I looked at Mason, staring into his green eyes. “You’ve done this before?” I tilted my head toward the syringes on the table in front of us.
He nodded. “I should say I’m not proud, but damn, I took out some serious motherfuckers with this agent.”
“How is it not registered but being used by our government?”
Mason’s lips straightened. “Come on, Patrick, you think we’re told everything? Even those of us in the Order weren’t told all of the specifics. We were given an order and the means. I happened to keep some after one mission, and with Jack’s help, we analyzed it.” He nodded toward the syringes. “It’s better this way. You don’t want that shit getting into the wrong hands.”
I scoffed. “I’m not sure about the bad motherfuckers you took out, but I am sure that I’m glad the bad motherfucker Kader is on my side.”
The plane’s wheels touched down as I grabbed the two syringes and placed them in my suit coat pocket. “I want both Pastor Roberto and Kristine to know who did this to them.”
“You’ll have time to reintroduce yourself and give them a brief reasoning for their imminent demise. They’ll be cognizant for roughly five minutes—give or take one or two—before the bio-agent begins to wreak havoc on their nervous system. Voluntary muscles such as the tongue and ability to speak as well as move or control bodily functions are the first to go. I’ve watched top terrorists shit themselves. It’s the involuntary nerves, such as listening and comprehension, that remain longer. The agent acts like fire scorching everything in the path of circulation. The blood vessels sever as the tissue dissolves. Internal bleeding is the official cause of death. The question is if the arteries or heart bursts first.”
“And they feel it?” I asked.
“Every painful second. In my experience, the last words are usually blubbering apologies and pleas for help. There is an antidote.”
“Did you bring it?”
“I did, but it’s only for accidental injection into one of us. That won’t happen. It never has.”
“Do you tell the victim about the antidote?” I asked.
“Fuck yes.” He smiled. “Hope is the greatest means of torture.”
“Yeah, glad you’re on our side.”
The plane came to a stop and the stairs descended. As warm air filled the cabin, my mind was on the couple who didn’t devote their lives to helping the homeless but to selling them, who now still profited off the system by blackmailing participants.
“Ready?” Mason asked.
“Hell yes.”
Madeline
The fog I’d been living under was beginning to fade as all around me life went on.
It had now been three nights since the beginning of my meltdown. I wasn’t proud that it happened, but I was content it had run its course. I’d uncorked emotions I hadn’t realized I’d bottled. Not only acknowledging them, but expressing them with Patrick was cathartic.
In the course of three days, I wasn’t healed, and I didn’t pretend I was.
However, I felt better as if healing was now possible.
The guilt was still the hardest part.
For some reason, I could justify what had been done to me but not what I’d done to others.
“Maddie,” Patrick had said sometime during the hours and hours, “there are qualified people who can help you with this more than I am able to.”
“I’ve never talked about it, not really. I asked Andros to make it stop.” My head shook. “No, not stop. I’m sure there were still women brought to the compound. I asked him to relieve me of my role.” I looked up at Patrick. “I didn’t even advocate for them then.”
“In all honesty, do you think you could have helped them? Do you think if you’d said it was wrong that he would have stopped?”
“I think I said it was wrong the first time.”
“Did your observation change anything?” Patrick asked.
“No.”
He tugged me closer and peppered the top of my head with kisses. “No one can take away your guilt. Maddie girl, I’m here to help you live with it, to be Ruby’s mother and my wife. I’m not pushing, but maybe one day you will feel strong enough to tell others your story. Let them know this horror exists and that places like the Sparrow Institute are there to help people. It’s crazy that Araneae started the institute, and now we found each other.”
“I can hardly tell you.”
“You never have to tell another soul, or you may want to. No matter what, I’m here.”
His seeds of wisdom and advice were planted. Off and on I would think about the institute. Patrick told me that Laurel oversaw the counseling. She spent most of her time with her research, but since starting to work with Araneae, Laurel had felt a burden to help victims through more traditional measures too.
He said if I didn’t feel right talking to her, there were others qualified.
I wasn’t sure what I was comfortable doing. I knew there was a sense of security in knowing that Patrick would stay by my side to help me in whatever direction I planned to take.
Somehow in my ranting, crying, and all-out loss of control, I remembered what I’d forgotten. I’d remembered how to be me.
As Patrick had said, it wasn’t a secret formula.
It was acceptable that we’d both changed over the years.
The part about being me, the real me, with Patrick was an intangible element that I never had without him; it was the absolute freedom to be honest.
Patrick reassured me that it was acceptable to be angry, sad, happy, and relieved. I could be scared or any other emotion that came along, and he wouldn’t devalue, debase, or otherwise find it unacceptable.
I could even take four showers and a bath in a day, and all he asked was if I wanted company.
My excessive bathing was something I hid from others for years. There was no way to make them understand without telling them my story.
It was now Saturday evening, and after a soft knock, the door to our bedroom opened. “Hi,” Ruby said with a smile. “Can I come in?”
Sitting up against the headboard, I nodded and patted the bed to my side. “Hey, beautiful. I’m sorry I’ve been a bit MIA.”
As she walked toward me, I took in my daughter, from her jean leggings to her sweatshirt. “University of Michigan?” Ruby had grown up in Ann Arbor, but I’d never given the idea of a local college much thought.
“Did you know Mr. Sparrow graduated from there?”
My eyes opened wide. “I didn’t.”
Ruby looked down and tugged on the soft giant blue shirt with the large gold M. “Yeah, he graduated a year before I started Westbrook. Isn’t that wild?”
“It is,” I admitted. “We’ve all been so close and yet so far.”
“Mom,” Ruby said, her smile fading. “Are you all right?”
“I think I will be. I’m sorry. I’m not exactly sure what happened.”
Her blue eyes shone. “You had to come to terms with no longer swimming.”
“I what?”
She smiled. “Mom, Patrick’s a good man, and the others, even your brother…I’m so glad you and Patrick found one another.”