Chapter Twelve
BENJI WAS GETTING worse.
Amy was certain of it. The clues were everywhere. Benji’s fever was creeping up even though they’d increased the cold baths along with the dosage of the drugs. Even the cooling blanket wasn’t bringing it down like it had at first. The nurses’ cheerful mood had warped into downright jolly and overly encouraging, yet they avoided her eyes. Dr. Zapa had become a near constant presence and was ordering blood tests and medical scans every day. And then there was Benji himself, who slept most the time—thank God—but when he did awaken, he complained of pain in his side, or his head, or his chest—virtually every area of his body.
Except for this last time, when he’d awoken screaming.
They’d given him something for the pain, which had knocked him out. He was still sleeping. Something she’d prayed for while he’d been in such pain, but something she hated now.
His stillness in that bed sent flares of panic through her, flickers of foreboding. She was constantly bolting to his bedside to make sure he was still breathing.
Her chest so tight she could barely breathe, Amy threaded fingers through her hair, massaging her tight, aching scalp. She was so tired it was hard to think, but not tired enough to douse the fear or ease the constant throbbing pressure under her skin.
Benji was getting worse, and nothing the doctors did was helping.
It felt like she’d been camped beside his hospital bed forever, although today marked the third day since she’d first sat down in this chair. One day since Mac—along with his men and twelve Shadow Mountain soldiers—had left to kidnap James Link in the hopes of saving her son.
Because that’s what this operation boiled down to—kidnapping.
In some ways this horrible helplessness sapping the courage from her veins was similar to that terrible powerlessness of six months ago. She’d been helpless then too, constantly aware that the monsters holding them prisoner had no intention of releasing them alive. She’d known that she alone had to figure out a way to save everyone—an impossible feat with no weapons, no help, and no strategic plan.
And then Mac and his men had burst in, providing the strategy and weapons, giving her the break she needed to save her sons.
She frowned. Could that be part of the pull she felt toward him? The fact he’d been there when she’d needed him? That he’d given her the opportunity to save her children?
Now he was out there again, risking his life for a second time, determined to save Benji again.
God help her, she needed that second miracle. Because she couldn’t protect him from this. Couldn’t protect them, since Brendan could fall sick at any moment. She was helpless again. Terrified. Unable to do a damn thing to save her children.
The curtain slid back, and one of the night nurses bustled in, a horrifyingly cheerful expression plastered over her too-bright face. Amy rose to her feet, releasing the grip she had on Benji’s small hand.
As the nurse slipped the thermometer into Benji’s mouth and gently held it closed, Amy waited. They were taking his temperature every hour now, but they’d stopped telling her what it was. She knew they didn’t want to worry her, which was insane. The simple fact that they didn’t want to scare her told her exactly how worried she should be.
“What was it?” she asked the woman point-blank once the thermometer was removed from Benji’s mouth.
“Why don’t you head to your room and try to get some sleep? It’s been three days, and you’ve barely left his side. You need to rest so you can stay strong for him. We’ll call if anything changes.”
She’d taken that advice twice through the past seventy-two hours, only to lie in bed, wide awake, terrifying scenarios plunging through her mind. At least her fear didn’t seem to be affecting Brendan’s sleep. He was at the apartment now with Marion.
“I wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway.” Amy turned back to the iron-railed hospital bed with its white sheets and pillows. Benji was a tight curl under the covers. God, sometimes it felt like that bed was trying to swallow him whole. “Look, I know he’s getting worse. I know his temperature is going up again. You aren’t protecting me by keeping his temperature a secret.”
The nurse, who was attaching a blood pressure cuff to Benji’s small arm, stopped and studied Amy. For the first time since she’d entered the room, the cheerful mask fell from her face. Amy held herself still during the scrutiny, knowing she’d passed the woman’s test when the nurse nodded.
“It was 104. Slightly up from an hour ago, but not by much.”
That at least was comforting. Some of the nerves chewing their way through Amy’s belly stilled. The fact his temperature was still climbing was much less comforting. She silently watched the nurse work the blood pressure bulb and cuff. When the woman frowned and took his pressure for a second time, Amy tensed again. She wouldn’t have taken a second reading unless there was something off about the first.
“What is it?” Amy forced her voice to remain steady even though she wanted to scream.
“His pressure and pulse are climbing as well.” She caught the expression on Amy’s face and hastened to add, “Both can spike when a patient’s in pain. Try not to worry, Mrs. Chastain. Dr. Zapa will be stopping by shortly to check on him.”
Amy forced herself to breathe. “Have you heard anything from Jude or Mackenzie?”
She needed them to bring James Link. She needed to know what those bastards had injected into her sons. She needed an antidote, and she needed it now.
The woman shook her head. “We haven’t heard anything. No warning to expect casualties either, so I guess that’s something.”
“Okay. Thanks.” Amy forced a smile of appreciation and stepped up to the bed, vaguely hearing the rasp of the curtain closing. Leaning over the mattress, she brushed a strand of hair off Benji’s forehead. His skin was hot and dry, stretched taut beneath her fingertips. His eyes moved restlessly beneath creamy, blue-veined lids. He looked small and fragile and too damn young to be locked in this bed, this room, this damn illness.
Too damn young to be dying, because instinctively she knew he was.
Her baby was dying.
Please, please, please, Mac. I need you. I need you to bring Link to me.
Taking hold of Benji’s hot, dry hand, she collapsed into the chair beside his bed. What would she do if Link didn’t have the answers they needed? What would she do if he didn’t know how to save her son? The base healers couldn’t help him—they’d tried repeatedly and failed.
The hot tension inside her expanded, pressing against her heart and her spine until it felt like the entire world was sitting on her chest.
She welcomed the sound of the curtain drawing back and Eve Zapa’s quiet entrance. At least the company would drag her from her own mind and the escalating terror of her thoughts.
Dr. Zapa scanned Benji’s face before pulling the clipboard from the metal box attached to the foot of the bed. After reading for maybe a minute, she dropped it back in its holder and turned to Amy. “How ’bout we take a walk? I’ll fill you in on the latest test results.”
The news wasn’t going to be good. Amy knew that without doubt. Eve’s grave face broadcasted that loud and clear. Amy took a deep, shaky breath and slowly rose to her feet.
For an instant she wanted to say no, that she didn’t want to hear, didn’t want to know. She wanted to bury her head in the sand and allow herself to believe that Benji was fine, just sleeping, on the road to recovery. That there was nothing wrong with him at all.
But fantasy wouldn’t save her son, and he couldn’t be treated if she didn’t know what was wrong, so after stroking her knuckles down her baby’s hot cheek, she followed Eve Zapa out of the cubicle.
At least Eve didn’t make her wait long. As soon as they cleared the curtain, she turned to face Amy.
“I’m told you’re aware his temperature, pulse, and blood pressure are rising.” At Amy’s tight nod, Eve went on. “I’m afraid his blood work is showing signs of abnormality too. Liver, kidney, and pancreas levels are all elevated. The good news is the increase is slight. The levels are on the high side of normal. The bad news is that they are elevated. On admission, the blood work was normal.”
Amy’s heart rate bobbled and then slammed into quadruple time. “What . . . what does this mean?”
Eve hesitated, gave a slight shake of her head, which sent her short hair swinging. “It indicates his internal organs are under stress.”
Amy swallowed hard. “But you can give him something to help, right? To bring those levels down?”
Dr. Zapa sighed and raised a hand to rub her eyes. “The levels on their own aren’t the problem. They’re merely a symptom. The issue is the underlying cause. We know the isotope is multiplying. But we don’t know what it’s doing to his organs. Something is obviously changing. We’ll be doing a whole range of tests today to try to pin this down. If we know what the isotope is doing in his body, we can try to combat it.”
Try. Eve kept saying try. Such a subtle but significant choice of words. There were no guarantees that anything Eve tried would have an effect. There was only one course of action that was certain to save her son.
They had to neutralize the isotope.
Amy squared her shoulders. “Have you figured out why Brendan isn’t being affected by the isotope?”
Maybe if they could figure out what was keeping Brendan from getting sick, they could duplicate it in Benji.
Dr. Zapa shook her head. “We haven’t. It could be as simple as his age or his immune system.”
Disappointment crested. Age and immune system couldn’t be duplicated in Benji.
She swallowed hard and asked the question that had been haunting her all day. “Once the isotope is inactive, he’ll get better, right?”
“I don’t know.” Eve’s grave tone was lacking the comfort Amy so desperately needed. “Even if Mr. Link is the key, even if he provides the cure, it still may not be enough. It will take time to develop the antidote. Time and equipment. Both of which we may not have. There is also the possibility that the damage the isotope has already done to Benji’s body will not be reversed after the antidote is administered. I’m afraid we just don’t know much of anything right now.”
While Eve was careful to avoid admitting that Benji could still die—even with the antidote—Amy knew that’s exactly what she was implying.
How do you go about preparing yourself for that? How do you prepare for the death of your child?
You didn’t. That was the truth of it. There were some things you just couldn’t prepare for.
The possibility of Benji’s death was one of them.
“Alpha One down! Alpha One down!” The shout came through Mac’s radio from one of the Shadow Mountain guys.
Crack . . . crack . . . crack.
Mac hit the ground and spat out a mouthful of dirt.
Shit . . . they’d found the security detail. Or the security guards had found them.
Crack . . . crack.
The dirt exploded maybe two feet in front of him. The good news—there was only one rifle, only one shooter. The bad news—there was a fucking shooter, and they had no Goddamn clue where the bastard was. He wasn’t after Mac, though; otherwise he’d be dead. Like the rest of his team, he was stuck out in the open, completely vulnerable. Easy pickings.
He chanced a lift of his head. Link was still down, Zane on top of him, Jude partially covering Zane.
None of them were moving.
Fuck.
Were they dead?
Even as the question hit, Zane crawled farther up Link’s body until he was covering him completely. Rawls dove on the pair, adding his body to the pile.
Crouching, their eyes scanning the courtyard and tree line, Alpha Team formed a protective barrier around the four men on the ground.
Crack . . . crack . . . crack.
The warrior closest to Zane jolted and went down.
Fuck.
The shooter was aiming for Zane and Link . . . and Rawls, since he was on top.
Mac shoved down the rush of adrenaline and focused. The shots were coming from above and behind. They needed to find and neutralize that damn shooter. Rolling onto his back, he scanned the tree line.
A flash of light hit the corner of his NVDs, and he swung his head to the right. There, on the pool house roof, light reflected from a rifle barrel.
Swinging his rifle up, he sighted on the reflection and fired.
“Hot spot on the pool house roof.” He shouted the location into his mic and took another shot. Then another. A cacophony of gunfire erupted behind him as Alpha Team bombarded the location.
“Bravo Two down.” Cosky’s calm voice came through Mac’s radio.
Bravo Two was Zane. Fuck. Zane had been hit? How badly?
“Bravo One, go . . . go . . . go,” Cosky said.
Vaulting to his feet, Mac sprinted for the beach and his wounded buddy as Alpha Team laid down fire to cover him. He passed Jude’s still body. One of the healers was hunched over him, but the only glow he saw was the liquid sheen of blood glazed green by his NVDs.
The healing wasn’t working.
Christ . . . that looked bad. Really fucking bad.
For an instant he considered swinging over and—
But, fuck, there were plenty of Jude’s buddies surrounding him, and Mac’s priority was getting Link and Zane back to Shadow Mountain alive. He caught up with Cosky, who had Zane’s arm over his shoulder and an arm around his waist while his buddy hopped along beside him.
Relief shoved the air from his lungs. His LC must have caught the bullet in the leg, but at least he was alive—moving and aware. He grabbed Zane’s right arm and anchored it over his shoulders, and then he wrapped his left arm around his LC’s waist. In unison, he and Cosky lifted him and ran for the boats. He searched for Rawls and Link as they closed in on the water and found the pair in the Hurricane.
Link’s alive.
Thank fucking Christ.
Another storm of gunfire rocked the night, still up high but not from the rooftop.
“Hot spot neutralized,” a calm voice said through his radio. “Alpha Team, go.”
“Rawls,” Mac said, relaxing at the news that the shooter was dead. He and Cosky slowed, lowering Zane to the sand. “Patch Zane up and then head over and see if you can do anything for Jude. He’s not moving. Didn’t look like their healing was working. Maybe you can help.”
He doubted it. He suspected nobody could help Jude now.