Storm ignored Sol’s comments, not even bothering with the courtesy of a glance in his direction and continued rearranging the mess as gently as possible. Whatever it was, it was hurt. Badly. It groaned and whimpered in pain with every touch or movement, opening and closing its mouth in agony. It needed help. It had asked for help when it reached out to him and it was neither Storm’s style nor job description to stand around debating precautions and policy when someone, or some thing, was in desperate need of assistance.
“Call the infirmary. Get them ready for an incoming emergency.” He said it calmly, but the teammates who knew him so well heard the underlying resolve.
Ram started toward the wall phone.
“Ignore that!” The older man said more forcefully. He was starting to sound exasperated and was glaring at Storm. “Are you not hearing me?” He wheeled on Ram, “Hawking, don’t you move another step!”
Ram hesitated for two seconds, looking back and forth between Storm and Sol, before saying to the older man, “Sorry. You know we do no’ do orders.”
“I’m not joking!” Sol gaped at him. “Two minutes ago you were voting to kill it now.”
Ram looked over his shoulder and shrugged as he punched in the infirmary code. “Stormy’s call.”
Engel Storm was six feet four with shoulders as wide as a doorway, but he still struggled to get to his feet with the thing in his arms. It was heavier than it looked. A lot heavier. Plus all the blood and oozing made it slippery. On top of that his sympathetic nature made him wince internally every time it tried to cry out in pain.
Seeing that Storm needed assistance, Kay had squatted down on the other side of it to help with the lifting. He pinned Storm with a pointed look and lowered his voice. “Might be better to have them send a gurney. You could be causing more damage.” He looked down at the unidentifiable mass. “If that’s possible.”
Storm shook his head to get dark locks away from his eyes and turned that familiar, piercing, no nonsense gaze on his friend. “No time.”
Kay nodded and tried to help lift the whatever-it-was so that Storm could get a good enough grip to carry. “Hope you know what you’re doing.”
Once Storm and Kay had it up and balanced in Storm’s arms, the thing’s head lolled onto his chest and stayed there. He walked as fast as he could. The infirmary wasn’t far, but he was carrying what felt like his own weight. Fluids were leaking so fast that rivulets were running down his pants, onto his boots and under the soles, making for slick footing. A couple of times he had to jerk an upright correction to keep from going into a skid on the polished marble flooring.
He was breathing heavy, but speaking quiet assurances, words of encouragement delivered in short sentences. “Hang in there now. It’ll be okay. We’re almost there. Almost there.”
Ram and Kay, passing him on either side, went ahead, crashing through the infirmary double doors a second before he arrived. “Where do you want us?” Ram shouted at the med staff that ran to meet them.
Within seconds the med team had taken Storm’s burden and moved it onto a gurney. The team hustled toward the operating theater firing questions about the nature of the injury on the way. Then the three remaining members of B Team found themselves standing side by side staring at the blank side of a door.
Ram looked at his teammates. “What the f**k just happened?”
“I guess they’re pretty good at their job. At least they’re fast,” said Kay.
Ram nudged Storm on the shoulder. “Stormy. Good call. Let’s go get a drink.”
Kay snorted. “Is there ever a time you don’t want to get a drink?”
Ram looked thoughtful as if he was trying to formulate a serious answer to that question.
Kay just shook his head, smiling: “Never mind. You can’t help being Irish, but sometimes I think it’s your answer to the meaning of life.”
The two started away. Looking down at the front of his clothes, Kay realized he was wearing a lot of gore. “We might want to grab a shower and a change first.”
After a few steps they noticed Storm hadn’t moved. “You coming?” He continued to stand motionless, looking at the closed door. Kay eased back to Storm’s side and spoke in hushed tones. “Hey. What’s up? You’ve seen stranger stuff than this.”
Ram had come up on the other side. “Lots stranger.”
Storm blinked and looked down at the bloody mess that used to be his clothes. “These are gonna have to be burned.”
“Yeah. Probably. Let’s get cleaned up and grab a whiskey.” Kay nodded and glanced at Ram like he was projecting telepathically. He was thinking they’d been through a lot and that it might be showing on Storm.
Storm looked at Kay and focused in. He could see that, from their point of view, this would appear to be odd behavior. Truth told, he had been trying to cover up a little depression since Lan’s death. Intellectually he knew he wasn’t responsible, but his heart wasn’t in complete agreement.
“Thanks for the back up.” He looked between Kay and Ram and even managed a little smile.
Kay raised an eyebrow that said, "I’m not buyin’ it", but let it pass. He was a couple of inches taller than Storm, with sandy brown hair that streaked blond in summer and Northmen blue eyes. He was a poster child for split personality. At times such as these he was the essence of reason, the counsel you would seek if your life depended on good advice.
Then, there was the other side. Kay was a full blooded berserker from a legendary line that had immigrated to south Texas in the late nineteenth century and settled there. His name was actually Chaos Caelian. When he first landed on B Team, Ram started calling him Sir Kay, after the round table knight who was King Arthur’s foster brother, thinking the play on words was pretty funny. Ram had a talent for keeping himself entertained. It caught on. Pretty soon everybody else was calling him Kay and it stuck.