Jessica Meigs - The Becoming (3 page)

April shrugged and tucked her hair behind her ear in a familiar gesture. She scooped up the beer he’d put in front of her and sipped from the bottle. “Oh, not a whole lot. Just moved back home.” She scrunched up her nose, and Gray noticed the freckles speckling her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. “College sucks, by the way. Don’t even bother with it.”

“I take it things didn’t go well for you in Seattle?” Gray asked.

“Oh God no.” April grimaced. “I spent the whole time being miserable and getting ridiculed for my accent.”

“Assholes,” Gray said simply.

“Tell me about it.” April downed another sip of beer. Gray could feel her eyes running over him during the pause that fell between them, almost as if she were physically running her hands over his skin. “You’re not looking all that bad yourself. Not as skinny as the last time I saw you. More…muscular, I think.”

Gray shrugged nonchalantly and gulped from his bottle. “I guess that’s what happens when you haul car parts around all day. Well, that and the occasional visit to the gym.”

“Still doing body work?”

“Naw, got laid off from that garage,” he admitted. “Been working as a regular mechanic for about a year now. Nothing major. Helps out with the whole food thing.” He fell silent, turning his bottle in slow circles on the bar. He wasn’t sure what to say to April. It’d been years since he’d seen her, and all her reappearance had done was dredge up old feelings he’d thought were long gone. He felt a stirring of sadness, longing, and even a little guilt mixed together in his gut in an amalgam of emotion that almost nauseated him. He swallowed hard and gulped more beer before he cleared his throat and tried again. “How’s your family?” he asked casually. “Everybody doing okay?”

“Oh yeah!” April said brightly, seizing on the new topic he’d introduced. She took in a deep breath, as if preparing to launch into a spiel, and the action drew Gray’s attention to the collar of her red blouse; the top few buttons were undone, showing cleavage, and he wondered momentarily if she’d dressed up in the skirt and form-fitting shirt with the hopes of finding a stand at the bar that night. The thought of her with another guy bothered the hell out of him. “Mom and Dad are doing great. Still living in the same old house. I’m staying with them until I manage to find a place of my own.”

“Yeah?” Gray picked at the edge of his bottle’s label with his fingernail. “No, ah, no boyfriend to stay with or whatever?” he asked, trying to be casual about it. He suspected he’d failed miserably. Thankfully, April didn’t seem to notice—or at least didn’t seem willing to comment on it.

“No,” April admitted. She shook her head, setting her long dark hair swaying, and her cheeks flushed. “No boyfriend. Haven’t had one of those in, hell, three years? Something like that.” She laughed ruefully. “That makes me sound so pathetic.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Gray said in a rush. He drew in a deep breath of his own and managed to dislodge the nervousness in his throat. “I mean, I haven’t dated very much in…well, since high school. Not anything serious, just…you know, flings and shit. So believe me, you’re doing a lot better than I am.”

April smiled, and his stomach knotted at the sight. Theo hadn’t been kidding when he’d told him once that the first love was always the hardest to get over. “So, how are things with you? How are your mom and dad?” She looked suddenly awkward at the mention of his parents, and she nearly knocked her bottle of beer over as she reached for it in haste. “Or, I mean, your brother. How is Theo doing?”

Gray tried to let the reference to his deceased parents pass without comment, though he still felt a pang in his chest at her words. He shook it off and pasted on a smile. “Theo’s doing great. He didn’t go to police academy like he’d planned. He became a paramedic instead.”

“That’s awesome,” April said appreciatively. “Are you still living with him?”

“Moved out a few months ago, actually,” Gray said. “Our, ah, our therapist said we needed to get some space from each other because we spend too much time together or some bullshit like that. I don’t remember the word for it. Co-something or other. But fuck, we’re
brothers.
What’s wrong with hanging out with your siblings?” He sighed. “Anyway, I got a little apartment a couple of miles from here, and he helps with the rent and stuff, since I really can’t afford it.”

April gave him a small smile that made him feel incredibly embarrassed.
She must think I’m a total basket case,
he thought.
Why did I mention the damned therapist? Fucking pathetic.
“Do you maybe want to get out of here?” she asked suddenly. She leaned closer to him and lowered her voice, as if she were imparting upon him some deep, dark secret. “Maybe go hang out someplace more…private? For old times’ sake?”

Gray couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face at her words. He downed the rest of his beer and set the bottle heavily on the bar. “Where exactly did you have in mind?”

Chapter 4

Theo sat hunched over the small dining table on the base, a bowl of rapidly cooling tomato soup at his left elbow and a stack of paperwork at his right. His shift, as he had predicted, had been insane thus far—one run after the other, four in all before the sun had even set. It was his first chance to sit down and actually finish filling out all of the paperwork he was required to do, so he was taking the opportunity to not only do that, but also to inhale a little food before he and Jonathan ended up getting another call.

Jonathan was banging around in the refrigerator behind him, grumbling under his breath as he searched through everything inside. “I
know
I left a case of Cokes in here a few days ago,” he said. He backed out of the fridge and pushed the door shut with a little more force than necessary.

“Somebody probably drank them,” Theo said in a near-monotone as he wrote,
On arrival, EMS found pt. sitting on couch in living room, complaining of chest pain and numbness in left arm.
“Figured you’d have learned by now to not leave stuff in the fridge here. People have a habit of taking shit that isn’t theirs.”

“Yeah, well, I guess I give people too much credit for honesty sometimes.” Jonathan had no sooner dropped into the chair at the table across from Theo when the phone rang, the chime shrill and echoing in the high-ceilinged room.

“Aw hell,” Theo groaned. He slammed his pen down on top of his papers and cut a dirty look toward the phone. “Can you get that? See if it’s something the basic truck can take care of. I’m up to my elbows on this.”

Jonathan nodded and got up to answer the phone. After a murmured conversation, he hung up, looking grim. “One patient, MVA. Guy’s got injuries and appears to have AMS with violent tendencies. ALS call.”

“Figures,” Theo muttered. He got up and stacked his papers neatly, glancing at the soup he had yet to have a chance to eat. Then he grabbed his bag and forced himself to head for the front door.

Jonathan had already gone out to the ambulance ahead of him, and the engine rumbled as Theo hauled himself into the passenger seat. The chatter on the radio was full of static and ten-codes, and he had to close his eyes and focus past it to mentally go over everything he would likely need to do at the scene. Then the ambulance’s sirens went off, and that was enough to chase any other thoughts from his mind. A surge of adrenaline rocked through his veins as the truck roared out into the street and headed for the accident site.

Despite his gripes about the constant running, the nights of getting dragged out of bed, the sometimes-crappy coworkers and the low pay, Theo really wouldn’t have traded his job for anything in the world. He loved helping people, saving lives, being there for others in some of their most difficult moments. He rarely got nervous or felt that he was in over his head on calls, which was why, as the ambulance approached the accident and Jonathan flipped the switch to turn the siren off, he felt it strange that his stomach stirred with butterflies.

Jonathan pulled the ambulance to a stop at the side of the road, easing it to park behind a state trooper’s car, and let out a low whistle. “Jesus, that looks bad,” he commented as they both took in the sight of the wrecked car. Theo snagged a pair of gloves from the box between the seats, stuffed an extra set into a pants pocket, and opened his door.

“Looks like a rollover,” he commented. “Let’s go see what we can do.” After he dropped to the pavement, he called out to Jonathan, “Go ahead and grab the stretcher, backboard, and collar. Duct tape too. We’re probably going to need them.” As Jonathan obeyed, he opened the side door and grabbed the trauma bag, shouldering it and making his way down the sloped embankment to the wrecked car below.

The car had been through what was clearly a terrible accident, Theo observed as he approached. Every side of the car was banged up, scratched, dented, and caved in, as if a giant fist had reached down and gripped the car tightly. All the windows were shattered, and as he drew closer, he noticed that the airbags had deployed. It was a
very
bad wreck indeed. An officer headed in his direction, sporting a nasty-looking mark on his face where he appeared to have been punched. Theo suppressed a wince of sympathy at the sight.

“You okay, man?” he asked the officer, whose name badge said
Greenlee.
“You look like you’ve been put through the wringer.”

“Feel like it too,” Greenlee said. “Careful with this one. He’s absolutely out of his mind. We showed up, and he attacked us. Tried to bite Brigham down there. Thankfully he didn’t manage or you’d be dealing with
that
too. We’ve got him restrained for the moment, but you’re probably going to need a set of Poseys for this one.”

“Thanks for the tip,” Theo said appreciatively. After calling back to Jonathan to add a set of restraints to the supplies he’d requested, he hurried past the several first responders on the scene to get to his patient. What he saw made his stomach lurch.

There’s no way this man should be alive,
was the first thought that flitted through his mind.

Of the dozens of MVAs he’d worked in the four years since he’d become a paramedic, the only patients Theo had seen in such a condition were dead patients. Both of the man’s legs were clearly broken—compound fractures with open wounds through which he could see bones. The man’s left arm was deformed, visibly broken, and congealed blood adorned the side of his head. Gaping wounds on the man’s biceps exposed the underlying muscle. Despite his injuries, though, the man was oddly alert, his eyes following Theo’s every movement.

But what caught most of Theo’s attention wasn’t the man’s visible injuries so much as the look on his face. It was…animalistic. It was a hard look, an indescribably feral one. He could honestly say he’d never seen a look quite like it, not even on the faces of the most violent of drug addicts he’d picked up. He swallowed hard, steeling himself for the likely upcoming confrontation, and pasted a smile on his face.

“Hey, what we got here?” Theo asked the nearest first responder. He couldn’t help but notice that someone had cuffed both of the man’s hands to the crumpled steering wheel and that all those present were keeping their distances.

“MVA,” the responder said, keeping his voice unnecessarily low. It took Theo a moment to recognize the man—it was Chuck Howitz from the fire and rescue service. “Rolled at least once, if not more. Dude’s acting like a total nut job. He tried to bite Stevens
and
Brigham.”

“Bite?” Theo repeated. For some reason, taking a look at the patient and his rabid eyes, he didn’t really doubt Chuck’s statement.

“We’re thinking head injury in the crash,” Chuck added. He nodded to the car again. “Star pattern on the windshield. Possible chest injuries too, judging by that steering wheel. No idea about the ones on his arms, though. Not quite like anything I’ve ever seen outside of, I don’t know, a wild-animal attack.”

Theo looked around. “Where’s the other car? Was there one?”

“Near ‘bout as I can tell, guy drove himself off the road,” Chuck replied. “No other cars involved that we’ve found.” He clapped Theo on the shoulder as Jonathan approached with the stretcher and supplies. “Good luck, man. Let me know if you guys need any help.”

Theo snorted. “I don’t know where you think you’re going,” he said. He grabbed the collar from the stretcher and yanked at the car’s back door. “You know we’re going to need the help.” He crawled into the back seat, careful to avoid the broken glass, and nodded to Jonathan. “Help me get this on him, would you? I want full spinal packaging. We’ll splint his legs and arm once we’re loaded up.” Jonathan took the collar, and Theo caught the injured man’s head in both hands, carefully immobilizing him as Jonathan slipped the collar around the man’s neck. As he pulled his arms away, the man snapped at Jonathan with his teeth, biting at the air. Jonathan reflexively jerked back.

“What the hell, man?”

Theo ignored Jonathan’s exclamation. He was more focused on another nervous stirring in his gut. Something was wrong, but he wasn’t sure he could put his finger on exactly what it was. “Patient got a name?” he asked Chuck as he climbed out of the back seat to get the backboard set up.

“No idea,” Chuck admitted. “I couldn’t get close enough to see if he had a wallet on him
or
to get any vitals. Not with the way he was acting.”

It took Theo, Chuck, and Jonathan nearly twenty minutes of work and copious amounts of swearing before they managed to get the man—who’d begun to thrash and flail the moment the handcuffs were unlocked—out of the car and onto the backboard. By then, Theo felt like he’d been dunked into a pool of sweat; his uniform shirt stuck grossly to his back. He was panting for air as he and Jonathan strapped the man down, duct taped him into place, and restrained his arms with the Poseys before they began to haul the stretcher toward the embankment.

“I have never in my life seen anything like this,” Jonathan confessed as he helped Theo wrestle the stretcher up the embankment and to the back of the ambulance.