Wes sounded grumpy, which only proved she wasn’t at the top of
her game. Evyn had never seen her disgruntled by anything.
“I’m only in charge by default, Captain,” Evyn said softly. “I set
up that exercise. It’s my fault you went in today. I’m going to see you
make it home, safe and sound.”
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“That’s bullshit. The cable snapped. It was an accident.”
“It could’ve been worse.” Evyn shuddered inwardly. Wes had
been on her way down when she’d reached her. She couldn’t even think
about that without feeling as if pieces of her were going to tear apart
and shatter like glass on the rocks. “No matter what you think, I need to
take care of you right now.”
Wes drew a sharp breath. “I’m not sure how good I’ll be at that—
being the patient, I mean.”
“Not used to being taken care of?”
“Not really, no.”
“No one special?” The silence stretched and Evyn waited for the
shutters to close again. But Wes just searched her eyes, and Evyn was
too tired and worried to hide whatever might show.
“No, no one.”
“Then I guess I’m it tonight,” Evyn said, trying for lightness.
“It might take some getting used to,” Wes said softly. “I might not
be any good at it.”
“I doubt there’s anything you aren’t good at.” Evyn packed her
gear and bagged their wet clothes. She held out her hand to Wes. “Let’s
start practicing and see how you do.”
Wes rose slowly from the bench, wavering ever so slightly. Evyn
slid her arm around Wes’s waist. “Okay?”
“Don’t quite have my land legs yet.” Wes let out an exasperated
sigh and draped her arm over Evyn’s shoulders. “Just give me a
minute.”
“Take all the time you need. We’re not on a schedule tonight.”
Wes’s hand curved around Evyn’s shoulder, the pressure of her
fingers shooting tendrils of excitement through Evyn’s chest. Her heart
hammered and her legs quivered. She braced her muscles, hoping
Wes couldn’t feel her tremble. She planned on taking care of Wes and
nothing more.
“Ready to get out of here?” Evyn asked.
“More than ready.” Wes dropped her arm and stepped away. “I
think I can make it on my own.”
Evyn missed the contact instantly and said casually, “Never
doubted it. Let’s go find a room for the night.”
Wes laughed softly. “More practice?”
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“Uh…hell. You think maybe you could cut me some slack? My
brain is a little numb here.”
“Well, let’s go get you warmed up.”
Wes reached for the door and pushed it open, and Evyn wondered
how the tables had been so neatly turned.
• 157 •
RADCLY fFE
chapter nineteen
The neon sign announcing the Bayside Motel blinked
erratically, illuminating the L-shaped motor court in flashes
of holiday red and green. A mud-spattered black Ford pickup truck
and a low-slung eighties Cadillac convertible with big patches of rust-
colored primer on the fenders were the only vehicles in the gravel lot.
A light burned in the room closest to the road. A hand-painted sign
propped in the streaked window proclaimed “Office.”
“Looks like a hot-sheet motel,” Wes said, laughing softly.
“Cord swears this place is clean and makes decent coffee,” Evyn
said. “That’s all we need, then.” Wes didn’t care where they bunked—
she’d slept in worse places, including a tent in the Afghan mountains.
Compared to that, this rated five stars.
Evyn pulled the rented Jeep into the lot just as the sun went down
and the wind came up. “I’ll run in and register.”
When Evyn pushed open the door, the wind clattering through the
branches of the red oaks surrounding the motel filled the Jeep with a
sound like machine-gun fire. Wes jerked and her stomach lurched. She
had been posted to a field hospital close enough to the front to hear the
firefights ranging in the hills at night, her tent a poor shield against stray
rounds. She’d rarely slept deeply, her body always primed to duck and
cover. Even now, eighteen months later, she instinctively looked for
cover when a car backfired or a door slammed. She hadn’t been this
jittery since she’d returned stateside. The afternoon’s brief unscheduled
swim shouldn’t have thrown her equilibrium off so much—maybe her
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agitation was due to the lingering chill the steaming shower hadn’t
dispersed.
Leaning out the open door, Evyn peered up at the sky. “Cord
said we might get snow, and I think it’s arrived—blowing in fast. You
should stay in the car until I get back. The last thing you need is to get
wet again.”
Wes reached across the seat and grabbed Evyn’s sleeve, stopping
her from climbing out. “You need to stay dry too.” She handed her
North Face jacket to Evyn, who had left the rescue station wearing only
jeans and her T-shirt. “This has got a hood. Go ahead, take it.”
“You sure?”
“The heater’s blasting in here. I’m plenty warm. Plenty hungry
too.”Evyn grinned. “Excellent prognostic sign. What do you think
about pizza? There’s a place across the street, and I doubt we’ll get
anything delivered out here tonight if a storm is coming.”
“Sounds great. Since I already know you’re not a vegetarian, I’ll
take pepperoni.”
“Perfect. Mushrooms?”
“And black olives.”
Evyn nodded approvingly. “Nailed it.”
Wes laughed. “How about beer?”
“Sam Adams if I can’t get any kind of microbrew?”
“You nailed it.”
Laughing, Evyn jumped out, shrugged into Wes’s jacket, and
flipped up the hood. She slammed the door, shoved her hands in her
pockets, and ran through the icy mix of rain and snow, her form briefly
outlined by the headlights before she disappeared into the dark. Wes
watched a few seconds longer, a strange foreboding churning inside
as soon as Evyn vanished from sight. She clasped her hands and put
them between her knees. She wasn’t cold, but her fingers were icy.
She wondered if that was her imagination. The temperature had fallen
rapidly in the face of the approaching storm, but she was used to cold
weather. She shivered and peered into the near-empty lot, a creeping
unease making her twitch.
Evyn had left the headlights on, and the halos from the slanting
beams seemed to be keeping the circle of darkness at bay. She’d never
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RADCLY fFE
been afraid of the dark and didn’t get spooked by unknown terrain.
She was a naval officer and an emergency physician—she was trained
to handle imminent danger. The headlights dimmed and the darkness
drew closer. Her breath came a little faster and a heaviness pervaded
her chest.
She closed her eyes and she was upside down again, swirling in an
endless void that sucked her down into cold, dark silence. Gasping, she
shot up straight and opened her eyes. Outside her fogged window, the
snow fell thicker, a white blanket screening the world from view. She
couldn’t see the motel. She couldn’t see where Evyn had gone. Evyn.
Evyn was solid and real and warm. She fought the urge to get out of the
car and look for her.
“Okay,” Wes whispered aloud, “you know what this is. Fatigue,
residual hypothermic confusion, delayed stress reaction. You’re entitled
to all of it—for an hour or so.”
Cataloging her symptoms helped relieve the pressure in her chest
some. She took a deep breath, heard the faint wheeze of constricted
bronchioles. Evyn was right, she wasn’t fit to fly. She needed to replenish
the fuel she’d burned off while struggling against the killer current. She
needed to sleep. Evyn had to be in nearly the same shape—she’d been
in the water almost as long. And she’d fought the current for both of
them.The car door opened and Wes jumped. Evyn dropped into the seat
beside her.
“Okay,” Evyn said, wiping traces of melting snow from her cheeks
with one hand. “I called over for pizza and they said it would be ready
in fifteen. We can get settled and I’ll run over and get it.”
“Maybe we should forget that,” Wes said, her voice sounding
hoarse and foreign.
Evyn backed the Jeep out of the slot and headed farther into the
lot. The long, low motel came into view again as she coasted forward.
“Why? I thought you were hungry?”
Wes swiped at her forehead. She wasn’t hot, but she was sweating.
She wasn’t cold, but she was shivering. “Sorry. I—”
“What’s going on?” Evyn stopped in front of a green metal door
just barely visible through the falling flakes. A cockeyed 12 made
from white stick-on, glow-in-the-dark numbers identified the room.
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Oath Of hOnOr
She downshifted into neutral and pulled the parking brake, leaving the
lights on. “You okay?”
“Yes—sorry. Just jumpy. Sorry.”
Evyn rested her palm on the back of Wes’s neck. Her fingers
were hot as banked coals. “Nothing unusual. You had a hell of a shock
earlier.”
“So did you. You need to stay warm and eat and—”
“Hey,” Evyn said. “That’s all in the plan, Doc. You can relax.
Really.”
“I know. You’re right. I’ll be fine.” Wes closed her eyes and let
her head fall back into the secure cradle of Evyn’s hand. Evyn’s fingers
glided up and down the muscles on either side of her spine, easing the
tension, sending warmth through her. She sighed. “I don’t think the
weather is going to get any better. We ought to make a run for it.”
“Let me get the door open and you get inside—keep dry,” Evyn
murmured, continuing the gentle massage. “I’ll bring in our gear.”
“I appreciate it, but I can help carry our stuff.”
“This is the part where you practice letting me take care of you.”
A tingle of unease skittered down Wes’s spine—she’d been
looking after her own needs most of her life, and her need for Evyn’s
touch, her presence, made her feel exposed and vulnerable. She didn’t
want Evyn’s attention just because Evyn felt guilty. “None of this is
your fault.”
Evyn frowned. “I suck at connect-the-dots, and I’m missing this
picture.”
“You don’t have to look after me because you feel responsible.”
“Wow. Okay.” Evyn’s hand fell away. “I’ll just let you fend for
yourself, then—and when you finally do collapse—”
Beneath the edge of anger in Evyn’s voice, Wes heard hurt. She
didn’t want to hurt her. She didn’t want the cold distance between them
that had nothing to do with the storm or the dark either. “So maybe that
came out a little wrong. I guess I suck at the being taken care of thing. I
had two little sisters who couldn’t even remember our dad. Things were
harder for them, and my mother had only so much energy to spread
around between the four of us.”
“Okay.” Evyn’s shoulders relaxed and the tightness around her
mouth softened. The red highlights in her hair gleamed against the glow
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RADCLY fFE
of snow cocooning them, an ethereal image that imprinted on Wes’s
brain. She was beautiful—not model perfect but strong and bold.
Wes wanted to erase the last vestiges of wariness in Evyn’s gaze.
She wanted to trace the line of her jaw, but instead she grazed her
fingertips over the back of Evyn’s hand where it rested on Evyn’s knee.
“Can we try that again?”
A moment passed and Wes held her breath. Evyn’s hand turned
over and their fingers entwined.
“How about we get you settled and I’ll go for pizza?” Evyn
asked.The heavy weight crushing Wes’s chest dissolved. Evyn’s hand
was warm and solid. She tightened her hold. “I’d like that.”
v
The day shift had all left hours ago, and the corridor outside the
Level 4 isolation lab was deserted. Her footsteps fell soundlessly on the
white tile floor as she made her way to the airlock at the end of the hall.
She pressed her palm on the identification plate and leaned down for
the retinal scan. The light above the passage flashed from red to green,
and the hydraulic door slid open with a faint whoosh. She stepped into
the UV chamber, the outer door behind her closed, and she slipped
on a pair of protective glasses. When she input her entry code on the
wall panel, a hum accompanied the pulse of UV, and the next door
in the chain opened. She deposited her protective glasses on the shelf
and passed into the inner isolation room, where she methodically went
through the routine of testing her positive pressure protective suit—
sealing the cuffs at ankles and wrists, zipping the neck, and attaching
the air hose to the one-way valve in the center of the back. She twisted
the dial and compressed air flowed in. The pressure on the wall gauge
held steady at 1 atm. No leaks. She closed the inflow valve and opened
the vents along the neck. Air hissed out. She was ready to go to work.
Removing her shoes, she carefully stepped into the bright yellow
suit and, after closing the seals, pulled on the calf-high impervious
rubber boots. She wore no jewelry to work, not even a watch. She’d
only have to remove it—she couldn’t risk any snag or tear that might
violate the PPPS. Even a microscopic rent in the isolation suit could
allow a contagion to enter, where it might be absorbed by her skin or
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Oath Of hOnOr
inhaled into her respiratory system. The biological agents they worked
with inside the BSL-4 lab were either highly transmissible or uniformly
fatal or both. The suit was her only shield.
Once the suit was secure, she covered the fluid-resistant boots
with disposable booties, fit the head shield into place, and pulled on her
gloves. She wasn’t concerned for her safety. She was always prepared
