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...the king’s son approached the hedge of thorns, on which many other young men had failed...

 

HIS

 

Now that she was apparently sure of herself, Dr. Prosser had Fish wheeled on his chair into the hospital corridor for display. “Make sure he can’t get out of that tape, nurse,” Dr. Prosser said authoritatively, as doctors, nurses, and other curious onlookers drifted nearby, shocked and whispering as they passed.

The humiliation was deliberate, and effective. He could hear Dr. Prosser, in supposed confidential tones, detailing his lurid encounters with Mr. Freet to all interested ears. He kept his eyes down, almost thankful for the irritation of the mace that disguised his burning face.

But he hadn’t been arrested three times previously for nothing. When the police came, he looked up and met the eyes of the first officer he saw, blinking back the fluid from his eyes. He recognized the man from his dealings with the police  during the time of Rose’s accident, and guessed that it was possible the man recognized him.

“Officer, there’s no reason for them to have me tied up like this. I didn’t do what they’re accusing me of. And I didn’t resist them once they apprehended me. This is pure malice.”

Dr. Prosser snorted. “Oh, sure. Officer, this is one sick young criminal we have for you here.”

“Leave that for the courts to decide,” Fish said, attempting to wipe his eyes with his shoulders again. “You’ll be hearing from my lawyer about the rest.”

“I assure you that we wouldn’t have done this to him if he hadn’t fought us tooth and nail,” the hospital director said to the officer huffily.

“Nevertheless,” Fish said, with a bare touch of a smile, “I think you should untape me. I won’t fight you. As you can see, I’ve gotten mace in my eyes.”

“Actually, Dr. Prosser, he’s right,” the policeman said. “I can’t take him in tied up like this.”

“Oh! Certainly, now that you’re here, I’m sure you can keep him under control,” Dr. Prosser said.

Even so, it seemed like forever before they cut his hands free. When his arms were released, he didn’t move from the chair, but began methodically wiping his eyes and massaging his arms and forearms, waiting for the arrest. He barely paid attention to the overblown charges that Dr. Prosser made against him, although he was mildly surprised to hear Dr. Murray lie so believably. Her demeanor was so reticent that she could convince anyone, particularly a jury. But she had slipped up once, and that was enough.

He was arrested, and sat quietly, holding his hands out in front of him for the handcuffs. As they shackled him, he looked up at Dr. Murray.

“You made a mistake,” he said to her. “A big mistake.”

That was all he could say about her dragging up his past for prurient and malicious eyes to feast over. But he wondered, as he was led away between two policemen, if even that had been too much to say.

They turned a corner away from the crowd and down a long hallway. Fish walked along compliantly, as the police opened a door and took him into a side stairwell.

Nevertheless, he knew he couldn’t remain arrested. Once he was in jail, he would be too late. Charles was a darned good lawyer, but even he couldn’t get him out soon enough under these kinds of charges. There was no way out of this by going the cooperative route. So, he thought to himself briefly, I’ll have to make my own exit.

The stairwell was narrow, and as they started down the steps, the officer to his left stepped a bit in front and tugged his arm to draw him down the stairs. Fish seized the moment, knowing that going down steps put both men slightly off-balance. He threw himself forward and leapt down the steps.

The policeman to his right, whose grip had been relaxed, lost hold of him. The other policeman attempted to keep a hold on him but failed and stumbled forward down the steps, grabbing the railing to keep his balance. Fish landed on his feet like a cat and tore down the steps.

They might have another policeman stationed at the exit, but he had to take a chance. He sprinted down a deserted lower hallway towards the red exit sign at the other end, then down another set of stairs with an exit leading into a back alley. He pushed open the door and saw the police down at the far side of the alley, their backs to him. The other end of the alley was free.

It was getting dark. Breathing heavily, trying to hide his manacled hands beneath his jacket, he pounded down the alleyway outside the hospital, praying for a miracle. If he didn’t succeed in escaping now, he would probably not get another chance. He had destroyed his credibility as a falsely-accused victim as well, but he figured he would have to make the sacrifice if he was to save Rose. Miracle, God, I need a miracle.

He got one. Just as he reached the street, he saw Alex pulling slowly around the corner.

He dove, grabbed the back door with his cuffed hands and threw himself inside. “Get out of here, but not too fast,” he gasped, closing the door and leaping onto the floor.

Alex looked over the seat, amazed.

“I should warn you, you’re harboring an arrested suspect, and if you do drive away, you’ll probably be liable for part of my crime,” Fish said with his next breath.

“Figured that when I saw the handcuffs,” Alex said placidly, driving. “Well, Ben, I’m amazed to see you. I saw the police go in. You’re a mess. What happened to your eyes?”

“Mace. As soon as you get off the main street, drive fast,” Fish said. “Quickest back road you can find.”

“Where am I going?”

“To see Rose. Tell me when you’re on the back road.”

Alex turned. “I am now.”

“Anyone following you?”

There was a pause while Alex scanned his rearview mirror. “No.”

“Good.”

Fish got up and slid onto the seat. He grabbed with his cuffed hands for the miraculous medal around his neck, kissed it with a heartfelt prayer, and slid the chain over his head. Then he fiddled with a piece of wire that hung next to it. His vision was better now.

“How are you going to get those cuffs off?” Alex asked.

“I’m working on that now,” Fish said, the wire between his teeth. He maneuvered his way to the lock. “Fortunately—they cuffed my hands in front—as I hoped they would.” He began working.

“Out of curiosity, is this why Rose always calls you Fish?” Alex asked.

Fish didn’t answer until he heard the right click and the lock slid open. The cuffs slid off, and he thrust them in his jacket pocket.

“That’s one of the reasons,” he said, kissing his miraculous medal again.

“I’m impressed.”

“Well, don’t be too impressed. I seriously bungled that episode, and if something in this case doesn’t crack very soon, I’m in deep trouble.” He shrugged off the heavy leather jacket he had been wearing and heaved a sigh. “My lawyer is going to have a hissy fit. Breaking away after being arrested is a pretty hefty offense.”

“So why did you do it?”

“Because Dr. Murray blundered.”

“What did she do?”

Fish had started to clean his face of the ruined makeup, but made himself look at Alex to see his reaction. “After they’d gotten me, she revealed to Dr. Prosser, who revealed to all present the hitherto-unknown fact that when I was kidnapped, I was assaulted.”

“Were you?” Alex said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

Fish took a deep breath. “Thanks.”

“So how would Dr. Murray know that?”

“She tried to pretend it was on the court record, but that’s a lie. It happened, but I never charged my kidnapper with it, because I didn’t want anyone to know.”

“So how could she have found out?”

“Only one way that I can think of. She’s been talking to Rose. And that tells me that Rose isn’t in this deep coma like Dr. Murray’s been telling us all along.”

“Really?” Alex’s voice changed. “That does put a new light on things. So you want me to take you to Rose?”

“Yes. I’m going to wake her up.”

“You’ll need help.” Alex said meditatively a few minutes later as they sped down the country road.

Fish paused in taking off the jingling metal jewelry his character had been wearing. “Alex, I’m serious that you should be weighing your choices carefully now. They arrested me for violent assault and attempted rape, and they’ve got this great prosecution already lined up to cook me. You’re already liable for aiding and abetting me. This is not going to look good for you, for Mercy College, for Catholics, for anyone involved they can take down along with me.”

“Ben, I told you I understand that. I also know that you didn’t do it.”

Fish smiled a bit at Alex’s naiveté. Obviously he had never been falsely accused and arrested before. “That means little just now. You realize the penalties could be—”

“Ben, I’m in this—and Cor is in this—to help Rose, no matter what the cost, and that means helping you,” Alex said. “We promised that to her a long time ago. I’m just following through. So—what do you want me to do?”

Fish was touched, despite himself, and tried to formulate a plan. “Okay. Drive to Graceton Hall, and hope that the police don’t meet us there.”

“You sure you don’t want me to come inside with you?” Alex asked again as they turned onto the road that led to Graceton Hall.

“Positive,” Fish said. “You’ve been aiding and abetting me, but so far no one knows that. If they catch me inside, you can drive away, a free man. I don’t mind sharing success, but I’d rather fail alone. Why don’t you stop here?”

Alex shook his head. “Let me bring you a bit closer.” He pulled off in another culvert hidden by bushes a short time later. “That’ll make for an easier escape.”

“Thanks,” Fish said, pushing open the door and getting out.

“See you soon,” Alex said, pulling the rosary off his rearview mirror. “I’ll be waiting.”  

Fish turned and plunged into the trees. To get to the facility, he would have to hike up through the woods. At least he was still in black.

He stole up the hill in the rapidly-darkening evening. All those times that he had wandered aimlessly around Graceton Hall were coming in handy now. He remembered the French doors in the back that sometimes were left open by nurses who wanted to go out and smoke.

He crept around the back. There were two smokers standing outside on the flagstone patio, talking. He hid behind a tree and watched. The door was propped open a few yards behind them.

Choosing a fallen walnut from the ground, he tiptoed towards the door where the smokers stood. Just as he approached their possible line of vision, he threw the walnut so that it landed on the far side of them, knocking against a branch and startling them. Distracted, they looked towards it, and Fish slipped inside the building.

He made his way up the back staircase to Rose’s floor, and waited in the shadows for the hallway to clear before going down to her room. As it was getting towards the end of the day and visiting hours were ending, for some time the floor was very busy. On edge, he nevertheless remained still, waiting.

At long last, there was no one left in the hallway, and he hurried silently down the tomb-like hallway and passed into her room.

When he stepped inside the room, the lights were out. The room was empty, except for the sleeping girl.

Her face was turned towards the window, and the dim tree-splashed moonlight bathed her pale white skin, ran rivulets through the dark red hair spread out on the pillow. Although her chest rose and fell with the rhythm of the ventilator, her eyes, with their sweeping eyelashes, were still as if her features were carved out of pure white stone.

 

She seemed so pure a thing, so free from mortal taint

 

To his surprise, he saw that restraining straps now bound Rose’s arms, legs, and chest to the bed. But her expression was as calm as though she were a Madonna with flesh that could slip through bonds and walls as easily as her Risen Son.

All the same, he unfastened the straps and moved her limbs to more comfortable positions. He touched her hand, which lay half-open on the bedspread, its fingers delicately uncurling like a half-bloomed flower—the fingertips that brushed his were warm, living, fragile. He grasped the hand in his and gently chafed her wrists.

“Rose,” he said to her. His voice sounded strange in that dark shadowy clinical place, as though he had spoken aloud in a tomb. The stillness captured it, smothered it. It had no effect.

“Rose,” he said softly, insistently. “Rose girl, I know you’re awake in there.”

There was still no response. He waited, molding her hands between his own, rubbing them quietly. Her skin was smooth and soft, and warm.

His eyes traveled over to the IV equipment, and he suddenly spotted the bag of milky white fluid he had seen months before. He could see the liquid was dripping down the IV tube into Rose’s veins.

Suddenly, he had a strong suspicion that this was not cold medication. Reaching for the bag, he checked it. No markings.  Making a sudden decision, he switched the IV off and gently pulled the needle out of Rose’s arm, massaging it to numb any pain.  He held his breath, but nothing seemed to happen.

 “Rose, I’m sorry we took this doctor’s word about what happened to you so readily. I know now that you’re really not in a coma, but in some sort of drugged state. But it must be wearing off, if they have to guard you this way.”

Rose lay there, only her chest going up and down with the ventilator.

He ran an exploring hand over her face. It was warm, but impassive. No stirring, no reaction.

But if the technicians had had to tie her down… “Rose, please wake up,” he said, allowing a pleading tone to creep into his voice. “If you can wake up now, before Dr. Murray gets back, there’s a chance I can save you. Otherwise, I’ll be separated from you, maybe for a long, long time. I have this one chance. Please—there might be other chances—but I would appreciate it,” he had to smile at himself, “if you could respond now. Rose, please, please wake up.”

Nothing. He stood by the bed, tensed, waiting for a response that didn’t come.

A wave of weariness and near despair came over him and he knelt down on the floor and put his head to the pillow, near her face. He felt her breath faintly on his cheek, tainted with a trace of medicine. Funny that none of them had ever noticed it before. The total lack of even muscular response... Paul commenting on how unusually deep the coma was... Fish sighed and stared at the shadows on the ceiling.

 “Why am I bothering to talk to you, Rose? You never listened to me anyway,” he said, a bit accusingly. Her unconscious smile seemed to tease him. “I told you countless times to stay away from me—to find someone else—to go on with your life—but I couldn’t convince you to stop loving me, could I? At least not for a long time.”

He turned back to her, and his eyes traveled over her features again, and without realizing he was doing it, he lifted his hand and ran a finger down the fine line of her cheekbones.

“The most persistent girl I ever met in my life,” he said, with a tinge of exasperation. “But now I’m presuming, Rose. I’m presuming that you still love me. I know I haven’t done anything to deserve it, if you still do.”

He had to chuckle at his words now. Closing his eyes, he cupped his hand around her face, feeling her cheeks. He made himself go on, even though his voice was catching. “What I do know is that I love you now. Most likely too late. But, there it is.”

He ran a tentative finger over her mouth, and paused, hoping beyond hope that this would rouse her. Then, licking his lips, he brought them lightly down on hers, and looked at her anxiously. There was still no response. He touched her face again with his finger, and then took a deep breath, and kissed her again.

Rose, he thought, I’m yours. I’m all yours. If you still want me. If I can love you...

But he realized then, that he could love her, and did love her, and that if he kept choosing to, he would be able to keep loving her, for life.

He raised his face slowly and looked at her once again. Her eyes were still closed, but her expression seemed slightly changed, a bit serious and thoughtful, as though she didn’t know what to make of this new development. He touched her face, but she was still oblivious.

“I’m all yours,” he said simply, almost by way of explanation for his actions.

She didn’t move, but some of the tension inside had been released. A curious effortlessness came over him. Part of him was amazed at how easy it had been, after all this, to admit to himself that he loved Rose. The hedge of thorns had parted smoothly before him. And another part of him was astonished at how, now that he had accepted love, it was doing some of the work for him.

Climbing to his feet, he began to search the cabinets in Rose’s room, cabinets Dr. Murray and the technicians had used, but which he had never opened.  If Rose was being drugged on a daily basis, perhaps some of the drugs would be there. Some of the cabinets were open, but others were locked. He pulled out his skeleton keys and undid the catch on each one. In one lower cabinet, he found syringes, gloves, plastic bags, and glass vials of liquid, and stuffed as many as he could in his pockets. At the very least, they might be legal evidence.

Finished, he checked out the window again, then turned and looked over at Rose. Even in the dimness, he was caught by her blue-green eyes, smiling back at him.

 

Hers

 

The prison was loosening its hold. She had felt its power weakening, and the tight brown coils that had twisted themselves around her limbs were slithering away. She was still in the twilight, halfway between the dream world and her mental prison. Soon the dream would fade away into the prison, and then the prison would give way to the eerie castle that was her further prison. She could sense the moon glowing above her in that alternate world, the moon that always seemed so far off and dim through poisoned waters.

She thought that the serpent would return, as it always did, relentlessly pinning her to her prison once again. But for a few hours, she could lie watchful and waiting in the twilight. She almost hated the twilight, because when it faded, the serpent would return, and she knew that one of those times would be the moment of her death. Those transitional times reminded her of her enchanted state. Otherwise, she could forget. In the darkness, the serpent was not visible. Her death sentence was hidden. She could see nothing.

 

In darkness and secure,

My house being all at rest.

She had been drifting in shallow water, looking at the moon, when the new shape came. Dark, but less dark. Like a fish sliding into her water, something nosed up against her and fondled her hand...

And then she was in the rose garden, surrounded by gold, red, and pink blooms that had sprung awake once more, and he had called her name, and she breathed in the warm, heavy scent of the roses’ perfume and something more. She turned, and felt the motion swirl around her.

 

The love that you give is sweeter than wine...

 

And at once she was thrashing, pulsing, coming out of the water towards the smiling moon—

And she was in the midnight world again, looking through the dark waters, and she could see someone standing by the window, someone lean and shadowy and familiar. A young man.

Fish.

Her heart throbbed, and she blinked. He had turned towards her, and his face came into her vision more clearly. It was him. Looking older and more worn and scarred, but it was still him. She lifted a trembling hand to touch the face, and he caught it in his own.

Their words blurred together in her mind, the line between his words and her own disappearing in the glimmer of the waters.

Rose, you’re awake! 

No, not really. Fish,—are you in my dream?

This isn’t a dream. I can tell that you see me.

Yes. I see you.

She saw his hand stretch towards her and touching her face.

Can you feel this?

No, but I see you touching me.

Now she could see his frustration. You’re close, but you’re still so far. All right. Rose, I’ve got to get you out of here, now.

She saw him bend down and unclick some tubes from her bed and then put his arms around her.

I suppose you can’t walk?

I can, a bit.

Good. But the ventilator… Hold on...

She saw him tense, and suddenly he grabbed her shoulders.

Rose. This is important.  You’ve got to lie back down and I’ve got to hook you back up.  Pretend you’re still asleep. In a coma.  Can you do that for me?

Yes, Fish.

Hurry. 

He helped her lie back and she sank down again, waiting. 

 

HIS

 

He could hear footsteps, coming closer, and voices that sounded distinctly and uncomfortably familiar: Drs. Murray and Prosser, and it sounded like they were arguing. Trying not to panic, he helped adjust Rose on the bed, and smoothed out her hair and the bedspread.  He wasn’t sure what to do with the IV, so he tucked it back in the armband and tried to hide it under the sleeve of her white nightgown as best as he could. Frantically, he pulled the restraining straps over her and fastened them.

Just as the door started to open, he quickly crouched under the bed, hidden by the drape of her patchwork quilt.

He watched as two sets of shoes came into the room, and the door shut behind them. Fish heard the lock click shut.  For some reason, they didn’t turn on the lights.

“Damn you, Murray, you’d better listen to me. I got you out of that mess this evening. You’d better pay me back by telling me everything. I don’t know why you didn’t tell me about the girl or these papers until now.”

 “I told you, I questioned her extensively and I was sure that she didn’t know anything.”

“But this boyfriend or brother-in-law of hers, whoever he is, he apparently knows something. Too much. And he’s still on the loose.”

“He can’t know much, or if he does, he couldn’t have proved it without the evidence we took from him.”

“But it’s just a matter of time till they have evidence. And if you had told me about this situation, we could at least have burned the barn down weeks ago.”

The two doctors approached Rose’s bed and stood in front of her.

  “So this is your little witness?” Dr. Prosser said with derision. “Well well. I remember her.  Pretty little thing.  But what possessed you to keep her alive?”

“I saw no reason to put her down,” Dr. Murray argued in a thin, strained voice.  Fish prayed she would be too distracted to notice the disengaged IV. “I wanted to find out what she knew. And after questioning her extensively it seemed clear to me that she didn’t know anything damaging.”

“And yet,” Dr. Prosser said sarcastically, “you would jeopardize everything—everything I’ve done and everything you’ve done—just to keep her alive? You know, I don’t understand that kind of betrayal from you, Murray. All the money you’ve taken for your pet research facility, all the funding I’ve given you, and yet you pull this kind of stupid stunt. I seem to remember you doing the same thing with that black nurse of yours, risking everyone’s neck just to be ethical.”

“I didn’t want to risk—making a mistake,” Dr. Murray said with an effort. “If she was really innocent. Same with the nurse…”

“Oh, shut up, Madelyn!” Dr.  Prosser snapped. “What you mean is you didn’t have the guts to do the job. And so Barnes and I and all the others can go down because of your weak stomach.” She was standing in front of Rose, apparently examining her.  Suddenly Murray gasped, and Fish’s heart stopped.

“What are you doing?”

“Fixing your mistake,” Dr. Prosser laughed, and pulled her hand away. Fish peered out as far as he dared and saw, to his horror, Dr. Prosser withdrawing a hypodermic needle from Rose’s arm. “I made a visit to your medicine cabinet on the way up here.”

Dr. Murray gave a faint moan. “What did you just do?”

“A superdose of Lanoxin,” Dr. Prosser pocketed the needle. “I was glad to see you had it on hand. And just in case your conscience starts pricking you, I’ve got your entire supply of Digibind right here in my pocket, so don’t even think about trying to give her an antidote. Quit your shaking, Madelyn. The girl’s going down, and there’s nothing you can do about it. So shut up.”

Dr. Murray’s voice shook, “You had no authority to do that here.”

“Seeing as I’ve helped pay for this place, I think I do. Now pull yourself together.  We can’t wait around two hours for this girl to flatline: we’ve got to get out to that barn and destroy whatever’s left of the evidence. Get back to the car. There’s a lot to do before this situation is contained. Make sure this bed’s locked in. We don’t want any of your techs noticing convulsions and calling the emergency room. Get going!”

The two doctors left the room, locking the doors behind them.

Before their footsteps vanished, Fish was out from under the bed and at Rose’s side, his chest tight. Two hours…

 

Hers

 

Rose felt her heart pounding even as she lay still on the bed.  It was only when she sensed Fish bending over her and calling her name that she opened her eyes.  The world still swam blue before her.

Rose, are you all right?

Yes, but…oh, Fish…the serpent stung me.

Yes, I know.  She injected you with some kind of poison.

I know…But they were always going to kill me.  I knew that. The water trembled around her vision.

How do you feel?

I don’t feel anything.  I…don’t think she put it in a vein.

Maybe that’s why it would take two hours to work.  Rose, how in the world did you not flinch when she stuck the needle in you?

 I’m used to that. Dr. Murray’s injected me so many times.  Plus I still don’t have much feeling in my limbs, fortunately.

Very fortunate. Rose, I’ve got to get you out of here.

He seemed to be looking at the large machine next to her and wondering if he could carry it.

Fish, I think…I think you could take me off the ventilator.

Are you sure?

I’m sure. 

All right. We’ll try…

He reached out a hand and touched her throat.  She dimly felt something on her throat releasing, and then the pressure of air was gone.

I just unhooked you from the ventilator. His voice was strangely tight.  Can you still breathe?

She took a deep breath.I can. Her chest swelled, but her words frayed apart in the air and made no sound.  He touched her neck gently.

I’m afraid, dear Rose, you’ve got an incision in your throat. Try talking now while I hold the tube closed.

The waters glimmered around the words, and she swallowed and tried again.

I said, I can breathe. That was better.

Are you sure you’re okay?

I’m sure. 

Then let’s break out of here.

He helped her sit up and unfastened the remaining tubes.  The waters swam around her, but she managed to remain steady. She saw Fish kneeling in front of the doors, doing something with the lock. After a moment, she heard a click, and saw his hand on the door, pushing it slowly open. Then he put an arm around her and supported her so she could stand.  And then they were moving forward in the dark water, into the hallway.

 

HIS

 

Fish locked the door to Rose’s room behind them and scanned the floor, his heart beating hard. Night duty, there were few nurses about, but he couldn’t risk meeting anyone. He closed the door behind them and half-carried, half-pulled Rose forward, feeling her warmth beneath his arms. She seemed so strong, yet so frail too…He had to get her out of this death house before it was too late…

He guided her down the hall, and decided the elevator was too risky. The side stairs would be better.

They managed to slip into the first floor stairwell just as he heard a door open at the other end of the hallway. They had just missed the night nurse on her rounds.

Tense, he carefully maneuvered Rose down the first set of stairs, helping her grasp the banister and supporting her on the other side. They started down as silently as possible. But they had barely gone three steps, when he heard a click click click of heels on the floor below, and then—someone started up the steps. Towards them.

Quickly, Fish scooped up Rose and hurried back up the steps. He thought it best to keep on going upstairs, and the stairwell’s echoes hid their own footsteps from the person below them. He could tell Rose was trying hard not to breathe loudly.

Up and around the landing to the third floor they hurried, Fish pausing as much as he dared before each corner. At the third story landing he paused for breath, hoping the person below would exit on the second floor.

But no. They kept climbing. Fish carried Rose forward, up and up and up the third floor, up to the fourth floor…

The footsteps still advanced onward. Fish desperately forced his legs to push them up past the fourth floor and around the corner, until they came up against a locked door set in a slanted ceiling. They were trapped.

He set Rose down and pressed her behind him, against the door, shielding her from view as much as he could with his own person, and readied himself for an inevitable confrontation. The footsteps, calm and unruffled came closer—closer—

And then suddenly the person exited on the fourth floor. A door swung creakily behind, and they were alone.

Fish breathed a sigh of relief, and looked back at Rose. Eyes closed, lips parted, her breathing was shallow. Even as he looked at her, she slipped to the ground, and he caught her before she lost her balance.

How can we get out? her mouth formed the words.

He shook his head. “Don’t worry about that. Rest now, okay?”

But grimly he looked down at what seemed like several miles of staircase. He was winded, the inevitable strains of the day crashing down on him. He knew there was no way he could safely carry Rose back down the steps without losing his balance and injuring her. Trapped.

But maybe…He examined the lock on the door, and inserted his lock pick. It opened easily onto a dusty, deserted attic, a long storage area at the top of the building, its floor of rough boards, its ceiling of beams and plaster. There was a window at one end, and there were old mattresses and other used medical equipment piled about.

He gathered Rose in his arms and helped her inside the attic. Gently he laid her down on one of the discarded mattresses. “Lie still for a moment,” he said, smoothing out her hair, and trying not to be alarmed at how clammy she felt. “Rest while I check around, okay?”

He searched around the attic for another exit downstairs, but it seemed like the attic only had one door. In frustration, he went back to the door and looked again down the stairs.

Something wrong? she seemed to say in a hush.

“Just wishing I had the physique of my older brother,” Fish told her ruefully. “Like I said, you fell for the wrong guy, Rose.”

But he couldn’t joke about that. Not now. For better or for worse, he was the one she had chosen. He knelt beside her and pressed her hand to his lips, thinking hard.

…I’ve got your entire supply of Digibind right here in my pocket so don’t even think of trying to give her an antidote...

It was a slim chance, but it might be the only chance he had.

“Look, Rose, I’m going to try something. Alex is downstairs. I’ll send him up to get you, okay?”

Her eyes were dim, but her lips moved. Where are you…?

“I’m going after Dr. Prosser to get that antidote,” he said reassuringly. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back soon.”

I know. You always…come.

There was pressure on his hand and her other hand raised, then flopped down as though she were trying to reach him. He bent down to oblige her, and supported her hand as it wavered towards his face.

I love you, Fish. So much.

 His eyes seemed to be still irritated from the mace. At any rate, he found himself blinking back tears. He couldn’t respond, so he just pressed his hand against hers and forced himself to stand up.

“I’ll be back,” he promised. “You won’t be alone for long. I’ll see you again soon.”

He hoped.  He prayed.

He resisted the urge to race down the steps, forcing himself to go quietly and listen. But his journey down was simpler, and when he reached the ground floor, he was relieved that there were no staff members smoking outside. He eased open the door, set the rock conveniently in its jamb to hold it open, and sped into the blackness of the forest.

In a few minutes he was at the car, and almost ran into Alex, who was standing by the door waiting.

“Ben. You okay? Rose?”

As quickly as he could, Fish explained the situation. “Dr. Prosser is at the barn and she has the antidote, Digibind, with her. I’m going to do my best to get it. Can you go up to Rose now? Try and get her down if you can and meet me at the barn.”

“No problem, I’m on it,” Alex tossed him the car keys. “You’re going after Prosser? Do you have a weapon?”

“Do you have a gun?” Fish asked, hopefully.

Alex bent down and drew something out from beneath his car seat: his katana, in its black leather sheath.

“No,” Fish said. “It’s not my weapon, and you might need it more than I will. You’ve seen their security guards.”

“Then take my yawara,” Alex said, slipping his katana’s sheath strap easily onto his shoulder and pulling what looked like a small wooden blade out of his pocket. “You can use it as a striking weapon, if you need it.”

 “Hopefully I won’t,” Fish said. “But thanks.” He slid it into his pocket, a poor replacement for his missing gun. “Hurry up to Rose. Meet me here if you can, but only if you think she can stand to be moved. If I don’t see you, I’ll try to get back inside with the antidote. I hope to be back in a half hour. And we’ve got less than two hours to get her help.”

“No problem. Christ be before you, behind you, on all sides of you.”  Alex nodded and melted into the woods before Fish had even turned away.

Hastily, Fish got into the car, jammed the key into the ignition, and turned it. Then he realized that there was an extra pedal on the floor. Alex’s car was a stick shift.

Gritting back the curses that seem to overflow in his mouth, Fish tried to figure out what to do. He didn’t know how to drive stick shift, but it was supposed to be easy. People did it all the time—he had no choice but to do it now. Resisting the urge to tear out his hair, he pressed on the clutch and tried to start the car as quietly as possible.

Suddenly, headlights flashed in his face, and a car roared to a stop right next to him. Trapped in the bushes in a stick shift car, Fish turned to face the enemy.

But the face looking at him through the window was Paul Fester’s.

“Paul?”

“Ben! What’s going on?” There seemed to be a lot of people in the car with Paul.

Suddenly Fish was overcome with suspicion. “Did Alex call you?”

“No,” Paul said. “We called him.”

“Then he should have told you to stay out of this,” Fish started angrily.

“He did, but we came anyway,” Kateri jumped out of the passenger side of the car and came around to Fish. “I know you were arrested, Fish. I called my hospital contact and she told me. And Alex said you had come here.” She stared at him intently. “Tell us what’s going on. We’re not letting you do this alone.”

He knew Kateri well enough to know she was adamant. “Okay,” he said, and suddenly found it hard to speak. “Rose is waking up.”

Kateri and Paul and the other faces stared at him. Kateri started blinking very fast, but her face was stolid.

“The whole thing has been artificial—she’s been put into a fake coma, if not from the very beginning, then from pretty early on. The problem is,” Fish took a deep breath, “The problem is that Dr. Prosser has just overdosed her with Lanoxin which will kill her in less than two hours at this point. But, there is an antidote, Digibind, and I’m going to get it. If you and Alex can get her out of that facility and meet me at the old barn, you could be in loads of legal trouble, but we might be able to save Rose from dying.”

“Do you want any of us to come with you?” Leroy asked.

Fish hesitated. The only person he would trust to be any help on this mission was Paul, but Paul was a paramedic, and Rose would need him. “No,” he said. “I’m doing stealth. I’d better go alone. You guys go to Rose.”

Paul was already getting out of the car. “Where do we go?”

“On the top floor, in the attic. Take the south staircase.”

“Why’s she in the attic?” James asked, getting out of the car.

“Alex will explain. Oh, and take these,” Fish thrust the medical paraphernalia—some syringes, gloves, medicines, and other bottles he had taken from the locked drawers in Rose’s rooms—into Paul’s hands. “Some of it might be the stuff they were drugging her with—maybe you can figure out something to do with it. It’s evidence too, by the way.”

“Great, excellent,” Paul said. “I’ll take care of it.”

Fish was getting out of Alex’s car. “Can I use your car to go to the barn?”

“Sure,” Paul said, and added, “It’s a stick shift,” just as Fish was about to ask.

“Great,” Fish said, running his hands desperately through his hair. “Does anyone else here drive stick?”

“No,” Kateri sighed. Fish looked at the others getting out of the car: James and Leroy, but they were both shaking their heads. Then,

“I can. Drive stick.” A small voice spoke from the back.

It was Donna.

Fish took a deep breath. “Okay,” he said. “Will you drive me? You know I’m a fugitive from the law. It’s not going to look…good on your record.”

Donna swallowed. “I don’t care,” she said in a low voice. “I’ll drive.”

Kateri beamed at her. Pushing back the door with a trembling hand, Donna got into the front seat, and Paul, after pulling something out from behind his seat, gave her the keys.

Noticing that James and Leroy were also carrying long objects in the darkness, Fish said, “Don’t tell me you all brought your swords?”

“Okay, we won’t,” Paul pulled his out of its sheath, and so did James and Leroy. Three silver blades gleamed in the darkness. “But we wouldn’t go to war without them.”

Fish sighed. “Wonderful. Well, I suggest you don’t kill or maim anyone with them or this mess will be worse than it already is, even if we do save Rose.”  He looked at them all for a moment, struck by the fact that, medieval obsession or no, they were willing to jump into this dangerous, unpredictable situation. “Pray for this to work.”

“We already are.” Kateri gave him a quick hug before backing away from the car. “I got a call from Bear. He was looking for you. When I told him you were arrested he said to tell you he was on his way down.”

At least that was good news. “Thanks Kateri.” He turned to Donna. “Okay, let’s get to the barn.”