by Matt Doyle
I follow Donal’s line of sight to my police issue HK45. “He did. Why’s that?”
“How’s your balance?” Donal asks Hoove.
Hoove sighs and gets up, taking a moment to get in synch with the rocking of the van. “Fine.” He looks at me and adds, “Take the clip out before you do this. Last thing I want is my cause of death to read ‘road bump related gun accident.’”
I do as I’m told and rise to my feet when Donal beckons me to. “Now,” he says, “Take a solid stance…good. Put your glove on, point the gun at Captain Hoover, and let it get a lock on him.”
Again, I do as I’m told.
“Now, watch this,” Donal says, getting to his feet and turning to face the captain. He steps right in front of me, blocking Hoove from view completely. “You still got the gun up?”
“Yeah,” I reply.
“Try firing. Like, really try. It’s better not to teach yourself to hold back.”
I try to pull the trigger, but it locks in place. I can feel a slight pull on the glove, but it doesn’t go far. “It won’t fire. Is that because of the clip being disengaged, or your being in the way?”
“Me,” Donal replies. “Once it locks onto someone, it won’t allow you to fire at anyone else until the targeting clears, either through a lack of action for two minutes or your removing your hand from the gun. It still has him tracked for now, though. Since the gun’s not loaded, I’ll show ya another trick. Try again the second I step out of the way.”
I watch and wait, and after a few seconds, Donal darts to the side. I pull the trigger before I register that Hoove has moved, but the gun is way ahead of me, and my hand lurches towards the back corner of the van, where Hoove has sandwiched himself. This time, the trigger pulls too, making me glad the gun isn’t loaded. I pull the gun up and study it, a new appreciation for the tool growing. “Neat.”
“Pretty good, isn’t it?” Donal says. “As long as you get a lock on, you can use a bit of misdirection like that. It’s a basic trick, but it works well, especially when you have something big in front of you.”
“I’ll remember that.”
We all feel the van come to a stop, and the green light goes on above the hatch. “We’re here,” the driver says, and the light goes off again.
“All right. Let’s see how things are coming along,” Hoove says, and starts marching towards the van door.
DOCTOR SANDERSON IS not a happy man. I’m far enough away from the room he’s grabbed to rant at Hoove in that I can’t hear him, but his body language is enough to give away how he feels. That Hoove isn’t even giving him the courtesy of a polite nod doesn’t appear to be helping either. I can’t help but smile at that.
“Ol’ Harold is on form,” comes a voice from behind me.
I turn my head to see I’m not the only one taking some pleasure in Doctor Sanderson’s torment. The desk I’m leaning on was unoccupied when I got here but is now manned by a single woman. She’s decked out in the standard nursing scrubs most of the staff here seem to wear. I’ve never quite been certain whether they’re blue, green, or something in between. I’m sure it’s part of the dress code, but I do question her decision to tie her black hair back in a tight ponytail. The single braid that it’s been pulled into would look nice were it not for the effect the whole style has achieved. Quite aside from the purple tints at the tips appearing a little odd in their current position, she has a wild look in her eyes. And I mean really wild. Were her hair hanging down, it would probably serve as a distraction. The sad thing is, I can’t tell whether her smile is hungry or just pleasant but unfortunately set off by her eyes. I do get the impression she’d probably be quite pretty were she relaxed, though. I guess that’s hospital work for you.
“Looks like it,” I reply, turning my attention back to the silent movie argument.
“Still, can’t blame him, can you? I can’t remember the last time a hospital didn’t have a bed crisis, so all this moving people about must be pretty rough for him. Especially given the condition of some of the patients.”
Was that a dig at us wonderful enforcers of the law? Let’s test that a little. I turn and offer a handshake. “Cassandra Tam, PI.”
The woman wraps her hand around mine with a weird flourish, gripping with one finger at a time. “Denise Bridges, and I know.”
“Denise, huh? Your name tag says A Bridges.”
“Ooh, you are observant,” she giggles. “I like trying out different names to see who’s paying attention. It’s a fun little game. I had one of the janitors calling me Karen all last week. As to my real name, it’s Anabelle.”
“Anabelle Bridges. Noted. And as far as moving the patients goes, I can’t say I’m too happy about it either. Unfortunately, we don’t have much choice in the matter. It was this or leave them in the line of fire and, as you already pointed out, some of them aren’t in great condition. A little upheaval is better than letting them get caught up in this.”
“Sounds like this guy you’re after is pretty dangerous.”
“He is.”
“Still, how likely is it that the patients would be caught in the middle of it all? I mean, I’d have thought you’re pretty good with a gun, being in your line of work. And the police? They must be practising a lot, right? If it’s like you said on the TV, this guy’s only after two people specifically.”
I turn back and raise an eyebrow Anabelle’s way. “Your point is?”
“My point is, we’re not just dealing with physical trauma here. Some of the patients on this ward are suffering from the mental effects of their conditions too. Moving them isn’t going to help that any.”
“Nor is letting them get caught up in a gunfight with this guy. Frankly, if they’re suffering emotionally, that makes their presence even more problematic.”
“Is that right? Has it got something to do with those tinted contact lenses you’re all wearing? Well, all but the big guy. I do love a brogue.”
“I’ll be sure to point you out to him,” I reply, rolling my eyes. “And no, these are a charity thing. They don’t affect the vision, so we can keep them in while on the job.”
“Charity, huh? Which one? Doughnuts for Retired Po-Po?”
I let my eyes relax into my natural glare and ask, “Anabelle, are you trying to piss me off? I get that this is an awkward amount of upheaval for you all, but I can assure you it is absolutely necessary. If there were another option, we would have gone with it.”
“Now, that I believe,” she says, giving me a surprisingly disarming smile. “In response, yes I am trying. But only because I knew you were lying. I have ears, and Harold has a voice. I know the mugger is using some sort of light show to…confuse victims, I guess. And if you get that this is an awkward amount of upheaval as you put it, then you also need to understand this. We know you’re just doing your jobs, but so are we. We’re understaffed, overworked, and now being forced into consolidating our overcrowding problem into one harder to manage floor.”
I look Anabelle up and down. Her breathing has quickened slightly, but she’s not as angry as her tone would have me believe. Okay, let’s try something less aggressive. “Feel better?” I try, carefully keeping my voice neutral.
“Absolutely. Don’t you? It’s better to address the elephant than to leave it in the room, don’t you think?”
I shrug. “Sure, why not. For what it’s worth, we’re only here for the one night. And I’m sure Captain Hoover could be persuaded to supply some people to help with putting things back the way they were after we’re done.”
“Let’s see how this all plays out first. If things get too out of hand, I doubt anyone, patients or staff, are gonna want to see you lot around for a while.”
“Fair enough.”
“Well,” she replies, grabbing some papers from behind the desk. “Back to work. You should go get ready too. It’s gonna be a long night.”
I nod and give a polite wave but keep my eyes on Anabelle as she sets off down the adjacent hall.
“That looked fun,” Donal says, stepping up beside me. “Get her number?”
“Happily taken, remember? Besides,” I reply, giving him a playful slap on the shoulder, “she prefers big Irishmen.”
And on that note, I head off to find Hanson and Devereaux and check out Pauline Welch’s current condition.
THEY MAY NOT be happy with the arrangement, but to their credit, the hospital staff do a fine job of moving the majority of the patients to the presumed safety of the floor below before the night truly sets in. There are still a couple of critically ill patients up here with us, due to the simple fact that moving them would genuinely carry a high risk. As luck would have it, they’re all already in private rooms with lockable doors. The plan is for three doctors to run hourly checks, relay style. Unless we’ve signalled them not to come knocking, they’ll take it in turns to come up and check each patient one by one, accompanied of course by a member of the team each time.
The one exception to this rule is Pauline Welch who we’re hoping will act as a suitable bait to lure out Doctor Sanderson, or indeed whoever else it may be if we’re wrong. In keeping with this, her room is fully open. Each of us will be sitting guard with her for an hour at a time. The current working theory is that LV48, as we’re now calling him, likely won’t try anything while either Donal or I are there as he’s already had a mixed bag of luck with us. This being the case, I take the first shift, sitting alone with nothing but the steady beep of Pauline’s heart monitor for company until Doctor Sanderson drops by with his escort, Captain Hoover.
“You drew first shift too, eh?”
“Quite,” Sanderson replies, as he checks over Pauline’s unconscious body. I watch closely to make sure he doesn’t do anything he shouldn’t and am almost disappointed when he doesn’t.
You must be really bored if you’re wishing harm on a victim. Get over it, I admonish myself.
Sanderson and Hoove soon move on, and I’m alone with my thoughts again. Assuming we’re right, no attack is going to come until after Sanderson finishes his walk around the halls. Plus however long it takes him to get ready.
Pushing myself back into the annoyingly uncomfortable chair the hospital has supplied for us does nothing to lighten my mood, so I start playing with my earphones instead. They’re slightly oversized, over-the-ear ones like you’d get at a shooting gallery. We decided we needed to be able to hear each other, at least when any attack first starts, so we’re all wearing them around our necks at the moment. There were a few pairs that would double up as radios at the station too but, aside from there not being enough of them for all of us, there was always the risk that the microphone would pick up the infrasound, so complete silence and a starting position of sound-blocking-necklace it is. It means I can press my finger against one side, push it back, and let it spring back into place again, creating an almost satisfying thud as it clashes with its opposite side. The real fun comes in trying to get the sound to synch up with the heart monitor, either at the same time as a beep or directly between two.
“Yeah, ’cause that’s a great party game,” I grumble to myself.
There are shadows in the hospital. I slap myself on the cheeks with both hands. Of course there are, idiot. There are shadows everywhere. You just need the right lighting.
“This floor is huge,” I tell myself, leaning forward to rest my elbows on my knees and my face in my hands. “I bet the floor patrols are a lot more fun than this.”
I groan. Because fighting a modern-day vampire is such fun, eh? This must be torture if you’re begging to star in your own horror movie.
“Damn right it is.”
I try to relax a little, letting my mind focus on the rhythmic sound of the heart monitor again.
Beep…beep…beep.
I’m letting a combination of boredom and fear get the better of me, which is not good for any of us. It also means something I hadn’t noticed is eating at me.
Beep…beep…beep.
I just need to relax. Relax, and figure out what specifically has got me so wired.
Beep…beep…beep.
I look over at Pauline Welch, lying still on the bed next to me, and shake my head. “You’ve got the easiest job of all of us.”
“Good listener, isn’t she?”
I look up and see Corporal Devereaux standing in the doorway. “Don’t mind me, I’m bored, is all.”
“I hear you. The shift earlier was only bearable ’cause there were so many people passing through. No such luck tonight, eh? Say, could you give me a hand?”
“Sure,” I reply and push to my feet. “What’s up?”
He leads me out through the door and, to my surprise, he has a small table waiting. “If you could grab the coffee and the box, that’d be great. I almost dropped them carrying the table over here.”
I do as he asks, and he grabs the table by the edge and pulls it into the room. With Devereaux not bothering to lift it this time, it makes a ridiculously noisy scraping sound all the way up until he gets it in position to the side of the chair. He takes the drink and the small box from me and says, “Thanks, Cassie.”
“So, what’s in the box?” I ask, leaning myself into the doorframe to steady myself while I try to loosen up my legs a little.
“Cards,” he replies, dumping them onto the table. “Figured I may as well play some solitaire while we wait for the fireworks to start. Speaking of which, you can consider yourself relieved.”
I stifle a yawn and say, “Thanks. I’ll get whoever does the next escort session to bring you another drink if you like.”
“Sounds good. Coffee would be great. White, with sugar.”
“Got ya.” I give my arm another stretch, add, “Catch you later,” and leave to check in with the others.
“EVENING, CASSIE, FANCY meeting you here,” Lieutenant Hanson says from behind the desk when she sees me walk around the corner. “Hope you’re not in for anything serious.”
“Dehydration,” I reply, making a beeline for the hot drinks machine at the back of the waiting room.
“Probably shouldn’t go for coffee then. That’ll dry you right out.”
“Too bad I’m prone to bad decisions then.”
“Well, I won’t argue with you on that one. How’s Welch doing?”
I take a mouthful of something black and caffeinated that’s masquerading as coffee and stroll over to the desk. “I’m a detective, not a doctor. The beep-beep is nice and steady, though, so that’s probably a good thing, right?”
“Probably,” Hanson agrees. “You all set for your patrol?”
“Trying to get rid of me already? I hope you’re not planning to sneak the good Corporal away from his post.”
“Nah, Dev’s far too serious for that. Besides, Hoove’ll be due back soon. I wouldn’t want to give him a heart attack, or they might force me into his job.”
I snort out a laugh and ask, “Any sign of anything yet? Or anything in particular I should check?”
“Donal didn’t mention anything on his first walk-through. But with Sanderson doing the first rounds, we expected that. Sounds like it takes a while to get through it all.”
“Yeah. First walk-through is a good chance to get a look at potential entry points, so it’ll take longer than any subsequent ones. Unless the other forty-seven LVs turn up en masse, of course.”
“Don’t tempt fate,” a voice says from the door leading back to what we’ve been calling the central hub, and Captain Hoover walks over to join us at the desk. He looks down at my cup and wrinkles his nose at the sight of the black goop I’m now struggling to convince myself to take another mouthful of. He reaches behind his back and pulls out a small Thermos, which he waves at me. “I’ll stick with my soup.”
“You are such an old man,” Hanson laughs.
Hoove flicks her ear and replies, “One of us has to act our age. Now, go rest up in the staff room.”
Hanson gets to her feet and gives a playful salute, then heads off to the ro
om Hoove and Sanderson were arguing in earlier. “I better start my patrol,” I say, lifting my cup. “Maybe it’ll make me tired enough to finish this thing.”
“Keep your eyes open,” Hoove replies and settles back into the chair, his eyes going to the computer monitor in front of him.
This floor of the hospital encompasses several different departments. It’s set out so that there’s a central hub with various elevators and hallways leading to other sections, all technically on the same level as this one, but classed officially as different floors. We had considered bringing in other members of the PD to help us patrol the entire thing, but it would have taken a long time to get anyone new up to speed. On top of that, if we can enclose the potential encounters in one smaller area, it’s a lot easier to manage.
The layout is easy enough to get to grips with. A single door at the end of a short hallway leads to the hub area. At our end of this is the main desk where I had the run-in with Nurse Bridges. From here, there’s a large open-plan area that acts as a waiting room, with a couple of smaller rooms lining the back wall. These amount to storerooms, minor consultation rooms, and the aforementioned staff room. A hallway reaches out from either side of the room, and wraps around in a large square, leading off to multiple different areas. Pauline Welch is in an individual room in the North Western corner, and the other remaining critical patients are spread out. These rooms are almost all on the outer side of the corridor, while the inner wall consists mostly of a mix of small rooms set aside for specialist procedures and one large, open-plan room, which is where we moved most of the patients from.
My first stop on the trip is the hallway to the right of the waiting room. The first door I come to here leads to the open-plan area. I nudge the door ajar and peer in, but don’t enter. There’s another door on the opposite side, and our agreed route is to check in one side, but not enter until we reach the other. Happy there’s no clear danger, I let the door swing shut and keep walking. Most of the patients on this side had private rooms but were suitable for moving. As a result, we’ve locked pretty much every door in the hallway other than the one I just looked into. The locks can only be opened from the outside, we checked that. The reasoning was that if a patient could unlock it from the inside, they could also lock it, which isn’t something the staff want to deal with. I give the doors a quick examination anyway to make sure they’re still locked, but that doesn’t take too long. I glance in on our one guest on the hall as I pass their window. It’s an elderly man wearing breathing apparatus who looks about as comfortable as you’d expect given the circumstances. “Think I’ll save those checks for escort duty,” I mumble as I reach the left turn to take me towards the northeast section.