The Eruption of Mountgomery

Chapter 42

I could hear the door as it creaked open, the sound of boots echoing off the polished tiled floor. There was a subtle squeak of the boots against the tile as the figure maneuvered his way from the door, near a chair and to my right side of the bed. I could hear his breathing, listened to the heart rate monitor blip rhythmically and it mingled with his breathing. For a moment, he stood still, I knew his back was to me, there was that heavy yet muffled thump of his jacket into the chair. He straightened abruptly; a whistle of the wind caused the hotel to quiver under its force. He spun on his heel, a boot accidentally squeaking as he shifted. He took a step and halted at my bedside, his hand hesitantly hovering over my own as he knelt beside me. He took my hand and brushed his lips to the back of my hand. His head turned to meet the pixelated screen of the heart rate monitor, frowning when there was no change. His words barely reached above a whisper.

"Blaise, I am not leaving you. I don't care about them—about their requirements. I care about you—please. If you can hear me—"

"She's not going to wake." The door slammed abruptly, and my heart thumped loudly within my chest. The heart rate monitor, however, did not show that. I cringed when I heard the voice, when I could hear the arrogance drip from the words that he had spoken. "She's in a coma. She has no family to consent to pulling the plug."

"Sir, with all due respect, you are the Attorney General, but I have evidence that corroborates her presence to Miss Montgomery's cause of the coma. You cannot dictate whether she lives or dies. Coma patients can come out of it." His hand rested upon my wrist, his fingertip swirling calming patterns just above the veins that are visible on the underside of your wrist.

"Oh? And who is she?"

"Skyler Turner."

"Are you not in a relationship with her?"

"If I were, it would be a severe conflict of interest. However, sir, my tenure with the FBI is over. I did not kill Caleb Jones in cold blood."

"That's not what Turner informed me."

Nero's eyes darkened significantly, and his hand tightened around my own. He rose to his feet but refused to release his hand upon my own. That whistle of the wind turned into a thunderous growl. He was going to lose it. I had to do something—something to bring him out. I still couldn't speak. I couldn't move my lips and even if I wanted to, I doubted sound would come out. There was that subtle crackle and pop of the magma within my veins. My finger twitched slightly, his hand twitched over mine and his hand lost its grasp upon my own. He hissed out and glared at me. I could feel his eyes upon me, his eyebrows furrowed in mild shock and irritation.

"We are building a case against her, sir. This is a state-driven case. You have no jurisdiction over it. I do not answer to you. Now would you kindly leave?"

The Attorney General nodded, and Nero watched as he exited the room, the door clicking shut. Nero sprinted to the door and locked it. Placing his back to the door, he stared at me. "Are you awake? Can you move your hands? Can you move something?"

The aroma of disinfectants within the room intermingled slowly with the subtle aroma of his cologne. I laid there motionless; my heart rate monitor continued to slowly blip through the mountain-like silence. He leaned his head against the smooth lightly-painted door and banged it. "Please, Blaise. Do something. I know sorry won't--" 

My hand twitched again. He narrowed his eyes for a few seconds before raising his hands and pressing his palms into them as if holding back the tears that were going to spill from his tear ducts. However, a chorus of four-letter words exploded from his lips as he sauntered back toward me. Gripping the edge of the bed on my left side, he glared down at me. The rage simmered; he was smiling. 

"Was it you? Please, you are probably in a lot of pain. Why did you--" 

My hand twitched once more. Please. God, I cannot open my eyes. It was like they were glued shut. Panic settled back within the pit of my stomach and his head snapped up glaring at the heart-rate monitor. It squealed rapidly just as his hand gripped mine tightly. However, he pulled his hand back wincing at the heat radiating from my hands. 

"Jade, come out of it. Please. I have no idea how much longer I can continue--" His radio crackled to life. He murmured the words cannot handle it. Will not handle it then tossed the radio into the nest that his jacket made. "Jade, you cannot continue living this hellish lie. I know you're scared--" He gripped my hand, refusing to let it go. The heat, by this point, was screaming. My blood was boiling, roiling, trying to ooze out of my veins. No longer could I hear--his voice had garbled as if I were under water. Beyond my vision, within the undying darkness, I could see him--could see him emerge from that blue Jeep, I recognized easily. However, it faded into the abyss, his words returned. 

"Blaise, I know you're awake. Try to open your eyes. I must go now." 

His footsteps shuffled toward his coat and just as he slipped his jacket back on, the door flew open. He stiffened as the words greeted his eardrums. Nero's footsteps slowly stalked toward the door and asked, "Keep an eye on her--her hand twitched three or four times. If she does wake up, I will have an officer I trust to keep an eye on her. Ensure that she does not leave."