Authors: Richard Parry
He held his hand out, and she dropped the bullet into his palm.
He jerked his hand away, and the bullet dropped to the ground.
He held his palm out, the red welt already beginning to show.
Danny grabbed his hand.
“Don’t be such a baby.”
She turned his palm to catch the light from the window.
“I don’t think that’s a burn.
Looks like allergic dermatitis.”
“Aller— what?”
“Like a chemical burn.
An allergic reaction.”
“Right.
So?”
John picked his way through the rubble towards them.
“Yeah.
So?
Oh — nice burn.”
“Thanks.”
Val waved his hand again, then clenched and flexed his hand a few times.
“Let’s just keep moving.
We’ve got to find Carlisle.”
“It could be silver.
Or aluminium,” said Danny.
Val and John both looked at Danny.
Val spoke first.
“Silver?”
“A girl knows jewellery.
These bullets.
Lead’s very dull, a sort of metallic grey, right?”
“I guess.”
John rubbed the back of his head.
“I didn’t do very well at chemistry.”
“I did,” said Val.
“She’s right.”
Danny nodded.
“This metal’s lighter than lead.
It’s more, well, silvery.
It feels too heavy for aluminium, so…
Very posh.”
“Wait.
These guys have silver bullets?”
John held his clip up to the light to get a closer look.
“Shit.
What, are they hunting, werewolves or something?
We should grab these and melt ‘em down for cash.
It’d supplement my meagre gym wage.”
Danny raised an eyebrow.
“Gym?”
“I’m a personal trainer.”
“You look like a cripple.”
Danny shrugged.
“Maybe your clients are more understanding.”
John opened and closed his mouth a couple of times.
“Hey.
I was mugged, remember?”
“I remember.
Anyway, werewolves?
What are you, a kid?
This is some signature stuff.
Like a gang sign.”
Danny looked out the window.
“I’ll bet it’s all over the news.
‘Silver murderers strike again,’ or something.”
“Maybe.”
John looked down at his chest.
“Really?
A cripple?”
Val stared down at the bullet on the floor, then the burn on his hand.
He looked up, pointing at a doorway.
“Surgery’s down there.
That’s where I last saw Carlisle.”
John looked at the door.
“The door that’s torn in half.
That door?”
Val nodded.
“Yep.”
Danny started picking her way through the rubble towards the doorway.
Val joined her, his hand out to steady her.
She ignored it.
“Easier than walking through the rocks at the beach.
There are waves there.”
She turned to John.
“You coming?”
John watched as they walked through the broken doorway, into the flickering light in hallway beyond.
He looked back down at the clip in his hand, then let it drop to the ground.
“It’s going to be one of those days.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
The hospital was getting quieter, the gunfire reduced to a few brief chatters of noise here and there.
The lighting in the corridors was sporadic, the fluorescent tubes flickering.
Val pushed open the door leading into the surgery anteroom; the sprinklers were on, covering the floor tiles in water.
He looked through the water, wiping his face.
His hand came away covered in wet plaster dust; Val held it up in front of his face, watching as the milky rivulets ran and started to turn clear.
He stood in the falling water, turning his face to the ceiling.
It felt like rain on his skin.
He arched back and —
Running after prey.
The rain covers us, the fury of the storm.
We call to pack, shoulder by flank.
Tooth and claw, breath steaming in the dark —
John’s hand clapped him on the shoulder.
“You ok, buddy?”
Val shook himself.
“Sorry.
Lost myself for a bit there.”
John’s eyes searched his face.
“Well, I don’t want to belabour the point, but it’s fucking
raining
in here man.
I’m getting cold.”
Danny snorted behind them.
“You’re such a baby.”
“Hey.
I’m wearing a pair of jeans and a shirt.
You’ve got a jacket.”
“You’re still a baby.
You want to wear my jacket?
Really.
I don’t need it.”
Val looked down the corridor.
He didn’t feel cold.
He felt —
We are alive.
He looked at his feet, pink water pooling by his shoes.
His shirt was running clear, leaving him clean.
“We need to get Carlisle.
God damn, I hope they finished sewing her up.”
Val walked forward, feet sloshing through the standing water.
He reached the chair he’d sat waiting for Carlisle — Christ, it had only been about a half hour ago.
The surgery door was closed in front of them.
He pushed it open slowly, revealing a small room with sinks against one wall, and another door leading to the surgery proper.
He pushed the door all the way open, standing in a room that looked for all the world like an industrial kitchen.
John looked at the sinks.
“I’ve always wanted to say this.
‘We need to scrub in.’”
Danny looked at the sinks.
“Actually, yeah.
If she’s in surgery in there —”
“We don’t have the time.”
Val walked up to the door, his shoes squelching with each step.
A small glass window was set into the door.
Looking through, he could see a bed draped in surgical green, with —
there
— Carlisle out cold.
A doctor was using some metal clamps and string.
Stitching
— she was being sewn up.
There was no one else in the room.
He pushed the door open.
The doctor looked up.
“Hey!
You can’t be in here!”
Val saw the sweat beading on his forehead.
“Sir.
Do you remember me?
I came in here with my friend a few hours ago.”
The doctor continued to look at him.
“Yeah.
I remember you.”
“We’ve come to get our friend and get out of here.”
The doctor snorted, the fabric of his surgical mask puffing out slightly.
“You and everyone else.
My team’s run off.”
“But you’re still here.”
“I told you I’d take care of her.
I won’t leave until it’s done.”
Val looked at the doctor’s hands which hadn’t moved.
“I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but…
I dunno.
Are you almost done?”
The doctor looked back down, resuming his stitching.
“Almost.
And then we need to get your friend to the recovery ward.”
Val walked along the edge of the room, taking in the stocks of bandages, linen, and surgical gauze.
“Are these..?”
Danny joined him.
“Looks like bandages to me.
We’ll need to get some of these together.”
The doctor looked up at them, then sighed and got back to his work.
“John.”
Val gestured.
“See if you can find a bag or something.”
“A bag?”
“It doesn’t need to be Gucci.
It needs to hold shit.
Plastic, whatever.”
John looked about the room, then at the surgical setup.
He walked over to a linen bag held upright in a frame.
It had a big red logo, the symmetrical biohazard symbol stencilled bright and clean.
“What about this one?”
The doctor paused again.
“That’s surgical waste.”
“Right, but it’s a bag.”
“It’s —”
The doctor gave up as John upended the bag on the floor.
Stained bandages and gauze fell out over the floor.
He brought the bag over to where Val and Danny were sorting through the supplies on the shelf.
John held it open as they tossed items inside.
“Best I could do.”
“It’s fine.”
Val turned his head to the doctor.
“Hey.
Do we need any medicine?”
The doctor looked over at them.
“You’re stealing supplies from a hospital, and you want my help?
No thanks.
I know your friend here is a police officer — that’s why I’m here.
I’ve no idea why you’re in here though.
I’d have had you thrown out if my staff were here.”
John put the bag down and walked back to the doctor.
He put on the John Miles megawatt smile.
“Sir.
I understand.”
“I don’t think you do —”
“No really.
Look at me.”
He lifted his shirt up, showing the bruising along his rib cage.
He winced a little, the megawatt smile dimming a few shades.
“My buddy here?
Came to get me just before.
This place is under siege.”
The doctor didn’t say anything.
“No, really.
That look on your face?
That’s what I thought too.
There are soldiers and police and all kinds of shit out there.
Lights are out, sprinklers are on.
Your staff have run off.”
John paused.
“Assholes.
Really.
But I get it.
It’s not what you thought you were going to get at work when you had your morning coffee, am I right?”
After a brief pause, the doctor nodded.
“I thought so.
Look.
I’m pretty sure that if we watched the news, this would be a disaster.
There’d be police swarming in through the windows on national TV.
It’s just not
safe
.”
He gestured at Carlisle.
“I don’t know this chick.
But a friend of a friend.
That’s how I roll.
We’re going to get her out to somewhere safe.
And to do that?
We’re going to need a little help.
Like some surgical supplies.
Can you do me a solid, and help out here?
We’re not trying to steal anything.
We’re like you.
We’re trying to save someone.”
The air conditioner shut off then, leaving the room quiet except for the steady drip of water from somewhere.
The doctor looked at John, then his eyes flicked to Danny, and finally to Val.
“Prophylaxis.”
“What?”
“You’ll need to clean the wound.
Antibiotics.
They’re on the shelf.”
He went back to his stitching.
“Right.”
John nodded at him.
“Thanks.”
“Look for a bottle labelled ‘amoxicillin.’”
The doctor didn’t look up.
“Don’t forget tape.”
Val finished stuffing the sack, then tied it off with the rope at the top.
He held it towards Danny.
“Why do I get to carry the diapers?”
Val nodded at John.
“Because he’s a baby.
You said so yourself.”
Danny mumbled something.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“I really didn’t.”
She grabbed the bag from him.
“You can imagine it then.”
“I can imagine some pretty bad things.”
A smile tugged the edge of his mouth.
She grinned at him.
“Don’t get nasty.
Wait until we get somewhere private.”
John sighed.
They both looked at him.
“Seriously.
Here?”
The doctor cleared his throat.
They all turned to face him.
“I’m done.
Try not to move her.
The bullet went straight through, so we didn’t have to do too much.
But the stitches will tear if she overdoes it.”
He gestured at Carlisle’s unconscious body.
“Normally we put them in a recovery ward to wake up easy, but — well.
She’ll be out for a while yet.
You probably want to grab some tramadol as well.”