LV48

by Matt Doyle

Donal crosses his arms, his armoured face still angled at the screen. “How do ya mean?”

  “If the green light comes on and goes off depending when the cameras are active,” I clarify, “then that gives a signal for when we’re watching. If Sanderson is our vamp, he’d know that and could be moving and hiding between shots. Where would he be able to cut the power from?”

  Hanson clicks her tongue, thinking through her patrol. “Nowhere I spotted. Another floor, maybe?”

  A muffled sound rings out through the dark, drawing our gaze to the wall at the back of the waiting room. As soon it registers where the sound likely came from, Hanson clicks through the cameras until she comes to the two set up in the open-plan area. They don’t cover anything close to the whole room, but her clicking back forth every few seconds gives us a good shot at either catching movement or at least making any intruder too nervous to move.

  “Go back,” Donal says when Hanson switches camera again. “Now wait…what’s that?”

  We lean in to look at the part of the screen that he’s tapping. “The back wall?” I try.

  “Aye, but look closely. Isn’t that the message board?”

  “Looks like it… No, you’re right, that’s wrong. It shouldn’t be that far to the side.”

  “Think we should check it out?” Hanson asks.

  My lips twitch in and out of a grimace, understanding my thoughts before I do. “I’ll do it. If he’s in there, I may be able to entice him out. Keep an eye on the cameras in case he gets behind me.”

  I MAKE MY way to the entrance nearest to the western corridor. My thinking is if Welch is still the first target, I’ll be close enough to them to run in and offer assistance. Just to make sure, I pause in front of my intended door. Silence. Quit stalling, Cassie. Let’s get this done.

  I sigh, and draw my HK45, flexing my fingers around the grip as I get a good feel for the weapon. I let my free hand drop to my waist and take the torch out of its holster on my belt. And that’s when it hits me. “I can’t grip the torch and still use the auto correction pad. Diu. Would it have been that hard to magnetise the torches to the guns? Okay…workarounds.”

  I feel the weight of the torch in my hand and think back to my days at the Police Academy in Vancouver. The neck-index technique, where you hold the torch ice pick-style by your face is the common one, but that doesn’t resolve my grip issue for the HK. I could modify it by resting the torch between my head and neck, but that’s gonna limit my neck movement, and start feeling really uncomfortable really quickly. The Rogers technique, where you hold the torch between the index and middle fingers, is out because the torch is too bulky, which sucks because it would have had me close to a two-handed grip on the gun.

  Well, when all else fails, revert to the popular choice. I grip the torch ice pick-style in my left hand and bring it up underneath my right. It’s almost cliché now given the number of TV shows depicting the style, but the Harries technique is popular for a reason. It’s gonna be a more awkward transition when it comes to taking a two-handed approach to shooting, but I’ll take it.

  As of now, my plan is simple; use the torch until I can’t. Then we’ll see how good my night vision is. And so, I give the door a push and walk slowly inside, rotating at my core to pass the light over as wide an area as possible. I back myself into the door as it shuts and take a look to my left, watching the corners of the room on my side, but there’s nothing in sight. With each step forward, I do a partial sweep, illuminating the insides of the bed areas as best I can.

  Careful, I warn myself, my finger twitching on the trigger when the light catches the edge of a screen and casts a shadow across the wall. I keep moving, taking in my surroundings. Right now, there’s only one sound I can hear: my own footsteps, which are about as quiet as I can make them. The problem is that in the near silence, they stand out more than they would in a nighttime street, which is a bit distracting. On the plus side, it means I’ll likely hear if anyone else moves in here too.

  I make my way around the side of the room closest to the entrance doors, slowly moving towards the Eastern entrance. A few more shadows spook me more than they need to, but I find nothing, so I move up to the Northern side of the room. This is where I’m expecting the action to come anyway. That’s not to say investigating the southern side was a waste, nor was it me stalling. I need to familiarise myself with the area again, see what I can use if I need to, or what someone else could. It’s not enough to give me an advantage, given we suspect a member of the hospital staff to be the LV, but it’s enough to reduce the hindrance, at least.

  I move along the room again and finally reach the main point of interest for us. Moving the torch up and down in front of me, I can see the message board has been shoved aside a little, and behind it is…a gap. I press myself against the wall and angle the torch towards the shadows, but I can’t see inside. So, I wait and listen. Still silence. Which leaves me one option: go in blind.

  My eyes drift down to my tie, not that I can see it right now. Like most of my collection, it appears to be plain black, unless you get close to it in good light. Today’s design is a Bixie, a two-horned, winged lion that’s supposed to keep evil at bay. I smile wryly to myself. I may not put much stock in superstitions, but I sure dress like I rely on them a lot.

  Well, that’s all the protection you’re getting.

  I slide my foot between the board and the gap and nudge it further aside. Either it’s designed to move, it was only resting against the wall, or it’s been removed, because it moves with ease. Once the gap is big enough, I step in and flash the torch from left to right. To my surprise, there’s a whole room back here. There isn’t much to it, and it’s not very wide, but it’s clearly important. The walls are lined with columns of switches, each labelled with simple codes; 1A, 1B, 1C and so on. At the back of the room is a single computer terminal, the screen lit brightly. I approach it with caution—because I learned my lesson with Pauline Welch’s machine—and stare down at the screen. It’s unlocked, that’s clear, but my attempts to click on things bring up password prompts.

  “Not touching that again,” I grumble and scan what I can see. The screen shows a list of references, matching those on the walls, and they all have a green bar next to them. All except one: 4C. This reference has a red, flashing bar next to it. “We’re on the fourth floor…this must be the power terminal. Where’s the button…?”

  I move along the walls until I come to 4C. Of course, one single switch in the column is facing a different way to the rest. I flick it back on, and the lack of response is hardly surprising. Best I can guess, the switch relates to the lights on the floor, and the red bar on the screen means it’s now locked out from changing state. Assuming it was the vamp who did this, that would confirm he thinks we don’t know about Welch. Cutting the power completely would leave her without the life-confirming heart monitor, so this helps the illusion.

  I glance around the room again and notice the open door pushed back against the wall for the first time. If closed, it would be where the message board was. When I look at the wall opposite, there’s another door pushed open, but the rear of the message board shows it’s still in place. Now…were the doors always hidden, or did the LV do that? We didn’t take any of the pre-operation patrols into the operating theatre hall or the open-plan room, and none of the escort runs go there either, so…

  Thud.

  My head turns instinctively towards the gap, and I raise my HK45 back into position. I take a deep breath and step quickly through the gap, and immediately turn towards where I thought the sound came from. The torchlight catches the visor on the LV’s mask and I suddenly realise my mistake. My knees start to shake, and I collapse to the floor, instinctively tightening my grip on the gun, even as the torch clatters to the floor.

  The room is spinning, guided by something barely audible to me. But I can still see the shape of my attacker as he walks towards me. Barely.

  Acting quickly, I pull the headphones up over my
ears, drowning the room in silence. The nausea begins to fade away, but with that comes the knowledge that the LV is almost upon me.

  You can use this. Drop forward and loosen your grip on the gun…there. Wait…just a little longer.

  The LV stops in front of me and slips two of his elongated fingers under the top of the headphones.

  Now!

  The instant I feel the headphones start to move away from my head, I force my entire body upwards and throw my hands out. I twist my knuckles towards the LV’s head and grip the ear-like protrusions on his mask as low down as I can. With a guttural scream, I drop my core and pull with all my strength. The lump of metal in my right hand comes away with a crack, and the one in my left rips from the helmet, but remains attached, albeit hanging limply. Keeping moving, I drop the chunk from my right hand and twist my body back around, throwing a hard punch into the LV’s gut.

  The force of my strike pushes the LV back, but also causes me to overbalance and drop to one knee. I reach up, push the headphones off my ears, and wait. The nausea doesn’t return, and nor do the barely registered sounds of before. Somewhere in the direction of Pauline Welch’s room, I hear a gunshot. And then the LV in front of me laughs.

  The laugh is a manic, whooping ball of crazy that I wasn’t expecting. It’s also very noticeably female.

  Another gunshot.

  I make a grab for my HK45, but the LV moves quicker and swings a heavily booted foot into my jaw. She ignores the gun and grabs me by the throat with the hand that doesn’t include claws, dragging me to my feet. With the helmet looking too heavy for me to break without help, I go for what’s already worked, and throw my body forward, lifting my knee into her mid-section. The grip on my throat loosens and I dive to the side, grabbing my torch from the floor.

  Click. Thud.

  I raise the light just in time to see the claws fall from the LV’s hand. No broken fang lights, both ears still present—before I took them out—and the number forty-nine on the forehead. Now I get it.

  “You’re the one who attacked me the first time,” I say, narrowing my eyes. I nod to the claws on the floor, and add, “Guess my blood isn’t on the menu anymore, eh?”

  The LV darts forward and catches me with a surprise left hook, snapping my head around and straight into the follow-up right. Another left follows, this time catching me in the gut and lifting me off the floor. I instinctively grip the torch tighter and, with a primal growl, I swing it butt-first into my attacker’s helmet. The glass is obviously reinforced, as the impact does nothing more than create a dull thwack, and barely moves my foe. She fires back by grabbing my head and slamming her own into it.

  I stumble back and barely get my arm over the top of one of the bed space dividers to stop myself falling.

  Definitely reinforced.

  A movement in the shadows catches my attention, and I grab the divider and pull it across me. I slam it into the LV’s incoming fist but drop the torch again in the process. Thankfully, my eyes are adjusting, and I can at least make out her shape in the dark. No, from the way she’s gripping it, I missed her hand but caught her in the wrist. That’s an opening.

  I shove the divider forward and she moves to avoid it, giving me the chance to slam my own fist into the side of her ribs. I feel her fold into it slightly, her arm moving down to block any follow-up attacks to the same spot. I expected that and angle my second punch at the opposite side. The LV hunkers down and catches me with another headbutt, but this one doesn’t have as much behind it, and only knocks my head back rather than forcing me away.

  Not wanting to lose the advantage, I lift my leg close to my chest and push out with a front kick that sends the LV tripping over the downed divider. She rolls to the side, narrowly avoiding my attempt at caving her ribs in with a hard boot, and grabs something from the floor. From the change in stance, I can tell what it is: the HK45. I freeze, playing along with the façade that she doesn’t even know what she’s walked into.

  She laughs at me, and it’s damn near a cackle. Even with the mask providing some muffling, I can hear how much she’s enjoyed this. And she thinks she’s going to enjoy her victory. This is why I didn’t bring the Glock on this one. As much as I don’t like the way the HK works, it does have some advantages. Like fingerprint recognition.

  She squeezes the trigger.

  The trigger locks.

  I start to move again, but the gun smacks into my nose, causing me to bring my hand to my face. Even without the light, I can tell I’m bleeding.

  The sound of a door opening and closing snaps me out of my introspection. I grab both the torch and the gun from the floor and dash across the room, heading in the direction of the sound and out into the corridor opposite Pauline Welch’s. Up ahead, I see the doors leading to the hall outside the operating rooms swing shut, and give chase, torch and gun back into a comfortable Harries position. I take advantage of the way the doors swing both ways and kick them open, but slow on entry. The LV could be behind any of four doors, or even in the laundry chute.

  I take two steps and stop.

  Knock. Knock. Knock.

  I do a full one-eighty and come face to face with something that will remain in my nightmares for years to come. The LV is attached to the wall above the swinging doors. She’s just pressed up against it, her helmet angled directly at me. The whole image is so bizarre that it causes me to react far slower than I should.

  Hum.

  The LV launches forward from the wall, tackling me to the floor. I try to roll on top, but she uses the momentum to throw me off and into the wall shoulder first, then scrambles out from under me. She throws a kick at my face, but I dodge it and dive forward, tackling her in the stomach. The LV adapts quickly, however, and gets her arms under my own. One twist of her body later, and I feel the impact of the door behind me, followed by a short rush of air as I stumble back, struggling to remain upright.

  I raise the HK and attempt to get a lock on, but the LV ducks and weaves as she moves, and shoves me over the nearby operating table. An idea hits me shortly after the floor does the same, and I change my grip on my gun, switching the barrel into my hand. As I get to my feet, I listen. The LV is either getting pissed off, or overconfident, because she isn’t even trying to hide her footsteps right now. So, I swing a gun-assisted spinning back fist, slamming the butt of the gun into the side of her helmet.

  “The gun is mightier than the torch,” I mutter, following the LV as the impact forces her towards the operating table. I tackle her down and, dropping the torch onto her chest, wrap a hand around her throat. As I’d hoped, she brings both her own hands up to try to force my one away. Roaring like a lunatic, I start slamming the butt of the gun down on her helmet at speed with my stronger arm. She reacts quickly and tries to move her hands. I tighten my grip on her throat. When that causes her to panic and increase her struggling, I lean into my grip a little more, still slamming the gun against her helmet, over and over again.

  Crack.

  “Got you.”

  Her hand comes up and brushes my wrist, guiding it beyond the helmet and causing me to overbalance and go sprawling across her. She starts bringing her knee up, trying to catch my head, ribs, anything. They aren’t hard strikes, but the one that catches my arm is enough to make me lose my grip on her throat.

  And just like that, she’s able to shove me away again and start towards the door. Unwilling to give her a chance to set up some other trick like she did with the wall, I force myself forward and slam into her back as she exits the room. She crashes face first into the opposite wall, creating another satisfying crack, but shifts her weight and throws herself backwards, crushing me against the other wall. A wildly thrown elbow stumbles me sideways, and a right hook drops me.

  Even as I fall, I switch grips again and raise the HK45. The LV, unaware that I’m still conscious, tries to open the door to the power room, only to find it locked. She tilts her masked face, making two of us who are confused by it all. Before either of us
can dwell on it, though, the HK45 light goes green, signalling that I have a lock. I squeeze the trigger.

  The impact of the bullet as it hits the LV’s leg sends her into a desperate whirl as she presses herself back against the wall to keep herself upright. She reaches her hand down and presses her fingers to the wound, then brings them back up to her face. Her head turns towards me and time seems to freeze.

  One by one, the lights in the hallway turn on, and like an idiot, I look up at them. Realising what I’ve done, I try to find the LV again, but am barely in time to see her head disappear down the laundry chute.

  “Diu,” I grunt, and push myself up to my feet and dash for the chute. For a moment, I consider following her down.

  Crash.

  I raise my gun again and point it directly at the new LV that’s been shoved through the door at the end of the hall. This one has a missing ear, marking it as the one Bert attacked. Before I can get a lock on him, he twists his body and throws Lieutenant Hanson at me.

  “Fucking bastard,” Lieutenant Hanson growls, scrambles to her feet, and hurtles back down the hall.

  Everything is happening too fast for me to try to get a safe lock on. Okay, let’s haul ass.

  I sprint away from the LV, exiting via the door I came in through and making a quick turn down towards the waiting area. My breathing is getting laboured already, but I push on, turning at the end of the room and making a dash for the door that should be behind the LV. As I reach out for it, it gets thrown open and slams into my face. The world starts to spin, and something dark steps confidently through the door, giving me a brief glimpse of Hanson, slumped unconscious against the laundry chute. I hope she’s unconscious anyway.

  The LV takes a step towards me, but before he can do anything, Donal O’Brien hurtles past me and barrels him to the ground. The pair start rolling around and trading blows, leaving me to wonder where Hoove and Devereaux are. Even with the light back on, I don’t think I can safely get a lock on the male LV.