Boston Under Siege (Book 1): Virus: Page 9

  “Bacon! She made real bacon,” Trips exclaimed, giving Ami a squeeze, smiling at Dewey. “Isn’t she the best?”

  Dewey laughed. “I'll leave the helmet, lock, and keys out on the table. Okay, Trips?” Dewey stepped inside and closed the slider. “Ami, Trips was saying he thought you might want to stay out here. You're absolutely welcome.”

  Ami arched an eyebrow and glanced from Trips to Dewey. “Thanks.” Dewey chuckled as he watched Trips try to snag a piece of bacon and Ami bat him away with the spatula. “But I think I’m going to head back with Alexx and Ichiro.”

  “Okay, either way, whatever you want to do.” Dewey shrugged. “Mi casa es tu casa. It's been totally cool having people in the house for a change. I'm hittin' the shower. Catch you on the flip side.”

  “Okay. Thanks, Dew,” Trips said, pouring more coffee into his mug.

  Ami scrambled eggs in bacon grease as the bacon drained on a plate draped with paper towels on the counter. Trips gnawed a chunk of the fried meat. “Stay here at Dewey's,” he whispered, leaning into her.

  “Quit eating it and put it on the table,” Ami said, ignoring his request. Trips put the bacon on the kitchen table and set out two places.

  As Ami scooped the eggs from the pan and put a plate in front of Trips, he wiggled around contentedly and sang his happy food song, his knees bobbing up and down as he ate. “Food, food, I like food.”

  “No more coffee for you, Mister.” She sat down to enjoy her eggs and took a few bites before bringing up the break-in and what they should do about it.

  By the time they finished breakfast they were hardly speaking. “Just let’s give it a rest for a minute. I’ve got indigestion as it is,” Trips said, sending Ami upstairs while he cleared breakfast.

  Ami hopped under the chilly covers with her coffee and laptop and checked the headlines. There was nothing of substance about the situation in Cambridge, nor anything on their break-in at the laboratory, for which she was thankful. Maybe the situation isn’t as bad as I thought, but I don’t want Trips to get busted, and we still don’t know if he’s sick. I’ll call the university as soon as I get home. Hopefully they’ll offer some leniency, but first, I’d better analyze whether he is subject to further infection.

  Trips bounded into the bedroom, and crawled into bed and kissed Ami’s ear. “Hullo, beautiful.”

  Ami set aside her coffee and laptop. “Your tummy okay?”

  “Fine. I’m sorry I was cross with you.” He smiled and lay on his back with one arm crooked under his head. He tapped his chest.

  Ami leaned into him, rubbing his chest. “Me too.”

  Trips stroked her hair. “It’s quiet, isn’t it?”

  Ami closed her eyes and sighed. Dammit, he’s back at it, she thought. “Trips, I can't. I told you,” she sat up, “what if the lab calls? Besides, I'd be all alone out here.” Ami shook her head and sat on the end of the bed. “No, it's too far away.”

  Trips crawled to the end of the bed and flopped down, putting his head on her hip, looking up at her. “I'll be able to concentrate better if you're here.”

  She moved a snarled lock from his face. “Trips, I'm sorry, but I'm going home.”

  “Why?” he whined, his leg starting to vibrate.

  “Because. I told you. It's too far away, and I want to go home.” Her stomach tightened, she stood straighter by the ladder-back chair. Besides, if anything happened, I wouldn't be able to get to you. Don’t you get that? Suddenly she blurt, “They let me go to the conference, and intimated we’re not responsible, but I feel responsible. I have figure this out. My associates died, Trips. Boston is messed up, and I know I can fix it, if they’d just give me half a chance.”

  “Call them. On the phone.” Trips rolled over on his stomach and put his chin in his hands looking like a pouty child. “Can't you just stay here? For me?”

  Ami clucked her tongue. “That's not fair.” They stared at each other. She rubbed her forehead and sat next to him on the bed. “They're just using you, like the bomb kids in Iraq. You should say no.”

  “What? What bomb kids?”

  “They hire teens to show them where the landmines are and stuff.”

  Trips scoffed and stood up. “I can hold my own. You’ve seen me. ‘Sides, they're not going to put a senator's son in danger.”

  Ami stood up folding her arms. “Yeah, well, what about the other messengers? What about them?”

  Trips huffed, his eyes narrowing. “Ami, they're not going to put any of us in danger. We're civilians. American civilians in an American town. We'll be scouts.”

  “That’s exactly my point! Scouts die! Read your history.” Ami paused, her lips pursed, then she cocked an eyebrow, “You'll be working for the man.”

  “Oh, please.” He raised his hands in the air and rolled his eyes.

  “I'll make a deal with you, promise me you'll say 'no,' and I'll stay.”

  Trips grimaced and shook his head as he picked up his armor.

  Ami knelt on the bed. “Please!”

  Trips shook his head. “I can't do that, love.” He pulled off the fisherman sweater and draped it over her shoulders. “Not when they've asked me to help.”

  Ami surrounded Trips in her arms. “But we've just found each other...and you're going to...” She couldn’t finish that sentence.

  “I’m not. I’ll be okay. We’ll be all right.” Trips said, trying to reassure her. They caressed each other in uncomfortable moment of silence.

  “Fine,” Ami sighed. “Well, duty calls for Nightingale, too.”

  He pushed her away, studying her face. “What?” Trips scoffed, cutting her off. “Don’t even — Ami, I'm just trying to protect you.”

  “Protect yourself.”

  Trips took a step back. “We're at an impasse, then?”

  Ami folded her arms. “It would seem.” They stared at each other.

  Trips took a step forward and scooped her into his arms. “I love you,” he pleaded, his nose in Ami’s hair. “Please stay here.”

  “I love you, too,” Ami said, matching his tone and pulling back to address him. “Look, I'm telling you, I'll stay if you promise not to be the army's lackey.”

  Trips set his jaw and ripped away from her. “Lackey? I was specifically tapped!” He glared and stepped into his Kevlar. “Fucking fine.”

  “How can you be..." Ami sputtered searching for the right words, “so stupid? Trips! Don't do this, please!” Ami bounded off the bed.

  Trips moved away. “I left my tissue sample at the lab, Ami. I need to talk to Colonel Campbell and tell him we’re not terrorists or whatever they think is going on, and ask him to get ahold of my dad.” He slipped his arms into the sleeves and narrowed his shoulders struggling into the Kevlar. “Then they can test me and make sure I’ll be okay. I have to go in.”

  “I should come with you, then. Own up to my part of it.”

  “Don't be ridiculous.”

  “Trips, if anything happened, I wouldn't be able to get to you. Do you understand?”

  “Nothing is going to happen to me.”

  “They'll put you away. Just call them and say 'no', and I'll call the dean. Okay? It’s my laboratory. They can’t fault me for trying, and I’ll explain that we were afraid you were infected, but that we think you’re okay.”

  “I've got to go.” He reached one arm over his shoulder trying to zip himself into his armor.

  Ami rolled her eyes and zipped up his suit.

  “Thank...” He turned, his eyes met hers, he looked away, cinching in his belt. “I'll ping you soon as I get there. Give you a call when I know more. Okay?”

  “Call your dad,” she said, crossing her arms as he slid his red-rocket tee over his Kevlar, and pulled his shorts back on.

  “Right. Thanks,” he whispered.

  Ami kissed Trips and held his face in her hands, his stubble tickled her lips, it was warm against her palms. She took a step back and stood firm, her hands on her hips in her power pose.

&
nbsp; He forced a smile. “Your place later or maybe The Club? I know I'll need inebriating concoctions.” He shuffled toward her.

  Ami nodded, stepping toward him. She wasn’t strong. It was fake. She wanted to rip him out of his Kevlar, to take him and never return. She sank into his arms, the only place she wanted to be on the planet. “Please don’t die.”

  “As long as I have you, I'll be fine,” Trips whispered, hugging and rocking her. “Tha gaol agam ort,” he said, genuinely smiling. “That's 'I love you.' Remember?”

  “In Gaelic, I remember,” she said, glancing away.

  * * *

  By eleven, Alexx was at the stove cooking breakfast, Ichiro was sprawled on the couch, and Ami had no desire to change out of Dewey’s robe. She poured coffee for Alexx and herself. “You want milk? I forget.”

  “No milk for me,” Ichiro yelled from the other room. Alexx nodded, indicating her preference.

  “I know!” Ami frowned glancing out over the expanse of the two rooms. She didn’t see Ichiro, but she knew he was watching the news with the sound off.

  “Well, you asked,” said the disembodied nasal voice of her bothersome ex-boyfriend.

  “I have no idea how you put up with him, Ally,” Ami muttered. “I was talking to Alexx!” She shouted into the next room.

  “Fine!” Ichiro barked.

  “Fine!” Ami opened the waxed carton of milk, turning toward Alexx. “Did you sleep okay?”

  “No,” Ichiro yelled from the couch.

  Ami whipped around, poised to spill the milk, her fingers, like claws, gripping the carton. “I wasn't talking to you!”

  Alexx placed her hand on the carton of milk and gently pried Ami’s fingers from it. “Ichiro's nose bothered him. We were up all night.”

  “I’m so sorry, Ally,” Ami muttered, shaking her head. She took a sip of her coffee and added more milk.

  Alexx went back to her sauté pan of onions as Ami tightened her robe and carried the two mugs of coffee across the kitchen into the sitting area. She sat at the end of the couch nearest the television and held out the cup of black coffee to Ichiro lying on the couch.

  Ichiro rolled over looking at the screen. “Ugh. Can’t you put it on the side table? And sit back, I can’t freaking see.”

  Ami wanted to toss the scalding liquid into Ichiro’s face. She got up and set it down with a splash on the side table next to Ichiro.

  “You’re blocking!” Ichiro said, his legs peddling like he was having a spasm.

  Alexx scraped the onions to one side of the pan with a rubber spatula and glanced at Ami. “You should Reiki him.”

  Ichiro shot Alexx a glance over the couch. “No, she should not.”

  “Yes, she should,” Alexx said, wiping her hands on a dishcloth.

  Ichiro balled up into a fetal position and whined, “But the top of the hour headlines are coming up.”

  Alexx stood in front of the television and stuck out her hand, palm up, curling her fingers together repeatedly. Ichiro huffed and gave her the remote. Alexx clicked off the television.

  Ichiro sat up, attempting to bargain. “Breakfast first.”

  “Up. Get up. Both of you.” Alexx placed the remote on the TV stand. “Reiki, before breakfast. Put your head in Ami's lap.” Ichiro looked hesitant. Alexx pointed at the couch. “Do it.”

  Ami and Ichiro looked at each other. Ichiro huffed as Ami sat down making a spot for him in her lap. Ichiro turned around, lowering his head into her lap. “Relax. Close your eyes, Ich, and I'm going to position Ami's hands over your face.”

  Ichiro sat up. “No way! She's gonna hurt me!”

  “Ichiro,” Alexx pointed at the floor. “lie down.”

  He complied with a whimper.

  Ami arched an eyebrow. Impressive. He never listens to me.

  Alexx demonstrated how Ami should place her hands, palms open side by side, floating over Ichiro’s face. It was true that Ami had more healing ability, but Alexx had technique. During their off hours, Alexx had been teaching Ami the principles of Reiki. Ami still had more to learn about how to control her healing abilities, and she was very glad she had Alexx to help her. She placed her hands where Alexx instructed, though she knew from experience healing happened without her doing much of anything.

  Alexx nodded. “That’s it. Don’t even touch him, just keep your hands in his energy field like that.”

  Ami nodded and shifted her hands hovering just above Ichiro’s face. She could feel a radiating warmth that tickled her palms. It was hotter over the injury. “Okay. Okay, Ich?”

  “Yeah, just be careful.” Ichiro shifted. “Can I have some coffee?”

  “No.” Alexx changed Ami’s hand position. “Put one hand on his forehead, lightly, very lightly, and then cup the other one above his nose linking your thumbs.”

  Ami changed her hand position and thought about when she and Trips first got together. Without knowing it, she’d treated him with Reiki. She’d slept on top of him all night without moving, and that’s what accounted for his rapid healing from getting doored, thrown from his bike head over heels. He’d messed up his back, but by morning little bruising remained.

  Alexx nodded. “That’s it, Ami. You okay, bunny?”

  “Yeah, it's nice. It's really warm,” Ichiro said nasally, his breathing getting deeper as he relaxed.

  “That's good. Just keep rotating around. But don’t touch him,” Alexx said. She crossed back into the kitchen. “I have to check the biscuits.”

  Ami repositioned her hands over Ichiro's bruised eye sockets and swollen cheekbones. It didn’t have to be touch, but it helped. She knew it still worked. She had heard reiki healing could happen remotely. So, even if Trips is far away, maybe I could still —

  “Mm,” Ichiro said, rubbing his belly, as he nuzzled deeper into Ami’s lap and sighed.

  Ami felt a rush of heat rising to her face, as memories of sex with him surfaced. She looked over at Alexx. She was oblivious, checking the bread. Ami shifted her gaze back to her hands. Maybe this is the start of a real friendship with Ichiro, what we should have done in the first place.

  Minutes later, Ichiro knocked her hands out of the way and sat up. “Yo, dude, I smell food!”

  Ami stretched and wrapped her hands around her cold mug of coffee and followed Ichiro into the kitchen.

  When they’d first discovered Ami had healing abilities because of the accident at the lab, Alexx had explained that Trips was healed by her energy, but she didn’t really believe it. It wasn’t until she saw Snake’s deep gash disappear in an hour, a wound that would normally need stitches that she began to believe in her healing powers. It was then and there that she knew it was real, that the water had changed her. She also knew she had to use it to help others however long it lasted. She hoped it didn’t mean her life would end earlier. That she’d burn out. But even if it did, she needed to know, to understand the extent of her powers, and that wouldn't be easy without her laboratory at Black Hall. She sighed. Well, at least as Nightingale I can track the healing changes for better or worse. See if it’s still as powerful. She glanced at Ichiro examining his reflection in a pan lid. Or growing more powerful.

  “Go look in the hall mirror; the bruising isn't as bad, anymore. The swelling is gone,” Alexx said, serving Ichiro the lion's share of breakfast. He came back from the hall without bandages.

  “Dude, you honestly are Florence fucking Nightingale!” Ichiro tousled Ami's hair. “This looks awesome. Correction, this smells awesome,” Ichiro said, grinning at Alexx.

  Ami stood by the microwave as her coffee reheated, then sat down and nibbled on a buttery biscuit.

  “Did you hear from Trips?” Ichiro asked, scraping together a large bite of hash browns, egg, and biscuit.

  Ami nodded. “He’s there.”

  “What was his time?” Ichiro asked, through a mouthful.

  “What? I don't know,” Ami shrugged, making a face at Alexx.

  “Mm. Did he take the fixie?” Ichiro strugg
led to speak as he swallowed a giant mouthful of food. “The red Raleigh?”

  “Yeah, I think so. What's the significance of that?” Ami sipped her coffee.

  Ichiro swallowed hard and exhaled. “A fixed gear is pure. You're just always in motion and connected to your ride. It's, like, more Zen.” Ichiro shoveled a forkful of eggs into his face, tapping his phone. He looked up, grinning. “That's my boy! He did a forty-minute ride, in like, twelve freakin’ minutes. Super-fast.”

  They finished breakfast and Ami went upstairs to change. She hung Dewey's robe in the bathroom, and gave it a little pat goodbye, and then reluctantly, donned her Kevlar armor.

  Ichiro and Alexx were arguing in the car, when Ami got back downstairs. She climbed in the backseat wondering if the bus to Alewife Station was still running.

  Chapter 13: Training

  The lecture theatre was packed to standing room. Trips leaned against the maple laminate wall in the back and watched Snake, a few rows up, dressed in his black Kevlar SWAT gear, chatting-up one of the few cute women in the room. Good God, he thought, as he glanced around, this totally is a sausage fest, full of career military, mercenaries, and male bike couriers. She’s, like, practically, the only woman here.

  He surveyed the crowd. Wonder how many of these guys volunteered? I’ve been conscripted into service, whether I like it or not, and it better bloody protect Ami and them. I’d love to tell Dad and the Colonel to sod-off but…..

  Trips thoughts were interrupted when Colonel Dan Campbell took the stage and the lights dimmed. Campbell addressed the group from the lectern as slides came into focus on the screen behind him. “Special Training Recruits: We'd love to send you to The Academy, but we don't have time for that. Instead, training facilities are set-up in Dorchester. If you qualify,” the Colonel zeroed in on Trips jabbing the air with his index finger.

  Trips was taken aback. Is he really looking at me? How did he find me in this crowd?

  “That's right, if you qualify, you will be given additional training to that of platoon leader.” Colonel Campbell continued addressing him directly, and Trips found himself standing up a little straighter. Oh, fucking hell.