Page 34 of Salvation
Chapter Eleven
Nick’s fingers rested on the keyboard the data device projected upon the surface of the lab table, his gaze staring at the words hanging in the air in front of him. Up to now, writing progress reports to the committee had been a cinch. Today, his mind seemed to wander off to other topics. Related topics, of course, but still.
It’d been two days since Storo and Nero had become ill. Nero was deteriorating much faster, and he and Sakura had no ideawhy. It seemed all they could do was divide their time between Storo’s cube and Nero and Dacey’s cube, with the occasional trip back to their own cube to do lab work, or sleep. And he’d damn sure gotten precious little of the latter.
They were missing something, overlooking the obvious. At least, that’s what his gut told him. But what?
Lack of sleep mixed with hunger and frustration was never a good combination. But how could he sleep when his mind had become a whirl of questions without answers? Even at its most desperate, life at Camp One during the occupation had seemed easier, solutions more readily available.
Of course, he hadn’t been the one responsible for coming up with many solutions back then. Closing his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. Matirans prayed this way.Anferthians placed the pulse point of their wrists over their hearts. Terrians, well there was a lot of variety there, but he had been taught to fold his hands. The one aspect all of them had in common was a head bowed in reverence.
He breathed out a sigh. For all the good praying had done so far. Faith was one of the few things his parents had given him that he still had. It was just precious hard to hold on to it when so much had gone wrong in his life.
What he needed was a place to think, preferably away from the lab and report writing. He pushed away from the table and headed to his room. Bodie’s guitar sat in a corner like a quiet and unassuming friend, a familiar ritual of comfort. The latches smooth and cool under his fingers. With a slight pressure they popped open and he lifted the lid.
Funny how he could still almost hear Bodie working his magic on the instrument. The chords lingering in the air and wrapping around his audience. The memories of the concerts Nick had been to with his father replayed in his mind. Little did he know then that his idol would become one of his best friends.
He lifted the guitar from its worn satin lining and cradled it, his fingers positioning themselves. It wouldn’t be the first time they had their own playlist in mind. Going with it was the tried and true method that had never failed to soothe his soul. His fingers plucked the strings and the first few notes of a song Bodie had been writing for the members of Camp One came to life. A song Bodie had entitledPeace.
Could he even remember the words? He allowed his mind to drift on a nostalgic wave as his long fingers floated over the strings. The words of Bodie’s song rose to his lips, unforgotten even after all these years.
“There are more things in the universe
than you will ever know,
There are more places in the universe
than you will ever go;
Look deep within where you rarely trod
Find your peace, hear the voice of God.
Those who are gone stay in your heart;
For those who have yet to part;
Give them your peace.”
Everything around him shifted, his room seemed to dissolve into blackness as warmth washed over him in waves. His Source of Peace pulsed gently around him. His Gift to heal, an incredible power…a gift to give. Peace.
Give them your peace.
The image of Storo writhing on the ground, consumed by agony rose before him.
Give them your peace.
Holy shit. Could it be that simple? Nick jerked awake, and fumbled to grab the guitar before it hit the floor. Simple, yes. Complicated, definitely. But, it was an idea.
Give them your peace.
His hands shook. Nothing else had worked, but this might. He had to find Sakura.Now. Twenty seconds later, he sprinted out the front door into the brittle afternoon sunshine. His breath caught in his chest. Damn, the temperature had really dropped today.
She wasn’t at Storo’s, but he stopped long enough to peek into the bedroom. His Anferthian friend was unconscious but still breathing. Good.
“I won’t be long, buddy.” Not that Storo could hear his murmured assurance, but it seemed like the right thing to do.
Moments later he’d darted across the street and shoved open the front door to Nero and Dacey’s cube, ducking through before it fully opened. K’rona gave him a quizzical look. “Nicholaus?”
