Fic: Special People 1/1 Threshold
Title: Special People Author: Lopaka Tanu Disclaimer: I do not own Threshold. Characters: Jerome Horne, Savannah Bailley Words: 3897 Prompt: Tragic Beginnings Fandom: Threshold Pairing: Jerome/Savannah Rating: Adult Warnings: Language, Violence Summary: How Jerome joined Special Unit 4 Author's Note: Not exactly a crossover with Special Unit 2. Prequel to my SU2/Threshold series. ______________________________________
Savannah's coughing had turned a shade worse over the past hour and Jerome was growing concerned. Each time she exhaled, her body would spasm slightly in the now familiar, agonizing fit. She had managed to keep down liquids, including beef broth, but nothing solid would pass her lips before she started choking.
Scowling, he stood by her bedside, arms crossed in concern. He didn't know what else to do for her medically, aside from making her comfortable. She was experiencing the same flu like symptoms half the people in the neighborhood were. A quarantine had been initiated by his authority while the CDC looked for the common agents usually responsible for outbreaks.
"Jerome!" Her horse voice echoed in the oxygen mask he had slipped on her in hopes of easing her breathing. It hadn't helped.
Instantly moving to her side, Jerome reached out to take her flailing hand. Before he made contact, he registered the rise in her body temperature. Alarm ran through him as he reached to the bedside stand and picked up the ear thermometer. Placing on a disposable cap, he slipped it inside her ear. A second later the monitor beeped and revealed what he already knew.
Picking up the phone, he set the thermometer down and hit the instant code. An alarm in the corridor behind him made him nearly drop the phone. Someone else was coding and the emergency team would be responding to that. When a voice came over the line, he cleared his throat. "This is Dr. Horne, the patient in room three-oh-two has a body temperature of one hundred three. Page Dr. Musavrah and have orderlies bring cold gel packs immediately!"
"Jerome!" Voice clearer, Savannah started to sit up.
"Wait, you can't do that." Dropping the handset back in the cradle, Jerome faced Savannah again. He placed a hand on her shoulder and tried to push her back down.
Savannah resisted by placing a hand on his wrist. Suddenly, she squeezed the flesh under her fingers. Using her other hand, she pulled off the breathing mask.
"What are you doing? You need to keep that on...ah!" He cried out as the squeezed turned in to a crushing grip.
Grabbing the collar of his sweater, she jerked him down until they were face to face. Sniffing the air around his skin, she licked her lips.
Jerome's eyes went wide. He knew instantly what she was planning before she even opened her mouth. It pained him to do it, but he brought up his free arm straight in to her jaw.
Savannah's head snapped to the side, but her hold remained true. Screeching her anger, she jerked his hand back towards his body. With a vicious snarl, she threw him against the wall. Twisting to the side of the bed, she threw back the covers and slid out. Pulling out the IV lines, she tossed them and the heart monitor clip against the bedside stand.
Having slid down the wall, stunned, Jerome flexed his muscles to see where the damage was. His back and arm were bruised; he would need a trip to the chiropractor in the morning, but he was other wise fine. He started to get up. A flash of her hospital gown was all the warning he got before a fifth limb lashed out. This time, when he hit the wall, he wasn't so lucky.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jerome blinked. The sound of a diesel engine could be heard nearby. Registering the smell, he wrinkled his nose and tried to turn away. When he couldn't move his head, he tried to reach up and feel why only to find his hands were both strapped down as well. Pale light hurt his eyes as he blinked them open again.
In the darkness, he could make out shadowy figures where the light hit them. From the way the light moved at regular intervals and the sounds, he knew he was in the back of a truck. The engine had an airy sounding roar to it as someone shifted gears. Giving his mind another clue, his eyes recognized certain parts of the shadows as helmets. He was in a military transport.
One of the figures moved closer to him. He felt a hand on his forehead right before a brilliant light flashed in first one eye, then the other. Jerome wanted to jerk away, tried to, but the restraint kept him in place.
"Don't try to fight it, Dr. Horne, we've got you locked up tighter than a dick's hat band. You've taken quite a serious blow. You're luck we got you when we did." Patting his skin, the figure checked his pulse for twenty seconds before letting go. "Just go back to sleep. We'll wake you when you're out of danger."
Jerome wanted to protest. This went against medical practice involving head trauma. A moment later, Jerome felt a prick in his arm, then he was floating out of his body.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He saw pale yellow. Over time, he realized it wasn't supposed to be that color. It took a while later for him to realize why. What he was seeing was a water stain on a white background. He knew this, but didn't know why. This was slowly forgotten, however, as the stain became entrancing once more.
An age later, pain returned.
With the pain came panic. Rising off the bed, he gasped for breath, flailing against an unknown source. The pain was general and every where, he couldn't tell much beyond that. Slowly, the pain receded enough that he could focus his thoughts.
He was Dr. Jerome Horne. With that thought, everything he had been came back to him. Closing his eyes, he left them that way. If he was alive, then that meant one of two things: Savannah was dead or Savannah was dead and he was going to die very soon. They hadn't known each other long enough for him to believe himself in love, yet the knowledge hurt none the less.
Opening his eyes, he wiped them dry. There was no point in delaying finding out. Jerome twisted his neck to see where he was. The feel of the rough material under him confirmed what he saw. He was in a military installation laying on a cot. There were a dozen other men separated by two feet between cots in what had probably been an office. These men were wearing military issue underwear and appeared only to be asleep.
Feeling confused, Jerome sat up on his cot, throwing his feet over the side so he wouldn't tip it over. The last thing he remembered was being told to go back to sleep. Before that, he had been attacked. The attack had happened so quickly, he couldn't remember all the details. When he tried to delude himself it hadn't been Savannah's fault, the great big insect appendage that had struck him across the face put an end to those thoughts.
They hadn't succeeded, she had died, and that thing was in her place. Since the military was involved, then chances were even that was now dead. Running a hand over his face, he tried not to think how she must have felt, laying there, dying. She must have known something was happening, the pain would have been excruciating. The only conclusion he could come up with was the insect mind had taken control before the changes became apparent to her. Other wise, she would have begged for death.
Glancing over to the one window, he noticed the light was very dim. The plants he could see were all brown and yellow, their leaves having fallen off. When he could last remember, they had just started to change from green to brown. That meant he had to have been out for a month.
Flexing his arm, Jerome frowned. Since he was unconscious for a month, then his muscles should have started to atrophy. If anything, he felt better than before. Alarmed, he reached down to feel along his side. All he could sense through his pale T-shirt was normal skin, muscle and bone. He didn't feel like sticking his tongue down someone's throat and sucking them dry, which meant they hadn't done a form of cross pollination and switched blood types.
A quick look about told him nothing more than he already knew. Deciding he wasn't going to get answers here, he stood up and headed between the beds for the wall opposite the window. The door was directly where he thought it would be. "How very efficient."
The hall was empty when he stepped in to it. There were several doors along either side, but all were shut. It wasn't certain which one he should try, or if any. If the they were like this one, all he would be doing was disturbing someone who probably needed their sleep. Pressing on, he came to the end of his hall with one T wise to his own. One side ended with a window and more doors, the other had a desk with two marines standing at attention on either side. Beyond the guards was a single door with a window in the center.
Taking his chances, he cleared his throat and started towards the marines. Neither of them moved to acknowledge him, keeping their sentry positions. Feeling a little more daring, he walked up to the desk. There were several stacks of papers, names with numbers and obviously designations beside them. On the second page he found his name, a ten digit number, and U-six. His bed had been nearest the window, thus the designation indicated room and bed.
Putting down the stack, Jerome searched each of the other stacks, but found only the same. There were at least three hundred names on the lists, and he didn't feel like going through them all. Unfortunately, the desk wasn't the type that had drawers, so he was left with nothing else. Scratching his lower back, he staggered his way past the two guards and to the door. He cautiously checked the handle to see if the guards would respond; they didn't.
Turning the handle, he pushed it open. Just as he expected, the air was almost sweltering, but cooling breezes buffeted his hair. The sun was going down and he was still in the south. At least there was some good news. He would have hated to be stepping out in to ball freezing weather in nothing but boxers and a T-shirt.
On the outside, it was obvious he was on a military base. There were squat buildings made of brick, a black domed building in the center. Flag poles adorned with American flags stood in front of every building. But the most stand out of them all were the formations of troops marching down the streets in full uniform. It wasn't just any base, it was a boot camp.
Just as he was about to step away from the barracks building, an officer came in to view from behind a column of recruits. The man was making his way up the walk that joined the barracks to the road, towards Jerome. Coming to a halt in front of Jerome, the man saluted him. From his insignia, Jerome knew he was a Lieutenant.
"What's going on, Lieutenant?" He returned the man's salute as he stepped off the stoop.
"Please follow me, sir." Without waiting for a reply, the Lieutenant turned about face and marched off.
Seeing no other option, Jerome strolled along behind.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jerome was deposited with a pair of jeans, socks, and boots in a conference room. The lieutenant had led him to the black domed building, through a few of its corridors, and in to a adjacent hall to this room. It was all silent, too silent for a military base. The men they had passed on the street had kept their march solely by the sound of their boots. Even more disturbing, no vehicles could be heard in the distance.
He was starting to get a really terrible feeling about the whole situation. Had they lost? Was this a prison camp for people like him waiting to be eatin? Several invasion and threshold situations had played out in his mind as he dressed. By the time the door opened again, he was ready to use the nearest chair as a weapon against the enter force.
As it was, he felt he almost should. The man was one he had never met before, but he knew about solely by reputation. Keeping the table between him and the General, Jerome walked slowly around it. "General Harson. What is the situation?"
"I'm gratified you know my name, Dr. Horne. We had worried your mind would be damaged." Coming to a stop at the head of the conference table, Harson raised his briefcase and set down. He clicked open the simple locks and pulled the briefcase in half. "Please, place your palm on the scanner. It is a simple security precaution before I answer any of your questions."
Eyeing the man, Jerome slowly made his way over to the scanner. When he was upon it, he could see the briefcase was in fact green glass topped device on one side and a screen on the other. He placed his hand to the green glass and waited. A second later a flash of green light ran over his palm, then the screen came to life.
General Harson watched the screen with keen interest. On it, Jerome's face and vital statistics appeared. "Good, good. Take a seat and then we can begin."
"Not until you do it too." Stepping back, Jerome gestured for the General to take his place.
With a half smile, the General made a great show of pulling up his shirt sleeve. Placing his palm flat to the device, he used his other hand to show Jerome the screen. "I am who I say I am. Just as you are who I say you are."
Checking out the statistics, Jerome made a mental note to tell the General he had the early signs of heart disease. "That's a very interesting tool you have there, General. Am I supposed to infer that by its existence and mine being here that you are about to tell me something classified?"
"Smart and pretty, always knew you fly boys were good for something aside from wasting money." Putting the briefcase back together, he slammed it shut and locked it. Harson hit the back of a seat. "Plant your ass, we've got a lot to talk about, Horne."
Jerome's eyes narrowed as his nostrils flared. "If it's any difference, I prefer to stand."
"Sit your ass down!"
He found himself instantly complying with the man's order. Unable to stop himself, Jerome took the closest seat. Jerome watched as the General circled round him. The man was shorter than him standing up, sitting down, he came to the General's shoulder.
"You fucked up, Jerome." Putting his arms on either side of Jerome's headrest, Harson clenched it tight. "How in the fuck can you not know the signs of alien infection? You watched that god damned thing gestate for three days! Three days!"
"Sir." He was cut off when the fingers left the headrest and landed on his shoulders.
"I'm not asking for your pathetic excuses, boy. The time for you to be digging yourself out is gone." Leaning in close, Harson made sure Jerome could catch his sneer out of the corner of his eye. "Your ass is mine now."
Swallowing, Jerome kept his eyes straight ahead.
Releasing Jerome, the General did a leisurely stroll around the table until he was directly across from Jerome. Smiling, he tugged on the cuffs of his uniform jacket. He pulled out the chair and eased himself in it. "What we are going to do now depends on how useful you can make yourself to me. The rest of the world thinks you died along with about two hundred other people of the Hanta Virus."
Snapping, Jerome launched himself to his feet. Leaning on the table, he slammed his fist down. "It wasn't our fault! A few of those damned moths must have survived!"
"You're right about them surviving. However, that's no longer a problem." Sitting back, Harson folded his hands over his stomach. "Three weeks ago, a flu swept the country, quickly, quietly. Nothing harmful to normal people, but for a few imuno-compromised queers and their elderly grand mothers it was too much. Those moths won't be fucking with the human race ever again."
Jerome stood there watching the General for a minute. It dawned on him just how far this man might go with him. A fine tremor started in his cheek as he sat down. "What do you want with me?"
"I'm in the market for people of talent." Pinkies dangling, Harson flicked them a couple times. The look on Jerome's face had almost made him piss himself in glee. "We've already pre-accepted your answer. Your agreement will be just a formality."
Despite that it was a bad idea, Jerome couldn't hold back a snort.
"We've made quite a considerable investment with you, Dr. Horne." He pointed to Jerome's chest. "You like your heart, top of the line in artificial replacements. That insect fucking bitch did a number on you before my men got to you." Smiling, Harson tapped his own chest. "Don't worry, it's been tested before and proved quite reliable."
"Biological scanner, artificial hearts, where the hell is all this technology coming from? I work with NASA, we are the top of the line." Jerome ran his hand over his chest. He couldn't feel a difference and there wasn't a scar. "What else have you done to me?"
"Relax, Dr. Horne, you're still you." The smirk was back. "For the most part." Standing up, General Harson stretched his back until several pops were heard. "As for where the hell the technology is coming from, you tell me. You're the one who's been up there, remember?" Laughing as Jerome went silent again, Harson walked out of the room.
Before he could collect his thoughts, another man entered the room. This one was dressed in a three piece suit, his hair slicked back, but coming unstuck. Pushing it out of his eyes, the young man reached out a hand to Jerome. "Good evening, Dr. Horne, my name is Samuel. I am to be your liaison. Any questions you have, I will answer."
Blinking, Jerome shook hands with Samuel in a daze. When he was freed, he ran a hand over his eyes. "Wanna tell me what the hell is going on, Samuel?"
"Certainly." Eyeing the scanner, Samuel nervously picked it up and set it aside. He took a seat next to Jerome and turned it so he could face the older man. "First, let me say, welcome to Special Unit Four. Unfortunately, we are no longer affiliated with the other Special Units due to security reasons. Despite that, our mission statement has altered very little."
"I know I'm going to regret this, but what is our mission?" Feeling completely at a loss, Jerome just let the bubbling personality wash over him. If the man was going to kill him with words, he could think of worse ways to die.
"Why, our mission is to deal with all threats Non-Terrestrial in origin, of course." Chuckling, Samuel patted Jerome's knee. "You should know that, silly, that's why you were recruited." Nodding as if Jerome was in on the joke, he continued to laugh.
Closing his eyes, Jerome laid his head back against the rest. If he tried hard enough, may be he could short circuit the artificial heart he could imagine beating in his chest.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Gun drawn, Jerome cursed mentally the biting winds blowing a crossed his face. It was fucking middle of November, snow was forecasted in the next two days, and he was in a corn field in Bumfuck, Nebraska! Passing between stalks that were topped by the winds, he could just barely make out his destination.
Already there, Samuel and Clemens were sweeping the formation with their weapons. Neither of their weapons looked like a gun, but Jerome knew differently. If he had been smart, he would be carrying his own. Un-fucking-fortunately, he was the only normal one of the group and had to infiltrate the locals. That meant he carried a hand gun, which was about as useful as spit wads against their prey.
Off to the right, he could hear Mona and Lisa giving chase to something.
Picking up speed, Jerome shot through the corn until he reached the center. For several acres, the corn had been bent down and wove in to patterns. What had been thought to be a trick by local youths with too much time on their hands had ended with dozens of cattle being mutilated. Aiming his gun in the general direction of Mona and Lisa, Jerome kept it level with the ground.
Samuel smiled at him. His weapon pulsed bright red, which meant it was set for kill. He was about to nod when suddenly the corn exploded out towards them. No time to think, he took aim at the five foot tall creature and squeezed the handle guard.
Half as wide as it was tall, the creature bellowed when a black blast erupted from the weapon and hit it square in the chest. Three more black blasts from different directions hit the creature. The liquid fizzed where it encountered fleshy armor. Shrieking, the creature fell to the ground, trying to use the dirt and plants to wipe off the liquid. Too late, the liquid ate through the armor and the creature's shrieks grew in to a blood curdling pitch.
Taking pity on it, Jerome reached in to his back pocket and pulled out the flask. He twisted off the cap as he came near and emptied the contents over the heart of the creature. The fizzing action happened quickly and the beast went silent. Taking a sip of what was left, Jerome made a sound of appreciation. "Good coke."
"Your species' willful ignorance to such a deadly chemical is surprising." Shaking his head, Samuel turned off his weapon and holstered it.
"Right." Toeing the fallen creature with his boot, Jerome put a hand over his nose. "Oh, damn, that reeks."
"Quite the contrary, I find it very pleasant." Gill slits flashing, Mona lowered her turtle neck to inhale deeply.
"Good, then you won't mind moving the body to the truck. Lisa and Clemens, give Mona a hand." Nose pinched, Jerome backed away from the stinking carcass. "I'm going back to the Donelly farm. According to Marshall, it was their boys that made the crop circles that summoned the Vompor."
"That is another thing. Why would your people advertise yourselves as tasty treats to passing orbital vessels?" Samuel blinked at the glare Jerome sent him. "Yes?"
"Stay out of town." With that, he was walking away.
Gills locking tight, Mona released her turtle neck collar. "Hurry up, you dildoes, I'm drying out in this fucking cold air." Webbed fingers curling around the Vompor's body, Lisa gave a little tug on her limb and it came off the ground as if jerked. "Two things chap my ass, icy winds and..."
"...a lazy group of seacows." The others finished for her.