Shattered Bonds (continued)

Lorelei sat with Sean for more than three hours before Trenton finally sent her away. He felt mildly guilty about that, but it was now past time for his dinner and, frankly, he was not quite yet ready to be that gracious with the young woman enough to ask her to stay. His request was polite, but firm. Nonetheless, she hesitated for a long moment, staring down at Sean, before she rose from the chair. She looked exhausted and Trenton wondered how much she had slept since it had happened. He knew that he was running on an ongoing deficit, despite Georgia’s best efforts.

He closed the front door behind Lorelei, watching her until she faded into the shadows of the compound. Suddenly, preparing a meal suddenly felt like too much effort. A cup of tea he thought he could manage, and then he would head off for bed.

Opening the refrigerator to see whether there was any milk remaining, he found a plate with a sandwich prepared on it, along with several slices of fruit. Stuck into one triangular half of the sandwich was a small sign that read: EAT ME. On the other was a similar one, but the lettering on it said: . . . OR ELSE.

Trenton could not hold back the quiet laugh the tiny notes elicited.

Where have I seen that before? Alice in Wonderland?

He had a fleeting memory of a very, very old film done with old-style animation . . .

There was no doubt in his mind who had left the sandwich. He just wondered when she had managed to pull it off without him noticing.

Chuckling softly, and wearing a smile that he did not notice until too late, he removed the platter and placed it on the counter, remembering then why he had gone looking into the refrigerator in the first place. He returned to it, saw that a small amount of milk remained, and made a quick mental note to get some more as he removed the container from its shelf.

The kettle signaled its readiness. He poured the water into his mug and waited for the tea to steep. Picking off a piece from the corner of the sandwich, he chewed it slowly, wondering how Georgia managed to make them taste so much better with the same ingredients.

TLC, his mother had used to say. Tender loving care. That had been her secret ingredient in places other than simply the kitchen. It had been part of the antibiotic ointment when he had suffered scrapes, and even somehow magically added to the adhesives used in his childhood craft projects.

It’s been a long time since I thought of that, Trenton mused as he took another bite from the sandwich. Or her.

Shattered Bonds (continued)

Trenton found himself staring, uncertain what to think. He had formed an image of this young woman in his mind—not without cause, he reminded himself—yet here she was, acting in a manner that he would not have imagined. The urge to pull her away from Sean vanished, leaving something else in its place. It took him a long moment to recognize it for what it was. It was hope.

He felt a gentle tugging on his arm. It was subtle, but insistent. Trenton looked down to find Georgia, trying to silently gesture him away, nodding her head toward the doorway. His eyes turned back to Sean, in insensate repose as before. Lorelei was still there, murmuring to him while she brushed an errant strand of hair from Sean’s forehead.

“Come on, Trenton,” Georgia whispered, pulling gently again on his arm. “Leave the young folks alone for a bit.”

Trenton turned his head to look at her. There was the barest trace of a smile as she said it, something that Trenton had not seen on her face for several days. With less hesitation than he had felt in any the days since Sean had been brought home, he allowed Georgia to lead him down the hallway and toward the kitchen.

Two steaming mugs of tea awaited them there. Trenton held out a chair for Georgia and then took the chair next to hers. He wrapped his hands around the mug, as if needing its warmth, but what he really sought was the feeling of something familiar and substantial.

“Trenton?” Georgia’s voice was soft, but laden with concern.

He looked toward her, finding her eyes.

“Don’t question it,” she offered quietly. “This might be just what she needs to find herself.”

Trenton felt a spark of the old anger. His mouth began to open, but Georgia quenched that ember before it could reignite Trenton’s not-so-buried fury.

“And she just might be the one who brings Sean back to us.”

Trenton stared back to Georgia, hearing the hopeful assurance in her words.

“You threatening him with a whuppin’ certainly isn’t going to.”

Trenton opened his mouth again to protest. He then saw that Georgia was teasing him. He relaxed, giving her the smallest of smiles and raised the mug to his lips.

Shattered Bonds (continued)

Georgia had been a constant presence as well. She said very little, encouraging him to eat solely by placing food before him, but not pressuring him to consume it right then. Occasionally, she assisted him in bathing Sean or changing his sheets or clothes, again by silently inserting herself into the task. Sometimes, she merely sat beside Trenton, taking his hand gently from time to time, and making no demands.

Trenton heard a soft knock at the doorway. He turned, expecting to find Georgia there. Instead, his expression deepened into a scowl when he recognized who stood there.

Although their visits had become less frequent during the past few days, nearly all of Sean’s friends had come by to at least see him, if not speak to him. He had responded to none of them, much to Trenton’s disappointment, but he was not truly surprised. A few of them had not come at all. This young woman was one of them.

Lorelei waited there silently. Her face and the small motions of her hands and legs betrayed her unease. A surge of new anger flared through Trenton, something he had not felt in several days.

It’s been two weeks. All of his friends have come by, but the one who had gotten him into her bed couldn’t be bothered for two weeks?

He fought back the anger before he tried to speak. Inside, he was torn between venting his opinion aloud before sending her away and simply dismissing her outright. Not certain that he had made his decision, he opened his mouth and was stopped by Georgia’s appearance in the doorway.

“Let the girl come in, Trenton,” Georgia told him quietly.

There was a firm assurance in her soft tone that stilled Trenton’s tongue. Trenton nodded once, sharply. Lorelei hesitated, but responded to a gentle nudge by Georgia from behind her. Lorelei watched Trenton warily as she slowly approached Sean, keeping as much distance as she could between the old man and herself. Trenton’s gaze never left her; his eyes remained fixed on hers during her entire short journey from the doorway to Sean’s bedside.

Lorelei turned away, but Trenton could still see her face as she looked down at Sean. His eyes followed hers, seeing what hers would.

The hue of the worst of the bruises had transformed to an ugly yellowish-gray. Greg had reassured him that this was perfectly normal, however unpleasant they might appear. Most had faded to dull red patches, barely noticeable from a distance.

Lorelei stood there, her head tilted downward, staring down at Sean for a long time in silence. It startled Trenton then, when Lorelei lifted her head, to see long trails of fresh tears running down the young woman’s face. Without looking at Trenton, she lowered herself slowly to her knees beside Sean’s bed.

She raised her hand and, with trembling fingers, tentatively caressed the line of Sean’s right cheek. Although Sean did not react, she repeated the motion again. Trenton saw her lips move as she whispered something that he could not hear. Her hand then moved to Sean’s, carefully avoiding the intravenous tubes that ran along it. With deliberate gentleness, she stroked the back of his hand, along his fingers, all of the time still whispering softly to him.

Shattered Bonds (continued)

Maybe . . . she thought drowsily.

Wendy blinked, and then squinted at the sudden bright light in her eyes. Turning her head away from it, she became vaguely aware that she had fallen asleep at her desk. Her back felt uncomfortably rigid and she was cold. The temperature had dropped outside while she had dozed. Glancing at the clock, she saw that she had slept about two hours.

She arose stiffly, feeling joints and muscles throughout her body complain. Heading toward one of the examination cubicles, she made a detour at the bathroom stall to empty her bladder. It had awakened shortly after she had and was making its demands known.

Deciding that she was too tired to struggle with the crates again, she pulled two blankets from the storage cabinet instead. Wrapping herself in them, she laid across one of the examination tables. Turning her head away from the source of light coming from her tiny office space, she was asleep again within moments.

#

Trenton sat at his grandson’s bedside, trying to decide how to feel. He was unfair to blame the girl, Shalene, he knew. She had only defended herself against a foolish, drunken attack. Anyone else might have caused the same harm as well. It was, according to the doctors, as much his tumble down the stairs as the blow to his head that had done the damage. Seeing the boy laying helpless like that now, it was difficult for Trenton to aim his anger there, however warranted that might be.

Sean’s breathing was regular, if shallow. His expression appeared to be at peace, rather than slack, which gave Trenton hope. With the medical equipment that continued to function, Greg had reported that there seemed to be some brain activity, which was a good sign. However long this coma might last, however, was anyone’s guess.

“Brain injuries are like that,” Greg had said. “Even if we still had the best equipment, I doubt that we would know any more than with what we have.” Greg’s lips had formed a grim line. “He’ll wake up when he’s ready. That’s all we can do.”

More than two weeks had passed and Sean had shown no further signs of being ready. Both Greg and Wendy had confirmed that the swelling of his brain had gone down, enough so that neither of them believed that it required around-the-clock monitoring. At least one of them, though, stopped by at least three times a day to verify Sean’s vital signs and, Trenton suspected, to check on him as well.

Shattered Bonds (continued)

Wendy lugged the two crates outside the front door and then went around behind the house to get the cart. She noted, but was not surprised, to see no other colonists walking about in the night. That was not uncommon, as the colonists typically remained in their homes at night. Those who did not, tended to gather at the dining hall. In that, she was partly relieved, for it saved her from having to answer questions that she was not yet ready to answer. She hoped that would remain the case until she reached the clinic. It was not far, but passed through a common section of the compound where she might be seen.

She loaded the two crates into the cart without much trouble, but grateful to have the cart. Just the small effort she had made so far had tired her, so now doubted that she could have carried them both alone without it. After making certain that they were secure, as the last thing she wanted was them falling out halfway to her destination, she started the cart and headed toward the clinic.

The cart’s engine was almost silent. Most of the noise it generated came from the sound of the earth beneath its tires. In the quiet darkness of the night, it seemed unnaturally to Wendy. In reality, she suspected, no one else would hear it unless they were specifically listening for it. She left the headlights off, judging that there was enough reflected light for her to see by. It would help her remain somewhat anonymous as she travelled through the compound and, if she should manage to collide with someone at the cart’s slow speed, it was unlikely that she would do more harm than to bruise them.

Wendy reached the clinic without incident and pulled the cart around to the rear door, out of sight from anyone casually passing by. Shutting off the engine, she climbed out of the driver’s seat and approached the door. She fumbled several attempts in the dark before getting it unlatched and open. The interior of clinic was dark, as she expected, but she decided not to turn on any lights, not yet.

Getting the crates transferred from the cart into the clinic proved to be slightly more difficult than loading them. She guessed that what remained of her previously adrenaline-fueled anger had fled, leaving her with even less strength than before. It took significant effort, but she finally managed it, swearing softly that she had gotten those same crates out of the clinic the same way just a few days earlier.

Shoving the crates into one of the examination cubicles, she latched and locked the door. Only then did she turn on the small overhead light above her desk. She checked to make certain that the small window was covered. With the rest of the clinic in darkness, there was no reason for anyone to suspect that she was inside.

She leaned back in the chair, breathing a deep sigh, and closed her eyes. Trying to summon forth any emotions, all she found was exhaustion. All she could think of was wrapping herself in some of the blankets from the crate and going to sleep on one of the examination tables. They might still smell of David and, even if he could not be there to comfort her, maybe his presence in that way might be enough.

Shattered Bonds (continued)

There was really nothing to prevent her from sleeping here, aside from having removed all of the bedding. She could stand up to Greg and tell him that she would be leaving in the morning. He would probably agree, even if with cool reluctance, but there was a part of her that just could not face him again. So, Wendy pondered where it was that she could go.

There was a definite urge to flee to David’s arms, to lose herself in him and his body. As he was young and single, though, he lived in barracks-style housing with three other men. Her appearing there at this hour of the night would not only be viewed as inappropriate, it would almost certainly dissolve what little discretion might remain in their relationship.

She had a few friends in the colony that she could impose on for the night, but she was reluctant to do so. Although almost all of them would do so without hesitation, she was not ready to deal with their questions. However accepting they might be of her and her situation, Wendy knew that she did not come off as being particularly virtuous. She also did not want to force any of them into taking sides between her and Greg—at least not yet.

The clinic.

There was a spare cot in the supply closet. She had stored it there for time when she needed to monitor patients or experiments overnight.

If it’s too hard to get out, the exam beds aren’t so bad either.

She knew for certain that there were spare blankets in one of the cabinets. Someone might wonder why the clinic’s lights were that late at night, but it was the best solution that she could think of until she could figure something else out in the morning. It would be warm and there were toilet facilities.

With some effort, she dragged the two crates into the hallway and toward the common area. Greg was gone, either sequestered in his own room or had left the house, she guessed. She felt a renewed glow of anger.

He could have at least offered to help me with these damned crates . . .

Wendy was certain that she could not easily carry them both to the clinic at the same time by herself. She wanted to avoid a second trip, though, unwilling to face Greg or, worse yet, finding already Rachel there with him when she returned.

Bitch. Young little red-haired bitch.

Wendy knew that her feelings toward the young woman were both uncharitable and unwarranted.

Well, maybe not completely unwarranted, she decided.

She remembered then that they still had the small cart that she had used to move from equipment from the clinic to the house for cleaning and repair. She had originally planned to return it in the morning.

And so I will . . . she concluded with a faint smile.

Shattered Bonds (continued)

“No,” she finally whispered. “It’s not.”

“That young kid? The guard?”

Wendy’s voice was soft and quiet as she answered him. “No.”

This seemed to surprise Greg. His eyes widened and his eyebrows rose slightly. Wendy realized how it must sound.

“It wasn’t like that,” she protested quickly protested, her voice rising. “I was going to tell you,” she went on, the words tumbling out in a hurried stream. “I didn’t . . . the father isn’t . . .”

All of the emotions of the past several weeks caught up with her then and she burst into tears. The rest of her words were trapped behind sobs that shook her entire body. When it became evident that Greg was not going to comfort her—he just sat and regarded her with a steady, dispassionate stare—Wendy hugged herself tightly, riding out the emotional storm until it passed.

When it finally did, she sniffed back the remaining tears, and swallowed hard. She glared at Greg through swollen eyes, convinced that she had made the right choice.

Insensitive bastard. He could have at least tried . . .

She turned abruptly away from him and let her arms fall to her sides, not realizing her hands where clenched into fists. Greg continued to watch her, his expression cold and unreadable. If he was angry with her, he refused to let her see it.

“I’ll get my things,” Wendy said, her voice hoarse and low.

“Yes,” Greg agreed, finally taking his eyes from her. Although Wendy could not be certain, she thought she heard an edge of ice in his tone.

Wendy rose from the chair and glanced once more at Greg. He seemed unwilling to give her any more of his attention. Releasing a quiet, but audible, breath of angry frustration, she turned away and headed for her bedroom.

She pulled out two storage crates beneath her bed and, without looking to see what they might already contain, began cramming her belongings into them. For the unorganized mess that the small room held, there were fewer items that she expected. The bedding she included as well, realizing belatedly that it was because it still smelled of David, and not for any practical reason. A new set could easily be obtained from community storage.

If there were possessions that she wanted from anywhere else in the house, she would deal with them later. She could ask Greg for them or simply replace them, depending on their personal importance to her. It made her wonder how much of a jerk he was going to be about all this.

It’s not like he’s been leading an exactly honorable and chaste life . . .

Their close relationship had been over for some time, she knew. For some reason, though, that understanding did little to ease her pain at that moment. She wanted to be angry with Greg, but she knew that she was just as much at fault. There were reasons that she had tried to hide her pregnancy from him, and for not choosing him to be the father. The issues behind them she had never chosen to discuss with him. She had just . . . what? Played along, hoping that it would somehow turn out all right?

She blinked back tears as continued to shove items into the crates. They were both nearly full now, mostly from the bedding. She slammed one closed and latched it. Turning, she sat down on it and lowered her head with a low sigh. She was tired—physically tired and emotionally drained. What she really wanted now was sleep, to try to discount these events in a few hours of oblivion.

Shattered Bonds (continued)

Shanta’s large eyes moved away from hers. “I do not understand. Perhaps an Elder would.”

I doubt it, Wendy considered silently, suddenly just how complex human relationships—her relationships—could be.

“Could be,” Wendy agreed, while silently hoping that the young [alien] would not ask one about it. “But you probably don’t want to ask one.”

The young [alien]’s look of surprise was evident. At first, Wendy was not certain she had accidentally an insult, or that the [alien] was shocked by the inferred warning.

“I would not.” Shanta’s response was quick and emphatic. “It would not be . . . appropriate,” she said, stumbling slightly over the word. “Many Elders view many of your ways as . . . perverted.”

Wendy barely suppressed her chuckle that time.

I’m sure they do.

Shanta stared at her once again at the strange sound.

“Yes, Shanta,” Wendy said, giving the young [alien] a small smile. “That is the correct word this time.”

#

“When were you going to tell me?”

Greg’s tone was even, but carried the faint hint of a chill in it.

Wendy could not meet his eyes.

“When I was sure,” she lied.

She had been as certain as she could be that the pregnancy had taken hold for several weeks now. Her delay in informing Greg of it had been driven by something else entirely. She wondered then how long it had been since he had noticed the physical changes in her and had also not raised the subject.

He was probably waiting for me to.

“I know it’s not mine,” he said. His tone did not seem to change. Although there was, perhaps, Wendy thought, an undertone of resignation to it.

A hard knot formed around Wendy’s stomach. She knew that she could potentially delay his discovery of this up until the day the child was born. There were at least half a dozen qualified midwives among the colonists, but Greg was the only other registered physician. The moment he completed the gene typing of the baby, he would know.

How had he found out already?

She turned to him, unwilling to admit it aloud, but unable to deny it.

“I haven’t forgotten my shots,” he told her. His eyes betrayed the spark of anger that his voice did not convey. “Not in several months.”

Wendy could not take her eyes away from him. She felt small tears at their corners, but slowly blinked them away.

Of course not, she wanted to snap angrily. You’ve been screwing Rachel and god knows who else.

She also knew that she could not, for her own conscience was hardly clean on the matter. Although she had limited her illicit dalliances to David, she suspected that she had not been nearly as discreet as she had needed to be. That Greg might have discovered that relationship would not have been all that difficult for him—had he really wanted to know.

Wendy took a slow deep breath, unable to make it sound like anything other than a sigh. Whether Greg knew about her relationship with David or not, it was not going to make the next part of this conversation any easier.

Shattered Bonds {continued)

Wendy could tell from the young [alien]’s expression that she still did not understand. She frowned, her mouth working from side to side as she tried to find other words that might help explain it.

“It means . . .” Wendy started, and then trailed off, thinking about for a moment again before continuing. “It’s a word people use when they don’t approve of something that someone else does,” she explained. “But that doesn’t mean that everyone believes that way.”

Even as she offered that explanation, she was reminded of what had precipitated the entire discussion in the first place. She tried to ignore the renewed tingling in her cheeks and stomach.

Shanta considered this for a long moment.

“Everyone in your village does not behave the same way?”

“There are a lot of us here,” Wendy replied. “And not everyone thinks the same way about some things.”

She knew that it sounded hopelessly vague, but felt that was the best she could without going into specifics—and that was something that she definitely did not want to do.

The young [alien} was silent for a long time before she spoke again.

“It must be very confusing.”

“Yes,” Wendy agreed, chuckling softly. “It can be.”

“I don’t think I would like it,” Shanta announced. “Our way is better.”

Wendy opened her mouth to protest, and then closed it slowly without saying a word. The circumstances and two societies were completely different. If Shanta wanted to believe that hers was better, then there was probably no harm in that. It was not as if the [aliens] were likely to mount up some kind of religious crusade against the humans.

We already have people like Xei Ling for that . . .

“It just might be,” Wendy agreed, giving Shanta a gracious smile. Silently, she prayed that the young [alien] would drop the matter.

Her wish appeared to have been granted until Shanta spoke again.

“Will you restrain your mate the next time you Bond with him then?”

Wendy tried not to groan aloud with frustration.

“Probably not,” she said.

That seemed to comfort the young [alien] somehow.

It was the truth. While it had made for an entertaining start to their long night of passion, Wendy saw no reason to use the same technique again the next time they were together in bed. She conceded to herself, though, that if David suggested it, she would probably not refuse.

Assuming that there is a next time . . .

“But you will Bond with him again?”

“I hope so,” Wendy replied. “But it’s also up to him.”

“But you are the female,” Shanta said.

Wendy looked down at the young [alien].

Is she confused? Or scolding me?

“Yes,” Wendy agreed. There was slight hesitation in her tone.

“Then he must comply.”

Wendy tried not to react. “It’s a little different among us—among humans,” she offered. “Both . . . mates need to agree to it.”

“Is that not more complicated?”

“It can be,” Wendy agreed. “But it can also prevent . . . problems.”

She really did not want to have to explain the concept of rape to the young [alien]. She did not know if the [aliens] even had a word for it. If it had ever happened among them, they had never spoken of it in Wendy’s presence.

Shattered Bonds (continued)

You shouldn’t have observed it the first time, Wendy wanted to retort, but she could not find a more polite way to say it aloud.

She settled for, “I don’t think that will be possible.”

Wendy read the young [alien]’s expression as disappointment.

“Shanta,” Wendy explained gently, feeling oddly mildly guilty. “We—most humans—don’t like to be watched when we . . . Bond.”

Shanta’s head tilted again. “It the same among the [] as well. It is considered . . .”

“Rude?” Wendy offered.

Muscles in the [alien]’s face moved. “No,” she finally said. “It is . . . perverted.”

Wendy’s eyes grew wide and her eyebrows rose. When the initial shock wore out, she tried very hard not laugh.

“Shanta,” she choked back a giggle, “where did you hear that word?”

“From a female Human,” Shanta replied, very matter-of-factly. “The one that bore Lor’lei and her litter.”

Wendy managed to mostly not roll her eyes.

Of course. Who else? She suppressed a sigh. I wonder who she was going off about now . . .

“Um,” Wendy said, biting down on her lower against a snicker. “I’m not sure that’s the right word.”

She realized that Shanta was staring at her, apparently seeking an explanation and, possibly, the correct Human term.

“Is it forbidden?” she asked Shanta.

“It is not done.”

Wendy’s lips formed a tight line, trying not to show her frustration at the young [alien]’s rather unhelpful explanation.

“Why not?”

It was Shanta’s turn to pause before answering.

“Because once they are Bonded, no mate would want another.”

Wendy nodded. That made sense to her, based on what she understood of [alien] mating physiology.

“What about before they Bond?”

Shanta appeared to consider this for a moment. “It has never been spoken of.”

To you, anyway, Wendy remarked silently.

Since Shanta was young, it was entirely likely that she had not been exposed to any discussions that covered deviant sexual behavior in her society. If Wendy was right, though, Shanta should be approaching the [alien] equivalent of puberty.

I wonder who handles “The Talk” in their families? Wendy guessed, based on her understanding of [alien] society, it was probably the mother. Do they even have “The Talk”?

Many cultures on Earth, from what she had read, had specific rituals and ceremonies when a young man or woman passed from childhood to adulthood. For females, it might be the first onset on menses, marking their transition to reproductive maturity. Or it might be predicated upon reaching a certain age or achieving a specific accomplishment. In many primitive hunting tribes, the male child was required to complete his first successful kill during a hunt before he would be permitted to pass into manhood.

“I’m still not sure that ‘perverted’ is the right word,” Wendy said, stumbling slightly over the term. “It means . . . something that people don’t believe should be done.”

“It is not done,” Shanta repeated.

“I mean in a bad way,” Wendy explained, beginning to see that the nuances of certain human words might be more than just a little difficult to explain to the rather direct and plain-spoken [aliens].

Shattered Bonds (continued)

Standing there in the doorway of the bathroom, she hesitated. Her need was different now. Making her way back down the short hallway, she did not know whether she would stop or continue on to the kitchen. At the open bedroom door, she paused, studying the smoothly muscled contours of of David’s back. Faint parallel lines run down its length, put there, she knew, by herself during ones of their more vigorous exhibitions of passion.

She slowly entered the room, closing the door behind her. The earlier chill she had felt returned for a moment and then passed. She let the robe fall to the ground and climbed back onto the bed. With slow, careful movements, she nestled up behind David. He murmured a short burst of noises deep in his throat, but stirred only slightly. It was enough though, Wendy realized, for her to snuggle in even closer to him.

His flesh was warm against her skin. He smelled of male musk and perspiration. She breathed it in with a deep sigh and closed her eyes. Before long, she slept again. David’s arms were not wrapped around her, but, for the moment, it was enough.

#

“Do you always restrain your males before you Bond with them?”

Wendy stared at Shanta. It took a moment before she could find her voice. Even when she did, it came out unnaturally high and faint.

“What . . .” she swallowed and started again. “What do you mean?”

“Last night, with the security man David,” she explained. “You restrained him . . . to the sleeping platform, before Bonding with him.”

Wendy felt fire along her cheeks.

Oh gods, she wondered with frantic embarrassment. What else did she see?

“No,” Wendy finally answered, taking a slow, calming breath. “It’s just something we do sometimes, um, for fun.”

Shanta cocked her head, studying Wendy’s expression. There was no doubt in Wendy’s mind that the young alien could see the bright glow of her cheeks.

“It brings you pleasure then?”

That’s one of way of putting it . . .

Wendy really wanted to change the subject, but she was afraid the inquisitive young [alien] might find someone else to ask.

That’s just what I need . . .

“Um,” she stalled, trying to find some kind of explanation that might not lead to just more questions. “It can.”

“Then it is not required for Bonding?”

“No.”

Please, please, please, let that be the end of it.

“Do other Human mates do it?”

Wendy started to explain that she and David were not “mates”, but stopped herself, not wanting to explore a new set of awkward questions about her relationship with the young security guard.

“I suppose so,” Wendy replied in what she hoped was a sufficiently non-committal tone.

She knew of at least one couple among the colonists who did—or had—at least based on a certain emergency call that she had received one evening a few years ago. She suspected at least one other pair, possibly even a mutual quartet, who did, but she had only inferences and innuendo as proof. Greg had humored her with it a few times early on in their relationship, but seemed otherwise uninterested. David had surprised her. Once he had gotten over his initial unease, he to appear the practice with enthusiasm.

“I would like to observe it again,” Shanta announced. “With other mates.”

Wendy looked around awkwardly, trying at the same time not to burst out laughing or insist energetically that the young [alien] drop the subject.

Shattered Bonds (continued)

Wendy rose and slipped into her robe, out of habit more than from any need for modesty. There was no part of her body that was a mystery to David now. Opening the door slowly, gritting her teeth as the hinges protested softly, she left it open as she padded down the hallway toward the bathroom.

Maybe I should make some coffee or something . . .

It was an acceptable enough idea, but what she really wanted to do was to return to her bed and snuggle close to David’s warm body, whether he awakened or not. She told herself that she would decide between that option and the shower after she had taken care of her bladder’s suddenly insistent demands.

Letting the robe fall, she wondered if she looked as disheveled as she felt. She felt more curious than embarrassed by it. There were undoubtedly snarls in her hair that she would have to brush out after she had washed it. Although she was barely aware of it, she knew that anyone else would detect the heavy scent of sex on her. Thinking of it somewhat clinically, she understood that the mixing of bodily fluids was not a particularly clean or hygienic activity.

That didn’t seem to be a major concern last night . . .

Her thoughts drifted toward several acts she would not mind repeating from the night before.

What is with you?

She tried to feel guilty about it, but found that the feeling did not sustain itself for long.

Who am I hurting, exactly? Not David, I don’t think. And certainly not me.

Even if this proved to be a short-lived dalliance between the two of them, it boosted her self-image to know that not only was she desirable while pregnant, but also at nearly forty years old. There had been nothing in David’s performance to indicate that he had any issues with her age. All of her parts worked as expected, no differently that she could tell from when she had been ten years younger, or when she and Greg had first . . .

She shut off that thought at the first sharp pang of guilt. Sliding back into her robe, she hugged her arms around her middle, trying to ward off the chill that she knew came only from the inside. She forgot about the shower. All she wanted now was to feel David’s arms wrapped around her. Even if they did not make love again, she wanted to feel the warm comfort of his touch.

Shattered Bonds (continued)

To her surprise, she found herself growing newly aroused at her memories of the night. She had thought herself to be sufficiently sated to hold her for quite some time. That, apparently, was not the case. Well, she realized, it was—and it was not. What she was discovering was that she apparently had the capacity for still more.

Gods, do all pregnant women get this way?

It was not a question that she had ever asked any of them, nor had it ever come up in conversation during their checkups. Wendy vaguely recalled something from her medical training about the increased hormonal levels possibly contributing to it, but she had dismissed it as ridiculous, if not slightly deviant, unable to imagine a woman already heavy with child wanting to have intercourse. Yet, here she was, at a point in her pregnancy where she was barely showing, and definitely not far enough along to slow her down very much, discovering that she had developed a libido that surpassed anything that she could recall from her most ardent adolescent days.

Still, it was with some surprise that she realized that she was slowly stroking herself toward another orgasm. She pulled her hand away guilty, glancing over to make certain that her sudden movement had not awakened David. He did not stir, but continued to breathe slowly and evenly in sleep.

Wendy let out of a low, almost silent, breath of relief. It did little, though, to soothe her unfilled desire.

A shower. A cold shower.

She had never tried it herself, but it was a common enough recommendation for men. As far as she knew, there was no medical proof to support it, but then it was not something that she had ever bothered to research in any depth. Any man she had invited into her bed who suffered from a similar problem she preferred to treat with a more personal approach.

Rising to sit on the edge of bed, she turned and looked at David once more, silently wishing that he would awaken so that she could satisfy herself the way that she truly wanted to.

I could wait, I suppose . . .

It seemed like a sound proposal, but her need felt more urgent than that. Staring at David, memories of the night came back to her once more. They served not only to further add to the growing warmth between her legs, but tightness within her breasts as well. Those sensations, she knew, were in no way related to the changes her body was undergoing during pregnancy.

Shattered Bonds (continued)

Some time later, David lay beside her, breathing heavily in sleep. Wendy smiled drowsily, having dozed off for a bit herself. She suspected that she had truly worn him out, even as young as he was. For herself, she felt sated . . . for the first time in almost as long as she could remember.

No, she decided. Something more than that . . .

After David had gotten over his initial apprehension, after much teasing and only a little coaxing from her, he had responded to her fully. He was present in their lovemaking, his mind and thoughts focused solely on her and them, not dividing themselves between the actions of their bodies and other events of the day or, worse yet, images of other lovers—real or imagined.

Had she not already been pregnant, Wendy wondered whether she would have allowed David to impregnate her. Their age differences aside—which were, in reality, truly not that great—she was not certain that he was prepared to start a family just yet. Upon learning that she was pregnant was his child, he might opt to do the “noble” thing and propose marriage, but she did not want him to feel forced into that choice.

It was all academic anyway, she knew, for the child now growing within her was not any more his than it was Greg’s. The difference was that she had not yet disabused Greg of the idea that it was his. She felt sharp pangs of guilt when she considered that, and has reflected more than once on why she had deferred that.

It’s not as if our relationship is that great any more . . .

The thought of raising the child alone did not worry her. There was room in the clinic for a crib or playpen—not a lot, granted, but enough while the child was still a non-mobile infant. Then, she knew from the experience of others, was when it became much more complicated.

Wendy stretched carefully, trying very hard not to disturb David’s sleeping form, although she suspected that it would take far than that to awaken him from his exhausted slumber. Pangs of mild discomfort made themselves known throughout her body. There were parts of her anatomy that had not been that heavily exercised in a very long time—a few she could not recall having ever been that thoroughly stimulated. She had no regrets and those minor—and temporary—discomforts had been well worth the price.

Shattered Bonds (continued)

“Lorelei?”

Kelly’s voice penetrated her reverie. Lorelei realized that that the girl had called out her name more than once before finally gaining her attention. She turned toward Kelly without really looking at her.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” The girl’s voice and expression bore touches of both concern and disquiet.

“I don’t know,” Lorelei said once again. Her voice remained low and quiet. She was distantly surprised at her inability to issue a wittier response.

Kelly shifted uneasily. “I’d better go,” she said, her voice cracking slightly. “I’m sure he’ll be all right . . .”

She trailed off at Lorelei’s expression. Swallowing hard, she looked away and headed away. Lorelei wondered what the girl had seen in her expression, because she did not think that she had reacted at all.

Maybe that’s what scared her . . .

Lorelei remained there, torn. She did not know whether she should go see Sean or not. Given their recent separation, she feared that it might send the wrong message.

But I do still care, damn it!

She was surprised at the intensity of her anger that accompanied that realization. What she could not decide was whether that anger was directed more at herself than at Sean. She did know, though, that she would not be able to handle it should she go there to discover that he had not survived.

#

“Do you have them?” Wendy asked.

Her mouth felt dry and she could feel her pulse beating far too fast.

David watched her uncertainly as he slipped his hand into his coat. When he withdrew it, his fingers remained wrapped firmly around the object he had extracted from its pocket. Wendy waited impatiently, her eyes on his closed fist, trying not to fidget nervously.

“I could get into big trouble for this,” he whispered hoarsely, his voice cracking. His hesitancy, though, sounded less sincere to Wendy than his curiosity.

She smiled at him warmly, hoping to reassure him. “You can always tell them you were under a doctor’s orders.” She grinned playfully.

She could see his acceptance of her story as a possible explanation—should one be needed. David relaxed and opened his hand. The set of security cuffs fell into her waiting palm. She studied them with a smile.

“Do you have the key?”

“There isn’t one,” he explained, sounding suddenly very professional. “It has locking controls here.”

He flipped the cuffs over and showed her the small buttons mounted below the clasps.

“Smart,” she remarked. “No keys to lose.”

“Exactly,” David chuckled, his smile returning.

“What if they get stuck?”

David laughed a little louder. “We still have saws.”

Wendy winced at that. She played the cuffs over in her hands, looking them over. Her smile slowly returned. She reached out suddenly and pushed hard against his chest. Although he out-massed her, she caught him by surprise and he stumbled backward onto the bed.

Before he could react, she was on top of him, staring down at him. She raised the cuffs, dangling them above his face.

“I believe you’re under arrest,” she said with mock seriousness, trying very hard not to grin. “Prepare to be searched and interrogated.”

Shattered Bonds (continued)

“Lorie,” she said with puzzled concern. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. There’s no one else here.”

“They took him,” Lorelei explained. Her voice sounded eerily distant. “In the ambulance.”

“Where?”

Lorelei shrugged, looking toward the empty pathway, not at Kelly. “I don’t know,” she said. “The clinic, I guess.”

“Did you go there?”

Shaking her head slowly, Lorelei stared at the ground. “No.”

“Why not?”

Lorelei only sighed.

“I thought you two were—“

“We were.”

“Then why didn’t you go?”

“Were,” Lorelei repeated.

It took a moment for Kelly to comprehend her meaning.

“Oh.” There was a long pause and the Kelly added, “Then you aren’t going to go see him?”

Lorelei turned and stared at Kelly. She could not decide whether the young woman was stupid or just incredibly insensitive.

“I don’t know,” Lorelei admitted, surprising even herself.

The two girls stood in awkward silence for several long moments.

“You think he got beat up or something?” Kelly asked.

Lorelei breathed out a slow sigh. She did not want the girl to go away as much as she wanted her to shut up.

“I don’t know,” Lorelei replied quietly. “It looked like it.”

“Wow,” Kelly breathed. “I wonder who did it.”

Lorelei looked thoughtfully off into the distance. She had not gotten that far in her own thinking.

Sean had his share of both friends and enemies, she knew. Lorelei could believe, though, that any member of the latter group would attempt to inflect that kind of damage to him. She wondered if someone might have been jealous of her somewhat steady relationship with him. It had hardly been an exclusive arrangement, however—and that had been no secret either, she suspected.

Boys talk.

She had satisfied the desires of two or three other boys—or was it four?—during the past few months. Unless she was just completely repulsed by him for some reason, he would have had to do little more than to express an interest in her and he would likely have found her in his bed at the next convenient opportunity.

Was that it? she wondered. Someone who was unwilling to settle for less than exclusive rights to her body?

The thought disturbed her.

It’s not like we’d be married or anything . . .

She silently prayed that she was not somehow the cause of the brutality that had been inflicted upon Sean.

Shattered Bonds (continued)

She started after the cart and then stopped herself. Being presence would raise too many questions—none of which she felt like answering right then. She had separated herself from Sean besides.

Then does it hurt so damned much to see him like that? What if he . . . ?

She stopped the thought there. The idea that he might not survive made her want to throw up.

What the hell . . . ?

She sagged against the side of a building, breathing slowly, and waited for the nausea to pass. It did, quickly, but it still left her feeling slightly vertiginous. Her mind felt detached from her body, floating free above it.

“Lorie?”

Lorelei started at the voice, even as quiet as it was. She turned her head slowly, needing a moment to focus on and recognize the face. It belonged to Kelly Asago. A year or two younger than Lorelei, she had dark hair that hung in long curling waves that spoke of a Western European heritage on Earth. Her eyes and face, though, carried the signs that a recent ancestor had come from somewhere in the eastern part of Asia.

“Yeah?” Lorelei answered weakly, not certain that she had spoken at all.

“Are you all right? You look . . . funny.”

Lorelei stared at Kelly as if she did not understand the girl’s question. She had, of course, but her mind was having difficulty processing it enough to form a suitable answer.

“Yeah,” Lorelei repeated. Then, more urgently, she added, “Did you see what happened? Was there some kind of a fight?”

It was Kelly’s turn now to stare at Lorelei. Her bewildered expression plainly revealed that she was mystified by Lorelei questions.

“What fight?” she finally asked aloud. “What are you talking about?”

Lorelei stared at the path that the ambulance cart had traveled and then at Kelly.

“You didn’t see him?” Lorelei insisted, her voice rising. At the girl’s blank look, she amended, “Sean.”

Kelly’s face blossomed into an expression of alarm. “What happened to him?”

Lorelei sagged slightly, realizing that she would get no answers here. “I don’t know,” she answered in a voice that was almost a whisper.

Kelly studied Lorelei and then looked around the immediate area, clearly confused.

Shattered Bonds (continued)

A sharp spray of water sounded against something large and hollow. Lorelei guessed that was someone washing out large storage containers from the colony’s shared kitchen. That sound she knew from the times when she had not been able to dodge her turn at community kitchen duty.

From further away came the sound of heavy pieces of metal coming into contact with one another. Someone was constructing or repairing something large at the colony’s single machine shop. The rhythm of the sound might have been soothing had it not struck such a seemingly discordant tone on its downbeat.

Lorelei moved out from the shade, unable to rub away the chill. It was only slightly warmer out in the sunlight. She walked across the paved pathway, moving slowly in the general direction of the dining hall.

There would be young men there, she knew, almost any of whom would be more than willing to gain first-hand knowledge of what lie underneath her tunic and trousers. The prospect both excited and repelled her. She was not accustomed to being at odds with her own desires. So far, she had been unable to reconcile the source of her emotional malaise. She suspected that her mind had been surreptitiously avoiding it, sending her thoughts off in other directions when she veered too near the truth.

She was within sight of the dining hall, spying about a half dozen people gathered in a loose group outside it, when she heard the distinctive sound of the ambulance cart approaching again. It was moving at close to its top speed. Lorelei supposed that meant that whoever it was carrying was in serious condition.

There’s no point in speeding home with a corpse, is there? She wondered sourly.

That the body in the transport hammock was not shrouded supported her theory. She was close enough that she was able to get a clear glimpse of the person’s face, more from idle curiosity than from any real interest. Although it took more than a moment to fully register on her consciousness, that momentary look was enough stop her heart.

Sean?

She tried to dismiss it as an inaccurate conclusion, but the image in her mind was too clear. It had been Sean’s face she had seen—bloodied and bruised, but definitely his.

Oh my god, what happened to him?

Brawls among the young men were infrequent, but not all that uncommon—and Sean had been known to have instigated at least half as many as he had been involved in. This time, though, it looked as if someone had beaten him more severely even than that.

He’s alive, Lorelei told herself, forcing herself to breathe. He must be alive. Otherwise they wouldn’t have carrying him like that.

Shattered Bonds (continued)

Her mother, in particular, seemed intent on prying into her every activity, ready to pass judgment on its appropriateness or morality. Lorelei knew that other parents did the same thing, but none of them, as far she was aware, with the same intense pious conviction as her mother.

Lorelei often wondered whether her mother’s religious attitudes had blossomed as a result of her father’s disappearance. In her less charitable moods, she opined—sometimes aloud—whether her father had left to escape them. Her mother refused to respond to those jabs and her father, of course, was no longer around to ask.

She paused in the shade of one of the storage buildings. The sun was not particularly, but it provided shelter from the breeze that had begun to chill her bare skin. She had dressed in short sleeves, not having planned to spend that much time roaming around outdoors. Rubbing her exposed upper arms lightly, she waited for the friction of her movements to warm them. Her hands were next, although that was more from reflex than actual need.

Shouting sounded briefly from somewhere nearby. It seemed to have come from somewhere too close to be the site of the emergency. The voices quieted before Lorelei could identify them, or determine which direction they had come from. She realized, though, that if she remained where she was, she would have a good view of whoever it was as they passed by on their way toward the clinic. It was not that she was all that interested, but it would be a reason to remain there rather try to figure else where else to be.

Noises from other parts of the compound filtered to her. Most of the sounds were familiar to her from repetition.

Someone’s processing some kind of grain, she guessed. Or having some kind of serious engine trouble with something.

The metallic ring of something being struck with a hard object was probably someone repairing or replacing the exterior plates on the side of a structure.

At least they’re not drilling or welding it . . .

Both of those sounds made her teeth ache, mostly from the way she clenched her jaw when she heard them. She had tried to keep herself from doing it, but it required great effort to do so, as it seemed to be some kind of strange instinctive reaction.

Shattered Bonds (continued)

Several meters ahead of her, several people rushed quickly across her path. At least two of them, she saw, were from the security force and another one carried a medical case. They were headed toward the northern section of the compound.

That could be anyone, she decided.

Lorelei gave the matter only a scant slice of her attention. Several families lived in that area of compound, very few of whom she associated with. There was one boy who she had half-heartedly tried to pursue. There was someone about his sister, though, that made Lorelei easy, almost as if she could read her thoughts. Lorelei had snared Sean and, with only mild reluctance, let the matter drop.

She continued walking slowly, in no hurry to be anywhere. Going home held little appeal. Her mother was not working a shift that day. Lorelei guessed that she had remained home, for her mother rarely left the house except for when they needed food or other household supplies. Lorelei considered heading for the dining hall, but there would be other people there and she was not feeling very social.

That’s the problem with this place, she considered irritably. There’s nowhere you can go to be alone.

There were, she knew, places outside the compound where solitude was possible. The aliens tended not to venture out much unless there were canvassing for fruit or roots. Getting out, though, would require clearance through one of the secured gates, along with an authorized justification—which she did not have—as well as a logged record of her departure and return.

Lorelei paused as she saw the ambulance cart move past, following the same path as the small group of people had a few minutes earlier.

Whatever it is, she thought, it must be serious.

Even when not in her present melancholy state, the activities of the colony’s emergency response team were of little interest to her. Other people’s problems were none of her business, as far as she was concerned, even if the sentiment was clearly not reciprocated by most of the families—especially the parents­—of the colony.

Shattered Bonds (continued)

Shalene nodded slowly.

Wendy’s hand gripped her hand carefully. She studied Shalene’s face, looking over the long red bruises that lined her cheeks.

“Are you sure?” she asked gently, giving the girl another chance to speak, hopefully without feeling as she was being interrogated.

Shalene nodded again. The motion of her head slowed as if she were a child’s doll that had run out of power.

“Shalene,” Wendy said cautiously. “Can you tell me what happened?”

Shalene said nothing for a long moment. Wendy could see she her struggling with it and was afraid that she might try to shut it away. As if a dam had burst inside Shalene, though, the story spilled out of the young woman.

Wendy listened, saying nothing, but nodding silently to encourage for her to continue. She continued to hold Shalene’s hand, but it took great willpower not to grip it more tightly as her anger built. Although she did not believe that she was entirely successful in masking her reactions, Shalene was too absorbed in recounting her version of the events to comment on it.

When the girl finished her story, Wendy allowed Shalene to fall into her arms. Wendy held her, letting Shalene cry into her shoulder. Feeling slightly awkward about it, she reached up and stroked the hair along the back of the girl’s head, feeling the raised bump where it had struck the floor.

That’s going to smart for a while, Wendy thought, making a mental note to add a mild analgesic to the medications she was going to give the girl shortly.

Wendy continued to hold her, wishing that one of the girl’s parents would arrive so that she could begin to assess the young woman’s physical injuries. The emotional ones would be more difficult to treat.

#

Lorelei walked across the compound back toward the house that she shared with her mother. She was distracted, trying to understand why she had decided to deflect Devon Price’s advances. Sure, he had been more than just slightly boorish about it, but then so were almost of the boys close to her age. It was all part of the adolescent ritual and she was usually more than willing to play along. Ever since she had broken it off with Sean—although exactly what it had been was never entirely clear to her—she had found her interest in random hookups lagging.

Her desire remained strong. She still longed for the sensations of feeling someone within her, riding the waves of ecstasy until they crested and broke, leaving her dazed and breathless. Pleasuring herself had taken the edge from her need, but had not diminished it entirely. It was as though Sean had been that skilled a lover. He had, in fact, not been. He had been capable, certainly, but she had decided that was not enough. What it was she truly wanted, though, even Lorelei was not certain.

Shattered Bonds (continued)

Grabbing an apple as she exited the clinic, she latched and locked the door behind her. She began munching on it as she strode quickly to the other end of the compound. Her thoughts wandered through possible scenarios of what she would discover when she arrived at the house.

Shalene? Had something happened to her?

Her brother, despite not sharing his sister’s disadvantage, had managed to suffer more than his fair share of troublesome injuries. If was not as though Shalene had escaped medical attention entirely, for she had experienced her share of typical minor illnesses, but had somehow managed to reach adolescence surprisingly unscathed otherwise.

Her brother then? But why at the house? Wouldn’t he be at—

Wendy’s thoughts were disrupted as she bit down on a seed. She accidentally swallowed it before she realized what it was.

Oh great . . . now I’ll have a tree growing inside my stomach.

The childhood memory of that tale brought her a light smile. It faded abruptly, though, when she saw the small crowd gathered outside the Roberson dwelling. Whatever had happened had drawn the attention of several additional members of the colony. Despite feeling winded from the brisk walk, she pushed her into the house, although she did have to work very hard at it; most of the people automatically shifted out of her way.

She saw Greg ahead of her, but he did not turn around to see her arrive. He paused inside the common room and then dashed quickly toward the stairway, shouting something she could not hear clearly enough to understand to someone she could not see.

Wendy began to follow him. She stopped suddenly, surprised to see Shalene sitting alone at the family’s share comm and computer center. The young woman sat hunched over with her arms hugged around her abdomen. Wendy saw a bright red bruise along the girl’s cheeks and noticed that her tunic seemed to be torn.

She moved forward slowly, keeping her voice low and gentle as she approached.

“Shalene?” She called out softly.

The young woman did not respond.

“Shalene?” she repeated, just slightly louder.

She reached out and lightly took the girl’s hand. The young woman’s head lifted.

“Are you okay?”

Shattered Bonds (continued)

Glancing out into the waiting area, she saw that bowl held plenty of fresh fruit. It would be a healthy choice, but she knew that it would do little to quell the craving her body had for protein. What she really wanted was maybe some kind of nuts, such as peanuts or almonds, but there were probably none in the colony’s stores—there rarely were.

The colonists had attained only limited success in getting most of nut-bearing bushes and trees to grow on this world. What small yields they had managed to achieve had done so chiefly through the application of complex hydroponics—so far too time intensive to make them a practical staple. Despite decades of study, the colony’s botanists were still not sure why these particular kinds of plants tended to grow so poorly. The most commonly held theories involved missing elements in the soil, but nothing conclusive had yet to be proven. With the variety of crops that would grow here, cultivation of these foods had become a hobbyist activity.

Wendy tried to recall if she had ferreted away a small stash of other snacks somewhere in the clinic, but she could remember where they were if she had.

I suppose I could wander over to the community hall. I’m not expecting any—

Her thought was interrupted by a shrill chime coming from her comm station. She peered at it in confusion at first, wondering if it was yet another malfunction, and then realized that it was the emergency alert signal. It was rarely used; the compound was small enough that assistance was available usually well within shouting distance. The last time Wendy could remember hearing it had been . . .

Answer the damned thing!

Wendy tapped the response key.

“This is Dr. Aimes.”

“Wendy,” a not-quite-familiar voice came over the speaker. “You’re needed for a medical emergency at the Roberson house.”

Wendy ran a quick mental list of the members of that household: Shalene, her parents, and her brother. None of them suffered from any serious medical conditions.

Some kind of accident?

“What happened?”

There was a long pause before the voice returned.

“Greg says to bring your trauma kit.”

Wendy’s throat tightened with all of the implications of that short statement.

Trauma kit. So it’s bad.

“Acknowledged,” she responded. “I’m on my way.”

She switched off the communications unit.

Why is Greg there? And why do they need both of us?

She puzzled over this while she went and retrieved the trauma kit from its cabinet. An uneasy sensation of foreboding began to fill her, despite her best efforts not to imagine the worst. The fact that they needed both of the colony’s physicians there, however, was a clear sign that the situation was extremely serious.

Heroic Measures (continued)

Walter stared back at him, puzzled even as he felt his stomach tighten into a solid knot. He started to look at Vivian when he heard it, loud even over the sounds of the rain and wind. Thunder blotted it out for a moment, but in the quiet that followed he it came to him clearly.

It was the sound of machinery and voices. The throats they came from did not sound human, or, if they ever had been, they no longer were. Walter did not have to imagine what they looked like, for he had fought and fled them before out in the streets. From what he could hear—and what Red must have seen—their numbers were no fewer around the eastern perimeter of the institute.

“We’ve got to find another way,” Vivian whispered.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Red replied. “And quickly.”

He turned, gesturing for the other two to begin heading back the way that they had come. None of them had taken more than two steps when the far opening filled with a cascade of moving shadows.

“Or not,” Red whispered hoarsely.

Glancing back over his shoulder at the street now behind them, Walter could see him calculating their chances if they chose to make a break for it. Walter was pretty sure that the odds were hopelessly against them, but he hoped that Red might have find an option that he could not see.

“Go!” Red shouted to Vivian, pointing upward. “We’ll cover and then follow you.”

Walter looked up, judging the height of the five-story building. He wondered whether there was enough juice left in his boots to get him up there. There were no ladders or window bars that he could that might function as handholds he could use if he only make it part of the way.

Vivian’s gaze followed us own. Her reluctance was evident in her expression.

“Go!” Red repeated, more urgently now.

Walter met her eyes and nodded quickly. “Go,” he echoed. “We’ll be right behind you. Find us a good spot.” He forced a smile that he hoped reflected a confidence that he did not feel.

Vivian looked close to tears, although Walter hoped it was just a reflection of the light.

“GO!” Red shouted again.

The shadows were moving closer. Walter could hear them now.

With a grim expression, Vivian put her wings into motion, rising slowly, but quickly gathering speed. She was approached the fourth set of windows when Walter heard her cry out. Her body jerked sharply and she began to plummet.

Walter raced to catch her, but something hit him across the waist, knocking him hard again the building. He struggled for breath, willing his paralyzed diaphragm to function. Gray haze clouded the edges of his vision before he was able to breathe again.

He gasped, trying to free himself so that he could get to Vivian. She was hidden from him by the press of creatures around him. He dispatched several with poorly aimed charges, encouraged to see bright flares of light come from Red’s position. They were badly outnumbered, though, and weary. Walter found it more and more difficult to initiate each charge.

A strange, almost strangled sound came from Red’s location. Walter turned to look, but could find no flash of energy to help him get his bearings on where Red might be. He deflected an arm that attempted to grab him and dispatched another one of the creatures with a close-range bolt to the face. The next one he missed entirely as his vantage point suddenly changed abruptly.

It took Walter only a moment to realize that he was being lifted into the air. He tried to struggle, but was unable to find the energy to do more than just squirm. He considered just going limp, to make himself more difficult to carry, but that must have been exactly what they had been expecting. They lifted him high and then, just when Walter thought they might carry him away instead, tossed him into the shadows.

A bright blaze of light flared within his head as he slammed against something that rang with a deep metallic echo. That was the last thing he saw before darkness reclaimed him entirely.

Heroic Measures (continued)

Walter tried to listen, but this headset, particularly with the adjustments that Red had made to it, effectively muffled his hearing beyond more than a meter away. He saw Red lean forward toward the opening of the alleyway, clearing to listen past the rainfall. Walter moved up next to him, peering into the rain-drenched darkness. Still unable to hear anything besides the sharp trickle of the rain dripping from the building’s masonry, Walter reached for his headset and started to pull it away.

A hand gripped his firmly, locking his arm in place with his fingertips just brushing the surface of the earpiece. Walter turned his head to see Red shake his slowly. It took Walter a moment, and then he realized what he had nearly done. He gave Red a weak smile of contrition and, once Red had released it, let his hand drop.

“We have enough trouble with the voices in your head,” Red quipped in a prison yard whisper.

Walter was not so fatigued that he could not manage to roll his eyes. He was surprised at the effort it took, though, to do so.

Red smiled back at him with genuine reassurance. His expression sobered then. He held his finger to his lips, making sure that Walter understood, and then removed it and peered out just beyond the edge of the building.

For several moments, nothing happened. Walter was growing tired of allowing the rain to drip from the eaves onto him. Water-resistant or not, he wondered whether his outfit had been designed to take this kind of treatment.

Maybe it’s like those watches: water-resistant is not the same as waterproof. I’m probably going to look like a giant prune when I finally get out of this thing. They’ll probably have to scrape it off—

He saw Red stiffen suddenly, becoming as still as if he had been transformed into stone. That he could still see Red’s eyes move, as well as his chest, told Walter that it was only an impression.

He must have seen something . . . something definitely “not good”.

With barely perceptible speed, Red brought himself back into the shadowed haven of the alleyway.

“Remember that secret back route into the institute?” Red whispered.

Walter glanced at Vivian and then back at Red, nodding slowly. He knew of it, having even used it on at least two occasions that he could immediately remember.

“It’s not so secret anymore.”

Walter dodged ahead to see for himself, but was blocked by Red’s arm.

“Trust me, Walt,” Red said. The dismay in his eyes told Walter that he was telling the truth.

Heroic Measures (continued)

Red pulled him into the shadows, passing through swathes of brightness of lightning ignited once more from above. Walter felt each strike as a searing stab through his mind, similar to a migraine, but it faded quickly to a dull ache. The adjustment that Red had made his headset seemed to be working.

They passed into another alleyway, headed for the street beyond. From what Walter could tell, they were heading deeper into the city, but away from the institute’s main entrance. A dark shape detached itself from the shadows. It was upon Walter before he realized that it was there.

His hands rose in defense, but fatigue and exhaustion dulled his reactions. Its arms were wrapped around him before he could respond. He was just beginning to realize how relatively weak its hold was on him when he felt something warm and moist against his mouth. His arm swung backward, ready to strike, when a familiar scent triggered on his consciousness. Before he could resolve his conflicting reactions, the pressure on his mouth eased.

“Oh god, Walter,” he heard Vivian say. She seemed nearly breathless with relief—or possibly from this unexpected kiss, Walter could not be sure. “You’re safe.”

Walter could only nod, feeling the warm, slightly sweet taste of her still on his lips.

“It’s a long story . . .” he began, finding his voice once.

“And you can tell us it later,” Red interjected, reappearing to tug on Walter’s arm. “We’re not safe here.”

Vivian gave Walter a lingering glance before turning away and darting in the direction that Red had indicated. Walter stared after her for a moment, still feeling slightly mystified. Red tugged on him again, bringing him fully back into the moment. Walter blinked several times at him and then shook his head to clear it.

“Good,” Red encouraged him. “Now move!”

Red broke into a fast trot. Walter remained close behind, keeping pace.

They met up with Vivian at the other end. She had stopped, remaining hidden within the angular shadows at the alleyway’s opening.

“I may have heard something,” she whispered, barely audible over the sound of the dripping rain. “I’m not sure.”

Shattered Bonds (continued)

Shalene lay along her bed, trying to quiet her mind. The injection Wendy had given her was making her drowsy. She was afraid to sleep, fearful that what had happened to her lie too close to her dreams. When they became nightmares, as she was sure that they would, she feared the drugs might keep her from being able to rouse herself from them. Sean had been unsuccessful in his attempt in real life. In the world of her dreams, she might not be so fortunate.

Despite her best efforts, though, she yawned. The adrenaline had drained from her body, leaving her now physically, as well as emotionally, exhausted. By the time her mother arrived, she was asleep. Her dreams, although she did not remember them upon awakening, did not trouble her.

#

Trenton knelt in his garden, removing the few weeds that had sprouted during the night. The patch of ground where he grew a few herbs and a trio of flowering plants was not large, but just the right size that he could devote as much, or as little, time and energy to it as he wished without it becoming unruly. It gave him something to do each day, or a respite when he wished his hands to be busy while his mind

The miniature roses, he noted, might be ready for some light pruning in the next day or so. It would be nice, he thought, to have some fresh blooms in the house while they lasted. He never liked it when they faded and wilted, reminding him a little too much about the cycle of life in general. Edith used to cherish the blossoms whenever he brought them in to her, as if there were a rare and special gift. In a way, he supposed, they were.

A burst of activity from across the compound drew his attention. From where he knelt, he did not have a clear view, but it seemed to come from the emergency response center. The colonists had, long ago, agreed that siren alarms were intrusive, both publically and personally, unless something threatened more than a one member of the community. Trenton rose frowning, wondering what the crisis was. His frown deepened when he saw both security and medical teams being dispatched. This was, he knew, standard procedure if the details of the situation were unknown.

Wiping his hands free of dirt, he watch as the team rushed across the compound. They were headed toward the northern part of the compound. About a quarter of the colony’s population lived in that general area, so it was difficult for him to guess where they might be headed. Most the colony’s original families made their homes on the eastern and southeastern parts of the compound, with the newer and younger ones placing theirs in the northern and southwestern areas. The odds were then, he guessed, that it was probably not for one of the few remaining oldest colonists, such as himself.

Picking up the small container of weeds and dead plant material, he emptied into the recycling composter and headed into the house.

A cup of tea sounds good, he considered, wondering what it might take to convince Georgia to come join him.

Trenton washed his hands at the kitchen and then filled the teapot with water. While he was doing that, he saw one of the ambulance carts pass by. He gave a slow sigh, knowing now that the situation was probably serious. Georgia lived in the southern part of the compound, so he felt reassured that whatever was taking place probably did not involve her. He started the water heating and began to sort through his tea supplies.

He had just selected a citrus blend that Georgia had put together for him when a hard, rapid rap came from his doorway. He turned, surprised to find Georgia standing there. A smile formed on his lips, pleased at her unexpected arrival. It evaporated he saw her face.

“Trenton,” she called to him, clearly out of breath, nearly choking on his name. “You need to come. It’s Sean. Something’s . . . happened.”

Trenton guessed from Georgia’s expression that she knew more about the “something” than she had been able to blurt out on those few moments. She appeared more distressed than he could ever recall seeing her.

Without looking, he switched off the heat under the water, keeping his eyes on Georgia.

“What’s happened?” Georgia’s expression tightened strangely. “Tell me.”

Georgia’s lips formed a grim line. Her eyes never left Trenton’s.

“You’d better just come.”

Trenton could tell that she would reveal nothing more to him until they had arrived at wherever she was taking him.

What’s that fool boy done now?

Only then did it occur to him that there might be some connection between Georgia’s sudden appearance and the activity from the emergency response team.

Once outside his house, Trenton hesitated, uncertain which way to head. Georgia tugged gently on his arm.

“We need to go to the clinic,” she told him. Her voice was soft and almost apologetic.

Trenton felt his intestines form a knot.

Oh, God . . .

Georgia said nothing more, though, leading him in the direction of community’s clinic and makeshift hospital.

They reached it quickly, with Georgia hurrying just a little. Trenton managed to keep up, but felt slightly winded by the time they had reached the entrance to the clinic. The ambulance cart arrived only a few moments later and Trenton got a brief, but clear view of Sean laying very still on top of the stretcher.

Dark blood caked the left side of his face, but appeared to have stopped flowing. His nose, cheek, and forehead were an almost unbroken ugly gray-blue bruise. Before Trenton could tell whether Sean was still breathing, they had carried his grandson inside the building. Trenton started to follow them, but first Georgia’s hand on his arm, and then the grip of a larger, stronger one.

Trenton looked up to see Greg shake his head somberly. “There’s nothing you can do for now, Trent,” he said flatly. “You need to let us work.”

“Where’s Wendy? She’s—”

Greg exchanged a look with Georgia.

“She’ll be along in a bit,” Greg answered hurriedly. “She . . . had to deal with something else first.”

Georgia gently tugged on Trenton’s arm. “Come on, Trenton,” she told him quietly. “Let the doctors work.”

For a moment, Trenton’s feet remained frozen to the ground. Greg brushed past him and then closed the door to the clinic behind him. After staring at the door for several long seconds, Trenton allowed Georgia to lead him away. He was still in shock, stunned by the sight of his grandson’s broken face.

“What happened?” he whispered. It was directed to no one in particular.

Georgia guided him to the rough-carved bench that sat under one of the large trees across the clinic. It had a clear view of the clinic’s main door. He sat down dully at Georgia’s direction.

“What happened to him?” he asked again, turning his eyes toward Georgia. He could feel the numbness wearing off, being rapidly replaced by anger.

“Trenton . . .” Georgia cautioned him.

“What happened to him?” he repeated. His eyes narrowed. “What do you know?”

Georgia stared back at him, clearly struggling with herself. It was clear that she wanted someone else to tell him, but that, really, she was the one who should.

“I wasn’t there,” she explained calmly. “But I heard the reports.”

“What. Happened?” He bit off each word savagely.

Georgia’s lips tightened, holding the words back, but then she surrendered to them.

“Sean tried to rape Shalene Roberson.”

Trenton stared at Georgia. It was one shock too many in only a manner of minutes. His mind could not process it at first. When it did, though, he nearly exploded.

“WHAT?”

Georgia nodded deliberately, keeping her eyes on Trenton’s.

“They found him like that on the stairs.”

Trenton’s mouth worked, opening and closing several times, but no words came forth. He was agonizingly torn. Fury over what Sean had done battled with the sight of his grandson’s bruised and battered face.

“Is he . . . ?”

Georgia gripped his hand. “I don’t know,” she told him. “And I don’t think they do,” she added, glancing toward the clinic. “At least not yet.”

For that moment, his concern for his grandson’s survival won out. He stared at the clinic structure for a long time. After a while, his eyes looked down at Georgia’s hand on his.

“How’s the girl?” He asked, his voice a hushed whisper. “Did he . . . ?”

“No,” Georgia said quickly, answering the second question first. She paused and breathed a long sigh. “She’ll be fine,” Georgia told him. The undertones in her voice spoke volumes. “Well . . .,” she went on, “as well as she can be . . . for now.”

Trenton nodded very slowly. He did not completely understand, he knew—at least not in the same way that he suspected Georgia did.

They sat silently for a while. Trenton could only guess at what Georgia was thinking. He glanced at her, surprised to find her eyes closed. Had she fallen asleep? He then saw that her lips moved slightly, forming words, but making almost no sound.

Is she praying?

Trenton could not help but watch her lips as she spoke to her God. He was not a wholly agnostic individual, but it had been a long time since he had taken his faith seriously.

Certainly not since . . .

His chest tightened and Trenton wondered whether he would lose the last direct member of his family before the day was out. A tiny prickle of anger returned as he was reminded that Sean had brought this on himself. With a deep sigh, he closed his eyes and lowered his head.

After what seemed to be only a few moments, he heard footsteps approaching through the dirt. He opened his eyes and looked up. Greg was walking toward them. He wore a medical smock. Its front was flecked with dark blood. His expression was grim.

He stopped in front of Trenton, glanced over at Georgia, and then to Trenton.

“Trenton,” Greg said with urgent calm. “I need to talk to you.”

Trenton glanced toward Georgia. She started to release her hand, but Trenton gripped it firmly. Her expression betrayed her quiet surprise. She almost smiled.

“You can tell me now,” Trenton informed Greg firmly.

Greg glanced once more at Georgia and then nodded once.

“Sean is still unconscious,” he reported to them. “He has multiple skull fractures. We’re pretty sure there’s bleeding into the brain.” His eyes fixed on Trenton’s. “We need to operate,” he told Trenton. “But,” he said, hesitating for a moment, “we just don’t know.”

Trenton stared back at Greg.

Don’t know what? Whether he’ll live? Or whether he’ll be a vegetable if he does?

Trenton decided that, at this point, it did not matter which it was.

“Do your best, Doctor,” Trenton whispered.

Greg gave him a weak smile, resting his hand firmly on Trenton’s shoulder. “You know it.”

He straightened and looked at Georgia. “It’ll be a couple of hours, at least,” he told her.

Georgia nodded her understanding, taking the hint. “Thank you, Greg.”

Greg nodded once in farewell, and then turned and headed back to the clinic.

“Come on, Trenton,” Georgia said gently, still holding his hand.

Trenton nodded slowly. For the first time in a very long time, he felt every bit his age.

#

Wendy looked up tablet and rubbed at her eyes. It was not so much that they were tired as she was. While they could surely benefit from a break, she wanted a nap. She glanced at the examination cubicles, teasing herself with the notion of using one of them.

They always talk about eating for two; they never mention sleeping for two.

She looked at the clock and realized that she was overdue to eat something. That was probably part of the problem, she guessed, as she had started in on her lunch early, so it really had been longer than it should have been since she had eaten.

Shattered Bonds (continued)

She, in fact, had not paid that much attention to him. Many of the other girls her age in the colony sought his company—Lorelei Ling in particular—but there were things about his voice and smell that she found unappealing. She really had not given him any further consideration beyond that, and he had tried to pursue her. As far as Shalene was concerned, it all worked out fine. Until now.

She considered darting to her room, hiding there until her family returned home. With that plan was the assumption that Sean would eventually give up and leave. What Shalene could not predict was what he might do in the meantime. He did not, so far, seem particularly destructive—just . . . persistent.

It was then that she realized that she had heard no sound from him since she had kicked him away. She had not heard him leave the house, nor had she heard any movements come from the first level. Still huddled on the floor, she felt a sickening sensation begin to swell in her stomach. She was torn between her desire to flee and hide, and a need to know whether there was any truth behind her growing fear.

Hesitantly, she turned and moved very slowly on all fours backward down the stairs. She stopped instantly when her foot touched an obstacle that should not have been there. Her throat tightened and she could feel her heart beating hard within her chest. Shifting to the other side of the stairway, she continued downward, using her outstretched foot as a guide.

Sean’s smell was more evident now, confirming her worst fears. She originally thought it had simply lingered on her from his far-too-close contact, but now it grew stronger. Swallowing hard against a constricting lump in her throat, she tentatively reached out her hand.

Her fingers brushed against the fabric of his shirt. His chest moved beneath them and Shalene felt a wash of relief. His breathing was ragged, though, and that alarmed her. She traced a path up to his face, where her fingers lightly probed his features. When they contacted something slightly sticky and thick, her hand leapt away. Hesitantly, Shalene lifted it toward her nose.

Blood.

Her stomach knotted and she felt the bite of bile along the back of her throat. She swallowed it back, feeling it burn, and tried to determine what she should do next.

It was an accident.

It clearly was, at least on her part, but the excuse still felt hollow.

He shouldn’t have touched me like that!

That was both true and defensible. Her anger at him flared up again and she fought back the urge to kick at him again, knowing that he was in no condition to fight back. It was that second part that truly stopped her. Whatever he had done—or nearly done—to her, she could not bring herself to strike him while he was defenseless. Nor, she realized, could she let him die.

Why couldn’t he just leave me alone?

If he had just left, she could have dealt with the matter privately. It was going to be difficult enough to explain to her parents as it was. Now, she would be forced to deal with . . . she had no idea.

At least the Security team.

And probably the doctors.

And . . .

While she struggled with her decision, she knew that Sean’s life might be slipping away, or at least the consequences of his injuries were becoming more serious. She fought against her paralysis, knowing that there was little that she could do to help him. There was no choice, she knew, other than for her to call for help.

With a great effort of will, she made her way past Sean to the bottom of the stairs. When she was certain that she had reached the bottom, she stood and reoriented herself, directing herself toward the household’s computer and comm system. Upon locating it, she reached for the keyboard and punched the emergency response code directly. She sank into the chair while she waited for it to connect. When she heard the faint hiss of the open frequency, she did not wait for someone on the other end to speak.

“I need help.”

Her voice failed her after that.

“A security team has been dispatched,” the voice on the other end responded. It sounded like a female voice, but Shalene could not be certain, not that it mattered. “Do you require medical attention?”

“No,” she whispered, barely audible. “Yes,” she recanted suddenly, speaking louder now as she thoroughly thought through the question. She did not need medical assistance, but Sean surely did.

“A doctor has been alerted. Please remain calm.”

I’m trying!

“Shalene?”

She was suddenly alert as the voice addressed her by name.

“Yes?”

“Are you okay?”

She hesitated. What should she say? Whose voice was that?

“Yes,” she answered softly, barely above a whisper. “No,” she amended, only slightly louder. “I don’t know.”

“Hang on, Shalene,” he said calmly, yet encouragingly. “Someone’s on their way. They should be there any—“

A loud rap sounded at the front door to the house. A few moments later, it came again, and then was followed by the sound of the door opening. Shalene heard several footsteps, none of them immediately identifiable.

“Over here,” she called out, not sure that her voice would carry far enough.

It must have, because the footsteps started again immediately afterward. All but one set of them moved in her direction. The remaining one headed toward the opposite end of the house. Shalene guessed it was one of the security team making a sweep of the interior of the house. She considered telling him not to bother, but could not find the energy.

A sudden shift in the pattern of the footfalls, along with a burst of concerned and then shouted voices told her that they had found Sean’s body. It took her a moment to recognize that she already thought of him as dead.

Wishful thinking?

She banished that question from her mind, feeling both guilty and ashamed for even thinking it.

From the collection of voices coming from the stairway, there were two that she immediately recognized. Hearing them both there surprised her.

Why are they both here?

“Shalene?” Wendy called out. Her voice was calm but filled with concern.

She must have Shalene, because she didn’t give her a chance to answer. Instead, Shalene heard her say, “You take care of this. I’ll take a look at her.”

Shalene assumed that she addressed Greg, the colony’s other doctor.

“Shalene?” Wendy asked softly as she approached Shalene.

Shalene felt the light touch of Wendy’s hand on hers.

“Shalene?” Wendy repeated. “Are you okay?”

Shalene nodded slowly, trying not to break into tears. Wendy’s hand tightened ever so slightly.

“Are you sure?”

Shalene nodded again, more slowly this time.

“Shalene,” Wendy said softly. “Can you tell me what happened?”

Shalene clenched her jaw, trapping the words inside. Her eyes burned as she held back tears. She tried, but could not hold it in. The story gushed from her, bursting forth in long breathless sobs until she was done. She sagged, exhausted and emotionally spent. Wendy reached over and hugged her close, saying nothing, letting the security of her surrounding arms speak for her. Her tears were spent, but her breathing continued in slow, ragged sobs.

Wendy stroked the young woman’s short hair. Her fingers found the bump from where Shalene’s head had hit the floor.

That’s going to smart for a while, Wendy thought, making a mental note to add a mild analgesic to the medications she was going to give the girl shortly.

Shalene’s breathing quieted. Wendy continued to hold her, letting the young woman decide when she was done. Shelane lifted her head and sniffed through a clogged nose. She swallowed drily and then exhaled heavily.

Wendy dreaded what she had to ask next, fearing that she already knew the answer. The young woman had been through enough already today, but she needed to know so that it did not become even worse.

“Shalene,” Wendy said gently. “I have to ask . . .”

Wendy felt the young woman’s body stiffen. Trying to ignore the tight knot forming in her stomach, she went on.

“Did he—“

“No.” Shalene’s answer was sharp and quick.

“You’re sure?” Wendy asked, wanting to be relieved, but forcing herself to be professionally skeptical.

Shalene nodded firmly.

Everything in her manner and body language told Wendy that the girl was telling the truth. Wendy felt a palpable wave of relief. When she had seen the boy’s state of undress, she had assumed the worst. Seeing Shalene’s torn tunic had only reinforced her fears. Greg had not been able to tell her for certain whether or not Sean had managed to complete the act before falling down the stairs, so she had been left with no choice but to ask. Fortunately, the answer was one that she had most wanted to hear.

Additional voices sounded at the front door, followed by a jumble of footsteps. Shalene could not sort them out, but immediately recognized her father’s, and then her mother’s, voice.

Wendy heard them too. She heard first their confused and anxious tones, and then the tenor of dark anger. She could identify with it, for she felt it herself. She knew also, truly beginning to fully understand it herself, how far a parent might go in order to protect a child. In her mind, she could envisage some very bad immediate outcomes if Shalene’s father lost control of his temper. He was not known for violent outbursts, but then his daughter had never been the victim of a near-rape before.

“Greg,” Wendy called out with commanding urgency. “Get him out of here. Now.”

For a moment, she thought Greg might protest, but then she heard him issuing instructions to other members of the response team.

At first, Shalene thought Wendy meant her father, or possibly her brother. That did not seem fair, although she was not ready to face either one of them.

Her brother . . . What would he do when he saw Sean . . . ?

She heard her mother’s footsteps and rapid breathing. Further away, she heard her father’s angry shouts, overlapping with someone trying to respond to him in calm, reasonable tones.

“She’s okay,” Shalene heard Wendy say, presumably to her mother. “The worst thing she’s got a bit of a bump on her head, but it’s nothing serious.”

Shalene had forgotten about it. She reached up to find it, wincing as she did, very gently tracing its shape, and hoped that it was much smaller than it felt like.

“Then what’s that?” her mother snapped angrily.

Shalene paused in astonishment. She could recall on the fingers of one hand the number of times during her entire life that her mother had spoken to someone with that tone.

“It’s a very mild sedative, along with a light analgesic,” Wendy replied calmly. Shalene could hear the forced edge in it. “She needs to just rest for a while. This will help.”

Her mother mumbled something in response that was lost in the sudden cacophony of other noises. Shalene guessed that Sean was being taken away.

Was he really dead? she wondered. No one said that he wasn’t.

Shalene felt fingers lightly probe her shoulder just below her collarbone, up toward her neck. Something in the touch and accompanying smell told her it was Wendy.

“Shalene,” Wendy said. “I’m going to give you something for the pain and that will help you rest,” she explained. “It won’t make you sleep, but you can if you want to. Okay?”

Shalene nodded her understanding. Not all of what Wendy said stayed long in her mind, but she trusted Wendy enough to accept her words. She felt a momentary sting that lasted less time than it did for her to inhale. A few moments later, the dull pain along the back of head that she had not realized was there began to ease. She began to feel vaguely drowsy, yet still fully aware of what was taking place around her.

“She should go to her room,” she heard her mother say.

“That’s probably a good idea,” Wendy agreed.

“I’ll take her,” a third voice interjected.

Shalene was shocked to hear her brother. She had thought she might have heard him come in with her parents, but he had said nothing before then, she had assumed that she was wrong, having mistaken what she thought had been his footsteps among so many others moving throughout the house.

“After I’m done, I’ll—“

“You’ll do no such thing,” her mother warned him.

From the steely edge in her mother’s tone, Shalene suspected that her mother wanted first chance at whatever act it was that her brother had been about to commit.

Her brother grunted a response and then moved in close to Shalene, wrapping his firm, muscular arms around her. She had been prepared to walk, but he lifted her almost without effort and began to carry her toward the stairway.

“I’ll be there in a few minutes to check on you,” her mother said. “I just want to check with the doctor first.”

They passed several voices as her brother carried her to the stairs. She remained absolutely still as he climbed, fearful of throwing off his balance, causing them both to tumble back down them. He then carried her down the short hallways, suffering through an awkward moment as he got her door to open. Once it had, though, he paused in the doorway and let out a low sigh.

“Shalene . .”

She wondered why he had stopped, and then why he sounded so annoyed. It came to her a long moment later, as she remembered that she had not finished putting her room back in order. She had been on her way to do so when Sean had unexpectedly come into the house.

“Sorry,” she whispered with weary meekness. “Just put me down on the bed.”

Her brother did so, placing her on the closest side of the bed with a gentleness that she never would have suspected him capable of.

Wow. He might really make a good father some day.

The sudden notion of her brother having to deal with a young daughter made her giggle softly.

“Were you into dad’s whiskey?” he whispered, both in confusion and surprise. He sniffed lightly. “You kind of smell like it.”

“No,” she whispered. She had forgotten how strongly Sean had smelled of it, remembering then that some of it must have rubbed off onto her. “Honest.”

“Okay,” her brother said, sounding only slightly doubtful. “Want me to wait here until mom comes?”

“No,” Shalene answered quietly. “I’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” he responded flatly. Still, it was long several moments before he left her room, closing the door behind him.