by Bobby Akart
SMACK! SMACK!
The man yelling in the hallway was slapping each of the hospital room doors, looking for anyone—patient or staff. He was getting closer to Alex’s room.
“Hallooo!”
He was yelling now and clearly agitated.
Beau pressed his back against the wall and pointed the handgun toward the center of the door. The shadow of the man’s feet blocked the light under the door. He was prepared to shoot him if he burst in.
SMACK!
He was at the room next door.
THUMP! THUMP!
He was hitting the walls with the back of his fist.
“Sir, sir!” yelled Dr. Fulcher. “May I help you, sir? I’m, um, the ER doctor on duty tonight.”
“Where’s my guy on the front door?” the man shouted in response. “Where’s your staff? What’s goin’ on around here? Junior will be real pissed when he hears how you run things.”
Beau saw the shadow of Dr. Fulcher’s feet join Junior’s man. “Deputy, I can assure you that your injured friends will be taken care of first. Let me help you get them in.”
The footsteps trailed off as Dr. Fulcher led the way back to the front entrance. Without warning, the door burst open. Beau raised his weapon and found the trigger.
“No!” whispered Nurse Sutton. “Don’t shoot me.”
Beau lowered the pistol and tucked it into his jeans. His hands were shaking. He subconsciously wiped them on his sweatshirt to remove the sweat from his palms.
“What can we do?” he asked.
“We have to move her,” replied the nurse. “There’s a closed-off corridor at the back of the east wing. No patients are taken there and it’s only used for storage. If they have wounded, this room will be needed.”
Nurse Sutton raised the side protection bar on the bed to hold Alex in place. She unlocked the wheels at each of the four feet so the bed became mobile. Finally, she attached the upper half of the IV pole to a bracket welded to the bed. Alex was ready to move.
She nodded toward the door. “Is it clear?”
Beau eased his head out into the dark corridor. There was motion in the hallway near the main entrance. The doctor was using the available wheelchairs to bring the injured men inside before going out to retrieve more. His movements were slow and deliberate. Beau recognized that Dr. Fulcher was stalling for them.
“Let’s go,” said Beau as he readied the AR-15 and moved into the hallway. Nurse Sutton easily moved Alex’s bed on her own. She turned left and quickly pushed Alex through the well-lit ER reception area. As they rushed past the double doors into another dark hallway, Beau saw the man he ran over in the parking lot slumped over in a wheelchair. Dr. Fulcher had pulled him inside the door and left him there to intercept Junior’s man coming down the hall.
Voices were raised near the main entrance.
What kind of hospital is this?
There’s only one doctor?
You ain’t got no nurses?
Nurse Sutton hurriedly pushed Alex through a set of double doors, entering a pitch-black hallway. Beau, walking backwards to detect any onlookers, helped the swinging doors come to a stop before shouldering his weapon. He let the air rush out of his lungs, unaware that he’d been holding his breath since they’d left Alex’s room.
She pulled a penlight out of her nurse’s uniform, used for conducting swinging flashlight eye exams. In the pitch blackness of this unused wing of the hospital, the small LED light illuminated the space for thirty feet.
“Use this to find a suitable room,” said the nurse. “The rear exit is at the hallway to your right. We’ll try our best to check on you, but it appears we have our hands full and we’ll be scrutinized as well.”
Beau moved ahead of her in the hallway, lighting up the entrances to each room as they went. “We understand. They’re gonna be looking for us.”
“Stay out of sight. When we can come check on you, we’ll use a light like this. Anything else, and it might mean trouble. Okay?”
Alex answered this time. “Yes, ma’am, and thank you!”
Nurse Sutton patted her on the leg and then hustled back toward the ruckus that had entered the ER. When she moved through the double doors, Beau could hear a healthy combination of groans and curse words emanating from Junior’s men. Good.
Chapter 6
2:30 a.m., November 2
Sheriff’s Office Motor Pool
Savannah
Jake clasped his fingers together to provide a foothold for Chase to push through the broken window. The trailing guard had been summoned to join his partner and they’d both jogged off towards the river. The group had waited ten minutes to watch for the guards’ return before making their move. Chase hoisted himself into the window and slithered through like a snake. A loud thud followed by a grunt indicated Chase had a rough landing.
“Hang on,” said Chase as he fumbled through the building toward the only door.
Snap. Click. Creak.
“Now we’re open for business,” announced Chase to the group as he opened the squeaky door.
“Jake and I will stand watch,” said Colton. “We need keys for everything—vehicles, the double gates, anything you can find.”
Coach Carey and Chase could be heard rustling through desk drawers and cabinets. Jake and Colton continuously scanned the perimeter, watching for Junior’s men. Savannah had grown quiet again and it was a matter of time before the guards returned to their post.
“I found a safe,” said Chase. “The keys are probably in there.”
“Here’s a padlock key hanging on a nail,” said Coach Carey. “Colton, try this on the gate locks.”
Colton retrieved the key while Jake moved to the center of the driveway. Although they were in an open area, it was dark that evening, so they could move freely without immediate detection.
First, Colton tried the big gates where vehicles passed through. It wouldn’t work. Then he tried the smaller swing gate and it worked.
“We’re in,” Colton said as he rejoined the group. “Now, how are we gonna start the cars?”
“And get out?” added Chase.
Jake walked around the building toward Chase, who was standing in the doorway.
“Son, did you see any tools in there? A screwdriver, wrench, or pliers?”
“There’s a fishing tackle box,” replied Chase. “Let’s see what’s in it.”
Chase rummaged through the dark building and found the tackle box. He handed it to his father, who spilled the contents onto the front steps. Jake studied his options and then picked up a set of needle-nose pliers, a crescent wrench and an adjustable wrench.
“Chase, take these wrenches and remove the hinges from the tall gates. There’s a tall stepladder leaning against the fence over there. Remove the bolts from the top first and work your way down. The weakest point of any gate is not where it’s locked, but where it’s attached. If we can’t unlock the gate, we’ll just tear it off at the hinges.”
“Okay, Dad.”
“I’ll watch the front, but how are you gonna start the car?” asked Colton.
“Listen, back in the day, before there were computer hackers,” started Jake, “there were guys who aspired to be automotive engineers. Automotive Engineering 101 required you to hot-wire a car. Let’s see if I’ve still got it.”
Jake spun around and marched through the entry gate with a purpose. Coach Carey laughed and trotted to catch up.
“There aren’t many to choose from,” said Coach Carey. “Obviously, the older cars will run. Is there a particular brand that’s better than others?”
“I learned on Oldsmobiles,” said Jake. “I wish there was an old 442 on the lot. I’d be one happy camper.”
“Hey, here’s an Olds,” said Coach Carey. He approached a tan two-door Oldsmobile Delta 88. “It’s a Holiday 88, whatever that means.”
Jake tried the passenger door, which was locked. He worked his way around to the driver’s side door and smiled as he opened it. The vehicle was in e
xcellent condition other than the dust it had accumulated while sitting in the motor pool.
“Let’s get to work,” said Jake as he dropped to his knees and slid his large frame under the steering column. The model had a center shift console, which prohibited him from sliding along the floor from the passenger side.
“First, I’m gonna remove the plastic cover under the steering column. This will give me access to the main wire electrical bundles.”
“Why don’t you jam a screwdriver into the keyhole and twist like in the movies?” asked Coach Carey.
“That’s one method,” replied Jake. “The idea is to break the locking pins in the ignition, but it’s very difficult to do. We don’t have time to experiment.”
Jake tossed the cover on the ground and then he fumbled with the wires. “On the Olds, there are three sets of wires. Two lead to the column- and dash-mounted controls like wipers and cruise control, but the third set leads to the battery, ignition and starter.”
With a firm tug, he pulled out the starter bundle containing red, yellow, and brown wires. Jake fumbled with his large hands to detach the wires from the plug. He used the needle-nose pliers to strip the red battery wire and then he moved it to the side. Next, he took the brown ignition wire and stripped it to a similar length.
He put the two together and twisted them. The lights on the dashboard lit up as electricity was delivered to the vehicle’s components.
“Okay, this is the part where you gotta pay attention,” said Jake. “I’m gonna strip the yellow starter wire. All I need to do is touch it to the battery wire to create a spark. This should start the car.”
Sparks flew out from under the dash as Jake touched the wires together. The car tried to turn over.
“Crap!” he exclaimed as he twisted his body to position his elbow against the gas pedal. He sparked the wires again, this time revving the engine to encourage the Olds to turn over. The big Rocket V8 motor roared to life. Jake pumped the gas pedal again and then released the starter wire. They were good to go.
Just as Jake worked his way out of the car to one knee, Chase came running from the front gate.
“They’re coming back,” he said under his breath. “We have to go.”
Colton joined them. “Too late, they’re almost here.”
“What about the gate?” asked Coach Carey.
“The large gate’s bolts are removed,” replied Colton. “It’s hangin’ on but barely. I put the ladder back by the fence and closed the entry gate.”
“Maybe they won’t notice,” said Jake.
“They’ll notice,” interjected Colton. “We left the gatehouse door open with the tackle box stuff everywhere. First, they’ll see that and the motor will be running on this monster. We’ve got to get ready for them.”
“Fellas, we need a plan,” said Coach Carey.
Everyone stood silently for a moment. Then Jake moved into the driver’s seat. “Hop in, boys, we’re gonna play Smokey and the Bandit.”
Chapter 7
3:00 a.m., November 2
Hardin Medical Center
Savannah
Beau and Alex had been catching up on the events of the last five weeks since they’d parted ways up on Clifton Road by the creek. They both laughed about the cheerleader comments and then Beau revealed how much he’d enjoyed their kiss. Alex became silent and then admitted she’d liked it too.
“I think I need to rest, Beau. Will you stay with me?”
“There’s something I should’ve done already,” he replied. “It’ll just take a few minutes, but I’ll be right back. Okay?”
“Please hurry,” said Alex.
“I will,” said Beau as he carefully worked his way in the dark corridor. He took a moment to let his eyes adjust. The batteries on the LED penlight were wearing down and he wanted to use it sparingly.
Beau quickly moved to the set of double doors, which led to the next corridor of the hospital. He paused there for a moment to listen to the activity in the emergency room. Dr. Fulcher was trying to explain that the injured man was found in the parking lot. He was being brought in for treatment when the rest of the injured arrived.
Junior’s man was belligerent and it was causing the doctor to get agitated. Beau didn’t care as long as everyone stayed occupied and away from Alex.
He pulled a gurney and blocked the doors. Beau maneuvered several other gurneys into the middle of the hall and locked the wheels in place. He was trying to create an advance warning system in case one of Junior’s men decided to take a stroll. Dr. Fulcher and his nurse would use their lights to find their way through the maze of hospital gear. Junior’s half-awake men would bull through the obstacles, creating an alarm system for Beau to get into position.
Beau checked on Alex to make sure she was resting comfortably. She was in a deep sleep, which ordinarily wouldn’t concern him, but considering she’d received a minor concussion, it gave him pause.
While he had a moment, he positioned other pieces of furniture like metal cabinets and lounge chairs in the hallway in front of their location. If he had to get into a gunfight, at least he’d have some cover.
Finally, he confirmed their exit option. He left this unobstructed for a quick retreat. But to where? Nobody knows where we are and I don’t have my radio. It must’ve fallen on the ground during the chaos at Cherry Mansion.
He couldn’t worry about that right now. Retrieving his own car was out of the question because it was parked near the ER entrance, which was now filled with Junior’s wounded deputies.
So he waited.
Beau fought sleep as he sat on the floor in the dark hallway. Faint sounds of voices and furniture sliding caught his attention from time to time. He thought about Alex and the certain fate in store for her. What the Durhams had done to their community was immoral and unforgivable.
When he reunited with his father, he was going to insist that it was time to take a stand. Beau realized the Tiger Resistance was outnumbered and outgunned. But tonight they’d shown they were capable of beating back Junior and his thugs. Enough was enough. The Tiger Resistance needed to become more than an opposition to the Durhams. It was time to rid Savannah of these tyrants.
The clanking sound of metal on metal woke Beau out of his half-conscious state. He immediately scrambled into Alex’s room and found her sleeping soundly.
“Stupid thang!” shouted a man’s voice from the end of the eighty-foot hallway.
Not the doctor or nurse.
Beau needed to intercept the man without raising attention. He left the AR-15 by Alex’s side. He remembered that was her favorite weapon. If she woke up, at least she’d know how to use it. Besides, he wanted to stop this guy without firing a gun. Gunshots would create an uproar throughout the hospital.
He listened as the man moved methodically down the hallway. He was stopping at each door and moving inside the rooms. He didn’t have a flashlight, but was using the ambient light coming from the outside to guide him. Beau planned on doing the same and using his familiarity with the surroundings to surprise the interloper.
He pulled his fixed blade from a sheath looped through his belt. Beau had never attacked anyone with a knife, but his mind was focused on protecting Alex. He transformed himself from a high school kid to a man who would do anything to protect the one he loved.
Beau moved through the scattered gurneys at a low crouch, constantly watching the movements of Junior’s man. After entering and exiting the sixth room down the hallway, the man shouldered his rifle.
Good. Let your guard down.
Using the minimal light available, Beau stalked the man, studying his method and routine. As the man, who was short and stocky, moved into a room, Beau would move forward to a concealed position. Within moments, he was only ten feet away from the last room the man entered.
Catlike, Beau moved against the wall and waited for the man. It was taking longer than normal. He kept waiting.
Beau grew impatient. He slipped into the ro
om and scanned every corner. The man was gone. Disintegrated. Where did he go?
Then Beau smelled it. Rancid. Junior’s man was taking a dump.
Beau’s mind raced. Should he jump the guy while he was sitting on the toilet? Or surprise him when he came out?
He waited. His answer came with the roar of the flushing toilet. Apparently the hospital auxiliary power to their internal water system still functioned. The noise masked Beau’s next move.
Beau pushed in the door and it slammed into the back of the heavier man as he struggled to buckle his belt. He lost his balance and crashed into the shower stall, breaking open his forehead on the tile. The man quickly regained his footing, but Beau took the butt end of his knife and crashed it into the wound on the man’s forehead.
ARRRRGGGGHHHH!
Junior’s man fell back into the shower in a heap. Beau grabbed a bedpan off the bathroom sink and slammed it into the man’s temple, knocking him out.
Breathing heavily, Beau raced into the hallway, where he immediately caught himself and slid against the wall. He listened.
No one heard them. There was no activity outside the double doors. His heart was beating out of his chest and he took several deep breaths to calm himself. He had to finish the guy off.
Beau had never killed anyone. In this post-apocalyptic world, he knew it was inevitable. He hesitated. This was the most difficult decision of his life.
When someone killed another by choking, stabbing, or other physical contact, the action was typically accompanied by a high level of rage and even a personal connection with the victim. Stabbing someone was visceral, graphic, and provocative. The act was very emotional—close and in your face.
Beau had been prepared to stab the man and kill him. He was acting defensively, reacting to the threat the man posed to Alex. Now, despite the man’s potential threat being the same, he lay semiconscious and harmless—at least for the moment. For Beau, killing him under these circumstances felt more like murder.
He reentered the room and found the man lying on a shower floor full of blood. Once again, Beau had to make a choice with regard to the life or death of Junior’s men. Allowing him to live flew in the fact of his plans to rid Savannah of these scum. Killing him in cold blood made him sick to his stomach.