Severed [GB + SB]

Sixteen: Round Up The Usual Suspects

FRIDAY. Night.

Even if I hadn't known the Sergeant Jasper was an Academy building, I think I would have realized it was, well, odd. It was nice — really nice — like much nicer than I expect groups of guys in their teens and 20s could normally afford, with a marble floor in the lobby and what I'm told is 24-hour monitoring by an attendant behind the giant, polished wood desk, as well as someone watching video feeds in a back room. The floor configuration was weirdly random, and don't even get me started about the elevator. All of it was unexpected for a fourteen story block of brick and cement that squatted on the expanse of asphalt parking lot like a 1950s-era industrial goblin amidst the traditional Charleston neighborhoods.

Kota, Victor, and Nate had an apartment on the seventh floor, and as Kota unlocked and opened the door, I could hear the television — rather loud at that — but hadn't heard anything in the hallway. The door opened onto a short hallway with closets on both sides, then into a big open room with high ceilings. There was space for a dining table on the left then the kitchen, which was separated from the rest of the space by a breakfast bar with four stools. The living room was on the right with a couple windows — higher up on the walls than expected — crowded with a giant L-shaped sofa and recliner positioned in front of the biggest TV I'd ever seen in my life. I didn't even realize they could make TVs that big, and right now it was displaying a warzone in which uniformed men were racing around shooting each other while a mechanical voice droned on in the background that their UAV was now online, and the sexiest ginger I'd ever seen was yelling into his headset about spawn campers. I'm certain he had no idea we were even there, so I motioned for Victor and Kota to stay back, and with a running start I launched myself over the back of the sofa and tackled him.

It was, perhaps, not the best idea I'd ever had.

I forgot Nate was raised in a volatile household with a violently abusive father. I forgot, too, that he was high ranking in several forms of martial arts. Even as I raced across the room towards him, I was drooling over the sculpted muscles of his arms and shoulders on display in his loose basketball jersey, but it didn't occur to me how those muscles would come into play during a sudden surprise attack in the middle of his living room.

First and foremost, he let out a massive bellow of surprise and rage that almost completely drowned out Kota and Victor shouting in the background. I had gotten almost all the way over the back of the couch and was hanging partially onto his back, and he shot forward — dropping his controller and dragging me awkwardly with him — before reaching back over his shoulders to grab me and flip me completely over him. All the breath in my body was knocked out of me in one dramatic whooshing burst as I hit the ground, flat on my back and staring up at him upside down as stars burst behind my eyes and every muscle in my body tried to fight its way out at the same time, all of them bottlenecking up and wrestling with each other with Kung fu grip action. That is to say, I became one big yodeling charley horse of pain as I fought to get breath back in my lungs, and Nate, Victor, and Kota crowded around me with flailing arms and flapping gums but I couldn't hear a damn thing over the pounding rapids of the blood flooding my brain and ears.

It took a good year and a half — eighteen months easily, I'm sure that's accurate — before all the various pieces and parts realigned themselves and I was able to grab onto Nate's arm and stop him from calling 911. I was not quick enough, however, to keep Victor from red-lining Sean, and when I finally sat upright, his phone was thrust in my direction and I could hear the dulcet tones of my sweet southern doctor cajoling me to answer him over the speaker.

"I'm okay, Sean," I finally gasped out, then coughed until my head hurt.

"Sure you are, darlin', that's exactly what Okay sounds like. Take a minute to catch your breath. Will one of you gentlemen fetch our girl some water?" Kota scurried off while Victor continued to hold the phone up at me, and Nate hovered around me on his knees looking helpless and devastated as he kept making moves to reach for me then jerking back as if any contact might do me irreparable harm. After I downed the glass of water Kota brought, I passed him back the glass and grabbed onto Nate's hand, pulling it — and him — up against me. "Better?"