Brink by Mikel Parry

CH – BURN BRIDGES

The gurney shook wildly as it was being pushed frantically down a hospital hallway. A small team of nurses crowded around, all trying to work on the body and run at the same time. The wheels of the gurney squeaked with their effort.

“He’s got some bleeding but nothing major,” said one of the nurses.

“Buddy, can you wake up for me?” said another, waving a hand back and forth.

Once reaching a room, they carefully hoisted the body off the gurney into a hospital bed. They immediately sped off, leaving the body with a nurse who had remained behind. The remaining nurse carefully jotted down the health information that had been gathered, and then left.

Thomas’ eyes felt like two large bags of sand. His body ached, his mind was scattered, and his whereabouts unknown. He gulped down two soggy mouthfuls of air in an attempt to clear his head. Each time he tried to open his eyes, the blurred image of the masked killer would leap at him from the darkness. His heart raced madly. It all seemed so unreal. Everything was just one big nightmare. Letting out a rough grunt of pain, he awoke suddenly. His eyes opened and he instantly began taking in the world around him. He was obviously in a hospital, but as to which hospital where, he had no idea. The smell of medications, cleaners, and the crisp linen sheets made him feel nauseated. He needed to get out. Without thinking, he tried to sit up. He felt each and every cut and bruise buzz with horrible pain. Now in a seated position, he could see the entire room, and he wasn’t alone. Standing near the door were two men and a woman, standing close together. They were staring at him with deep concern.

“As I live and breathe, I thought that boy was a goner.”

“Thomas, are you okay?”

The voices required no introduction. The first belonged to Pete, who was dabbing at his sweaty, bulbous face with a handkerchief

Another voice was a very much needed and pleasant surprise—Barb. She was standing a few steps from Pete, arms crossed. Her face said it all; she was beside herself with worry. And then there was Vaun; his face looked relieved but with a slight edge of anger. Perhaps he had been dragged along. In Thomas’ mind, he fought hard to try and convey his thoughts. There were so many things spinning wildly about in his head, it seemed impossible to calm it down. As he tried to speak, a glob of saliva dribbled from his mouth where it had pooled while he had been unconscious.

“I’m alright. I mean, I’m a complete wreck, but alright.”

“Still babbles like a baby,” laughed Vaun, walking up to the hospital bed.

“Thomas, where have you been? Vaun says he spotted you being dragged out of that horrible disaster like a corpse!”

Thomas glanced at Vaun, whose eyes remained locked on to Thomas.

“Vaun, you guys know each other?”

“We’ve made our introductions. We’ve had a few hours playing babysitter together here,” said Vaun, winking at Barb.

The way Vaun looked at Barb made Thomas suddenly defensive.

“Just the wrong place, wrong time, I guess. Just lucky to be alive.”

“Tommy, I’d be doing you a disservice if I didn’t just tell it to you like it is. You stink son, you stink bad. And I’m not talking about the sewage water you apparently were neck deep in. You don’t think I’ve got a nose for BS? Tommy, I practically wrote the book. Why don’t you just start telling the truth, and maybe we could help you,” said Pete.

“He’s got a point. Let’s face it, we’re all you’ve got,” added Vaun, looking at Pete for back-up.

Barb immediately cleared her throat to make her presence known.

“He’s right, Thomas. When I saw what happened on the news, I just somehow knew you’d be involved again. That’s two major disasters that you were just coincidentally involved in. Thomas, you can’t expect me to believe these things aren’t related. A lot of people have died!”

Barb turned away to hide the flush reddening her cheeks.

“Would you all stop crowding me? I’ve barely woken up and I’m already being interrogated. I don’t need to answer to anyone as to where I’ve been or what I’ve been doing!”

“Tommy, you’re going down a dangerous road. You ain’t gonna like where it takes you,” said Pete.

Thomas could feel his anger surging up and down. Why was he so angry? What was happening to him? Overwhelmed, he felt like he needed to get some air.

“Look, I’ve just been through a lot lately. I’m working out some serious personal issues and just need some space. I promise . . . I’ll be fine.

“I told you he’d do this, didn’t I? You just keep doing this, Tommy. We’re supposed to be a team, but all you are is some shooting star, blasting your way through the universe before disappearing again, like nothing ever happened. What a joke,” blasted Vaun, pointing a finger at Thomas.

“Vaun, I’m done explaining things to you! I don’t owe you anything!”

Vaun clenched his fists and took a step toward the bed. He was easily stopped short by Pete.

“That’s enough boys. This ain’t some fight club therapy, alright? We’re not in our right heads.”

Pete turned around slowly and gave Thomas a sympathetic look.

“Tommy, we’ve just been through hell and high water running around town, cleaning up messes. It’s by an angel’s sweet grace that we only have to deal with what falls on our table.. We came down here to check on one of our own. But to be frank, Tommy, you ain’t seeing it that way. You’re treating us like we’re the enemy here,” said Pete.

Maybe you are . . .

Thomas felt defeated. He let out a long, drawn out sigh before attempting to gather his high-strung emotions.

“Alright, alright, Pete . . . I get it.

“Could I get some time with him, alone?” Barb asked suddenly.

Pete looked at Vaun, who threw his hands up in the air while walking out the door.

“I’m done with this. Just keep lying, Thomas. What a joke.”

As Vaun left the room, Pete said one last thing before following him.

“You best get that head screwed on right, Tommy. You’re burning some serious bridges here.”

Thomas felt a part of him yearn to just let it all out. Let all of his secrets and lies shower down on Pete like acid rain. But he couldn’t; he wouldn’t. He couldn’t risk it. He’d already said too much to Barb, who he feared was high risk now. He couldn’t drag anyone else into his filthy mess. As the door to the room shut, his view was filled with nothing but Barb’s lovely, but concerned, face.

“Thomas, what is happening to you? I’ve thought long and hard about what you told me last time. But it doesn’t make any sense. Thomas . . . you sound like a raving lunatic. I’ve known you a long time, and I know you can be . . . eccentric. But lately . . .”

Thomas threw his legs to one side of the bed. He realized he was still wearing his scuffed up suit. His shoes lay at the side of the bed, one neatly next to the other.

“I’m a freak, Barb; plain and simple. I wasn’t lying. All of it’s true and it’s getting worse—the explosion at the docks—the semis at the building. I was there trying to stop it. But then, it just happens again. Over and over, and I lose every single time. No matter how fast I move, he’s faster.”

“Who’s he?”

Thomas slid his shoes on and tried to stand up. A few of his bones sang out a melody of juicy cracks under the pressure.

“The killer. And I don’t know who he is. I have a truck load of details—clues—and no idea what they mean.”

Thomas peeked down at his watch. He was greatly relieved that it was still there. The last time it hadn’t been.

“I’m just completely losing it. This city, the world, it’s on fire. I swear, every day it’s getting worse. And then to see you like this . . . I can’t keep doing this,” said Barb, looking away.

Thomas searched for the words to say. His logical self had no place here. This was in the realm of emotion. For him it was like being thrown into water without knowing how to swim; he was doing his best just to stay afloat.

“Maybe it is getting worse. I don’t know, and I don’t care. Maybe you and I are both losing it. To be honest, I don’t know what to believe anymore. But I know you, Barb. If you can put up with my pointless rants for hours on end, you can do this.”

“What exactly do you mean?” questioned Barb.

“Maybe I need your help. I’m good at what I do, really good. But I lack the common skill set that most people have.”

“And what’s that?”

“Understanding people—understanding their motives, reasons, and purpose—until now, I’ve never cared. But you made me think about it the last time we spoke. Maybe it’s not just the details, but the overall purpose that’s tied to those details, that keeps eluding me. Each time I fail, I come right back to where I started; literally, this time. But sooner or later my luck is going to run out or the game is going to end.”

Barb nodded her head slowly. She was debating the absolute absurdity of everything Thomas had told her. But she cared for him. In what shape and form, she still wasn’t sure. But he was near and dear to her, nonetheless. But by entertaining his story, she was forsaking her own affirmation to never become one of her patients. Was she really that crazy?

“I’ll help you, Thomas, but I refuse to get involved with any of this time travel hocus-pocus you keep blabbing about.”

Thomas started to laugh but cut it short, feeling his injuries begin to scream with pain. Barb saw him cringe and frowned.

“Thomas, you need to rest up. You look terrible.”

Thomas shook his head.

“Can’t rest, Barb. Too much going on right now. I saw him—the killer—twice. He wears some sort of dark mask. Never seen one like it. Always hiding in the shadows.”

Barb narrowed her eyes as she thought out loud.

“What else?”

“He keeps showing me cards with a symbol on them. A symbol I’ve seen before; in the organization that dragged me into all this. He’s targeting the men in the organization. It’s like he’s one of them, and yet he wants them dead. The only problem is that there’s no one left. Then at the docks he killed people that had nothing to do with any of this. It’s like one moment he’s focused and tuned in, and the next he’s shotgunning everything in his path.”

“Maybe he’s confused. Many people behave irrationally when they have mixed emotions. Maybe a part of him embraces whatever he sees as his reason for doing all this. But there’s another part, albeit a teeny tiny part, that doesn’t. Guilt can create rage, which in turn repeats the guilt process; a vicious cycle. Would explain why things keep escalating.”

Thomas walked through Barb’s carefully crafted response. Her wit was as sharp as ever. He started to respond but she cut him off.

“The real question is what drove him to this? There has to be something you’ve missed.”

Thomas felt his mind flash through all the details stored there. But there were still too many loose ends. At the precise moment he tried to respond, the door to the room opened. Outside stood a few men in dark suits; they stood aside as both Roslin and Banks walked between them. Roslin pointed at Barb.

“She goes. Now.”

Barb began to protest but was interrupted by Thomas.

“He’s right, Barb. I’ll see you as soon as I get the chance.”

From Thomas’ tone alone, Barb knew he meant it. Their discussion would have to wait. Before she left, she leaned over and kissed his forehead, and then stared him in the eyes.

“You know where to find me.”

She reluctantly left, scowling at the men who crowded the doorway. As soon as she was gone, Roslin shut the door, leaving him alone with Banks and Thomas.

“What the hell is going on? I’ve got another catastrophe on my hands, the cops are crawling down my neck, and I’m dealing with massive clean ups. We’ve lost another agent and some bystanders. All that just for you to end up back in the hospital? Let me repeat; what the hell is going on?”

Roslin’s self-discipline had wilted away to reveal the thundering mountain he was now. He wanted answers. He wanted results. But to Thomas, his behavior was exaggerated. It appeared that Roslin’s firm grasp on things was quickly coming undone.

“I was trying to stop it! I almost had him. He was as close as he’s ever been.”

Thomas recalled everything; the underground explosion, the semi crashes, and the out-of-control subway train. It was beyond belief. The tempo was beating faster and faster.

“But you didn’t! Damn it, you didn’t! Again! We’ve spent an astronomical amount of our resources and time here. We have too many things on our plate to be focusing on this. You need to solve this or—”

“Or what? You shut the program down? We’ve already been down this road. I’m close—so close now—and the killer knows it. He’s squirming, trying to get out. He’s getting sloppy. We’ve got to ride this to the end, or get out now. I’m sorry he’s got your brother; I’m sorry that innocent people keep dying. But I’m doing everything I can here. I’ll either beat this maniac or die trying.”

Roslin took a deep breath. The normally huge gap between his professional life and personal life had grown very narrow. He was letting his very human side continue to ooze out. He was breaking down.

“Jo’s got an event triggered. But this time it’s different,” Banks said, breaking up the argument for the moment.

Thomas felt sick. Was there no mercy? How much longer could this possibly go on? Did the world he knew have to burn to the ground before this would end? Roslin nodded slowly. He looked down at his watch and then at Banks. With an accompanying flash of black suits, he was gone.

Banks approached Thomas cautiously.

“You alright? I can’t believe you survived that.”

Thomas looked around the room. Instinctively, he was looking for his hat. It somehow brought him comfort. He looked at Banks; the quirky fedora was clenched tightly in his right hand. Banks saw Thomas’ eyes fixate on it and offered it to him warmly.

“Oh, your hat. Thought you might want it.”

Thomas snatched it out of Banks’s hands.

“He was right there.”

Banks listened closely and then paused to examine what Thomas had said.

“Look, you can only move forward. Roslin’s falling apart, there’s no doubt about it. His cage has been rattled. We’re all that’s left and he knows it. And like it or not, you’re a part of this. If the project burns to the ground, you’ll go down with it.”

“Why does he keep showing me the same card? He’s done it twice now. What is he telling me?”

Banks looked perplexed by Thomas’ aimless comment.

“What are you talking about?”

Thomas looked at the hat he was holding. It looked battle worn now. And yet, it still maintained its overall shape.

“Secrets—this organization is full of them, isn’t it?”

“Everybody’s got their secrets. This is no different.”

“There’s a lot more here than normal secret organization stuff going on. Who would want to see this all come crumbling down? Who would want to see Roslin six feet under?”

Banks shrugged.

“Besides everybody? We piss a lot of people off around here. Granted, we’re ghosts, but even then, bound to step on some toes somewhere.”

“What about internally? A leak, some loose end, a disgruntled past employee?”

“If you haven’t noticed, the selection process around here is extremely stringent. If you as so much as hiccup a bit of doubt, they’re not opposed to canning you. Most of us are here because we have no connection to the real world. Why do you think they wanted a freak like you? You’re the perfect candidate . . . aside from your knack for destroying things.”

Thomas let the words sink in slowly. Banks was right. Having a mole was possible but improbable. Especially a mole who had such intimate knowledge of the program. But that’s how things were now; perhaps the past was different and held something darker. Maybe he’d been focusing on the wrong time and place. He decided he needed to start playing with time on his terms.

“We should get going. Jo’s probably already wet himself in anticipation. Guy seems to struggle with containing his emotions.”

Banks put on a sliver of a smile.

“Yeah, but he’s a good guy. Just all brains and no logic. Ya gotta feel for him though, locked up in there like Roslin’s little lab rat.”

Thomas put his battered hat back on top of his head. He was going to keep fighting. His body ached, his mind felt torn, but he wasn’t going to give in. Even if it killed him.