No Light (15 page)

             
Sarah nodded, keeping her eyes on the floor. She flinched slightly at the awkward pat her mother gave her shoulder.

             
"This suspension of yours can't happen again. Your father and I don't expect much from you, but we do expect you to try."

…

              She hurried across the crosswalk with the crowd, hustled along by the press of bodies. Her eyes rose to look at the string of flags the hung between the light poles. Dyed the colors of the city, the small triangles flapped in the cold wind. She pulled her coat tighter around her neck.

             
The crowd split at the curb, the majority continuing toward the business section of the square. She struggled against the flow, shouldering past the taller people until she broke through to the other side. Her eyes fastened on the hospital half a block away. She shoved her hands deeper into her pockets.

             
"Vote Keane! Vote for respect!"

             
She glanced at the small group on the sidewalk ahead and sighed. Her eyes moved over their signs, as she approached them.

             
"Make 2024 the year we gain freedom," the closest sign proclaimed in large, block letters.

             
She ducked her head and made to go around them.

             
"Hey, you! Have you decided who you're gonna vote for?"

             
She grimaced and looked up into an eager grin.

             
She slowly shook her head. The woman's smile widened. "Well, then give Keane a try!" she almost yelled, thrusting a stack of papers at her.

             
She struggled to catch it, before the woman let go.

             
"Have a nice day!"

             
She forced a smile and walked away quickly. The doors of the hospital slid open in front of her and she hurried into the lobby, glancing around. Spying the trashcan in the corner near the front desk, she casually walked across the room and dropped the handful of papers into the garbage. A twinge of satisfaction went through her.

             
"Here to see your brother?"

             
She forced the smile from the face and turned to face the desk clerk. She gave her a small nod.

             
"Alright. I'm sure you know the drill by now, but I have to tell you." The young woman paused until she nodded, again. "Wear the visitor pass at all times while on the third floor, do not attempt to make any adjustments to the patient, and remember to sign out when you leave."

             
"Thank you." She took the offered name tag and pinned it to her coat.

             
"You're welcome," the woman replied with a soft smile.

             
She returned it and walked toward the elevators. Her eyes widened when the elevator opened and Keane stepped out.

             
He raised an eyebrow. "Handler Mackenzie."

             
She fought not to scowl at his smirk. She gave him a jerky nod and made to step around him.

             
"Here to visit your brother?" he asked, stepping into her path, again.

             
"Yes. Please, excuse me." She tried to walk around him into the elevator, but his arm shot out to block her way.

             
"How is your brother?"

             
Something in his tone made her eyes narrow. "Stable."

             
"Oh, well that's good, I suppose." He looked toward the lobby, as if he were thinking. "Remind me, how did the fire start?"

             
She felt her hands curl into fists in her pockets. "An accident."

             
"Right. Of course." He glanced at her. "Because why would anyone try to kill him." His words came out as more of a statement than a question.

             
Sarah ground her teeth.

             
"Though, I have heard some rather disturbing rumors."

             
She stared at him hard.

             
"Some people seem to think he may have followed in your uncle's footsteps," he said offhandedly. "Bill had an unhealthy...affinity for the Dems."

             
"Please, excuse me, Handler Keane," she bit out.

             
He gave her a tight smile and stepped aside. She felt his eyes on her, as she stepped into the elevator. She did not look at him.

             
"You have a nice day, Handler Mackenzie. I‘m still considering that favor you owe me," he said, as the door closed.

             
As much as she wanted to forget she had seen him, Keane's words rolled around in her mind. Certain parts of the conversation repeated and she frowned in thought.

             
"Rumors?" She bit her lip. "What kind of rumors?"

             
The elevator let out a soft ding and she stepped out onto the ward. The nurses ignored her when she walked passed the nurses station. She paused outside John's room, when she heard a familiar voice.

             
"He did? Yeah, I'll take it."

             
She took a step back and glanced toward an open doorway a few doors down.

             
"Do you need anything else, Mr. Williams?" a soft voice asked.

             
"No, thank you. Not right now," she heard Luke answer.

             
A moment later, a nurse strode from the room. Sarah watched her until she returned to the nurses station. She slowly moved to stand outside Luke's doorway. He did not look up from the unfolded piece of paper in his hand. She coughed lightly. His gaze jerked to the door. She thought she saw a vaguely guilty expression cross his face before he smiled.

             
"Hey! You scared me. Come on in." He waved her toward his bed, carelessly tossing the paper onto the table beside him.

             
She returned his smile. "I thought I heard your voice."

             
"You mean you didn't come all this way to just see me?" he asked, with a teasing smile.

             
"I..." she glanced away.

             
"I'm joking, Sarah," he assured her, reaching out to grasp her hand. "I'm just happy you stopped by."

             
She nodded and swallowed hard. "I'm really sorry about what happened, Luke. I-"

             
"It's not your fault," he cut her off. She looked up in time to watch him scowl out the window.

             
"I should have done something to-"

             
"Seriously, Sarah, it's not your fault." He stared at her, as if willing her to agree with him.

             
She sighed.

             
"So, how is your brother doing?" he asked suddenly.

             
She tore her eyes away from their joined hands and forced a smile. "The same, I think. I haven't gotten to see him today."

             
"Oh, did I interrupt?"

             
She shook her head. "No, it's fine."

             
He smiled, at her soft words. His eyes moved passed her, a moment later.

             
"Mr. Williams, your uncle is on the phone. He said he has something to add to the note he left," the same nurse spoke from the doorway.

             
Sarah looked over her shoulder at her. The woman's smile faded when she caught Sarah's gaze.

             
"Sarah, would you mind if I take the call?"

             
She shook her head. "I need to go anyway. I want to make sure I visit my brother, before I have to get back home."

             
He nodded, already reaching for the phone beside his bed.

             
Her gaze followed his hand and landed on the paper. She squinted to make out the words, but after she did she frowned in confusion.

             
As she let the nurse shoo her out of Luke's hospital room and pull the door closed, she went over the five words on the paper in her mind.
Fix it, or I will.

...

              He glared at the bars of his cell, the oppressive silence of Corridor One compounded by the slight pain in his abdomen. He rubbed at it absently. His mind replayed the events that leading up to his punishment. His inner voice sneered at the term. As if anything the humans could do would affect him. He scoffed. Pathetic.

             
His eyes moved from the bars to glance at his chest, as a tingle began in his skin. It slowly dropped to his abdomen. His spine snapped into an agonized arch, as he collapsed backwards onto his bunk. He choked back a surprised yell. The ceiling moved in and out of focus and he blinked hard.

             
His hands slapped at the stone, until he gripped the thin blanket. It ripped with a quiet gasp of torn fabric, barely audible over his heart pounding in his ears. His breaths came fast and harsh, as he clenched his jaw against the pained growl that tried to escape. He swallowed hard and glanced to the bars of his cell.

             
The halls of Corridor One were silent. The pain sharpened and he bit back an agonized groan. Like a jagged knife, it speared into him. His eyes dropped. He almost expected his suit to be saturated by his blood. It was the same dingy grey.

             
He finally let out a stuttered breath when the agony faded to a dull ache. It tapered off slowly, easing with each exhale. His fingers slowly uncurled from the edge of his bunk. He inhaled carefully. When the pain did not immediately increase, he forced himself into a sitting position.

             
His mind spun, clouded by confusion and the echoes of agony. He propped his shoulders against the wall, allowing himself a moment to breathe. His eyes snapped to the corridor at the soft scuff of a boot on stone.

             
Keane swaggered into view, a self-satisfied smirk on his lips.

             
"So, Dem, how are you enjoying your solitary confinement? Is it everything you remembered?"

             
Farran snarled.

             
"Oh, how silly of me." Keane tipped his head to the side, as he stepped forward to press the override button on the control panel.

             
The dark screen dropped with a shimmer. His smile widened when he saw Farran's expression.

             
"You look a little under the weather, there. I do hope you are feeling alright."

             
"T'han hin abad," he growled in his native tongue.

             
Keane's smile widened, as he clearly read his lips.

             
"Now, that's not very nice. Why such hostility?" Farran watched him reach for the sound screen.

             
"When I get out of here, I will be sure to tell you in precise detail," he said through clenched teeth.

             
"We'll see," the handler tossed carelessly, moving back to sit on the bench facing his cell.

             
Farran narrowed his eyes, watching the man smirk.

             
"Are you aware of the coming elections?"

             
His hands unconsciously curled into fists at his tone. Farran forced himself to relax. Keane continued as if he had answered.

             
"I expect to win, of course." He leaned back on his hands, and crossed his ankles. "Did you know Bill Mackenzie had intended to run against me?"

             
His relaxed posture stiffened for a moment, before the tension faded.

             
"He was always sticking his nose in where it didn't belong," Keane muttered under his breath. He let out a soft sigh and smiled slightly. "But then that unfortunate accident happened and the rest, as they say, is history."

             
It suddenly clicked and Farran snarled.

             
"You killed him."

             
Keane's smile widened.

             
"The automobile accident a month later. It was no accident."