Melissa Good - Tropical Storm

Sighing, she stood and walked to the small antique writing desk that was settled against the window and sat down, unzipping her briefcase and pulling out her laptop as she gazed out across the silver and sable landscape. She booted the machine and sat drumming her fingers until it came up, then she plugged in the modem line and requested a network connection. “Might as well check the mail, see if there are any crises going on,” she murmured to herself, glancing at the time on the laptop. Only just past midnight; she’d only been sleeping for about a half an hour, since the Eastons held to the early to bed, early to rise military tradition, and she hadn’t minded since she’d been up since very early to catch her 6:00 AM flight.

The machine connected and started to download her mail, and she watched it idly, scanning the headers. Then she noticed the blinking box in the corner, and her brows creased. One of her running bots? Puzzled, she clicked on it, and watched the box expand.

Database Access Request—Scan Match—String “Stuart, Kerry”

Medical Benefits Card usage 00:23 112798

Admitted Bryan’s Counseling Center Ident 999823

Dar’s heart started pounding again, and she suddenly felt lightheaded.

With shaking fingers, she did a search for Bryan’s, and found them in the client database. She pulled up their profile.

Tropical Storm 417

Bryan’s Counseling Center

Account A0022323

A psychiatric research and treatment center designed to evaluate short and long term mental illnesses and provide strategies for adjustment of deviant behaviors to assist patients in rejoining the societal norm.

A counseling center? Dar stared at the screen in puzzlement. Why in the hell would Kerry have gone there? Was it a mistake? Or could she have been in an accident, and maybe it was the closest… She reread the description. “Deviant behaviors,” she mouthed silently to herself. “Oh no.” Her eyes jerked to the window, and her breathing sped up.

“Oh my god.” Dar breathed. “Those sons of bitches.” Slowly, she put her hands down on the writing table and closed her eyes, forcing herself to be calm. “Okay, think.” Brain first, heart second, wasn’t that what she’d always said?

Bloody hell! Doesn’t count when you’re in love, now does it? “Son of a fucking bitch!”

First thing, she needed to get to Michigan. With that decided, she shut the computer down and put it away, then quietly changed into her clothes, and packed her bag up. Then she went down the hall and into Jack’s room, where her friend was sprawled across his bed in an orgy of slumber.

“Jack.” She knelt and touched his shoulder, getting an almost instant fluttering of pale eyelashes. “Wake up.”

“Wh…uh…” Jack rolled onto one side and peered at her. “Dar? What’s going on?”

“Listen, I have a friend in a lot of trouble. I need to get out to Michigan.

Can you drive me to the airport?”

He blinked at her. “There aren’t any planes this late, Dar.”

“I’ll rent one,” the executive told him in utter seriousness. “But it’s gotta be quick, speed counts.”

“Wh…” Jack nibbled his lip. “Speed counts, huh?” He rubbed his face.

“How does Mach Two strike you?”

It was Dar’s turn to blink. “What?”

“C’mon. The base is closer than the damn airport, and my cat’s just sitting there collecting dust. I’ll take you.”

“Jack, you can’t just do that,” Dar said softly. “Not that I don’t appreciate the offer, but it’s not worth risking your ass, not to mention your career. I’m not living with you stuck in a Navy brig for twenty years. I just need a ride to the damn airport!”

He laughed. “Dar, you’re worth risking my ass for, but it’s not in any danger.” He stood up and tugged his flannel pajama bottoms up. “I’ll just get Dad to approve it, gimme a minute.” He trotted off down the hall, leaving slightly stunned eyes following him. “Those stars come in handy, y’know.”

“Got troubles, then, do we?” General Easton’s rumble traveled down the hall, followed by the General himself. “Problems, Dar?”

“Friend in trouble,” Dar replied quietly. “Someone who means a lot to me.”

418 Melissa Good Easton’s eyes studied her intently. “Good enough.” He picked up the phone in Jack’s room. “Get dressed, son. You can’t be driving that damn plane in your jammies.” He motioned Dar to turn towards him. “Look this way, Dar, Mister Prude there is afraid to go to half-staff in front of you.”

If Dar hadn’t been so worried, she would have laughed, but she faced towards him and heard Jack curse as he got tangled up in his shorts.

“Who’s this? … Right, this is General Easton, from the Joint Chiefs.”

Easton waited a few seconds. “No time for all that nonsense, son, just listen. I have a pilot coming down to file a flight plan from here to…” He thought a minute. “No, Wurtsmith is too far, Kent County would probably be your best bet.”

“That’s civ,” Jack muttered, pulling a shirt over his head.

“It’s after midnight up there, won’t matter,” his father covered the receiver and whispered back. “Kent County, and I’ll need a liaison up there with a car for him.” He paused, listening. “That’s right, good man.” He hung up. “Right, all set.”

Dar regarded him quietly. “I owe you one, Gerry. I owe you both.”

A faint smile crossed the older man’s face. “Consider it payment for a long-gone debt, my friend.” He shook his head a bit. “Someday we’ll have to have a beer and I’ll tell you about it.”

Dar nodded. “All right.” She turned to see Jack slipping into his leather jacket. “Ready?”

He ran a hand through his stubble. “My hair look okay?” His eyes twinkled gently.

“Like a short carpet.” Dar exhaled. “Let’s go.”

KERRY WAS CHIEFLY aware, first, of a pounding headache. She kept her eyes closed and let the throbbing, in time with her heartbeat, subside a little before she let her lids drift up. She was lying down, in a railed hospital bed, in a stark, forbidding white room. “Oh my god.” She breathed faintly, letting her eyes roam around. It was small, with one door on the outside wall and another on the inside, bare concrete walls and polished tile floors. The one small window to her right had bars on it and was curtained.

The bed she was on was utilitarian, but she noticed a full set of restraint straps, which were, as yet, unfastened, their mute threat sending a pulse of fear through her. Slowly, she got up and slid her feet over the edge of the bed, letting herself down on the cold tile that stung her bare feet. Her clothes had been taken, and she’d been left in a thin cotton hospital gown, which she tugged around her as she padded over to the door and tried the handle.

Locked.

She wandered over to the window and peered out, pushing the curtain aside to see a bleak landscape of dead trees which surrounded the building.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe he did this.”

She had no idea where she was. She had no way of contacting anyone.

Her eyes glanced down and noted they’d taken her watch as well, making her unable to distinguish what time it was. It could have been minutes she was lying there, it could have been hours. She walked over and leaned her elbows on the bed. “You’re in a lot of trouble, Kerry,” she murmured. “You should have just stayed in Miami and had turkey roll.”

How long would they keep her here? Long enough to make the company think she’d abandoned her job? Sure. Long enough to where Dar, not hearing from her, would start to question whether she’d just…changed her mind?

No. Surely Dar would know there was something wrong. Even if she had changed her mind, she wouldn’t do it without at the very least, telling her boss in person. Dar knew that.

Didn’t she?

It was Dar’s one weak spot, and she knew it—that one vulnerability only fleetingly alluded to, but which had struck her hard, and which haunted her even at their parting, when the taller woman had given her a hug, and said,

“See you Monday, right?”

She would never abandon Dar. She knew that. But she realized that at some deep level, it was hard for Dar herself to believe it, and that made this one facet of her lover very, very fragile. “I have to get out of here.” Kerry 420 Melissa Good drummed her fingers on the bed.

The tiny shutter in the door shot open, and eyes peered through, then the door opened and admitted what appeared to be a nurse in white scrubs. The woman carried a clipboard and several small cups. “Well, good, I’m glad you’re awake.”

Kerry decided on the calm approach. “Where am I?”

The nurse made several marks on the clipboard before she answered.

“You’re in a hospital, dear, but don’t worry, you’re going to be fine.”

She digested this. “Well, I sort of figured, given the wardrobe, but which hospital is it?”

A slight pause. “Bryan’s.”

Kerry nodded, her heart sinking. “Hmm. That explains the bars.” She paused. “What time is it?”

“Now, don’t you worry about that, honey. We just have some people in here sometimes who aren’t very happy, and we have to protect them, that’s all,” the woman reassured her. “And it’s three thirty AM.”

Three hours. “So, why am I here?” Kerry asked, in a reasonable tone.

“The last time I considered killing myself is when I forgot to tape X-files.”

The nurse looked at her uncertainly, then she laughed. “Oh, I see. Yes, that’s very funny. Well, your family brought you in because of the problems you’ve been having, and we’re just going to work with you to make you all better.”

Kerry leaned on her elbows. “What problems am I supposed to be having?” she inquired.

“I’m sure you know that better than I do, dear.” The nurse smiled at her.

“But the doctor will be in to see you in the morning. And in the meantime, I’d like you to take these pills for me, okay?”

“What are they?”

The nurse sighed, obviously getting impatient. “They’re just a little sedative, to let you rest until the morning.”

“A sedative. Well, you know, I’m really pretty calm here, I don’t think I’ll be needing that,” Kerry objected. “I usually sleep just fine.”

The nurse walked over and faced her. “Look, I know you think you’re being very clever, but you just listen to me, all right? Your father gave us some pretty strict instructions, and we are going to follow them. Now, you can do what I ask, or I can have to of the orderlies come in her, tie you down, and give it to you intravenously.” She paused, her eyes cool. “Your choice.”

Kerry gazed at her. “What you’re doing is against the law, you do realize that, right?” she commented. “I did not agree to this, and there is nothing wrong with me.”

“Do yourself a favor, honey.” The nurse’s voice was now sharp.

“Cooperate. You don’t know what you’re getting into here.”

Kerry smiled. “Actually, it’s you who doesn’t know what you’re getting into here.”

The nurse’s eyes narrowed. “I can see what your father’s point was.”

Kerry smiled. “That’s easy. It’s on the top of his head.” She hopped up into the bed and took the pills from the nurse’s hand, dumping them into her palm and tossing them into her mouth. Then she took a drink of the water the Tropical Storm 421

woman held out. “Thank you, Ms.,” she peered at the badge, “Archer.” She put her head back down on the pillow and closed her eyes.

The woman stayed there a moment longer, then stormed toward the door, keying it open and letting it slam behind her. Kerry listened, hearing the soft click of the shutter being drawn back and remained still. Then she heard the solid snick of it closing and opened an eye. “Bitch.” She leaned forward and spat the two pills out, grimacing. “Ugh. God, what did they coat that with, lemon pepper?” Disgusted, she got out of bed and retrieved the capsules, separating them and emptying the powder inside them into the radiator. It hissed. Then she fit the two ends back together, and put them in her mouth, swallowing them down with the rest of the water the woman had left.

Three thirty. That meant she had…probably four and a half hours left before they’d start working on her in earnest, and if they gave her drugs through a needle… Kerry chewed her lip. They could keep her drugged up enough for anything to happen.

Her eyes wandered over the room, stopping on the small stool placed in the corner, ready for the doctor to warm it with his butt. She glanced at the stool, then at the door. “I never was a person who advocated violence, but you know, sometimes, you just gotta do what you gotta do.” Purposefully, she set to work, fluffing the covers up and using the pillows to make it appear that she was curled up in bed. Then she walked over to the door and stood behind it, satisfied that whoever looked in the grating couldn’t see her. She walked over and got the stool, bringing it back with her to her post and sitting down on it.