Sanford Hospital (Berkley Street Series Book 4)

by Ron Ripley

  “So,” Doc said, cutting away at the fabric, “you come here often?”

  “Is this your bedside manner?” Shane asked, wincing as Doc reached the knife and worked his way through the cloth.

  “Yup,” Doc said, removing the shirt. “You like it?”

  “No,” Shane said, “but please don’t let that stop you from fixing me.”

  “I never allow constructive criticism to interrupt my work,” Doc said. He put the scissors down, took a compression bandage out and said. “Can you say, ‘ah’?”

  “Ah?” Shane asked, and when he did Doc grabbed the knife and pulled it out.

  Shane’s voice became a scream of rage and pain. Doc slapped the bandage on him, and as Shane’s vision pulsed in time to the throbs of the wound, the former medic taped him up.

  “How’s it feel?” Doc asked.

  “Like crap,” Shane grumbled.

  “Good,” Doc said. “At least you feel something there.”

  The medic rooted around in the first-aid box for a moment, grunted in satisfaction and pulled a small hypodermic needle out.

  “Tetanus,” Doc said, and without ceremony, he took the cap off and stuck the needle in Shane’s deltoid.

  “Doc, you have the absolute worst bedside manner,” Shane said. He looked down at himself. “And I am now bloody and in a pair of boxers.”

  “Well,” Doc said, dropping the needle onto the desk. “It could be worse.”

  “How so?” Shane asked.

  “You could be wearing tighty-whities,” Doc replied.

  Before Shane could comment, another shotgun blast echoed through the hospital.

  Doc glanced at Shane’s hand and asked, “Will those actually work?”

  Shane looked down at the knuckledusters and nodded. “You bet, Doc.”

  “Okay,” Doc said, “let’s go find out who’s gone haywire with a shotgun.”

  Shane nodded and walked toward the stairs.

  “Where are you going?” Doc asked, stopping by the elevator.

  “Power’s out, Doc,” Shane said, glancing over his shoulder. “Think you can get the elevator to work without it?”

  Doc frowned and followed Shane. Together they reached the stairwell and Doc slipped in front of Shane. The former medic removed a key card from his pocket and swiped it through. The emergency power allowed the door to open.

  “Where’d you get the card?” Shane asked as they entered the stairwell.

  “Ask me no more questions, I’ll tell you no more lies,” Doc said, starting down the stairs. The shotgun was fired again, the sound echoing up from the bottom of the stairwell.

  “Doesn’t sound good,” Doc said, looking over at Shane.

  “No,” Shane agreed, “it sure as hell doesn’t.”

  Chapter 55: Francis Finds Matias

  The world was silent.

  Occasionally the dimness of the ward was lit by the muzzle flash of the shotgun, and Francis knew he was smiling. His heart kept a strong, steady beat within his chest, and he felt the blood flowing through him.

  A man stepped out of a room, a look of pure hate on his face. He was missing his left arm at the shoulder, but he still looked as though he could inflict serious damage on Francis.

  Francis pulled the trigger, rock salt exploding out of the shotgun and ripping through the ghost. As the spirit vanished and the rock salt shattered against the wall, Francis turned and realized he had reached Matias’ room.

  He let go of the weapon with his left hand and grasped the door handle. With a jerk, he twisted it and pushed into the room.

  Matias was lying on the floor.

  Suddenly the ability to hear rushed back to Francis and the old man’s labored breathing filled his ears.

  Francis dropped to his knees, setting the shotgun down beside him.

  “Matias,” Francis said, and the old man looked at him with wide eyes. His lips were blue, his face pale.

  “Dom Francis,” Matias whispered, his voice barely audible.

  Francis went to speak, but a scream tore out of his mouth instead of the kind words he had meant to say. Something unspeakably cold grabbed him and threw him aside.

  Francis watched as the Nurse reached into Matias' chest, her hand plunging in all the way up to her wrist.

  Matias opened his mouth in silent shock, his eyes glazing over as his back arched.

  Francis tried to move but found he couldn’t. Fear immobilized him.

  “Peace,” a voice he recognized as the Nurse’s said. “He is nearly done. And it is not yet your time, Father.”

  Francis remained silent, unable to respond.

  Matias relaxed, then went limp. For a few seconds longer, the Nurse kept her hand in Matias’s chest. Finally, she withdrew it and looked to Francis.

  “You should return to your home, Father,” she said. “There will be others who will need your comfort before I give them mine.”

  The Nurse vanished, and Francis tried to gather his strength, but he failed.

  Chapter 56: A Gathering

  When they reached A Ward and exited the stairwell, Shane could see the door to Matias’ room was open. Plastic wrap for quarantine control was in disarray. The smell of gunpowder was heavy in the air.

  “Oh damn,” Shane breathed as they reached the doorway.

  Doc pushed past him, hurrying to Matias’ side. Shane watched as Doc checked the old man’s vitals, but it was no use. Matias was dead.

  “Dom Francis,” Shane said.

  The monk was on his knees, head bent. His hands were clasped together on his lap, and a riot shotgun with a drum canister lay on the floor beside him.

  “Dom Francis,” Shane repeated.

  The monk lifted his head and in his eyes Shane saw a deep sadness.

  “What happened?” Shane asked.

  “She killed him,” Dom Francis replied. “I couldn’t stop her.”

  “Look at me,” Doc said, command and authority in his voice.

  Dom Francis did so.

  Doc checked the monk’s pulse, his pupils, and his neck. With a sigh, Doc settled back on his haunches and said, “You’re fine, physically.”

  Dom Francis nodded. “I know. Shaken, is all. I thought I’d be able to save him from her.”

  “You and me both,” Shane muttered.

  “Now what?” Doc asked, looking from the monk to Shane. “Seriously, what do we do now? This place has been abandoned, so I don’t think we’re going to get any help if we call anyone.”

  “Not looking to call anyone,” Shane said. “All I want to do is get to my car, get my gear bag and find her grave.”

  “You still want to do that?” Doc asked, shocked. “After everything we’ve gone through?”

  “Yes,” Dom Francis said, getting to his feet. “Shane is right. We need to finish her off. I doubt the hospital will be closed for very long.”

  “You guys have some issues,” Doc said, using the wall to support himself as he stood up. “But I guess you’re right. We should finish it. We can’t risk her coming back. And, you know, I really don’t want to wake up with her standing over my bed one day.”

  “Alright,” Shane said. “Got a question you might be able to answer.”

  “Go ahead,” Doc said.

  “Do you know if there’s an old graveyard around here. Maybe something in a back corner, tucked away?” Shane asked.

  “Sure,” Doc said. “About a quarter mile away, up through an old road. I think they used it for the hospital, back before it filled up and people changed their minds about letting the government bury their family members.”

  “Alright,” Shane said. He looked over at Dom Francis. “You okay to do this?”

  The monk nodded, and then he asked, “You’ve done this before?”

  “A couple of times now,” Shane said. “Yeah.”

  “Did anyone die before?” Dom Francis said.

  Shane nodded and whispered, “Yes.”

  With the painful memory of Courtney’s broken bod
y in his mind, Shane turned away and headed for the parking lot.

  Chapter 57: The Plan

  “I don’t know what to expect here,” Shane said as the three of them stood at his car. He had gotten a pair of pants on, but nothing else. His shoes were in his room, and he had found a zip-up hoodie in the trunk, along with the collapsible shovel he left in there for the winter months.

  “What do you mean?” Doc asked.

  “Before,” Shane explained, “there were always at least a couple of the dead who were willing to help me. This is not the case here, as we’ve found out. In fact, they would much rather work against us. Stop us from ending the Nurse. Thing is, other than the Nurse, none of them have really tried to kill us. But, I’m concerned about what they might try to do if we get too close to her grave.”

  “Can’t we use the shotguns to stop them?” Doc asked.

  “Sure,” Shane said. “Shotguns come in handy. But how fast can you pull a trigger?”

  “What?” Doc said, looking at him. “What do you mean?”

  “You’ve been in combat, right, Doc?” Dom Francis asked.

  Doc nodded.

  “You ever know the bad guys to wait patiently for you to draw a bead on them, or come at you one at a time?” the monk said.

  “Damn,” Doc said, sighing. “No.”

  “And these aren’t ordinary ghosts,” Shane said. “Most are former military. Yeah, some may not have seen combat. These were guys who suffered from post-traumatic stress, battlefatigue, whatever you want to call it. These were combat vets. They don’t have fire superiority, but they have strength in numbers. Hell, I had to face five of them.”

  Doc took a deep breath, let it out slowly and said, “So what do we do?”

  “We go as carefully as possible. And remember,” Shane said grimly, “we’ve still got to dig her up. Pretty sure she’s not going to be laid out all nice and neat for us in some crypt. Life is never that easy.”

  “How is this going to work then?” Doc asked. “I mean, are we going to lay down covering fire while you dig, or what?”

  “How am I going to dig, with my arm like this?” Shane asked.

  “How are you going to walk a quarter mile without shoes?” Dom Francis asked.

  “Carefully,” Shane replied.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to try and get them out of your room?” Doc said. “Seriously, Shane, we can wait.”

  “It’s not a matter of time,” Shane said. “It’s about who might try to stop us in the building before we ever get to the cemetery. Anyway, can you handle a shotgun, Doc?”

  He nodded, picking the weapon up. “Yeah. No problem there.”

  “What’s the plan, then?” Dom Francis asked.

  “Pretty straight forward,” Shane said. “Once we get to the cemetery, we find the Nurse’s grave. Next, comes the digging, and here’s hoping we won’t be interrupted. When we have her grave opened up, we salt her bones, dump some lighter fluid on her, and light her up.”

  “Easy enough,” the monk said. “Except for when it all goes to crap.”

  “Exactly,” Shane said, nodding.

  “Boy,” Doc said. “You guys really know how to inspire confidence.”

  “We try,” Dom Francis said grimly.

  “Alright,” Shane said. He winced as he put his gear bag over his good shoulder. With his right hand, he picked up the shovel and said, “Let’s get this done.”

  Doc took the lead since he knew the way to the graveyard. Shane tried not to think about how his feet were cold, or about how hard and uncomfortable the ground was beneath them. Occasionally, he winced as sharp rocks bit into the tender flesh of his insteps. Soon, he felt himself bleeding and he knew he would have to get a round of antibiotics to make sure nothing became infected.

  At least I don’t need a tetanus shot, he thought, shaking his head.

  What if they know the nurse didn’t stop me? Shane wondered. Won’t they be back tomorrow? Won’t they wait until I’m sedated?

  At the memory of the surgery he needed, Shane glanced at his arm. There was hardly any pain, but the injury he had sustained in the fight against Abel Latham in Griswold was a serious one.

  “You okay?” Dom Francis asked.

  Shane nodded. “Yeah, I’m good.”

  “You know,” Doc said over his shoulder. "I’m surprised they didn’t wait until you were knocked out to try and do you in.”

  “Me too,” Shane agreed. “Maybe she was too nervous.”

  “She seemed like she had her act together,” Dom Francis said. “I think she may have been a little too zealous.”

  “Lucky for me she was,” Shane said, and then he gasped and hopped on one foot for a moment.

  The other two men stopped, and Doc said, “Sit down.”

  Wincing, Shane did so.

  Doc squatted down, picked up one of Shane’s feet and shook his head. “Hey, you’re going to need to stop soon. You’re cutting your feet to pieces.”

  “How far are we from the graveyard?” Shane asked as Doc put his foot down.

  “It’s over the rise there,” Doc said, gesturing towards the road. “Seriously, you should wait here, let us go up there and do what needs to be done.”

  Shane shook his head. “You two haven’t done this before. Plus there’s no telling what you’re going to run into in there.”

  “Shane,” Dom Francis said. “I’m former special forces. Doc here was a combat medic. Add to that the iron we’re carrying, plus the shotguns. I think we’re looking pretty good.”

  Shane hesitated, and then he nodded. “Alright. I’ll make a deal with you two. You leave me here for a bit, then I’ll make my way up to you.”

  “Shane,” Doc started.

  “No,” Shane said, shaking his head vehemently. “It’s either this or I limp along with you. Or, better yet, one of you gets to carry me. And I am a hell of a lot heavier than I look.”

  “Fine,” Doc said, frowning as he took the gear bag from Shane. “Rest. But do not hurry up to us. Got it?”

  “Sure,” Shane said, stretching his legs out and wincing at the pain. “Sure.”

  He watched Dom Francis and Doc head off up the narrow road, and he tried to ignore his feet as they throbbed.

  Chapter 58: Francis and Doc on the Road

  Francis felt himself slip easily into the old, familiar rhythm of a patrol. He scanned from left to right, and back again. His eyes picked out likely spots for ambushes, as well as areas where he might be able to establish a successful defense. Everything came sharply into focus; each leaf, every tree branch. His ears picked out and identified a hundred different sounds.

  On the wind, he smelled sickness, and Francis knew it was Doc. The man had been on E Ward, and Francis could only imagine what horrific disease ate at the young man. Francis had friends who had contracted rare, terminal diseases, others who had suddenly sprouted unknown cancers.

  Job hazard when slogging through third world cesspools and warzones where dictators and warlords used chemical weapons on friend and foe alike, Francis thought.

  He adjusted his grip on the shotgun and looked over at Doc who was focused on the road and the large cemetery that had appeared. The burial ground was hemmed in by trees, but no fence; although it looked as if there had been some sort of barrier before. Chunks of cement with broken pieces of black metal protruding from them, formed the rough outline of where a wall would have been. A light fog hung at knee level, most of the stones cropping up from the mist. Here and there Francis saw small crypts as if some mournful person had sought to immortalize their loved one.

  “This is a sacred place,” Francis said softly. “How many people are buried here?”

  “Over two thousand,” Doc said.

  “How do you know?” Francis asked, surprised.

  “I counted them,” Doc answered, his voice filled with sadness. “Each and every one of them.”

  “I’m impressed,” Francis said. Then, he said, “Do you know where the Nurse�
�s grave is?”

  “Ruth Williamson,” Doc said. “Of course, I do.”

  And he brought the shotgun up and pulled the trigger.

  Chapter 59: Shane’s in Pain

  Shane lay on his back, and he looked at the stars.

  My God, he thought, I can’t believe I’m lying here. I should be up there with them. Bleeding feet or not.

  Slowly he sat up, his body complaining bitterly. The wound in his shoulder seeped blood, and the cuts on his feet did the same.

  The blast of a shotgun interrupted his self-critique.

  Silence followed.

  Enough waiting, he told himself, and he managed to get to his feet. A wave of pain-induced nausea rolled over him, and he spread his arms wide, trying to maintain his balance. For a second, it seemed as if he might fall, but he didn’t.

  Shane took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and focused on the narrow road. Each step was an effort, and he knew he was leaving bloody footprints behind him.

  Ignoring the agony, Shane continued on.

  Doc and Dom Francis were going to need his help.

  Chapter 60: The First Battle in the Grave Yard

  Francis had been shot at many times. He had even been hit on occasion. So when he saw Doc bring the shotgun up, Francis immediately turned away.

  There wasn’t enough time to get completely out of the blast radius, however, and he felt some of the rock salt strike him in the back and the side. The pain was impressive in its intensity and immediacy.

  Francis didn’t try shooting back, it merely would have been a waste of ammunition. So instead, he threw his own shotgun at Doc and rushed him. The dying man reacted as most people would. He shied away from the thrown weapon, and he didn’t try to put another load of rock salt into Francis.