Chapter Twenty-Five
Hawkeye
Hawkeye knew Petra was pushing through the hospital exit by the change in Cooper’s posture.
It was still hard to see her in her ripped sundress, looking like she’d escaped through a briar patch with a killer at her heels.
A square of white paper was in her hand, and he hoped it was a prescription. He’d already found a pharmacy on the way back to the hotel.
“Good?” he called out as the team opened a space in their circle for her.
“I was about to ask you the same.” Her face looked worried and exhausted. “Any word on Ash?”
“They’ve moved him to a room,” Hawkeye said, digging the vehicle fob from his pocket. “He’s going to see the respiratory therapist and should be released this evening.”
“That’s good news.” She looked back toward the hospital. “Between Terry and the others, you all hauled out of the ocean, it would be nice to have an update. I mean, I understand privacy and HIPAA. But it would be reassuring to know the prognosis or to have an opportunity to give a hug.”
“Maybe not the hug part,” Levi said, “but we’ll keep an eye on the newspaper to see if there are any reports.”
“There were so many emergencies today, though.” Halo shook his head. “They won’t all be reported on. Probably just the deaths.”
“Were there many deaths?” Petra asked, standing close enough to Hawkeye that he had to fight his instinct to put an arm around her.
“This affected the whole region. Sixteen confirmed deaths on St. Croix alone was the last count I heard,” Reaper said. “There are a lot of people still missing out on the water.”
Hawkeye caught Petra’s gaze. “Iniquus Command ordered Team Charlie to rest and recover. In the morning, we’ll check in with emergency services and see where we can lend a hand.”
“Joining the search?” Petra sent her gaze to the dogs.
Cooper came over and nudged his head under her hand. When he did, her body relaxed a bit.
“There was a second seismic event,” Reaper said. “The authorities are asking people to stay out of the water to give them an opportunity to assess. There are people on watercraft who haven’t checked in. The Coast Guard is trying to follow up on mayday calls. My understanding is that a bunch of boats capsized before the calls could go out.”
“Rescue has a few more hours of daylight,” Halo said.
“But they’re low in manpower,” Levi said.
“Are they bringing in support from the mainland?” Petra asked.
“They are.” Reaper rocked back on his heels. “Most likely, they’ll be here by morning. That’s where we’re at. Tomorrow, we can figure out where to assist, maybe free up some hands or eyeballs.”
“Rest and recuperation sounds like a good plan,” Petra said. “If you’re acting as volunteers tomorrow, I can join in. I’m FEMA-trained. Minimally, I could put pins in a map or monitor a radio.”
Reaper focused on Petra. “You’re pretty banged up. You might feel differently about being up and about tomorrow. If you’re good to go, we welcome your assistance as a citizen volunteer, which is the capacity in which Cerberus will be working. But, if you’re not a hundred percent—”
“I won’t endanger or slow down your team. If I’m not up to the assignment, I’ll back out.”
“Very good,” Reaper nodded. “We’ve concluded the hot wash, gentlemen. We’ll meet in Conference Room B at zero seven hundred hours. You need to be fed, and your dogs need to be ready to go. That gives you twelve hours to get some effective calories and a good night’s sleep.” His gaze slid over the team. “I’ll be here with Ash. Halo, I want you to manage Hoover.”
“Sir.”
“You all need to take care of your dogs and yourselves. Outstanding effort today. Outstanding.” Reaper turned and sauntered toward the door.
The men peeled off, heading toward their various vehicles.
Hawkeye pointed his fob toward the rented SUV. “Good?”
“This is where we started the trip,” Petra said as they approached the vehicle. “I’ve seen more of this hospital than the island.”
“As far as adventure trips go, this one will be memorable. We’ll tell these stories over wine at friends’ dinner tables for years to come.”
They were silent as they drove to the pharmacy and left the prescriptions at the drive-through.
It would be a fifteen-minute wait.
“Ten minutes,” the pharmacist said as she looked into the SUV at Petra. “I can get it done for you in ten.”
“Thank you,” Petra said. Yeah, she looked like she’d been through a meat grinder.
Hawkeye drove to the other side of the lot to park under a tree. “When we get back to the hotel, it’s straight to the shower.”
“Are you joining me?” Petra asked with a tired smile. A little bit flirty, a lot of fatigue.
“If you’re inviting, yes.”
“I’m inviting. Maybe we could order a pizza and eat it in bed again?”
“Absolutely. Glad to get in bed with you any time. I think we have a plan. Somewhere in there, I need to take Cooper for his last walk of the evening.”
“Cooper,” Petra cooed, “you were such a brave helper dog today. Here you thought you were going to the beach to play with your buddies, and instead, you got a day of chaos.”
“Speaking of chaos,” Hawkeye started.
Petra looked up at him, and Hawkeye focused on her eyes. “Your pupils have evened out now.”
“Oh?” Petra flipped down the visor to look in the mirror.
“Also, speaking of chaos, I’ve had a question I wanted to ask you since we were on the plane.”
Petra slapped the mirror shut and pushed the visor toward the roof before turning back to him.
“On the plane, even when the animals were racing around, you—”
“Cooper and the other dogs were completely unfazed,” Petra cut in. “Amazing.”
Hawkeye saw the deflection. Was that habit, part of her neurodivergence, or that she really didn’t want him to focus on her reactions to things that happened? “You were very calm and compartmentalized. You made me think of the phrase, ‘not my monkeys not my circus.’”
“Chaos breeds chaos. And in a confined space like that, things can get really bad really quickly. The last time I took a flight, it was a demon racing around the cabin instead of a cat.”
“Wait.” Hawkeye was learning what he might expect from a conversation when speaking to Petra, and the bend that things took were not one and the same. “A demon?” He grinned. “What now?”
He was grinning a lot when he was around her.
His face wasn’t used to it.
“True story. I had just got my new title. Before my current position, I had a job similar to Rowan Kennedy’s. My field was mainly in the United States, where I tracked cults and their financial implications on finances. Track, not intervene. I was a fact-finder, not a taker-downer of dangerous felons.”
“Criminal implications on finances?”
“Right,” Petra said.
“But what did this have to do with the plane?”
“I was tracking a true believer who was going to see ‘the guru.’ I wanted the name and location of said guru. Up until that point, we couldn’t find the charismatic. Imagine a beehive where all the worker bees are doing their job, and each of them serves the queen bee.”
“Got it. You were looking for the queen. Did you find the leader?”
“I should add here that my focus was on monitoring doomsday cults. This particular cult believed that their guru could see the devil’s minions amongst the humans. The guru would instruct the followers on how to act to avoid the various entities visiting the Earth's surface—sort of like taking little mini vacations from Hell. Only when the entities were here, they tried to find a body to steal.”
“Soul to steal?” Hawkeye asked.
“Nope, whole body. The entity would just crawl into a body like it was putting on a new suit. And then the person lost their free will and had to walk around doing whatever heinous thing the demon wanted them to do.”
“That’s,” Hawkeye paused, “something. I mean, people who weren’t on drugs actually think that happens?”
“Absolutely. And as they follow what the guru tells them, they earn the right to be closer to the inner circle. With each step they took, the guru would perform rituals that would eventually open the third eye, allowing them to easily see and avoid these demons. It’s in the newspaper. You can read all about the cult.”
“That’s all right, I’m good,” Hawkeye said. “But tell me this, the belief is that once you can see them, you can avoid them.”
“In theory.”
“Is any of that against the law?” Hawkeye asked. “Fraud, maybe?”
“Could you prove it’s fraud in court? I mean, I can’t see the demons. But could I scientifically prove that they don’t exist?” Petra shrugged. “Usually, with cults, it’s a matter of free will. If a believer wants to surrender all their worldly possessions to become enlightened, so be it. It’s when it crosses over into federal law that we get aggressively involved.”
“And this group was?”
“Money laundering, drug running, human trafficking, and in that case on that day—"
“Your last trip in that position?” Hawkeye clarified.
“Yes, the funding finally came through for my research. Anyway, yes, on my last trip in that position, I was trying to find the queen bee—and I’ll stop to tell you that I love bees, and I don’t love that analogy—”
“But it’s the one that works.” Hawkeye absolutely recognized that Petra’s mind was firing fast and furious, and she was struggling to keep her thoughts linear in order to have this conversation with him.
He had a micro-amygdala, and apparently, too much neural pruning had gone on, leaving him with a neurotypical brain. As Cora liked to explain it, her software was faster and more robust, but since she was trying to run it on weaker hardware, she glitched.
Cora struggled to slow down to get words and thoughts in line.
Hawkeye had learned to be patient and insert leading questions.
He always thought that being in Cora’s brain must be damned exhausting.
“Sadly true,” Petra said.
And Hawkeye wasn’t sure if she was responding to his comment about being the metaphor that worked or if she’d somehow read his mind and knew what he’d thought about her exhaustion.
“I’m on the plane following this woman,” Petra continued. “I’m in the same row in the window seat. Me, then an older woman who looked just like my mark—mother probably—then this gal on the aisle. Imagine her. She’s big for a woman. Not you big, but big, nonetheless. Not just height but all of her.”
“Big,” Hawkeye said.
“We take off, and we’re doing just fine. I’m listening to the two of them talking, hoping to gather some tidbit of helpful information. They’re bickering about the chores. Suddenly, the gal on the aisle—I’ll call her Jane Doe—starts having a seizure-like episode. She’s out of her seat, wedged into the aisle, convulsing. The mom looks over at her and says that, of course, the demons have shown up. She’s obviously wrong about washing the dishes.”
“She’s seizing?” Hawkeye was in his head, trying to imagine this scene.
“No. She’s not. Let me put that idea to rest right away. To everyone on that plane, it looked like a seizure. It was quaking. Her lizard brain was terrified because she saw demons all over the plane.”
“A break with reality.”
“I have no idea. I can’t diagnose without an assessment and medical workup. But clearly, not a seizure because Jane Doe and Mom are yelling at each other in between Jane Doe’s screaming at the demons to get away and leave her alone. Oh, and lest I forget, just as with me and my probable medical crisis, the flight attendants tried to help. They raced in with a first aid kit. There was an announcement about a medical event and that photography was not permitted. And asking if there were any medical personnel on the flight?”
“Did anyone step up?” Hawkeye asked, looking at the clock and starting the engine.
“To intervene with a break from reality? What could they do? No. Everyone hunkered down, trying to make themselves as small and unnoticed as possible. I mean, Jane kicked this one attendant down the aisle. The attendant hit his head and got whiplash on top of a TBI for his care and concern. He’s still on medical leave.”
“Shit. And this whole time, you’re boxed in next to the window.” Hawkeye put the SUV in reverse and backed out of their spot.
“The pilot comes on the speaker and says he’s diverting to some small airport that’s nearby. And I am pretty sure everyone on the plane would have been just as happy if the pilot found a stretch of empty highway. Anywhere down was good.”
“The whole time?” Hawkeye asked. “The whole time Jane Doe is screaming and shaking? That takes a lot of energy.”
“She had a strand of beads wrapped around her wrist, and at some point, she gnawed through the strand, and as she saw a devil demon approach, she’d swallow a bead and scream, ‘Take that!’ I was seeing it in my mind’s eye like bulletproof cuffs that could ward off gunshot, but inside her body.”
Hawkeye pulled his chin back, his brows pulled in tight. Then, he shifted to drive and started toward the drive-through window.
“The police were there with the paramedics. They put her in restraints and transported her to the psych ward. That same night, she was moved to a dedicated psychiatric hospital, and the bad part was I didn’t get to follow Jane Doe to the queen bee. Now, it’s up to the person who took my place to figure that out.”
Hawkeye just shook his head in disbelief. “No wonder the cat and chihuahua show on the plane down here was a nothing-burger for you.”
“Not a nothing-burger, but I couldn’t allow my face to be identifiable in the social media circus that was sure to arise. Even with my new role, I can’t be recognizable. I let my hair fall in my face. Kept my face averted. And hunkered down.”
“I see. Well, let’s get your meds and get you hunkered down at the hotel.”
“With any luck,” Petra said as he pulled up to the window, “the crazy is done for today.”
“With any luck?” Hawkeye repeated. “What else could possibly go wrong?”