tonight?”
“Yeah, and Dad’s still in Nigeria—”
“Yes, I know—”
“And Grandpa fell down the steps outside our house.”
“Aha,” Mariko says. She glances down the hallway. Everything has gone quiet again. I really want to see who was making all the noise, but I should stay with Grandpa. So, as Mariko pushes through the curtains, I follow her in.
“Hey, Marty, how’re you doing?” she asks. “I’m just checking in quickly.” She gives Grandpa a good look and then nods at me. I guess she’s telling me that he can wait a little longer and still be OK. “Did you hit your head when you fell?”
“No.” Grandpa holds up his arm. “Saved myself with my wrist and cut my leg. Probably shouldn’t be bothering you, but the boy wanted to come and I never argue with a redhead.”
Grandpa loves my red hair and freckles. Mom says they came out of nowhere. Grandpa says they came out of England, and that’s what you get for marrying a Brit. “And thank your Dave for driving us. The boy insisted we call Dave.”
“He was right,” Mariko says, because Mom would be furious if I walked Grandpa up to the emergency room at night, even if it is just up the street. It’s our secret agreement. Mom always says, “If there’s something wrong with Grandpa, call Mariko and Dave. If it’s really serious, call the ambulance right away.”
There’s another crash down the hallway. I speak quickly. “Someone threw a plastic bag full of dog poop into our front yard. Grandpa saw it after he’d waved off his buddies.”
“Dog owners,” Grandpa grumbles. “Why can’t they just take it home, like they’re supposed to?”
“He went to get it, lost his balance, and fell down the front steps.”
“Just the last step,” Grandpa says.
“Poker night?” Mariko asks.
“Always lose my balance on poker night,” Grandpa says. “Heh, heh, heh.”
Mariko raises her eyebrows at me. “And where were you, Mikey?”
I hesitate, and maybe I glance at the tablet because Mariko suddenly leans over the chair, refreshes the screen, and says, “Kyler Curtis. Into bed. Now! It’s past midnight on a school night, for goodness’ sake.”
She’s shaking her head because she knows exactly what Mom thinks about war games, and Kyler is squeaking some lame apology, and Grandpa is saying, “The boys were just keeping me company, heh, heh, heh,” when there’s a whole lot more shouting.
“You can’t do that, sir.”
“Get down!”
“Don’t pull those out!”
Mariko straightens up. “Sorry, Marty, I’ll be right back.” She runs off.
I shouldn’t leave Grandpa, but the man yells again and I say, “I’ll be right back, too.”
I chase Mariko past the reception desk, down a hallway to a room on the left, and…whoa! How cool is this?
There’s a guy, a really huge guy, in loose plaid pants and a hospital gown. He’s on one of those big metal beds on wheels, squatting like a sumo wrestler. He shakes his fists in the air and flexes his biceps. He’s got fierce, icy-blue eyes and wild ginger hair that sticks out in frizzy clumps. His lip is hidden by a prickly red mustache, and his chin is covered with red stubble. His eyebrows are thick and bushy, and he knits them together while he shouts. I can see the inside of his mouth, and it’s a blood red “O.” He stinks too; a cross between the laundry when Mom forgets to empty the machine and Grandpa’s empty beer bottles.
I stick my head through the door to watch. No one pays any attention to me. The two VA police officers, the doctor, and two nurses are standing around the bed like a bunch of outfielders.
“Come on.”
“You gotta calm down.”
“Just get off the bed, now.”
“We have to get him down,” Mariko whispers to the others.
The police officers make a grab for the guy’s arms, but he kicks out at them. One gets a boot in the side of his head. “Ooof,” he groans as he falls to his knees.
“Cuckoolaaaand!” the man yells and rips at the tape on his arms.
The doctor’s saying, “Not the IV! Not the IV!” But the man roars, and the IV line is out.
A machine starts beeping. Then he rips off the gown. And I don’t mean taking his arms out of the sleeves one at a time. No way. I mean he just rips the front off with his bare hands and throws it across the room. A male nurse gets hit in the face. The man’s arm swings back and hits the IV stand. The whole thing crashes to the floor, knocking over a jug of water on the bedside table. Water sprays all over the walls. An alarm goes off. The man shouts “Cuckoolaaaand” again.
This is the most exciting thing I’ve ever seen!
Now that he’s pulled off the gown, I can see this guy is in really good shape. His chest is solid with muscles, and his skin is covered in tattoos. Thick bands of blue ink circle each of his forearms and—wow!—his chest is one big swirl of lines: long, thin animals turn in and out of themselves like knots. He’s a walking graffiti wall and, here’s the most amazing thing, around his neck he wears a twisted metal torc.
The minute I see it, my mind whirls. I mean, who wears a torc in California? This guy’s a warrior, a Celt. In fact, he’s the best type of Celt—a berserker just like my guys in Romanii: Northern Borders. They were the most feared of warriors. They were the best, and I’m watching a Celtic berserker, right here, right now.
Kyler will never believe me! I grab my phone to take a picture when the warrior lets out this massive cry. It’s louder than anything so far. It’s like an order in a language I don’t understand.
I freeze, phone in hand.
He points right at me, his eyes pleading, and he yells, “Not this time!”
“What are you doing, Mikey?” Mariko throws herself in front of me and hustles me back to the door. “You shouldn’t be seeing this! You shouldn’t be here!” She keeps shielding me and pushing me toward the hallway. “You might get hurt.”
The warrior glances around, his eyes wide, and I can tell he’s really confused. I would be too, if I were him. I scan the room. There’s no time-travel machine or anything that I can see, no portal, no wrinkle in time, so I don’t know how all this is working, but this guy must be really freaked. There were no hospitals in his time, no syringes or IV lines, none of this stuff.
“It’s OK. It’s safe,” I say, peering around Mariko’s white coat. Mariko shushes me, but I wriggle to one side so I can see the warrior better, and I keep talking. “You’re in a hospital. The VA.
