Richard Doetsch - The 13th Hour

JULY 28

10 P.M.

JULIA SAT IN THE uncomfortable metal chair, her eyes bloodshot, and cried out. It was after 10:00, and a moonless night sky blanketed the world.

She had arrived in Boston on schedule and taken a cab to Dr. Colverhome’s office. Seeing the remarkable vision of life on the screen filled her with a new emotion. She was a mother, her and Nick’s child was alive and growing within her, and in seven and a half months would emerge to find parents who would love it unconditionally.

But then, as she was leaving the doctor’s office, her cell phone had rung.

Marcus’s voice was unnaturally calm.

He told her that Shamus’s jet was awaiting her at Logan International to take her immediately back to Westchester Airport where Marcus would be waiting to take her to the hospital.

The entire flight, her mind couldn’t focus. How could one life be entering her world as another was being taken away?

Julia rose from her chair and stood over Nick. Seeing him wired and tubed, the steady beep of the heart monitor ringing constantly in her ear reminded her how close death really was. Nick had yet to awaken and she feared, despite everything the doctors said, he never would.

NICK WAS ENCASED in darkness, lost in an abyss of despair. He kept seeing Julia dead on the floor, Marcus killed right in front of him, bodies tethered to the bottom of the Kensico Reservoir. He saw planes falling from the sky, fireballs, and black, acrid smoke rising up and filling the air. He saw the bodies of the dead, hundreds of them; he was stuck among them, aimlessly wandering, as their voices whispered in his ear.

And then Julia was there, filling his vision, her face whole and perfect, calling to him, coaxing him up, drawing him toward heaven.

And he opened his eyes to find her staring down at him, her eyes tear-filled and bloodshot.

“Hi,” he whispered.

And she hugged him, all of her anguish at almost losing him pouring forth.

Julia finally stepped back and Paul Dreyfus stepped in, looking at his eyes, checking his vitals. “Glad to see you made it.”

Nick smiled as his awareness slowly returned.

“This guy saved your life,” Shannon said, emerging from the corner.

“I haven’t pulled someone back from the brink since Vietnam,” Dreyfus said. “The AED did most of the work.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Shannon said. “He worked on you a long time to bring you back.”

“I don’t know how long.” Dreyfus smiled as he palmed something from his pocket. He took Nick’s hand and slid it to him surreptitiously. “But you do lose track of time when you’re trying to save someone.”

Nick knew instantly what Dreyfus had given him; once again in his hand, the familiar feel of the watch was somehow comforting, like a blanket to a child.

“Hey,” Marcus said. He was leaning against the wall, towering over the moment.

“Hey.” Nick could hardly get the word out, glad to see his friend alive and in one piece.

As he stared at everyone around him, Julia and Marcus, Dreyfus and Shannon, he felt as if he had just returned from Oz, his head filled with an impossible story that no one would understand.

But then he saw it, sitting on the table next to him: the dark mahogany box.

“Listen,” Shannon said as he patted Nick’s leg. “Brave thing you did today.”

“Thanks,” Nick said.

“I’m glad you’re okay.” Shannon walked to and opened the door. “I need to be getting home though, I’ve got to take on a new partner tomorrow, this punk named Brinehart, probably have to knock some sense into him. Listen, Nick, your friend Dreyfus filled me in a bit, but you still owe me some explanations. In the meantime, though, take care, get some rest.”

And Shannon walked out the door.

“Thanks for coming down,” Nick said to Marcus.

“Come on,” Marcus said as he leaned over his friend, a devious grin on his face. “I’d take a bullet for you. And I don’t say that to just anyone.”

“Look, I know you’re glad to see me,” Nick said. “But your eyes are dancing with something else. Did you fall in love again?”

“You won’t believe this,” Marcus said, glad he could let out the building head of steam within him. “This young guy, Jason Cereta-”

“Cereta?” Julia asked, dumbstruck at hearing the name. “Blond guy, twenties?”

“You know him?”

“We flew to Boston together this morning.”

“Really? Small world,” Marcus said, trying to continue his story. “At any rate, he called a few minutes ago. Sharp as a tack, crafty as the devil, charming as all hell, kind of like a younger version of myself with hair.” Marcus ran his hand over his bald head. “Just not as handsome.

“He ran off on his own to Boston today,” Marcus continued, “and put my dream deal of owning Halifax Skis together. I’ll have to hire a whole new team to deal with this coup but it will be worth it.”

“Marcus, you need to do me a favor,” Nick said, sitting up in the bed. “I know a guy. Just got his MBA, he’s in the National Guard.”

“Military guy, I like that.”

“He’s already had enough death in his life. You need to hire him.”

“Without an interview?” Marcus said in surprise. “What’s his name?”

“McManus. Private McManus.”

“What a perfect military name his mother gave him. Does private have any other first name?”

“Smartass. It’s Neil.”

Marcus rubbed the back of his head. “It gives me such a headache taking chances on new guys, but if you say so, he’s as good as hired.”

The heavy pine door to the room swung open, and an incredibly old man entered. He walked with a long dark mahogany cane, the head of which was a carved elephant’s head, the walking stick supporting his slow, shuffling gate. His hair was white, his pale skin wrinkled, seeming two sizes too large for his skeleton. But the eyes… The eyes were sharp and focused.

He was accompanied by Zachariah Nash, who wore his crisp doubled-breasted blazer and white, pleated linen pants. Nick recognized Nash full well as the man who had given him the watch, who had set him on his journey.

“Nick,” Julia said, pointing at the older man, “this is Shamus Hennicot.”

“Nicholas,” Hennicot said with a bow of the head. “I’m so glad to see you alive. And I would like you to formally meet my attaché, Zachariah Nash.”

Nash tilted his head to Nick, as if he were meeting him for the first time. Shamus turned briefly to Paul Dreyfus and gave a subtle nod of recognition.

“Julia?” Nick took a deep breath and licked his lips. “Do you think maybe you could get me a Coke or something?”

“Of course.” Julia smiled. She turned to Shamus and Zachariah with eyebrows raised in question.

“Nothing for us, dear.” Shamus said.

“I can’t believe you came down for this,” Julia said. “It means so much to me.”

“I understand you flew with my wife, today,” Shamus said with a warm smile. “Pleasant flight, I hope.”

Julia appeared confused.

“Petite, gray-haired, talks a lot…” Shamus prodded her.

“Katherine? That was your wife?” Julia asked in surprise.

“She spoke so highly of you,” Shamus said warmly.

“I had no idea…” Julia replied with confusion.

“Which makes your charm all the more special.”

“I’m a bit hungry myself,” Marcus said to Julia as he walked across the room and opened the door. “I’ll go with you.”

Alone with Dreyfus, Nash, and Nick, Shamus pulled a chair over and took a seat right next to Nick’s bed.

“You have an amazing wife, Nicholas, you’re very lucky.”

“I know,” Nick said.

“And she is even more lucky to have someone like you,” Shamus continued. “Only a man whose heart is filled with such love would not abuse the power that you hold in your hand.”