Outer Banks (19 page)

“Oh,” I said, shocked.

“It's a start. A jumping off point. Now I need to make it safe. Find a way for the body to replenish itself, flush the broken down foreign matter out.”

“How long will that take?” I sounded like a kid asking if we were there yet.

“You know in real world conditions it takes years to get a drug from inception to manufacturing, right?”

“I think I did hear that before. Though this is not real world conditions, Em. There are millions around the world waiting to get their lives back. One of those people being you.” God, I sounded as bad as her father.

“I know. But we don't want a repeat of the first two trials.”

That was true. Rushing would always be a mistake. “But we can hope now, right?” I asked while I looked at her in awe. In under a month she'd made a breakthrough. That was more than all the other researchers at OBX could claim to have done.

“We'll see. Hope is a pretty tall order.” She was silent for a moment. She wanted to say something else. “Did Miss Pretty Doctor say I couldn't do it?” Emery asked quietly, looking back under the microscope.

“What?” I wanted to buy myself some time.

“You never doubted this could be done for a second. You had more faith than I did from the moment I met you. But you got off the phone with Colonel Doctor and suddenly you wanted to make a contingency plan.” Her eyes met mine and for a moment they looked like the piercing green eyes I remembered from her photo. They weren't green but the piercing part was there.

I nodded. “She told me it wasn't possible. Seemed pretty convinced. I'd hoped she was wrong.”

“She was,” Em said as if it shouldn't even be questioned.

“I've never wanted anyone to be more wrong.” I kissed her on the top of the head and went back to my spot in the corner to sit while she worked.

I turned on the radio I'd brought in the lab, and before too long she was singing and mumbling and writing on the board. Hope.

The security system sounded the next afternoon indicating someone was coming down the driveway.

I went out to wait for Mr. Mitchell on the porch as he pulled up, this time in his roadster. He was a classic, over-compensating, mid-life crisis on wheels.

He picked up a small cooler from the floor by the passenger's seat and climbed out of the low car.

“Good morning, Mr. Mitchell,” I greeted him.

He raised his eyebrow. “For a smart fella, you don't seem to be able to remember to call me Adam.”

“Good morning,
Adam
.” I guessed calling him Mr. must make him feel old, but I'd been raised to respect my elders so this had always been an ongoing battle.

“Good afternoon, Dillon.” He held up the cooler. “I brought extra. I don't want her running out again. Were you able to get her something last night?”

“We worked it out.”

For a moment, I thought he might push for details, but he passed by me and went inside.

“Did you see what happened in New York last night?” he went on.

“Yeah. We had a bit of a meltdown here, but she's back on track. Better, in fact.”

“How's she doing with the formula?”

“She has one ready to review. Let's peek,” I whispered as I tiptoed playfully back to the lab. Adam watched as I pulled the slide out and put it under the scope.

Not being a doctor, I didn't know the proper terms for what I was looking at, but I knew when the little black cells on the slide had broken open and leaked out into the clear liquid it meant a failure.

I frowned and stood so Adam could take a look.

“You know what this means?” He tilted his head.

“I know it means she's not done.” I nodded.

“It means someone would have had black blood oozing out of their nose and eyes before they fell over dead, like Ebola on steroids. She's definitely not done.” He sighed, and went to look out the window. “They're saying it
can't
be done.”

“I've heard,” I said.

“Do you believe that?” He turned and looked at me.

“No.”

“Do you think Emmie believes it?”

“Definitely not. She's as determined as she was from the beginning. She's not even close to giving up.”

“That's good.” He nodded and walked out of the lab. “I can't stay. I have to get back.” I didn't argue. I thought it might be better if he wasn't there when Emery woke. She didn't need any more pressure.

“Thanks for bringing the blood. I'll tell her you were busy.”

“She won't be surprised by that. I'm afraid it's not the first time I haven't been there for her when she's needed me.”

“I'm sure she understands.”

“I told her to get out of the city, you know.” He had taken a turn in the conversation I hadn't seen coming.

“Excuse me?”

“The day when they arrived. She called me to tell me she was still at the hospital. She had gotten swamped with incoming injuries and was staying to help. She thought I was in LA, and I didn't want to tell her the truth.

“I told her to leave Manhattan. I called Trevor and told him to grab her and get out, but he wasn't fast enough. If she hadn't been raised by a workaholic overachiever, maybe she would have left when her shift was up. And maybe if I had told her I wasn't in LA anymore she would have taken my request to leave Manhattan more seriously. Maybe she wouldn't have been infected.”

“Infected or not, I think Emery would still be trying to find a cure for this right now, either with a team or on her own. Don't you?”

Adam smiled at me, looking younger for a moment.

“You're right. Thank you for staying here. Not just protecting her, I mean. Keeping her company.”

I felt a bit of guilt trickle through my veins. There was nothing worse than being praised for doing something selfless when you were actually being selfish.

“Have a safe trip,” I said, avoiding the matter altogether.

He gave me a little salute and left.

I sat on the front porch and waved as he drove down the dusty lane.

When Emery finally came out into the kitchen, I was still cleaning up from lunch. I had a fresh cup of blood waiting in a mug on the table.

“Thanks,” she said calmly as she took a sip. I could see her fighting the urge to gulp it down. “I like drinking it out of a cup, but it's not always easy.”

Emery wiped her mouth and for no particular reason she got up and kissed me. Not one to say no to such an opportunity, I picked her up to set her on the counter so we could continue.

Her kisses grew more passionate, or at the very least, intense. I could feel the tension grow in her shoulders, and the way she held onto me felt more possessive. I looked over and saw her mug was still half full. I was worried she was still hungry and was thinking about how great I smelled.

I released her, and she had a hint of a wild look on her face, tempered with memories of lust. She managed to collect herself as she jumped down from the counter to go finish her meal.

She took another big sip and frowned.

“Yours was so much better.” I'm not sure why I felt like it was a compliment, but I did. “It's like vegetables, I guess. Fresh is better than frozen. Where's my dad?” She looked around, knowing the blood fairy hadn't delivered her breakfast.

“He was busy. He had to go.”

“Ahh. You mean he is getting impatient and doesn't want me to know.”

“I did sense something like that, yes,” I agreed.

“Or he has a new girlfriend.” She cocked her one brow up.

I shrugged. Anything was possible. “He thanked me for
keeping you company.
”

She laughed. “You most certainly are keeping me company,” she said as she finished the mug and rinsed it in the sink. “Do you want to keep me company while I check out the latest batch?”

“Uh, no thanks,” I said, hoping she wouldn't be disappointed. The fact was while the highlights of her research were fascinating, the bits in-between were as tedious as a tax audit. “I'm going to catch up on the news.”

“Suit yourself, but I have a good feeling about this,” she said as she headed back the hall.

“Call me if it turns out to be exciting.” I called after her. It wasn't long before she joined me in the living room while I fumed at the continuing reports on CNN.

“There have been rumors circulating of an organized attack being planned on the Outer Banks facility by hate groups. Sons of the Sun are claiming they have no such intentions, but some members of the group—who wish to remain anonymous—have confirmed there are plans to eradicate the Haunts on the island,” the reporter said.

A man with a blurred out picture said, “They need to be exterminated. Those Bugs can contact them mentally from another planet and turn them into remote controlled soldiers from space! An' they can infect others too!”

The proverbial man-on-the-street was shown next with a counterpoint. “We should just leave them be. It was one thing when we were protecting ourselves from being fed on. But these things are locked away. They can't do us any harm now. I don't know why we can't leave them alone on that island. Besides, we need to study their condition, right? If the Bugs come back, we need to know everything we can about them.”

“Others have their views on this disturbing information.” The female reporter now turned to another man who looked far too normal to belong to a radical hate group. He had a suit on.

“We are spending millions of dollars in taxpayer money to keep these things alive, and for what? It is just as inhumane to keep them alive as it would be to keep a puppy with rabies. You're only delaying the inevitable. Most of these people would welcome a peaceful end. Every day there are hundreds found on the beach. They don't want to live. We should give them what they want, so the money saved can be used to rebuild the future, not focus on the past.”

He was way too calm for my liking. The crazed hillbillies were easier for the public to brush off as psychotic, uneducated ranting. But this man seemed fairly intelligent, and he hit right where it hurt the main demographic. Money. People would listen to him.

“There aren't
hundreds
of Haunts on the beach every day, asshole!” I protested to the television. One was a tragedy, hundreds were a statistic. This guy wanted the whole group to become a statistic.

A teary-eyed woman came on camera, as the report switched over to OBX's weekly press conference.

“My sister is in there. Every time she calls me there is disruption on the line if she tries to answer my questions about her safety. There is something going on inside the OBX that they don't want us to know about.”

The chief of security answered her question. “I assure you, no one is being hurt or treated badly. Everything they need is provided, and we're trying to improve their security and safety each day. If anyone is in danger it's from other Haunts, not from the guards or from the government.”

“So why aren't we allowed to talk to them uncensored?” the woman asked.

“It's not safe for the detainees to discuss their accommodations when a terrorist threat could be eminent. We take their safety seriously, and unfortunately that does at this time require the monitoring of communications.”

“We're referring to them as
detainees
now?” I huffed. “This is ridiculous!” I threw my hands in the air.

Emery took a deep breath. I could sense her piling more and more responsibility on her own shoulders.

“It's okay, Em. You have time,” I said, but she knew it wasn't true.

“Do I? Don't you remember the night you shot that guy's foot? The man said he would get me at the Outer Banks. He must have known there was a plan in the works to attack the island.”

“Emery, I doubt that guy even knew the alphabet! Who would trust him with some big secret attack plan?”

“Someone even dumber than him?” she reasoned.

“I'm not sure there is such a thing. Maybe an amoeba or something.” I joked but Em still looked worried.

“I need to cure them before they all get killed. Sooner or later, something is going to give.”

“Shh.” I held her and rubbed her back. “You won't do anyone any good if you stress yourself out so badly you can't think. Come on, I have an idea.”

I took her hand and pulled her toward the stairs.

“I can't. I have work to do.”

“I know. It won't take long, I promise.”

“I thought you couldn't do quick.” She raised one eyebrow.

“Come on.”

She reluctantly followed me into the bathroom. I lit some scented candles around the oversized tub and turned on the water and some classical music. Then I took off my clothes and jumped in as it filled with suds.

“Get in!” I ordered.

“What are you doing?”

“We're taking a relaxing bath. Together.”

I tried not to stare as she disrobed and slid in under the bubbles.

I pulled her against me and began rubbing her back. She closed her eyes and let her head fall forward in relaxation.

I was happy to see her so mellow, and being naked didn't hurt, either.

“God, that feels good.” My body responded to the words and lurched into action against her back. She jumped, splashing water out onto the floor.

“Sorry, just ignore that,” I said, hoping it wouldn't turn into an issue.

“It's kind of difficult to ignore.”

I could feel the smug grin take over my face. “What can I say? Bubbles turn me on.” Only when they covered her naked body. Another throb made her sit up. She shifted so she was facing me. Her legs sliding over mine didn't help the situation.

“So the bubbles are responsible for your condition?” She looked down at said condition. “Not me?” Her tone changed from playful to something else. She moved closer and kissed the edge of my mouth.