The Last Griffin

by Wendy L. Koenig

  “Does she know this yet?”

  “Yep. She’s waiting for a change of clothes.”

  “Locker rooms are in the basement too.” Tony pointed his thumb to the right as the elevator doors opened. He pulled the wheelchair out into the narrow hall and turned to the left. Then he sucked in a deep breath and grinned. “Call me if you need me.”

  “Have fun,” Brian called to his retreating back. For an answer, Tony began a colorful whistle rendition of the famous Seven Dwarfs’ “Heigh-Ho” song that echoed off the walls. Brian smiled.

  He turned to the right and walked toward the door of the women’s locker room. The basement didn’t smell as much as the elevator, but signs of age and lack of care showed on the cracked, dingy walls and the cement floor that needed more than one coat of paint. At the locker room he paused. Leaning his head against it, he listened for voices. Hearing no indication of anyone inside, he pushed open the door.

  The locker room was modeled after most gyms, with rows of blue lockers and brown benches. Ancient beige tile with blue trim covered the walls. He found no clothes hanging loose anywhere, but he heard water running and headed that direction.

  Turning left at the end of the last row of lockers, he came to the showers. Like the main locker room, they were built in a bygone day. Mildew crawled along the bottom and corners of the wall. The tile was cracked and even missing in a few places. The humidity climbed as he closed in on the curtained stalls. Sweat broke out on his skin. He still had on his jacket, and the heat was immense. The fake herbal scent of shampoo and soap assailed him. With relief, he noted only one shower stall was occupied. If there had been more, someone probably would have spotted him. The curtain covered the opening to the stall and an orange towel hung over the bar. Just outside stood a stool. And on that stool sat a set of folded and pressed medical scrubs.

  Brian took slow steps, getting as close as he dared. The occupant of the stall seemed oblivious, splashing water and moving under the shower spray. He extended his arm and reached, leaning, for the green clothes. Snagging them with his fingers, he pulled back, bundled the scrubs into a ball, and then slid them under his jacket. Just as he was about to congratulate himself, the shower turned off and the towel disappeared inside.

  He pivoted and strode out of the showers and the locker room as fast as he could. His running shoes squeaked on the damp floor, but there was nothing he could do about that. There now was a finite window of time before his activities would be brought to light. Bypassing the elevator, he ran to the stairs and vaulted up the steps three at a time to Olivia’s floor.

  At the first landing, he dug out his phone and called Tony. “You’re on a time limit, buddy.”

  “How so?”

  “Someone will be heading your way, looking for answers to missing clothes.”

  “What is it with you, today? Do you like creating problems for me?” Tony was silent a minute. In the background, Brian heard someone sobbing. Then his friend said, “Fine. I’ll deal with it. Thanks for the heads up.”

  Chapter 7

  Within two minutes, Brian was back, green surgical scrubs in his hands, a triumphant grin cresting his face.

  Still, they were better than just a flapping hospital gown. Olivia struggled with them while Brian turned his back on her. She tugged the shirt over her head, but she couldn’t pull it down. It kept getting hung up on the gauze on her back. The pants, even while sitting, were more than she could handle by herself, too.

  “I need your help with this.”

  He turned around and blushed at her semi-nude condition. He didn’t move, and he seemed to have trouble finding a place in the room to focus on. His gaze bounced from the TV to the door to her face to the TV again.

  “Oh, please. This is no time for modesty.” She held out one leg. “You’re a full-grown man. I assume you’ve seen a naked woman before. It doesn’t matter. Now help me so we can get out of here.”

  He said no more, but his face stayed red. At one point, while pulling up the pants with his face close to her belly, Olivia saw him puff out his cheeks and shake his head. He muttered to himself, but loud enough for her to hear, “It matters.”

  “Hurry.” She snagged the tie strings at the belt from Brian while he placed her slippers. The more she rushed, the more her fingers fumbled over tying a knot. Finally, Brian pushed her hands away and tied it himself. Done, he navigated her toward the door as quickly as she could shuffle, given her injuries.

  They weren’t quite fast enough.

  The chief nurse stopped in the doorway, staring at the two of them, openmouthed, holding a page open on her clipboard. It took her only a second to recover. She dropped the page, snapped the clipboard to her thigh and rushed into the room. Her tight baritone voice reminded Olivia of a drill sergeant she’d seen on some cheesy television show. Her name tag read Jackson. She had a smoker’s gravelly voice. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  Brian said nothing, leaving Olivia to answer. She didn’t have any witty or intimidating clichés, so she shrugged and simply answered, “I’m leaving.”

  “Oh no, you’re not!” The drill sergeant nurse placed her hands on Olivia’s shoulders and tried to steer her away from Brian and back to the abandoned hospital bed. An acapella version of “Jingle Bell Rock” played in the background, emphasizing the absurdity of the situation.

  “No, you don’t understand. I’m not safe here. No one is as long as I’m here.” Olivia sounded delusional, even to herself. Maybe she was, but she knew for certain that Brian wouldn’t be the type to worry unless he had reason. “Legally, you can’t keep me.”

  The nurse tightened her grip. She pulled Olivia toward the bed, while Brian pulled toward the door. She kept saying, “Back to bed and we’ll talk about it.”

  Olivia felt like the rope in a tug of war.

  After a few more tugs in each direction, Brian let go and gripped Nurse Jackson by her upper arms, lifting her straight up, pivoting and placing her to the side. Disbelief crossed her face, but whether from his action or their continued defiance, Olivia couldn’t tell. Brian said, “Excuse us, but we really need to be going.”

  “I’m calling security.” With her mouth compressed into a thin line, she strode to the phone.

  Brian jabbed his pointing finger toward her. “Do that, because there will be some very bad men coming here soon, looking for your patient. Make sure security apprehends them and the police are notified.”

  The nurse blanched and made her call.

  Brian, throughout it all, had never stopped edging Olivia toward the door. While Nurse Jackson spoke with security, her back stiff and watching them, they finally made it out of the room. Spying a wheelchair parked by the nurses’ desk, they headed that way. Olivia’s hero’s eyes were constantly moving, watching everything at once, it seemed. She was impressed. Really. For the first time, she felt quite safe.

  A cardboard Rudolf chased Frosty around the base of the desk. More gaudy cutouts decorated the outsides of most doors. Red and green streamers crisscrossed the ceiling and a few strings of lights blinked competitively around bulletin boards and sitting area doors. Even the wheelchair was decorated with red and green tinsel. Brian balled it up and pitched it onto the floor as Olivia settled into her chariot. Then they were off.

  They made it halfway down the hall when two guys with brown security uniforms stepped out of the elevator. One stayed in place and the other blocked the hallway in front of Brian and Olivia. Both stood with a wide stance and arms crossed. Neither was tall, but that was where the similarity ended. The man in front of the elevator was blond and had brawny shoulders, like he’d played football in school. The other was dark-headed and skinny as a pin. Nurse Jackson closed in from behind.

  Skinny seemed to be the boss. He held up his hands and spoke, “Why don’t we go back to your room and talk about this?”

  Brian sighed and let go of the wheelchair. Slowly, he pulled off his leather jacket. Then, with jerky exaggeration, he rolled hi
s sleeves, all the while looking from one security guy to the other. Skinny stood firm, but Football’s face went white and he stumbled back, reaching for his baton. Olivia didn’t figure him to be the coward. Brian’s actions failed to spook them both, so she made the next move.

  Pivoting the wheelchair, she spoke to the angry nurse. “Look. We’re leaving. You can’t stop us. Legally, I have the right to go if I want. So, either my friend can make a mess of your guys, or you can help us do this right.”

  Nurse Jackson narrowed her eyes to slits that matched her still disapproving mouth. On the whole, she now looked like a pumpkin head political cartoon Olivia had seen once in the newspaper near Halloween. The artist had been poking fun at some senator who didn’t like a reformation bill that had passed. Still, she had that stiff bearing. For a moment, Olivia thought she’d opt for the fight, but then Drill Sergeant Pumpkin Head Jackson gave a quick, tight nod and pivoted on her heel.

  Brian winked at Football and Skinny. Then he piloted the wheelchair after the nurse.

  Chapter 8

  Brian left Olivia at the station desk and followed Nurse Jackson into the medicine room. Polished steel shelves and cabinets of bottles lined two pale green walls. A small sink flanked by more cabinets blanketed the third, as well as a cubbyhole for a small, lockable cart with medicine compartments. He assumed the nurse had gone in there to get something with which to sedate Olivia. When she saw him, she pushed him toward the door again, her lips grim, fury on her face. “Get out. You can’t be back here.”

  He held his hands up to ward her off and said, “I need to talk to you privately. Listen to me a minute.”

  She dropped her hands to her hips and jerked her head in one quick nod. She said nothing, but couldn’t quite stand still, shifting from foot to foot. Her reflection on the smooth cabinets swayed back and forth. He wouldn’t have been surprised to see lasers shoot from her eyes or smoke billow from her ears.

  “You know that guy that was found in the maintenance closet earlier? The one that escaped his guarded room and we found up here?”

  Again, she gave a quick nod, but hesitancy had entered her gaze. Brian decided on a variation of the truth. “He came up here for one reason. To kill that poor girl out there.” He pointed out the door in Olivia’s general direction.

  He continued, “We were lucky to catch him so quickly. The thing is, he’s not alone. Like I told you a few minutes ago, there are more that will come looking for her. That’s why I need to get her out of here. Not only to protect her, but everybody else up here.” Now he waved his hand in an all-encompassing gesture. The nurse’s gaze flicked to Olivia. When it returned to him, it was filled with worry and understanding. The anger still remained. This woman wasn’t used to being thwarted, but she’d listen to reason.

  “What do you need from me?”

  “Stop stonewalling us. The longer it takes to get out of here, the closer those men come.”

  Nurse Jackson nodded and moved past him, empty-handed, her reflection elongating before it disappeared. It looked like he’d been right about her original intent to sedate Olivia. He turned, followed and stood with his hands jammed deep in his pockets while the nurse explained the forms. After a couple minutes, his phone vibrated. The picture ID showed Tony.

  His friend’s voice began without preamble. “This guy doesn’t know much. He confirmed it was Hall who gave the order, but he doesn’t know why.”

  “That doesn’t help.” Brian turned his back on Olivia and the nurse and walked down the hall. He reached his pal, Cardboard Santa, and stopped. So far today, the caricature on the wall had seen a lot of action, but he hadn’t told a soul. He could be trusted with overhearing a phone conversation.

  “No, it doesn’t. But what’s interesting is that it’s not only Hall. There are quite a few families aligned on this.”

  “To kill Olivia?” He blinked hard. What could be big enough to make the families join together? There was a pause as both he and Tony thought on the ramifications. Nothing came to his mind. He stared at Santa, who also offered no insights.

  “I have a description for Hall. He’s a big man, not only heavily muscled, but also tall and broad. Has a heavy hand, especially when it comes to his son, Brett, who, by contrast, is built like a wire: tall, lean, and highly flexible. They both have sharp chins and heavy cheekbones. In the features, they’re carbon copies of each other. But, in actions, they’re as different as can be. Hall views his boy as a coward. He likes to bash him around, to toughen him up.”

  “Sounds like who we’ve been fighting.”

  “Yep.” After a moment, Tony asked, “You still in the hospital?”

  “Yeah. Got stopped by paperwork.”

  “That’s the way of the world, my friend. I’m off to deal with the security video.”

  “You gonna leave the guy there?”

  “What? He’s in a hospital. I’m pretty sure he can find someone to give him medical attention.” Tony hung up and Brian turned to stare at Olivia. What had she gotten herself into? This wasn’t going to be any “babysitting” job. It was going to get bloody. More than it already had.

  He watched the thumb on her left hand caress the paper while she signed. He wondered if she was even aware of her action. Watching, he felt a slow flush build across his body. What would it be like for her to caress him like that?

  He snapped that thought off, scolding himself. Olivia was injured and weak. People wanted her dead. She couldn’t even begin to fight for herself. She needed him to keep her safe until they solved this problem. Everything he said to himself made him feel more protective of her. Which was good. But it backfired when he realized the defense instinct also made him more attracted to her. That was bad. As Tony had said, she’d leave him when she found out his true nature. He’d been down that road too many times not to know it. He was twenty times a fool.

  With an exasperated growl at himself, he walked back to the desk and scooped the papers into Olivia’s lap. Nurse Jackson opened her mouth for some sharp command or retort, but he cut her off, holding up his hand. “We’ll mail these to you. There’s no more time. We have to go, now.”

  He caught her furious gaze and added, “Call your security. Make sure they stay up here. Right now.” Tipping Olivia’s wheelchair onto its two hind tires, he pivoted it toward the elevator. He set off in a long, fast stride, settling the chair onto all four wheels while its passenger grappled with the papers and blanket.

  Chapter 9

  One of the papers Olivia had signed was the acknowledgement that she should contact the hospital if she had any trouble getting better on her own. She’d managed to slap that one onto the pile of signed documents before Brian dumped the rest of the papers into her lap and whisked her to the elevator like a madman behind the wheel of a formula race car. Olivia snatched the forms as they threatened to fly away. The blanket, too, seemed to want to misbehave and she worried it might tangle in the big wheels of the chair, so she fought with one hand to collect it into a lump on her lap. As they passed a cardboard Santa taped on the wall, Brian patted its head.

  The elevator was still on their floor, and she couldn’t help but look around for the two security guards. They were nowhere to be seen. Brian shoved the wheelchair into the lift, facing her toward the back. As the door closed, he punched the button for the ground floor at least half a dozen times. He was in a hurry, and that was fine by her. Still, his urgency unsettled her.

  As they rode down, the small box intercom in the upper back right corner announced pages requesting that various hospital personnel report to the emergency room. It added to their tension. Brian had a hard time standing still, and his breathing came rapidly. He said nothing, but he punched the button two more times.

  The ride was only four floors, but it seemed like forever they were stuck in that tiny box. The mustiness of the old green rug clogged Olivia’s sinuses and, more than once, she stifled a sneeze. She stared at the plastic wood grain on the back of the elevator, not really see
ing it. Who were these people who wanted her dead? Why was she their target? The foreboding she’d felt all along magnified and joined with the urgency. Something dark and sinister was going on here.

  At last the elevator door opened. They entered the lobby and stopped short. The place was filled with distraught and injured people, as well as overflow from the nearby emergency room. Weaving through the traffic, Olivia picked up parts of the story and filled in the whole incident. A car had spun out of control on the ice, jumped the median and slammed into the first of two school buses filled with members, cheerleaders, and fans of a high school basketball team on the way home from a Christmas charity game. The second bus had rear-ended the first, and a minivan carrying more fans had plowed right into that. Everywhere she looked, she saw people crying. She wanted to stop and comfort them, but she knew the crowd would also be a good cover for someone who wanted to hurt her.

  Brian was as nervous as a cat at a vet’s office. He kept looking in every direction, like he expected someone to attack in the midst of all those people. His jumpiness affected her, and soon she was also scoping out the area. Still, he saw her would-be attacker long before she did.

  Halting the painfully slow progress of her chair, he stepped beside her to meet a man with a syringe in his hand and a deep angry scowl on his face. Olivia’s heart leapt into her throat, and she clutched the flimsy hospital blanket close to protect her. Brian, however, had a better idea.

  He waited until the assailant was almost on top of them, then he stepped to the side, putting the man between the wheelchair and him, blocking the action from curious eyes. He exclaimed, “Hey, buddy! You look injured!”

  Grabbing the wrist of the hand that held the syringe, he then plowed his opposite elbow right into the guy’s sternum. As the man lost his air in a whoosh and bent double, Brian, still blocking the view with his hip, brought his knee right up into the attacker’s face. The man dropped face-first onto the floor like an anchor. Brian yelled, “Hey! I need medical help here! This man passed out!”