by Kyle Andrews
“Fine,” she said. “But you will owe me one.”
“I'll have the biggest, darkest cup of coffee that they offer,” Sim told Marti.
She glared at Sim and then held her hand out, waiting for him to give her a method of payment for his coffee.
“Yeah, like I can afford real coffee,” he smiled.
“Maybe if you got a loving, caring, gullible girlfriend like me, you'd get more coffee,” Marti told him.
Sim turned to Justin and asked, “Can I have your girlfriend?”
Justin shrugged indifferently.
Letting go of Justin's hand, Marti said, “This is the thanks I get. Rest, or I'll smother you with a pillow.” She then turned to Sim and said, “If he doesn't rest, you can smother him and I'll give you his coffee.”
“Deal,” Sim agreed.
Marti turned and walked out of the room. When she started to move down the hallway, she took in the sight of all of the officers who were walking the hallways. Some were patients and others were just visiting. The rooms were filling up. There were VIPs in many of the private rooms upstairs. The ER was still treating some of the officers, after making them wait for hours while the more important patients had their bellies rubbed or their ears scratched.
The hospital was never this busy. Marti still wasn't sure what had happened down at the stadium, but whatever it was had driven many of the bad guys under one roof. For a moment, Marti entertained the idea of locking the doors and burning the place down, but there was a fire suppression system, so the most she would probably accomplish was giving herself away as a Freedom spy.
As she walked, she studied each face, trying to get a read on the people that were being treated. She was looking for something in their eyes, though she couldn't quite explain what she expected to find. A hint of humanity? Remorse? Maybe she just wanted to see the pain that they were experiencing. Whatever she was looking for, she didn't find it. Looking into the eyes of most of those people was like looking at a statue. They looked like people, but something vital was missing.
The hallway was noisy as she walked along. Doctors were yelling orders. Nurses were scrambling to obey. Patients were whining about all manner of things. Marti was used to some noise, but this was a level that she hadn't witnessed since her days in the public hospital.
From somewhere far behind her, Marti heard something new. It wasn't the normal moan or whine of a patient. This was a high pitched scream, barely noticeable beneath everyone else, but just loud enough to catch Marti's attention and cause her to turn around.
She stopped where she was standing and listened to see if she could hear the sound again, but the seconds passed and there was not another scream.
Marti played that sound in her head again and again, trying to think of some device or machine that could have made the noise, but she couldn't think of anything.
It sounded like a person. Not just a person, but a child. Marti hadn't seen any children brought through the ER after the stadium, but that didn't mean that there were no children being treated. Children often screamed in hospitals, so that wasn't surprising either, but something about the memory of that sound wouldn't leave Marti alone.
She walked to the nurses station, where one nurse was sitting and filling out paperwork on a chart. This was not Marti's department, so she didn't know the nurse's name, but Marti was still wearing her scrubs and her hospital access badge, so the nurse knew that she worked there.
With a smile, Marti asked, “Ready for the day to be over yet?”
The nurse didn't look up, but smiled as she said, “Yes please. And I'll take a morphine drip too, if you're buying.”
Marti picked up one of the tablets on the desk and asked, “Do you mind if I check on one of my patients before I head out?”
“Sure. Just make sure that you navigate back to whatever's on the screen now before you leave, or Dr. Finnigan will have a fit.”
“I will,” Marti smiled.
On the tablet, Marti exited the patient chart that was being displayed and pulled up the list of patients that had been admitted that day. She scrolled through them, looking for any kids, but didn't find any. What she did find were at least six charts that she was locked out of. Most of those were probably VIPs who didn't want their medical histories made public. It wasn't surprising, given the number of STDs that Marti had seen pass through the hospital doors, dressed in perfectly tailored suits and neatly combed hair.
Next, Marti pulled up the department's inventory of drugs. While she might not be able to look at names and ages specifically, she could still find out which drugs were being used and in what amounts. This was a function that was meant to make it easier to keep the department fully stocked, but it was also a weakness in their security.
Skimming down the list of drugs used that day, Marti ignored most of the items listed. Pain killers, antibiotics, blood thinners... But there was one medication used that caught her attention. It was a sedative called Alhazone. Marti thought it strange to see that particular drug being used, since it was normally reserved for psychiatric patients. She also noted that the dosage used was far too small to be effective on an adult.
After backing out of the inventory application, Marti quickly pulled up Geo Garrison's chart and skimmed through the details. It was a locked file, but Marti was one of his nurses, so she had access to information that others wouldn't. He was being moved to the fifth floor. Private room. She made a mental note of the room number and exited that chart. She pulled up the chart that had been on the tablet when she picked it up and put the device down on the desk.
“I thought I heard a child scream not too long ago,” Marti said to the nurse. “Is that something you should be concerned about?”
“A child?” the nurse asked. She was dumbfounded and shook her head, having no idea what Marti was talking about.
“I guess it was my imagination. Too many days in the maternity ward. Anyway, thanks for the tablet.” Marti said, and she walked away from the desk.
She headed for the nearest exit, bound for the coffee shop that was only a couple of blocks away from the hospital. As she walked, the memory of that scream-like sound echoed through her head. If it wasn't a child, who was it? And if there was a child in the hospital, why was their chart locked?
Marti left the hospital and hurried down the street. The sun was starting to set, turning the sky a brilliant shade of orange behind a handful of blue-gray clouds. The air was starting to warm up with the onset of spring. There were more HAND vehicles parked in front of the hospital than normal. Some of them were the older model vehicles, mainly used by those HAND employees who weren't supposed to head into combat. Office workers, mostly.
The newer vehicles were more heavily armored. They sat higher than the older models. They had bigger, thicker tires. They looked like tanks, which was probably the point. After the Garden was destroyed, the authorities stopped pretending to be peaceful and loving toward all who lived in the city. Now they patted the heads of their citizens with one hand while gripping their throats with the other. They wanted people to remember what could happen if someone stepped out of line.
For some reason, when Marti passed by the HAND vehicles, she began to regret her failure to kill the Commissioner of Rehabilitation when she had the chance. For the rest of her walk toward the coffee shop, she imagined all of the various ways in which she could have accomplished the task. Her favorite idea was to inject him with a drug that could cause a blood clot in his leg. It could look perfectly natural.
She walked into the coffee shop and took a good look around. With the number of VIPs in the area that day, it was no surprise that the shop was busier than normal. The only normal citizens were behind the counter, of course. None of them could afford the outrageously priced coffee.
Ordinarily, Marti wouldn't have spent her credits in the coffee shop either, but she wasn't there for the drinks.
She stood in line, minding her own business. She kept her eyes on the wall behind the
counter, because the elites who were drinking in the shop would undoubtedly look down their noses at her. She might work in a HAND hospital, and she might earn more than normal nurses, and she might live in a better apartment, but she was not one of them. To many of those people, having someone like her in their coffee shop, dressed in scrubs no less, was like having an animal eating off of their table.
When Marti finally reached the front of the line, she handed her Civvie to the girl behind the counter. The girl's name was Teresa. She was a member of Freedom.
Teresa swiped Marti's Civvie, which would allow the coffee shop to deduct credits for her order.
“What can I get for you?” Teresa asked, giving Marti a pleasant smile, which Marti returned.
“I will have one regular green tea, with a splash of whole milk and honey. One regular coffee, with a little bit of one-percent...” Marti paused for a moment and looked at the menu behind the counter. She thought carefully about what she wanted to order next, and then decided to go on, “One large coffee, two-percent, extra sweet. And one small carob milk.”
The girl nodded and typed in Marti's order. As she did, she said, “Busy day today.”
“Very. We can use all the caffeine we can get.”
“I'll have that ready for you in just a couple of minutes.”
Marti nodded and moved off to the side of the counter to wait for her order to be ready.
She imagined that at that moment, there was an alert going off in the Campus. This was why she had come to the coffee shop. It was the closest place for her to send a message to Freedom. Thanks to a bit of hacking into the shop's computer system, Simon would be informed any time that Marti or Justin's Civvie's were swiped. From there, each order was a code.
Regular green tea was Marti. Whole milk meant that she was okay. Honey was just because she hated drinking tea and at least this made it taste sweeter. She had warned Simon to disregard the honey.
Regular coffee was Justin. One-percent milk meant that he was injured, but not to worry too much. Skim milk would have been life-threatening, and black coffee... she'd have given that coffee to Sim, most likely.
The next two orders were not on the standard list of messages, but she hoped that Simon would be able to figure out what she was trying to tell them. She wished that there was a better way for her to send a more detailed message to the Campus, but she didn't want to wander too far from the hospital. This was her best bet. She just hoped that her message made it through.
21
There was a chirping sound coming from one of the computers on the far side of the room. Collin barely paid any attention to it. He was working in Aaron's office, because he needed to coordinate details of his broadcast and he needed Simon's help figuring out how they would put the whole thing together.
At the moment, he was sitting in a chair, staring at a blank piece of paper and wondering what he wanted to say to the people of the city, now that he could finally speak with his own voice and let them see his eyes when he addressed them.
Aaron was working with Mig and Mek now, plotting out the far more dangerous elements of their plan. Since Mek hadn't been able to find any reliable information on the location of Mandi Hollinger, the group had decided that the HAND building would be their target. They would gather everyone that they could, arm them with as many guns as they could, and charge the place. With luck, the building's defenses would be weakened after what happened at the stadium. If not, they would do what they could. They stood a good chance of failing, but they needed to at least try to save that girl.
Aside from Collin, Mek was the only person in the room who had ever actually been inside the HAND building. They'd been there for different reasons, of course. Mek had much more information about the layout and the defenses. Collin could only give them a really good description of the ceiling in one room, and the smell of the cleaner that they used on their floors.
It was a daunting mission that Freedom would be undertaking that night. It was something that had never been attempted before. If they failed, they would potentially lose hundreds of Freedom members. The entire movement could collapse. But they had to take this step at some point. They had to fight the battle to win the war, and it was Collin's job to prepare the citizens of the city for what was going to happen. To get their support, or to cement Freedom's image as a terrorist organization. The way people chose to view them now would depend more on the people themselves and less on Freedom's actions.
The blank page was blinding him. Where could he possibly start? What would his first spoken words be to the people of his city? Some of them were already sympathetic to his cause. Should he target them in his speech? Or should he try to win over those who were resisting Freedom's message?
The computer chirped again. Collin looked over to the computer, which had nobody sitting in front of it. The others in the room were so focused on their planning that they didn't even hear the sound. Collin didn't know what it meant, but it was distracting him.
He stood and walked over to that computer. As he reached it, the computer chirped again. This time, Collin could see that there was a red icon blinking on the screen.
“Simon,” Collin said, still looking at the computer.
Simon didn't respond. He was still too caught up in his conversation.
“Simon,” Collin said again, this time turning toward Simon and raising his paper in the air to get Simon's attention.
Simon looked up at Collin, but didn't immediately start to move in his direction.
“What is this red blinking thing?” Collin asked.
Now Simon was on his feet and moving toward the computer. He dropped into the chair in front of the computer and his fingers were dancing across its keys before Collin even knew what was happening.
The conversation that the others were having stopped, and everyone started to make their way to where Simon was working.
“We have a check-in from the coffee shop near the HAND hospital,” Simon said to the group.
“Who?” Collin asked.
Simon turned and looked at Aaron, who gave him a nod. It didn't seem like they had much to lose at this point.
“The message is from Marti,” Simon told them, turning back to the screen. He read the order that she had placed and told everyone, “She's okay. Justin is injured, but he'll be okay.”
“What is that other stuff?” Aaron asked.
Simon shook his head and squinted at the screen. He said, “I don't know if it's more code or if she's just getting drinks for other people. If I had to guess... Hmm.”
“What?” Mig asked, leaning closer to the screen to get a look. When she didn't immediately know what it said, she stood straight again.
“A small carob milk,” Simon said.
Aaron put his hand to his head and turned away from the computer, toward the area where they had been planning their mission.
“You think the girl is in the hospital?” Collin asked, assuming that this was what everyone was thinking.
“We don't know that,” Mek told them.
“We don't know for sure, but Marti was trying to tell us something by ordering a child's drink,” Aaron replied.
Mig turned to Aaron and asked, “Does Marti even know that we're looking for the girl?”
“She's smart enough to know when she sees something out of place. She would tell us,” Aaron told Mig.
Collin wasn't sure that this really was what Marti was saying. How could they be sure?
“What does the other order mean?” Collin asked, turning to Simon and the order that was on the screen. “Large coffee, two-percent milk, extra sugar.”
“It's not one of the regular codes,” Aaron told Collin with a shrug. It seemed like he had an idea of what Marti was saying, but wasn't sure of his reading.
Simon spoke up and said, “If I had to guess, I would say that she was nursing for some VIP that was at the game.”
“Extra sugar?” Mig asked.
“Probably means that he's
appealing somehow. Useful,” Simon replied. “Or that he is sweet on her.”
“We're reading into this,” Mek told them. “We can't assume that we know what she meant.”
“She was trying to tell us something. That makes it important, or else she wouldn't risk it,” Aaron shot back.
“You want to abandon the HAND building and go after a hospital?” Mek asked.
Everyone turned toward Aaron, waiting to see what he was going to say in response to that question, because it was the same question on all of their minds. Aaron wasn't in charge of the Campus and he didn't command any army, yet everyone turned to him for answers. Collin didn't envy Aaron at all in that moment.
Aaron didn't answer right away. He put his arms across his chest, with one hand covering his eyes as he thought. He took a couple of steps away from the rest of the group, trying to think of the best answer for them.
The room was silent as everyone waited to hear what he was going to say. What they weren't expecting was for Aaron to let out a chuckle. He then looked over to Mek and shrugged, as though it were nothing, as he said, “We take them both.”
22
Justin was already growing tired of being in the hospital. Sitting in that bed was making his muscles ache even more than they would if he were out on patrol. The food that they served was probably good by most standards, but for some reason the only thing that he could think about eating in that hospital room was a big juicy hamburger and fries.
Those days were long gone. There were days when he still couldn't believe it, and reminding himself of that truth brought painful memories back to the surface. Luckily, he wasn't capable of feeling much emotional pain at the moment, thanks to the high dose of supplements that his HAND job required.
There was a small cup on the tray in front of him, with two pills waiting to be swallowed. Justin pretended that he would just take the pills later, but the truth was that he was tired of taking them. He was tired of the fog that they created. He wanted to see the world in color again, even if it did bring pain.
