Chapter 5 Stressed Out

• The tea leaves in Brice’s mug floated to the top of the water. As he went over the list of things he needed to get done today, he stared into the cup. A new group of recruits for the H.S.P.C. Basic Agent Training Course would be lined up before he knew it. He had a meeting about the trainees in twenty minutes. The floating leaves danced. He had plenty to do, but Brice dragged his feet this morning. It was because he was tired, but Brice didn’t want to admit how exhausted he truly was.
• Rubbing the puckered scar down his cheek, Brice stared blankly at the empty instructor’s lounge. He considered his nightmare from last night. The shepherd made an appearance again. If he closed his eyes, Brice could still see the man left in chains while he was yanked away. Of their own accord, his hands rubbed the spot where the shackles had dug into his wrists. There were many nights he wondered what happened to the stranger. If he had the answer, then maybe the brunette wouldn’t appear in his dreams any longer.
• Hoping to his feet, Brice scoffed at that thought. As he headed toward the sink and the microwave on the other side of the room, he shook his head. Even if he knew how or when The Originals killed the man, it wasn’t like Brice would feel any better about the murder. The chances were good that the stranger froze to death, or they did to him what they did to Brice, Carl, and Toby. The shepherd was probably shot and left in a mass grave to die.
• “There you are.” Trainer Nancy appeared in the lounge’s doorway, huffing and puffing as if she had run there. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
• Because Brice knew the older woman was a talker, he microwaved his cup and then returned to his seat at the round table under the L.E.D. lights. As he sipped on his steaming tea, Nancy marched past the fridge and the other tables and to him.
• “What can I do for you, Nancy?” Brice stared up at the curvy, fifty-something blonde. He shuffled the list of names for the trainees. He’d known Nancy for years, so he figured he should get comfortable. Rarely did Nancy get to the point.
• “I went to your apartment first, and then I looked for you in the operations center.” Nancy pulled off her camouflaged backpack and set the sack on the table. “Then I stopped up at medical, and you weren’t there.” After fluffing her short gray-blonde curls, she slapped her hands on her rounded hips. “Then, I walked to the supply room and the bio-hazard division. After that, I headed to the training room and the D.E.F.A.C.—”
• “You found me,” Brice cut her off. “What’s up?” Brice asked before she listed off every place in the headquarters building.
• “It’s about training and you.” Nancy’s forehead creased as she rocked back on her heels. “We start soon, and I was thinking about how, once again, we will have a brand-new platoon of young confident men and women. They will be molded into strong and smart H.S.P.C. agents.” When Brice didn’t comment, Nancy plopped into the chair across from him.
• “I know, Nancy. I’m the head instructor.” Brice chuckled. Nancy sounded like a promotional advertisement. “Where are you going with this?”
• “We have to stay optimistic. Even with people dying of Snow Flu and killing each other for water on the equator, we can’t get stressed out.”
• “True. We shouldn’t get stressed out,” Brice said slowly and then sipped from his cup. He was drinking tea. Brice wasn’t exactly the picture of stress right now. What was she trying to say?
• “Essie and Ponce were saying that you are stressed, and it’s starting to show. The other three trainers agreed. Dean and Dean said you seem out of sorts.”
• “I have plenty of sorts,” Brice said wryly. “Even some sorts to spare.”
• “I’m serious, Brice.” Nancy huffed. “Zoey said you would be a better trainer and a better leader if you blew off some steam.” Nancy’s blonde eyebrows dropped as a solemn expression blanketed her face. “You know.” Her sculpted eyebrows wiggled up and down. “You know.”
• “Has it occurred to you that you’re telling me how you and all the other trainers were gossiping about me?” Brice leaned back in his chair and held in his smile. “I can reprimand you for that.”
• “What occurred to me was that I’m your friend.” Nancy fluffed her curls a second time. She didn’t seem concerned about his empty threat of a lecture. Who was he kidding? He did have a soft spot for her. She was like a mother to him. Nancy and Keith had been with him longer than anyone else he knew.
• “You want an apology because I’m a shitty friend?” Brice set his mug on the table. “I’m not stressed. I’m drinking tea. How much more relaxed do you want me to get?”
• “Forget the tea.” Nancy waved to his cup. “And you’re not a shitty friend.”
• “What’s this about, Nancy?”
• “Before you were assigned as head instructor, you and I were friends. We go way back. We trained together under Keith when your brother was alive.”
• “And?” Brice shut down the clear recollection of the attack on the train tracks that took his older brother. He hoped they weren’t going to head down memory lane. That road was an ugly path he liked to avoid.
• “And we worked together in the Seeyah before the government took over the organization and turned it into the H.S.P.C.”
• “Yes…?” Brice still didn’t know what this was about or why she was still talking.
• “You know I was there for you during Latoya and Vihaan and Suze and—”
• “Stop listing my failed relationships.” Brice didn’t want to spend the morning going over his unsuccessful love life. “You keep telling me things I already know. And…? Can you speed this up?”
• “And I think you should blow off some steam as well. Everyone is right. You’re stressed. You need to have sex.” Nancy said the words as she applied lip gloss.
• Brice spit his tea onto the table.
• “What?”