Chapter 113

ATLANTA, GEORGIA — LATE WEDNESDAY NIGHT

Art Hanes woke. His mouth was dry and he felt extremely lethargic. Struggling, he finally managed to open his eyes. The world swam into focus, but then it kept on swimming. His stomach rebelled.

"I'm gonna..." he croaked as his stomach heaved.

"Easy. I've got you," Sandra said as she put an arm around his head and back, gently raising him forward as she held a small plastic pan under his mouth. There wasn't anything in his stomach, though.

Bobby diluted a dose of Phenergan with 10 cc's of normal saline in a syringe and connected the syringe to the tubing on the IV pump, setting the rate of the secondary for two minutes. "The doctor anticipated the possibility of your nausea and prescribed the Phenergan PRN. The nausea should pass in a moment."

Art didn't know what PRN meant, but he wanted the nausea to stop. When his dry heaves went away, Sandra gave him some mouthwash. After he spit it in the pan, she took the pan to the bathroom where she cleaned it. Coming back with two washcloths, she dipped them in another pan of ice water she had already prepared just in case. Folding one of the cold washcloths, she put it on the agent's throat. Preparing the other washcloth, she gently wiped the sweat off his face. "Do you remember being nauseated when they brought you back from surgery?" she asked.

Art thought for a moment. "Yeah, I think so. I remember telling the nurse how nauseated I was as we came down the hall. I thought I was going to puke before I got to the room. I guess I don't remember much after that."

"Most people will feel nausea after anaesthesia," Sandra offered. "But you went back to sleep and were slow to awaken. You've been out of recovery for about three hours. And before you ask, slow awakening isn't that unusual, particularly with back-to-back operations. You're doing fine."

Hanes realized that his nausea was mostly gone. He could blurrily see the clock on the opposite wall, put there to help orient patients. He squinted, wondering. "It's ten o'clock, right?"

"Yeah," Bobby said, smiling. "A minute after."

"Ten o'clock at night — right?"

"Yep. You nailed it."

"But you work days. Why are you still here?"

Bobby smiled down at him, gently wiping his face again with the damp cloth.

"She wanted to stay until you were awake," Sandra said. But what she thought was: My sister wanted to stay until she knew you were okay.

"I hurt," Hanes whispered. "From the feel of it, they wound up doing both of them, huh?"

Sandra looked at her sister, then answered, "Yeah. Do you remember the surgeon telling you that if you did well with the hip, he would go ahead and do your shoulder?"

"Yeah, I remember."

"All done in one long afternoon. But the surgeon said — with time — you'll walk without a limp, and the shoulder will be as good as new."

Bobby gently squeezed his good arm. "He stressed 'with time and a lot of therapy.'"

"Do you remember the surgeon coming in to talk to you right after you got back from surgery?"

Art started to shake his head, but his left shoulder didn't like that one bit. Instead, "No. I remember him talking to me before the surgery, but only vaguely the other time."

"No matter," Sandra continued. "He'll be back in the morning to check on you, and he'll talk to you then. And again, it's the amnesiac effects of the medication they used to keep you under while they operated. It's normal. In a week, you probably won't remember much about this day at all."

She doubted if Art heard her, though, because he had drifted asleep again, but this time it was normal sleep, and not due totally to the effects of the anesthesia.

"Go home, Sis," Sandra told her sister. "You're not going to get much sleep as it is. You know I'll take care of him."

"Yeah, I know. But I brought an overnight bag, and one for you, plus a clean uniform in case you decide to use the room tomorrow. I've already paid for a room in the motel. I'll probably call you to check on him later tonight, if I wake up." There was a hesitation as the pretty nurse frowned. "He's doing fine and the doctor will probably move him to a regular room tomorrow." Then quietly, "I'm so glad he's doing okay, but I hate to see him go..."

(Note: Most large hospitals have a "motel" in the hospital where a patient's family members can rent a room in order to stay close to a critical patient.)

Unshed tears sparkled the eyes of both young women as they hugged each other. "We'll have a talk with the floor nurses. Those bitches better take good care of him," Sandra said with a lump in her throat.

"Yeah," Bobby agreed, "and I'll be right there with you for that talk."

The agent guarding Hanes heard what the two nurses said. Walking out of the unit, he took out his cell and dialed.

"Grigsby."

"Sir, this is Stevens. There's something I think you should know."

"Mmmeeeooww. Mmmeeeooww. Mmmeeeooww. Mmmeeeooww. Mmmeeeooww. Mmmeeeooww. Mmmeeeooww..."

Selina managed to awaken enough to fumble the lights on with the remote. She groggily pushed herself to a sitting position. Leaning over the side of the bed, she looked down at her kitten. She had moved the kennel closer when Billy had first started crying at bedtime.

"What is wrong with you?" she grouchily mumbled. "You have milk and food."

The kitten launched himself at the bars on the side of the cage. Using the cross pieces, he climbed the short distance to the top, then hung suspended upside down, mewling almost continuously.

"I cannot sleep, Billy. This is not acceptable behavior."

The kitten dropped to the floor of the cage and looked up at her, then wailed with the most pitiful sound she had ever heard. "Oh, all right," the six-year-old muttered, sliding off the bed and opening the cage.

The kitten pranced out, sat, licked his paw and looked up at her.

Staring down at him, "I am very fatigued. I must have rest. Your behavior is not conducive to that."

Billy looked up at her, then galloped to the foot of the bed. Jumping up the short distance, he sank his claws into the comforter and clambered up the bed. Looking back at Selina, he sat to lick his paws.

"Okay Billy," Selina said, barely managing to keep herself awake long enough to get back into bed, turn the lights down and pull the sheet up. "You had better not pee on my bed. Diana will be displeased, and you will be also when you get your spanking."

"Mmeeow," the kitten quietly returned as he crawled under the sheet and curled up on Selina's chest. The vibration of his purr only deepened the child's sleep.

4:00 A.M. THURSDAY MORNING

"Good morning, Lieutenant," Jeff said as he turned onto the county road at the foot of his driveway.

Lieutenant Mayfield, dressed similarly to Jeff, matched his superior's stride as the two runners started down the road. Jeff estimated their pace to be something near an eight minute mile as he held back for the Lieutenant.

"I have screws in my shoes now," Mayfield chuckled, "and I'm in decent shape. I can hold this pace, or a little better, for five miles. After that, you're on your own. I realize you can run much faster, so if you..."

Jeff chuckled and said, "Nice to have someone to run with. Watch out for the lower side of the road in the first curve, though. That inch or so of snow we got last night will cover the big icy spot that tends to stay there. I almost busted my ass the other morning, screws in my shoes or not.

"How are our weapon installations coming along?" the Prime asked. Jeff's body had already shifted into FFA, but the Lieutenant's had not yet reached that point.

(Note: Remember that FFA, Free Fatty Acid metabolism, is a state a runner reaches where his/her breathing is easier, and thinking becomes clearer.)

Mayfield took a couple of deep breaths in order to speak. "So far, so good. If everything goes well, they should finish up today. Tracking with your new radar looks good. As you well know, since you're the inventor, incoming planes have no way to realize they have been detected, let alone locked onto by our weapons." A couple more deep breaths, and he continued with, "Somebody comes in here hot, they're going to be toast before they even realize they're in trouble."

Jeff didn't say anything for a moment, not wanting to appear to gloat about being able to talk as they ran, when the Lieutenant's body had not yet shifted. A little later, Jeff could see that Mayfield was no longer struggling and his breathing was coming easier.

"The first three miles are always the hardest," Mayfield said, fully realizing that Jeff was being easy on him.

"Yeah, but that last mile was a bitch the morning I met the grizzly," Jeff returned, chuckling.

"I heard about that. How in the hell did you kill a grizzly with one shot from a .45?"

Jeff looked over at Mayfield and laughed. "It's called luck. Just pure fucking dumb luck. Either that, or the Good Lord wasn't ready for me just then. Take your pick."

A little later, Mayfield told his Colonel to have a good run, then moved to the side and caught a ride with the next security vehicle.

"Looking good, Lieutenant," Carter said when they were rolling again.

"I'm just about fucking dead," Mayfield gasped out, leaning forward in his seat as he attempted to relieve the pain in his side.

Carter chuckled and handed the Lieutenant a bottle of water. "Hell, I would be. Those last three miles were at a six minute pace. That would kill my ass."

"Six minute?"

"Yeah, the first two miles were at an eight minute pace, then the next three were at a six minute one."

"Fuck," Mayfield, mumbled. "The Colonel suckered me. He must have gradually sped up without my realizing it. I can run one mile in six minutes, but I've never run three consecutive ones at that pace. Of course, it was going downhill, but still..."

"He's back to his usual four minute mile," Carter offered. "Hmmm, maybe a little better than that."

"Fuck," Mayfield said. "Fuck."

Jeff sat at the head of the table, his breakfast almost finished. He raised the cup of coffee — his third one — to his mouth, but just sat there looking around. Several conversations were going on at the same time. Dave laughed out as he and Evie joked about something, then she poked him in the ribs with a finger. Diana and Arlene were in a deep discussion, as were Laura and Helen. There was a titter of laughter from Nat, Nicki, and Whitney. Kayla caught Jeff's eye and smiled at him.

Jeff took a sip of the coffee, then with his elbows on the table, he held the cup with both hands, just looking over it at his family. It's odd to think that a few short months ago there were only Diana, Arlene and I sitting in here for breakfast. I was seriously thinking about divorcing my wife because of what she did with that bastard, Jack. My daughter — now my wife — gave herself to me to get my mind back on track. We've had so many things happen to us in such a short period of time. Helen had a heart attack. I almost bought the farm from a damn bear. Arlene nearly died from that asshole's bullet. I screwed up by letting those bastards get into our home, but we've all lived through it, despite my fuckup. I have nine wives and more "standing in the wings" as Diana puts it.

Now we have Hope with us, and a few minutes ago she walked up beside me as we both got scrambled eggs from the steam table. I could almost feel how tense she was, but she approached me; I was already there. She's trying, and with all the poor kid has been through, it's a wonder she's sane.

Having thought that, he unconsciously glanced toward Hope, only to realize that she was looking at him. When she saw him looking back at her, she dipped her head and concentrated on her plate, but he noticed a slight flush on her face. He wasn't sure what that meant, though. Did I embarrass her, or was eye contact with a man the reason for the blush? I would love to know what's on her mind. His eyes shifted to Diana, who grinned and winked as if she knew what he was thinking. What's going on with her? She has that look on her face.

Diana's eyes shifted to Kayla, then Susan. His Queen tapped her wedding band, her eyes sparkling. Oh, I know what she's going to do, Jeff thought. Kayla and Susan got up to come stand on either side of their Prime. Each leaned down and tenderly kissed him.

Diana stood at the other end of the table, gently hitting her glass with a spoon. "I have an announcement everyone." Conversations instantly stopped. "Saturday night, Susan and Kayla will join with us in marriage, provided that Fred and his family make it back in time. If not, then we'll have the wedding as soon as they do. I spoke with Carla last night and she told me they were headed home, and asked if we could wait on the weddings until they could get here."

Everyone seemed happy, laughing and kidding, but Nat, Nicki and Whitney, although they joined in the congratulations, were blushing deeply.

A little later, Jeff and the Alphas had adjourned to the living room, and the women had cleaned up the kitchen. Joyce had headed for bed. Caitlin and Alesha had left for work. As the other women were leaving the kitchen, Diana touched Nat on the arm. "Would you three stay for a few minutes?" she asked.

The Queen sat at the table, but on the side rather than her usual place at the end. The three girls sat near her. "You don't have to explain to us..." Nicki started

"We discussed this yesterday, girls. Like I said before, I'm aware that in a way, you have been around Jeff about as long as Kayla. However, Kayla had seen him at the base long before you three came on the scene, but as she told us, she wasn't part of his team, and only saw him in passing. However, she fell in love with him as she studied his tactics and watched his videos. And ... she was with him when he and his team came to deal with Doctor Ingles, and wound up rescuing you three. But remember, Susan is my mother and has known Jeff since I was thirteen. Plus ... he wants to give you three more time so you don't rush into this..."

"We don't need any more time," Nat said, indignantly.

"And you know that we love him," Nicki added.

"And he's our Prime. No way are we going to change our minds," Whitney finished.

Diana knew they were right. She doubted that Jeff had consciously used his pheromones, but the girls had been in close contact with him, repeatedly; had kissed him numerous times, and he had licked all three of them unconscious time and again. They were irrevocably hooked — well pleased with being hooked — but hooked, nonetheless. However, Jeff wanted to wait, and waiting was going to hurt their feelings; was, already hurting their feelings.

The girls had tears in their eyes. "It's not fair," Nicki managed to get out. "Why does he want to wait? We're not as pretty as all of you are ... but we love him, and he said he loved us, too," she finished as her eyes overflowed and tears ran down her cheeks.

Now all three girls were openly crying.

"What do you mean you're not pretty? That's ridiculous. Remember, you were kidnapped to sell because of your beauty. You three are just as pretty as any of us here. Plus you have youth on your side. Think about Helen, Laura and me. Laura and I are almost twice your ages, and Helen is more than that. Only because of Little One do we look so young. It's hard..."

Nat broke in with, "No one is as pretty as you, Diana. No one. Our youth is working against us; not for us. But we're practically the same age as Jeff's younger wives. This hurts," she finished.

Diana sighed, then hugged each girl in turn. "I'll go talk to Jeff. You guys find something to do. I'll call you after we discuss this, but remember, he's my Prime, too. And ... I've already told him you don't want to wait, but he is bothered that you are going from a rescue to marrying the one who rescued you. I guess he's worried about hero worship or something similar. He wants to make sure you know what you're doing."

"We know," Nicki said. "He's told us the same thing, but our love isn't hero worship. We love him and want to be his wives before he gets so many we won't have a bed big enough to hold us all."