The Red Phoenix 12: Strength Comes in Numbers (18 page)

It was late at night at the hospital. Chris sat at Kerry’s bedside, holding her hand, talking to her. She lay on the bed, opening and closing her eyes like she was about to go to sleep, exhaling.

“Well, that’s too bad about Siddoway,” said Kerry in a tired, groggy voice.

“I don’t know what to think about it,” said Chris. “Four killings.”

“And the FBI are after him now?” she asked.

“So, I’m told,” he answered.

“Why aren’t the police handling it?” she asked.

“They suspect he’s still in possession of nuclear weapons, which makes him a viable threat,” Chris responded.

Kerry began to breathe heavily, clinching Chris’ hand with all her might with her eyes closed.

“Kerry?” he asked, sounding worried.

Her breathing calmed down as she moaned.

“I’ll get the nurse,” he said.

“Stay with me,” she replied. “Just stay with me.”

“Help is right out the door,” said Chris, sounding helpful.

“I want you here with me when I go,” said Kerry, moving her head towards him, gazing at him with tired, sleepy eyes.

“I won’t go anywhere,” Chris responded.

“How much longer do you think it will be?” Kerry asked.

“If you’re afraid, don’t be,” Chris replied. “I’m right here.”

“I think I’m past the point of fear,” she replied, struggling to form a smile.

“That’s because you’re brave and always have been,” said Chris.

“I’m just so sorry you’ll be here alone without me, without our son,” said Kerry, becoming emotional as tears rolled down the sides of her face.

“Don’t be sad for me,” said Chris.

“When I was little, I always wanted a painless death,” she said. “At least my wish is coming true.”

“Don’t say that,” Chris said, his voice compassionate.

Kerry turned her head away from him, breathing intensely, like a fever was coming on her again.

“Kerry?” he asked, sounding worried.

She let out a sigh with an extended final breath.

“Kerry?”

She lay motionless, not breathing, as her heart beat on the monitor flat lined with a horrendous, continuous beep sound.

“Shit!” said Chris, running out the room for help. “Nurse! Help! I need some help in here!”

A team of medical staff hurried to Kerry’s room, rushing around Chris who was in the hallway.

“She’s not breathing! Her—”

One of the medical staff pulled the curtain back as the rest of the crew went to work on Kerry. Chris rubbed the sides of his head, overwhelmed. His eyes watered, feeling it may be it for his wife.

“Do we have a pulse?” asked the head nurse in an anxious voice.

“Not yet,” one of the male assistants answered.

“Do it again, let’s see if we can bring her back!” said the head nurse in an urgent tone behind the curtain. “C’mon Kerry, don’t give up on us, honey!”

The steady-toned flat lining sound coming from the ECG machine was like hell’s bells in Chris’ ears, screeching into his soul as the memories of Kerry being well, in-love, chasing him around the house taunted him. He walked down the hallway trying to keep himself contained. Hearing the medical staff trying to revive Kerry was unbearable.  The employees sitting attending the nurse’s station watched him with gloomy faces, knowing his wife Kerry, who had been at the hospital for several weeks, wasn’t doing well. He reached the end of the hallway, sat down on a bench and waited for the news to come. He looked down the corridor towards Kerry’s room. The head nurse came out with a sad expression, walking towards him as her team trudged at a slow speed out of the room where their attempts to help Kerry seemed bleak.

“Mr. Michaels?” the nurse asked.

“Yes,” he answered, standing.

“I am so sorry, we did everything we could,” she stated, giving Chris’s shoulder a gentle touch. “Unfortunately, it was her time.”

Chris buried his face in his hand. It finally happened. Kerry was gone.

“Would you like me to have somebody come talk to you, sir?” she asked in an endearing, compassionate voice.

“I’m just going to see her one last time,” Chris answered in a sad voice, heading back to Kerry’s room.

“Of course,” said the nurse. “I’ll bring you some water.”

“Thank you,” he replied in a quiet tone.

Chris stepped into Kerry’s room and stood over her lifeless body, stunned by the permanence of her death. He wiped a tear from his cheek, leaned over, and placed his forehead against hers.  His face cringed with tears as his fist crumpled her sheet. It was all he could to keep himself from balling his head off. He looked up and noticed an enclosed syringe in a case lying on a table left behind by the medical staff. He grabbed it, peeked out the curtain, noticing a team of nurses was heading towards the room. He hurried to Kerry’s bedside, inserted the needle and withdrew blood from her right arm. Chris’ breathing intensified as the steps of the nurses became louder, drawing closer to the room.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” he mumbled in a nervous tone, filling the syringe with her blood, closing the tip then concealing it in his pocket.

The team of nurses walked in. Chris looked up at them grief stricken as one of them handed him a Styrofoam cup of water.

“We’re so sorry about your loss, Mr. Michaels,” said the head nurse, sounding empathetic, handing him a cup of ice water. “If there’s anything we can do, please let us know.”

“I appreciate that,” he answered in a sad voice, taking a sip.

“Well, there’s no rush here, okay?” she added.

“Thank you,” Chris answered in a quiet tone.

The nurse smiled then left the room with the others again. He felt relieved as the feelings of peaceful solitude were restored. He took Kerry by the hand one last time as another tear rolled down his face.

“I will not lose you,” he said in a whisper. “I promise.”

***

Siddoway packed his suitcase on the motel bed. The blue mist hovered near the ceiling in the corner of the room. Its misty vapors moved at a slow pace around the shining light in the middle. He grasped the digital control box for his bomb and packed it next to some clothing in his luggage. He moved to the front room and looked past the parking lot at the cars driving along the busy road in front of an old diner and run-down shops from his second-level window. 
I’m almost done here. A few more days, the nuke will be done and I’ll be able to teach them a lesson about screwing with Alex Siddoway. I’m going to buy a nice beachfront house in Rio and forget I ever existed in the US
, he thought.

His thoughts of completing the bomb and selling it to Ahkmed in Mexico were torn as several sedans and SUVs drove into the motel parking lot like they were in a hurry to get there. The sounds of the vehicles coming to a screeching halt near the motel building shoved his senses into fear and panic. He pulled the curtains closed to a peeking-crack, watching a team of men wearing sunglasses and blue FBI jackets with their guns drawn rushing to the motel building.

“Oh shit,” he mumbled in a worried voice. “They found me.”

He turned to the mist that was still hovering near the ceiling in the room.

“They’re coming for me,” said Siddoway in a scared tone. “I can’t let them take me. You can’t let them take me.”

***

Agents came down either side of the upper landing of the motel, approaching Siddoway’s door. Other gunmen posted behind the building, aimed their assault rifles at Siddoway’s room’s windows.

One of the agents carried a ram device and made his way past the others until he arrived at Siddoway’s door. The ram-carrying breacher glanced at the lead agent who nodded, giving him the okay to bust the door open. The breacher swung the ram at the door, splitting it into three pieces, cracking the door jamb as small pieces of wood scattered throughout the door entry then onto the carpet.

“FBI!” hollered the lead agent, rushing in with his gun up.

Suddenly, thin streaks of pink, purple and green lightning struck the lead agent and two others, throwing them over the railing to the upper landing on top of parked cars below. More lightning came out of the motel room, turned corners and zapped more agents who were on either side of the landing. Some of them collapsed to the floor electrocuted as others were thrown over the railing.

Siddoway rushed out of his room, the blue mist concealed in a pouch slung over his shoulder. He focused on the stairwell as he ran across the upper landing, knowing the agents were everywhere, aiming their guns at him from the parking lot.

“There he is!” cried an agent in the parking lot.

“Stop them all!” Siddoway hollered as he drew closer to the stairwell.

Some of the agents opened fire at him, several bullets whizzed by, missing him, shattering windows of other motel rooms, putting bullet holes in the wall of the building and into the doors of other rooms. The misty vapor sent out multiple lightning bolts in every direction from the pouch, striking agents, causing them to fall, lifting others off the pavement, throwing them over cars. Every agent who posted up with a gun to shoot at Siddoway was struck by lightning and put down.

Siddoway hurried into his car, sweating and shaking as he started the engine. He looked in his rear view mirror at another team of agents rushing towards his car, aiming their guns, shooting at his car, shattering the rear window. More lightning flew out of the pouch, hitting the armed agents, making them fall.

“Oh my God!” he gasped at the sight of all the fallen federal officers, shifting into
reverse
then
drive
and peeled out of the parking lot.

On the road, he sped around other cars, coming within inches of hitting them, trying to get the hell out of the area and away from the federal agents. His speedometer raced past seventy-miles per hour on his gauge. He glanced in his rear view mirror again, seeing two black sedans and a black SUV on his tail and gaining.

“Dammit! They’re still coming! Do something!” Siddoway shouted.

One of the agents leaned out a passenger window of the sedan and fired an automatic weapon at Siddoway’s car, putting more bullet holes into his truck, rear panel and roof. The sounds of the bullets ripped across the sides and top of his car.

“Do something!” Siddoway cried, swerving his car across three lanes of traffic.

The phantasma fired three powerful streaks of lightning from inside the pouch at the agents’ vehicles through the broken rear window. The sedans overturned then slid for a ways on their roofs. The SUV went into a roll several times until it halted in the middle of the road.

Siddoway adjusted his rear view mirror, drenched in sweat, his breathing calming down; relieved the agents were beaten by the vapor’s awesome power.

“We’re unstoppable you and I! You know that?” he said in a nervous, breathy voice as he drove on.

***

Chris barged into his house, tears rolling down his face. He stormed to a guestroom and rummaged through the upper shelves of the closet, pulling down box after box, looking for something. He pulled down papers, trophies, luggage and a bowling bag.