Multiples of Six (19 page)

Chapter 34

James found himself half-dragging Kevin down the hall. Kevin was still gulping in air and rubbing his chest.

“C’mon…just a little further,” James said, and he pulled him the rest of the way around a corner, propping him up against the wall. His face was pale and his breathing was ragged.

“Jesus, in the middle of a fucking hospital and I can’t even get you a…”

A shot rang out from the stairwell they had just left. There were several screams and people started running through the halls.

“Holy shit,” whispered James.

“I’ll be…ok. Just…need a breather. Paynter…gotta find Paynter before…,” Kevin said.

James looked up and down the hall. It was chaos. There were nurses running everywhere, eyeing the two strangers as they passed, in a hurry to go where, he did not know. Above the din, James heard several babies crying and he realized where they were.

“Well, we can’t stay
here
…c’mon…this way,” he said.

He threw one of Kevin’s arms around his shoulder. Kevin was slowly gaining his breath back and they rounded another corner. This part of the hallway was much quieter, but the occasional face still peeked quickly out at them with frightened eyes and quickly ducked back in.

By the time they approached room 346, the ward was deserted. It seemed to be a smart choice for Paynter. The rooms at this end of the hall appeared empty. They rounded one final corner and lurched into the doorway of 346. James blinked at the emptiness, Kevin’s ragged breathing becoming less pronounced. They stared stupidly at one another.

“Did you get the right room number?” Kevin asked.

“He said 346,” James said.

“Maybe Doug and Nic got him,” Kevin said.

“Why the hell wouldn’t they stay put?” James asked.

“Maybe tall, old and ugly snuck up on ‘em…,” Kevin said.

“No, he didn’t know where they were, remember?”

“No, all I remember was his size tens flying at me and his arthritic fist knocking the shit out of me,” Kevin said with little mirth in his voice.

“Sorry I didn’t react…” James said, propping Kevin against a wall.

“Who the fuck…could’ve seen that coming? Like a geriatric…fucking superman,” Kevin gasped.

“More like a flying elbow from Jim Superfly Snuka off the top ropes,” James said.

Footsteps out in the hallway made them turn at once. There was nowhere to hide in this room. They listened, James holding his breath, as the footsteps approached, then continued on down the hall.

“Can I go home now, James?” Kevin said, and James wasn’t sure if he was being serious or not.

“Only if I can come with you. C’mon,” James said, and he pushed the door open again and moved quickly into the hallway.

Kevin no longer needed his help and he matched him stride for stride, though his fist still rubbed the spot of impact on his chest. James aimed for the next stairwell. A commotion they heard down the stairs prompted them to go up. A nurse burst through the door at the top of the stairs and nearly bowled them over. She looked more concerned about getting away from something than stopping to consider James and Kevin.

“Think she was scared?” Kevin said.

“That seems to be a running theme around here,” James said.

They paused by the door and could clearly hear a man shouting.

“What do you mean you can’t stitch it? Are you a doctor or not? Perhaps you just play one on TV? C’mon,
doctor
, do your stuff,” a voice rang out through the floor.

The response was so low that James couldn’t make it out. There was a distinct sound of metal hitting flesh and something hit the ground in the hallway. A third voice spoke just loud enough for James to hear.

“He won’t do you any good unconscious.”

“Shut up! Am I surrounded by idiots? You…Steven…find me another doctor. Now! Preferably one that hasn’t forgotten the long lost art of the needle.”

Footsteps moved away from them and James cautiously peered into the hallway. Several worried looking nurses were peeking out from behind a nearby station.

James and Kevin made their way to the counter. A young nurse, not much older than himself, James imagined, sat half-crouched behind the desk. Her colleague had a phone pressed to her ear and was relaying their location to someone on the other line. The girl, Julie according to her badge, looked at James with her mouth slightly agape.

“My friend here…he just got a pretty serious beat down by an old man…any chance one of you could look at him?” James pleaded.

“He wasn’t that old,” Kevin complained.

“You’re not with them, are you?” she said.

James had to resist the urge to laugh in her face.

“No,” James said.

“He was quick for an old man, y’know,” Kevin said.

“You’re cops?” the older nurse suddenly interjected.

“Ummm…no,” Kevin said.

“Who is that?” James said, pointing his thumb down the hall.

“Crazy ass son of a bitch came in here with a gun, a nurse, and an old man in tow. Said if he didn’t get a doctor to fix his arm, he was gonna start the killing with Steven, the nurse. He’s a good nurse too,” she said.

“Any chance you can look at my ribs? They feel like they’re all bussed up,” Kevin said, aiming his question directly to Julie.

James looked at him cockeyed, but walked him around the back of the station desk and dropped him into a chair.

“You’ll be ok here?” James said, and suddenly Kevin seemed to remember why it was they were there.

“Where are
you
going?” he asked.

“To find out what the hell is going on,” James said.

“James, dude, stay here. There’s no reason…”

“No one else is going to die because of me, Kevin. Jesus…do you know how many it might be now? This whole thing is insane. Insane! It’s gotta end somewhere, and maybe…maybe if it ends with me…well, that would be ok,” James said.

“James…Jesus…man, don’t do this,” Kevin was lifting his arms, cringing, and trying not to cry out as the older nurse pulled his shirt off over his head. He was still soaked to his jockeys. The bruise and the red marks across his chest were already turning a variety of colors.

“Enough people have been hurt, Kev. Maybe…he’ll be reasonable.”

“Why the hell would you think that at this point?” Kevin said, stifling a humorless laugh.

The gunshot from down the hall made all of them hit the deck. Nurse Julie had pressed her body against Kevin as if to shield him and despite the circumstances, he couldn’t hide his pleasure. She then went right back to examining his chest. James turned in the direction of the gunshot and started walking.

“James, get your ass back here,” Kevin hissed at him, but James ignored him and kept walking.

James passed the unconscious body of an Asian doctor sprawled out on the floor. A small trickle of blood ran from his forehead and there was the distinct impression of the gun handle. As James made his way down the hallway, the man’s voice grew louder. He stopped at the entrance to the stairwell.

“The next one doesn’t miss, God dammit,” came the voice.

James could feel his knees weaken. He balled his fists and forced the fear back, shouting out.

“Then aim the next one at me you cowardly motherfucker!”

His words carried down the sterile white walls. The silence that followed was only interrupted by the sounds of distant goings on. James thought he heard crying coming from somewhere. There was a monitor beeping down the hall, probably indicating a kink in the line. The all too familiar hospital smell was mixed with what must have been gunpowder. His mother suddenly flashed into his mind and he felt guilty for having kept her out of his thoughts for so long. He’d been a bit busy. All of this had become second hat to him after her cancer diagnosis. The hospital. The sights and sounds. The emotions. He pressed against the fear trying to well up through his chest. No, damn you, he thought. The voice that broke the quiet was cool and methodical.

“Hey Doc, I believe there’s a large set of balls in the hallway. Could you check for me? Now.”

The familiar head of a small balding man peeked around the corner, the tops of his glasses just coming into view. His eyes met James’ for a moment, then disappeared.

“Dr. Taylor?” James called out, but there was no response.

Instead, a man in an old-style cap rounded the corner, a crooked smile that might have actually been a grimace graced half his mouth. He held a bloodied left hand loosely against his black jacket. The gun was held haphazardly in his right and he waved it as he spoke, as if it were an extension of his arm.

“Oh, don’t bother Dr. Taylor right now, James. He’s busy trying to find me a real doctor. Amazing what they’ll call a doctor nowadays. Nobody around here seems to remember how to stitch. Maybe they’re afraid of making a mistake. I can’t understand why everyone is afraid of me. I’m only…”

“Why are you talking?” James interrupted, throwing the man completely off, wiping away any semblance of a smile from his contorted face. The man hesitated.

“I…you’re a brazen little fuck, aren’t you?”

“I don’t need you boring me with some diatribe about how scary you are and how you’re going to kill me. Do they teach you that at bad guy school or is that just something you picked up from watching too many movies?”

“You’ve been watching too many movies, James.”

“We’re not exactly on a first name basis. You can call me Mr. Masterson. Or, is this an ice-breaker or something? Hi, my name’s James and I like baseball and going to the beach...so, what’s your name?” James said, half-shouting, not knowing where it was coming from.

He just knew that if he kept talking, it meant he wasn’t dying. At least not yet.

“Jesus, shut the hell up, kid,” and the man lifted the gun at a slightly more imposing level, though not quite aiming it at James.

“Are you and Dr. Taylor good friends now? Share knitting patterns and the like? Hmmm? Maybe know one another’s favorite Dunkin Donuts coffee flavor? Get one another little surprises? Share your innermost thoughts and dreams in the car ride? Planned a little road trip for next year?”

James was shouting now, his voice reaching a crescendo.

“Maybe go hunt down some more innocents? Run, rabbit, run! See how they run? Oh what fun! Here comes the sun! There can be only one!”

“Jesus, kid, you forget your fucking meds or…” there was a resounding crack and the last thing out of the man’s mouth was a guttural exhalation of breath as he collapsed beneath the blow that had just been applied to the back of his head. James’ mouth fell open as the man crashed to the floor, eyes rolling to the whites, his gun spinning to James’ feet. Behind him stood Dr. Taylor, his own gun held backward in his hands. He stared at the man at his feet, then back at James.

“I’m so sorry, James. I’m really…I didn’t know it would lead to…this.”

He gestured at the man in black who was slowly reaching up to the back of his head with his good hand, his eyes moving wildly about, seeing nothing. He coughed and gasped and curled into the fetal position on the ground.

“Is Paynter alive?” Taylor asked.

The question sounded so odd to James. It was coming from the wrong person.

“I…I don’t know. I think so,” James said, keeping his attention fixed on the man at his feet. The eyes blinked slowly and a constant moan was filling the air.

“I didn’t mean for this…I…I never wanted any of this…I just wanted the world to know…”

“What?” James asked.

“…that what we did was good and there were brilliant, thoughtful people behind it. Not monsters. I’m not a monster, James. We’re not monsters…”

He was pleading to James now, looking ever smaller, his hands wringing in front of him. He dropped his own gun at his feet.

“Dr. Taylor, I don’t understand,” James said.

“We were the best…that’s why they came to us…they got the best…and then,” and the small man’s face suddenly twisted in anguish, “they ruined us. All of them…killed…wiped from the earth to clean up their mess. We’d performed miracles and they rewarded us with hell.”

James’s focus had been diverted just long enough. He glanced back and flinched. Two things happened simultaneously. James dropped to the floor to grab the man’s gun and the man spun on the floor, reaching for Taylor’s gun. He brought it up quickly and fired a round so close that James’ was sure Taylor was dead before he crumpled into a pile on the floor, motionless. Then they were staring at one another, guns raised inches apart, the man in black crouching on one knee, still trying to blink the pain away with gritted teeth.

“Stupid…so stupid…must be from the lack of sleep. I mean, really, I could hear him coming. Put the gun down, James. We both know you won’t use it,” the man growled.

James focused on the trigger that lay beneath his finger. He’d never even held a gun before. A part of him wondered if he’d ever hold one again. This man was a professional. Sure, the man was injured, and probably sporting a concussion now, or perhaps even some trauma, but he’d just laid out Taylor without a thought. He’d done it on instinct. A survival instinct that James was fairly sure still lay dormant within him if it existed at all. There was something in this man’s makeup that made him able to do what he did. It wasn’t in James and a part of him hoped it never would be. He began to lower his gun. Then he noticed the movement.