was bald. Blistering sores and scars now marked her entire face. Her skin was pale and her lips were dry and cracked. Cloudy cataracts were present in both of Doctor Blight's eyes.

"I am the Messiah," she grinned, showing dark, rotting teeth. "I will lead them."

"If only MAL could see you now," he said softly, staring at Blight with revulsion. "What a disappointment you must be."

The smile faltered. Her face contorted with rage and fury. She grabbed Kwame's face and slammed his head into the wall, and for a moment stars burst forth as he recovered from the shock. The match whittled down and her face flickered, light dancing around him.

Blight stood up and he winced as she kicked him hard in the ribs. She turned and sauntered off, striking a few matches and tossing them carelessly towards him. Red embers glowed bright, illuminating a mass of clothing around him.

Kwame shuffled forward as far as the chain would allow, stamping the matches out with the heel of his boot, desperate to avoid a fire. His breath caught as he spotted a wax-like hand peeking out from beneath a jacket nearby. Another hand to his right, along with someone's foot. Kwame scrambled backwards as a pile of pallid faces glowed in the dying light.

Mountains of naked department store mannequins were lying twisted and discarded around him — half-melted, some burnt. Blackened limbs and eternally-vague smiles, they were all defaced or marked in some way.

"I will lead them. I will free all of you." Her voice carried through the stillness.

Taking short, shallow breaths, Kwame did his best to calm himself as darkness settled over him again. The door closed softly behind Blight, leaving him alone and terrified.