The Immortal Harvest (33 page)

The lighting in the Reception area was poor. The hospital had obviously seen better days.

Baxter grimaced at the disgustingly dirty walls and floors. The yeasty scent of mildew stung his nasal passages and inflamed his already throbbing head. It had been several hours since he had needed his medication.

His vision had become slightly blurry; however, he kept that to himself. He did not want to alarm the others.

He noticed that, typical of many hospitals, the foyer area was designed in open plan to allow for the free movement of people in and out of the building.

There were, of course, the obligatory large planters with the fake plants which were supposed to convey a sense of calm to an otherwise hectic part of the hospital.

Today however, the foyer was deserted; with the exception of perhaps a few rodents which Baxter felt were peering at him from the cracks in the mildew covered walls.

Baxter kept down low as he made his way through the Reception area. He crouched down behind one of the planters and peered out through the plate glass double entry doors. He could see vehicles parked outside of the hospital in the loading and unloading zone.

He thought he could see the movement of people, his failing vision hindering him from confirming whether or not the people were armed. He assumed that they would be and were most probably security guards.

A strange thought entered his mind. He pondered the motivations that caused people to work for obviously evil people. He dismissed the thought and slunk down behind the planter to ponder his next move.

He was startled by the coarse whisper of Joe’s voice.

“Looks like we got sum company,” Joe said as he crouched down behind Baxter.

“What are you doing here? I thought I told you to stay with Justen,” Baxter said angrily as he motioned for Joe to crouch down further.

“Don’t worry he’s fine, he’s staying as quiet as sum of them rats that’s in these walls”, Joe said quietly.

“Never the less, I think you should keep an eye on him, we don’t want to lose him in this place. I’ll stay here and try and work out a way to…”

Baxter was interrupted by the sound of squealing tyres and gun fire. He peered around the planter and saw that two black vans had pulled up and the occupants were engaged in a gun fight with the security guards and two other men in another black van.

Even with his blurred vision, Baxter knew that the two vans that had pulled up were FBI vehicles and that they must be Agents, possibly his team.

He was not sure who the other two men were that had come from the other van, but they were heavily armed and had the Agents pinned down behind their vans with a hail of bullets.

Suddenly, the plate glass doors at the entrance to the Hospital shattered into millions of glass fragments which showered the foyer area with deadly projectiles. Baxter and Joe crouched further behind the planter for protection.

*     *     *

Hidden from view and in a much safer position, Justen was tucked in as close as he could behind a vending machine.

However, upon hearing the explosion of the glass doors and the constant gun fire, he started running back up the corridor but stopped abruptly when he heard the familiar ding of an elevator. His only thought was –
escape!

The doors opened and he was about to jump into the compartment when he ran headlong into a pair of legs covered by an interns coat. He instantly let out a yelp and froze, he turned suddenly and was about to flee when he heard a familiar voice over the gunfire.

“Justen, is that you?”

Justen stopped, turned around and looked up into the face of his Mother. He held his arms out and when his Mother bent down; he threw them around his Mother’s neck and squeezed as tight as he could.

He instantly felt safe when his Mother hugged him to her, her body warmth enveloping him. He pushed his face into hers; he put his lips near her ear and whispered.

“I knew you would find me.”

*     *     *

The battle on the street raged relentlessly as the agents continued the exchange. Baxter could see that they were in a dangerous predicament and knew that there was only one course of action – but he was hesitant. He knew that with his blurred vision he might not get the kill shot that he wanted.

He looked over at Joe, who was crouched down behind another planter box and noticed that he seemed to be poised to carry out some kind of Commando mission.

He was confused by his action until he realised that the gunfire might have triggered Joe’s Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and he was having some kind of flashback. He could see that Joe’s eyes were darting to and fro wildly and a look of pure rage swept over his face.

Baxter watched helplessly as Joe suddenly leapt to his feet and let out a blood curdling scream.

The old man displayed remarkable agility as he raced towards the maelstrom, waving his arms frantically, ignoring the glass fragments that tore into his bare feet.

“No, Joe, Stop! Don’t do it!” he screamed as he saw his friend run directly towards the entrance to the hospital and towards certain death.

Suddenly he noticed that Joe had stopped yelling. An expression of agony and confusion washed over his face, as he staggered awkwardly backwards and then collapsed onto the glass covered floor, blood spurting from his abdomen, the soles of his feet lacerated from the glass.

“NO!” Baxter screamed again and he exploded from behind the planter, firing his gun constantly towards the assailants as he ran towards Joe. He managed to wound the nearest one to him who screamed in agony as one of Baxter’s bullets hit him in the upper thigh.

This distraction was all that was needed to allow the FBI Agents to move from behind their vans and get a clear shot.

Both of the aggressors fell in quick succession.

After witnessing their comrade’s fall, the other two security guards quickly threw down their weapons and surrendered. The battle was over.

Ignoring the razor sharp glass fragments which sliced into his feet, Baxter crouched down next to Joe and pressed his hands down as hard as he could over Joe’s wound to try and stem the bleeding. However, deep down inside he knew that it was too little, too late.

He could see that Joe was shaking all over and was gasping to breathe. Baxter realised that Joe was trying to talk and gently placed his hand on his forehead.

By this stage, three of the FBI Agents from his team had entered the foyer and were now standing around the prone figure of their boss.

“One of you call in the paramedics, NOW” Baxter said to the group and then turned his attention back to the man that he had recently befriended. He smiled as best he could and spoke softly.

“It’s ok Joe; we will get a Doctor here. You’re a tough old soldier – you’ll be fine,” he lied.

Baxter was surprised by the old man’s response as he flung his arm up and grabbed his wrist. His grip was surprisingly strong and he spoke harshly through gritted teeth.

“You keep them butchers away from me; they’re not gettin’ any of my bits ’n pieces you hear. You just leave me to die in peace.

You just go and find that boy’s mama.”

Baxter was just about to respond when he heard a familiar voice that came from behind his team.

“Joe, what’s wrong?”

He turned his head and was amazed to see Justen and Sylvan standing hand in hand near the door next to the Reception desk. He could see that Sylvan was trying to stop Justen from coming over and that Justen was trying to pull away from her.

“Let me go Mummy, Joe’s been hurt, I want to help him,” he almost yelled the words and started crying.

Baxter could see that Sylvan was struggling to keep hold of Justen’s hand and nodded at Agent Thompson who quickly turned and made his way over to them.

“Justen, stay over with your Mother, it’s too dangerous, your feet will be cut to pieces by the glass. Arnold can you please…”

“Let him come over, I want to see him,” Joe said calmly interrupting Baxter. “But you best be hurryin’ Mr Baxter, ok?”

Baxter felt Joe squeeze his wrist again. This time the grip was much weaker. He looked down at the old man. He could see the look in Joe’s eyes and understood. He turned back towards Agent Thompson.

“Arnold can you please carry Justen over here, Joe wants to see him. Try and be as quick as you can, okay.”

Baxter watched as Justen gave his Mother a pleading look and she nodded her assent as the agent lifted Justen up and carried him over to the dying old soldier. Agent Thompson then stopped and handed Justen to Baxter who held him in his arms just inches from Joes face.

He watched as the old man smiled as best he could despite his pain. His voice was very quiet.

“Justen, I’m pleased that you found your mama. I want you to listen to me. You gotta promise me that you is gonna look after her ’cause you only gets one mama ok. Now you go on back to her and don’t you let her get away from you again.”

“No, Joe, I want to stay here with you. I want to help you,” Justen said as the tears streaked his face and tried to throw his arms around Joe as Baxter held him back.

“Justen, you need to go back to your Mother,” Baxter said as he attempted to pass the boy back to Agent Thompson but couldn’t because Justen threw his arms around Joe’s neck and held on tight.

Joe’s voice was stronger as he grabbed Justen’s arm and removed it from around his neck.

“Now listen to me Justen. I want you to go back to your mama, now you do what them FBI folk want okay – now – go on boy, git,” Joes said forcibly as he pushed Justen back to Baxter who handed him over to Thompson.

Baxter yelled, to no one in particular.

“Where are those damn Paramedics?”

Baxter ignored Justen’s protestations and tried hard to keep the sound of desperation out of his voice.

He could see a rapidly growing pool of dark red blood spreading out on the floor around him, and through his eyes the glass fragments soaked in blood, looked like rubies.

Agent Drew Webster was the first to respond to Baxter’s question.

“They are on their way boss, they struggled past Tenth Street, apparently the traffic is gridlocked because it’s rush hour. But they should be here any minute.”

“That’s over where Bang-Bang and Lisa are right now,” Agent Thompson said as he took Justen from Baxter and started walking back with him towards Sylvan.

In the distance Baxter heard the familiar siren of an ambulance; he turned his attention back to Joe whose breathing was becoming more erratic.

“I can hear them Joe, you hold on okay,” he said as he squeezed the old man’s hand.

He felt Joe pull his arm and he lent in close to the old man’s face. He struggled to hear his voice.

“It’s… too…late,” the old man said as he exhaled his last breath and released Baxter’s hand.

Baxter gently felt for the old soldier’s pulse, there was none. He then closed his friend’s eyes and stood up.

He turned to face his team, as a rage grew within him. He used the rage to counter the searing pain in his lacerated feet and the ever present throb in his brain. He ignored the flickering white spots of light which danced before his eyes.

“This ends today. I want all of the people responsible for this hell house locked up. I want someone to track down Edward Stringer, he’s here as well and I want…”

“First, you might want to put on some clothes”, he heard Durning say from the Hospital Entrance, “and before you scream at me, you might want to hear me out”.

Baxter was about to rip Durning’s head off but instead took a deep breath. He knew that he was being watched, by not only Justen, but also his team.

“You’re on thin ice Durning. You had better have something good to say or I
will
scream at you, now what is it?”

“I just got a call from NORAD. They have picked up a huge spike in Ionising radiation.”

“Where?” Drew asked before Baxter could respond.

“They have detected the spike over the Greater Washington area and have narrowed it down to the same cluster of buildings on Tenth Street that Senator Baker was assassinated, close to the very same building that Ms Meth was living,” Durning said, and then pointed to the two security guards who were handcuffed to the Van on the street, “and according to our
friends
out there, the two guys we shot were Murdoch and Judas, the guys responsible for all of the homeless kidnappings. Those two would have been the guys that nabbed you, boss.”

“What? Do you mean they are not aliens, Durning?” Baxter said with a hint of sarcasm. “You must be very disappointed – Now is that it?”

“Yep, that’s it Boss, except that I have a spare set of clothes in the van if you’re interested,” Durning said as he winked at Drew.

Baxter had to swallow his anger. It burned all the way down. He took a deep breath and lowered his voice.

“Yes thankyou Durning, could you please bring me those clothes,” he said as he watched as Durning smiled and then turned and walked back towards the entrance to the hospital.

He wished that he could wipe the smugness of his face but deep down inside of course, he knew that as much as he disliked the man, he was good at his job.

He rubbed at his temples with his fingers, trying to get some relief from the pain. He limped towards the wall of the foyer and collapsed onto a dilapidated sofa and motioned for his team to gather around him.

He noticed that the Ambulance had pulled up at the front of the hospital and saw Durning direct the paramedics.

“Drew could you and Alicia please organise for the Washington PD to get a team of men here to take in those security guards, plus whoever else they can round up. Don’t forget to warn them about Edward Stringer, I think he’s still here somewhere, they’ll need to involve the S. W. A. T guys. I think he’s a psycho.

You will also have to commandeer the kidnapper’s van and get a real coroner to come and take Joe and those two kidnappers to the Washington General.

Please do what you can to locate some next-of-kin. Joe was a member of the Special Forces and should be buried with honours at Arlington.

Once you have that sorted I want you both to go to Tenth Street and meet us there, do you both understand your orders?”