Red Cicada, page 4
“Why?”
He paused again for a long time, continuing to gaze across the lake. “Sometimes we’re faced with decisions that don’t seem fair. I did things I’m not proud of.” Lana was going to ask what he meant, but he continued softly. “I love it here. I wish we could stay.”
“Me too. I have some nice friends on our street. And I love all the times you teach me stuff about the forest and nature. Can we go sailing again before school starts?”
His eyes took on a worrisome sheen. “No, sweetheart. We have to move again. I think they’re getting close.”
Chapter 6
Fort Collins, Colorado, July 2011
“Miss Baker?” a man’s voice asked, pulling Lana from her dream. “Excuse me, Miss Baker, I need to ask you some questions. Are you awake, ma’am?”
“I am now,” she said, stretching and squinting against the room lights. She had no recollection of having fallen asleep.
Her vision quickly focused on a handsome man in a well-fitting army uniform. He was in his early thirties, was fit, and had a strong jawline and rich brown eyes. The single silver bar on each collar point indicated he was a first lieutenant.
“Sorry to disturb you, ma’am,” he said, tucking his hat under an arm.
“That’s okay,” she said, struggling to sit up. “I was just napping.”
The officer quickly set his hat on the bed stand and aligned his upper frame with hers. Placing his head next to hers, he said, “Hold on to my shoulders.”
Cloves? Bay rum? Lana could swear she smelled a hint of some manly spice she couldn’t identify. She reached up and clasped his shoulders as best she could. Not surprisingly, they felt exceptionally solid. The officer straightened, easily lifting her into a sitting position.
“Thank you, Lieutenant . . . ?”
“Kipling. Lance Kipling.”
“Thank you, Lt. Kipling,” she said, pushing the button to raise her bed to support her back. “What time is it anyway?”
“Twelve thirty, ma’am.”
“Please tell me that’s p.m.”
“Of course, ma’am. Otherwise it’d be 0:30.” His tone indicated his answer was more forthright than condescending. She found his military exactness over-the-top.
Adjusting her hospital gown while trying not to sound overly eager, she asked, “So what can I do for you, Lieutenant?”
“I need to ask you a few questions, if I may.”
“Shoot.”
“Your father’s name was Deacon Baker?”
“Yes. And my mom’s was Natalie Berthelsen Baker.”
He flashed a curious smile. “What can you tell me about the object in your head, ma’am?”
Lana’s brows knit. “How do you know about that?”
“Please just tell me what you know.”
“Nothing. I wish I had information to share with you, Lieutenant, but I just learned of its existence myself.”
His head tilted to one side. “You mean you didn’t know it was there?”
“Nope.”
“Has anyone tried to remove it?”
“No. My doctor made an incision to look at it but decided against removing it too hastily.”
“An excellent decision. May I see it, please?”
She shook her head. “Dr. Perkes already stitched up the site,” she said, gingerly touching the area at the back of her head. “But she probably still has a picture of it on her phone if you need to see it right away.”
“I do. I understand it has the words Krasnaya Tsikada on it.”
“Perhaps,” she said with a shrug. “I don’t speak Russian, so I don’t know. Dr. Perkes says the letters spell out Red Cicada.”
His eyes narrowed. “May I ask how she knew that?”
“She looked it up on Google Translate when she saw the Russian letters.”
“Cyrillic.”
“Yeah, those. May I ask how you know what it says when you haven’t even seen it?”
The lieutenant’s questioning gaze faltered. “It’s classified, ma’am.”
“Huh. Well, it also had the number nineteen after the words, if that means anything.”
Lt. Kipling raised his eyebrows but said nothing.
“Do you know what it means?”
“No, ma’am. Not yet.”
“May I ask why you’re interested in it? Is it because it’s Russian?”
“Again, it’s classified.”
She rolled her eyes. “Please don’t give me that overused Hollywood answer, Lieutenant. Since it’s in my skull, I have a right to know.”
“All I can tell you is that the military is very concerned about it. For your own safety.” His tone was firm but not harsh. Almost apologetic. She sensed his military stiffness was merely a facade, that he was naturally curious while being cautious. When he’d said it was for her own safety, she felt genuine concern from him.
“What branch of the army do you work for?”
“Intelligence. Special investigations. I basically go over cold-case files of unique interest.”
“I see,” she said, although she really didn’t.
Frustration churned in Lana’s core, but she kept it down. She sincerely wanted to help the guy. She knew the importance of military secrets, and she had no reason to not trust him. In fact, because her dad was a former marine, she had a special place in her heart for all branches of the service. But she still wondered how Kipling had identified the disk when she’d barely learned about it herself. Knowing arguing would get her nowhere, she decided to change tack.
“Kipling. Any relation to the English writer?”
“Not that I know of, Miss Baker.”
“Please, call me Lana.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Lana huffed playfully. Some people would be irritated by his formal stance, including her. But her current mood was actually pretty good, bordering on happy—although she couldn’t explain why. Perhaps it was the medicines the doctor had given her or the restorative nap she’d had. Maybe it had something to do with the officer’s good looks and formal manner that bordered on being campy. Or perhaps it was simply because she felt headache-free for the first time in weeks. Months, even.
“Honestly, Lt. Kipling, I know nothing about the disk in my skull. But you’re welcome to have it the minute Dr. Perkes removes it.”
He cleared his throat. “Dr. Perkes won’t be removing it. We have a military surgeon en route now. Once he determines the stability of the unit, we’ll be moving you to the 21st Medical Group at Peterson Air Force Base. He’ll remove the unit there.”
Lana frowned. “Why?”
“I can’t say.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
The officer favored her with a gentle smile but no words. As nice as his smile was, she was rapidly tiring of his stubbornness.
“Why do you call the disk a ‘unit’?”
“I can’t say.”
“Fine. Have you discussed this with Dr. Perkes?”
“There’s nothing to discuss.”
His tiresome manner quickly inflamed her ire. What right did he have to make such decisions? She wasn’t a member of the military. He had no authority over her. “Perhaps I should call my lawyer first,” Lana mused aloud.
“That would be unwise,” Lt. Kipling said, glancing around, giving the room a quick once-over, as if searching for something.
“Why?”
Returning to her bedside, he leaned toward her and whispered, “The fewer people who know about the disk, the better.”
“Okay, but I still don’t understand why Dr. Perkes can’t just remove it and then give it to you.”
He glanced around again, then whispered, “Because trying to remove the disk may prove fatal.”
“Fatal? As in, it might kill me?” Lana cried. “There’s no telling how long this thing’s been in my head—and you’re saying it could have killed me all this time?”
“I said it may,” Lt. Kipling clarified. “It’s not likely to do any harm if left alone. But an attempt to remove it may trigger something. Even so, I wouldn’t worry.”
“But you just said—” She checked her knee-jerk retort. Lana glared at the young officer, not knowing whether she should laugh or scream. Steeling herself, she said, “Lt. Kipling, you seem to know a lot more about this stupid disk—or this unit—than I do. Since I now know it’s potentially dangerous, I would appreciate more elucidation than ‘it’s classified’ because, frankly, I am worried.”
The lieutenant picked up his hat and inched his fingers along the sweatband, studiously avoiding Lana’s insistent glare. After a moment of silence, he removed a business card from his breast pocket and set it on her bedside tray. “If anything comes up, please give me a call. Until then, don’t tell anyone about this—not even your doctor. Please. It’s for your own safety, Lana.”
“Shouldn’t she know it might kill me?”
“No—since she won’t be the one removing it.”
Although she was still angry about being kept in the dark, Lana couldn’t be mad at the lieutenant’s sincerity. He was just doing his job. Trust him, she told herself. “Fine. Thank you for your concern, Lt. Kipling.”
He donned his hat and gave a nod. “Thank you, Miss Baker. I’ll be back soon.”
As Lt. Kipling exited the room, Camry entered, nearly colliding with his six-three frame.
“Whoa,” Camry said mischievously. “Who planted a tree here?”
“My apologies, ma’am,” Lt. Kipling said, touching the rim of his hat.
Camry stepped to one side and ogled the young lieutenant as he walked down the hall. When she turned back, her mouth gaped open and her eyes were the widest Lana had ever seen.
“Oh! My! Good! Glory! He smelled good enough to gobble up. Did you check out that prime specimen of USDA choice American military pride?”
“Lt. Kipling is good-looking,” Lana said patiently. “Yes, I noticed.”
“Are you blind? He’s Lt. McDreamy. He’s all that and a bag of chips. He’s the whole nine yards plus a couple of feet. On a scale from one to ten, he’s a twelve. Hey, do you think if I told him he has a great body, he’d hold it against me—literally?”
“Geez, Camry. I get it. You’re in lust.” Lana chuckled.
“Looks like you got your handsome prince after all. So what did Lt. Luscious want with you, anyway? Did he ask you out?”
“Sort of,” Lana said with a grimace. “He said the military wants to do the disk removal at a military hospital.”
“How come?”
Lana lowered her eyes. “I’m not supposed to say.”
Camry sat on the edge of the bed and grabbed Lana’s wrist. “Now you gotta tell me.”
“No, seriously. Lt. Kipling said it’s a matter of national security. He said the disk could be . . . extra sensitive.”
Camry shook her head and gawked at her friend. “I knew you were exceptional when you first came here, but not this exceptional. This is the coolest thing I’ve ever heard of.”
Lana huffed. “I wish I shared your enthusiasm. Frankly, I’m scared to death.”
“Oh, I am too. But you gotta admit it is cool—well, creepy, but cool, you know?”
Lana fought back tears as she pulled her arm away from her friend’s grip. “No, it’s not. Honestly, I have no idea how the disk got into my skull. I’ve been hashing it out in my mind, but there’s just no time I can recall when it could’ve happened. I was sure my dad would have told me about it if he’d known, but I also don’t see how it’s possible for him not to have been aware of it—which makes me wonder if he was.”
“Do you think he was?”
“I don’t know. Surely he would’ve told me—especially since it’s dangerous.”
“What?” Camry cried. “Dangerous how? Is it like a bomb or something?”
“Oops. I shouldn’t have said that. Please don’t say anything to anyone. I could get into a lot of trouble.”
“Hey, we’re BFFs, right? Your secrets are my secrets, and vice versa. Remember when I told you about that loser Tinder date I had?”
“No,” Lana snapped angrily. Her tolerance for Camry’s adolescent tendencies suddenly switched to intolerance. “This isn’t some spontaneous fling or one of your stupid guy games. You don’t understand. I have a dangerous disk in my skull. It needs to come out. If the military knows about it, who else does?”
Camry looked hurt. “Well, how was I to know?”
“Try listening,” Lana grumbled.
Camry stood and put her fists on her hips. “I do listen. And I do care. The very fact that I’m here on my lunch break should prove that. Has anyone else from work stopped by? No. So cut me some slack.”
Lana felt bad for offending her coworker, but Camry just didn’t grasp the seriousness of the situation. “I’m sorry, Cams. I shouldn’t have snapped. But I’m scared. I just want this to be over.”
Camry stared hard at her and gave a quick nod. “I’d better get back to work.”
“Okay,” Lana said. “I’ll let you know what I can when Lt. Kipling returns.”
Camry drew a quick breath, and her hostility instantly vanished. She pulled a slip of paper from her purse and scribbled on it. Handing it to Lana, she said, “You give that tasty slice of all-American pie my number. If he needs to interrogate me, I’m always available.”
Lana rolled her eyes. “If you’re that smitten, here,” she said, picking up the lieutenant’s business card. “This has all his info.”
Camry looked like a child on Christmas morning. “You’re the best BFF who ever BFF’ed.”
Lana grimaced, knowing she would mull over the correctness of that sentence for way too long.
* * *
An hour later, a hospital employee came in pushing a wheelchair. The man was older—perhaps almost fifty—but he had a warm smile and an easy manner.
“Good morning, Miss Baker,” he said lightly. “Are you ready for your X-ray?”
Lana had almost dozed off again, and her head felt a bit foggy. “You mean my MRI? I thought that’d been cancelled.”
The man smiled genially. “Your MRI was cancelled. The doctor scheduled second CT.” He seemed friendly enough, but his words were clipped, as if he struggled to suppress an accent.
“But I was scheduled for exploratory surgery tomorrow. Why wasn’t I told about a second CT?”
“Paperwork mess-up,” he said, aligning the wheelchair beside her bed.
“Where’s Dr. Perkes?”
“Waiting in X-ray,” he said, offering his hand to help her into the wheelchair. “The doctor needs second scan for accuracy.”
That made sense. She took his hand and let him guide her into the chair. As he squatted to adjust the foot supports, she read his name badge: Peter Anders.
“Do I detect a slight accent, Peter? Where are you from?”
He gave a look of embarrassment. “My English is not good?”
“Oh no. Your English is fine. I just thought I heard a vowel tone that’s not from this area, is all.”
“I was born in Europe,” he said with a tone of finality, indicating he didn’t want to talk about it. Lana understood the preference to keep to himself. But this new scan was unexpected, and she had questions about that.
Anders stood and secured Velcro straps, binding her legs and arms.
“What’s that for?” she blurted, immediately hating the lack of control the straps imposed.
“Insurance, so you not fall.”
“Seriously?”
“Silly, yes? A hospital regulation.”
She forced a smile, figuring the mandate was because she had fainted and had a massive seizure two days ago.
Peter Anders moved her IV bag to a pole on the wheelchair. “If the corridor light is too bright, close your eyes and lower your head. Bright light triggers headaches, yes?”
“Okay, thanks,” Lana said, appreciative of his concern. There was an awkward moment of silence as Lana waited for him to continue their conversation, as most orderlies did. When he remained silent, she asked, “So . . . have you worked here long?”
“Not long. I was notified about you only yesterday.”
That was a funny way to put it. He wheeled her into the hallway, and she closed her eyes.
“Are you an expert in migraines?” she said.
“Not so much migraines.”
“Are you a doctor?”
“A specialist.”
Guessing Anders was simply not much into small talk, Lana tried to relax and enjoy the smooth motion of the wheelchair. She focused on memories of Lake Julia, but the images were elusive, fleeting.
They stopped, and she heard the ding of an elevator chime. She felt herself being turned around and backed into the cab. When the doors closed, she opened her eyes. Anders was standing behind her. No one else occupied the space. The silence felt strange; it engendered a feeling of dread in her chest, but she didn’t know why. Did the hospital request the second CT scan, or did the military? Dr. Perkes had seemed pretty determined to simply go in and remove the disk. Why the change without letting her know?
Lana glanced up at the floor-indicator lights. Apparently, she’d been on the third floor. She then noticed that Anders had pressed the destination button for the lower parking area.
“Radiology is in the basement?” Lana asked in a nervous chuckle.
“It is shortcut.”
Something wasn’t right. “I want to talk to Dr. Perkes, please.”
“She is in radiology.”
Lana struggled against the Velcro tethers. It spooked her that she couldn’t move. “I’ve changed my mind. I want to go back to my room.”
“No.”
“Why not?” she shot back, her angst rising exponentially.
“We may not get another chance.”
“Another chance for what?”
