Echoes of Tomorrow Season One: Episode Three (Echoes of Tomorrow: Season One Book 3)

by Wayne, Douglas

  “He’s had enough,” she said, tears forming in her eyes. She didn’t want to watch the man die, even though he might have deserved it. Enough people were going to die down in the parking lot without adding another to the total. That was without considering the thousands of people who had been missing over the last few days.

  “The bastard tried to kill us.” Tyler’s brow furrowed as pulled his arm away. He wanted to keep beating this man for coming in this room. Regardless of his intentions, he’d threatened their lives, and that was unacceptable. To Tyler, he deserved nothing less than a bullet through the front of his head.

  “But he didn’t.” She tugged his arm, pulling the barrel of the weapon away from the man’s bleeding head. “He’s learned his lesson and just wants to leave.” She looked down at the blooding man. “Isn’t that right?”

  The man bobbed his head.

  Tyler bit down on his upper lip, nearly hard enough to draw blood. He didn’t want to let the man go. Doing so created too many questions. What if he came back with another gun, this time opening fire on them as he came into the room before they reacted? What if next time he came back with friends and gunned everyone in the room down? The best Tyler could hope for was for the man to disappear into the hospital, but he believed it was more realistic that he went down to the parking lot to try his hand at ambushing the guardsmen down below. As tempting as that was, he didn’t think he could live with himself if even one of them was wounded by his hand.

  No, this guy came in his room, intending to kill someone else while threatening him. He deserved to die for that alone. Tyler gripped the gun tighter, knuckles whitening as he did. Tyler held the pistol at the man’s head while the man cowered, covering his face with his hands.

  The gun shook in Tyler’s hand as he stared down the barrel of the gun. This should be easy. Just pull the damn trigger. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

  Memories of his past flickered to life in the studio of his mind. Back to his home in Flagstaff. To a home break-in he’d prevented, but since lived to regret. Images of the kid’s face flashed in his mind. The rivers of blood pouring from his chest where the bullet had pierced his heart. The kid’s vibrant skin losing its color in mere moments. And his cold, lifeless blue eyes that stared up into the warm night air until the police arrived twenty minutes later.

  I was doing the right thing, he told himself. I AM doing the right thing. The words cycled in his mind as his anger turned to apprehension and then to fear. He visualized the kid’s final expression on the man as he lay, screaming on the floor.

  Tyler jumped off the man, the slightest hint of dizziness welcoming him like his cruel visions. The motion sent him back into the wall, where he let out a blood curdling scream while holding his head in his hands.

  Marcy’s jaw dropped as she watched the spectacle before her. She didn’t know what to think about Tyler. He had seemed so willing to beat the man to death with nothing but his hands while blood splattered the room covering his hospital gown with gore. Yet something had spooked him. Forced him off the man while he lost his emotional control.

  “Tyler, what’s wrong?” Marcy stayed close to the man, not wanting him to escape, more for her own safety than anything. If she had a way to call the cops, security, or even the guardsmen downstairs, she would’ve done it in a heartbeat. He deserved to go to jail for what he’d done. Just the act of barging in here with the gun was enough to push her in that direction. Yet his punishment shouldn’t be death.

  Tyler kept screaming, visions of the child flashing in his mind like a bad movie put on repeat.

  The door burst open and three of the armed guardsmen rushed in, guns leveled and aimed at the three moving figures.

  “Hands where I can see them,” the lead one said. He was the shortest of the three, with short black hair and a smooth polished face. The name tag over his jacket pocket embroidered with the name Simmons.

  Marcy raised her hands and placed them on the back of her head.

  Tyler allowed the gun to roll on his finger, putting the gun in a position that would be impossible to fire without effort and raised his hands. The bleeding man was the only one who didn’t comply, but with his hands on his battered and bloodied face the guardsmen dismissed him as a threat.

  Simmons looked to his left, nodding to the man named Tomas, who lowered his weapon, crossed the room, and took Tyler’s gun. With the threat removed, Simmons lowered his weapon, surveyed the bloody mess and asked, “what is going on here?”

  Tyler relaxed his arms, allowing them to drift to his side. The move drew the their attention. They watched his hands closely, ready to pull the trigger if he made a move for something.

  “He broke into the room,” Tyler said, pointing and the intruder. “He was watching whatever was going on down in the parking lot. Had his gun out and ready to fire.”

  “Well now,” Simmons said, kneeling next to the man. “How’d you get past the checkpoint?” Simmons had a curious look on his face as he watched the man’s features for signs of deception if he spoke. Tomas’ face, on the other hand, had a wide grin, like he’d expected someone to get past the lines.

  “Fuck you,” the man spat as he wiped a layer of blood from under his nose.

  “Fuck me?” Simmons replied, pulling his pistol from a holster on his hip. He cocked the gun, flipped the safety, and held it to the man’s head. “We keep you safe, and this is how you thank us?”

  The man laughed, despite the cold metal against his forehead. “Keep us safe? By killing anyone who actually needs help?”

  “Have you seen what’s out there?” Simmons removed the gun from the man’s head, only to lean in close enough for spittle to rain down on his face as Simmons talked. “If we let one of them in, this place is over.”

  “Let what in?” Marcy asked, hands still raised in the air. “I haven’t seen anything out there.”

  “He’s talking about assholes like this.” Tyler kicked the man’s leg, causing him to grunt in pain. “Attacking them from the inside while others move from the outside.”

  The man laughed. “They are trying to keep this place to themselves. Their base fell two days ago and the others aren’t doing much better. They are looking for any place with working power to hole up in until they hear from the president.”

  Simmons pressed the gun against the man’s temple. “I don’t need to hear from the president to know what to do with you?”

  Tomas walked over and placed his hand on Simmons’ shoulder.

  The commander looked back and nodded. “Tie him up. Take him down to the boiler room with the others.” Simmons looked at Tyler in his blood soaked hospital gown and Marcy in her once pristine clothes and smiled. “Thanks for your help. We can’t afford to lose any more fighters. Is there any way we can repay you?”

  Tyler glanced at Marcy, then back at Simmons and nodded.

  “You can tell us the truth.”

  Chapter Three

  Simmons stood at the side of the door while Tomas and Oswald moved past and detained the bloodied man. The man yelled and screamed in protest, trying to get them to stop. After they tied him up, Tomas reached into a pouch strapped to his belt and pulled out a length of cloth and wrapped it around the mans head, muffling the noise.

  They lifted him to his feet and pushed him forward, each holding an arm to keep him from running while forcing him forward. When they reached the door the man spread his legs apart and braced them against the door jamb, halting the others behind him.

  “You got exactly two seconds to step out that door before things become unpleasant,” Tomas said, pushing him harder. Two seconds passed and Tomas laughed, entertained by the man’s attempt at disobedience. He released the man’s arm and took three steps back. “Last chance asshole.”

  “Fuck off.” The man replied, turning to spit a bloody wad of mucus on Oswald, who was holding him tighter since he no longer had help from Tomas.

  “Have it your way.” Tomas raised his right arm in
the air, took an elongated step with his left foot and put everything he had into a kick with his right, reminding Tyler of a place kicker in football. The toe of Tomas’ boot caught the man in the groin hard enough to make Tyler shiver in pain while he imagined the same kick done to him.

  As the man’s legs weakened from the blow, Oswald let him go, allowing him to crumple to the floor in a heap. He moaned against the makeshift gag as Tomas knelt down and leaned to his ear. “You still want to play this game, or are you going to walk?”

  Tyler couldn’t make out the response, but it sounded like a muffled “I’ll walk.” Tyler was thankful to hear it. He didn’t think he could handle seeing a kick like that in person again, or what they would do next time if he continued to ignore their commands.

  Tyler waited for the man to be pulled back to his feet and walk out the door before he fired off any questions, more out of worry than a rational fear. He didn’t believe he’d get a kick of his own for asking if the move was called for, but waited until Tomas was gone to be sure.

  “You always treat prisoners like that?” Marcy asked, taking the words from his mouth. She took a seat in the chair set next to Tyler’s bed.

  “Not usually. Can’t have him waking up the stiffs.” Simmons laughed, as he regarded the three occupied beds in the room. “Can’t believe you’d want to stay on this floor.”

  “Didn’t have much of a say in the matter,” Tyler said, rubbing his bandaged head.

  “The doctors said resources are tight, so those who can survive without equipment are pushed in rooms like this to recover,” Marcy said.

  “And you believed it?” Simmons asked before covering his mouth with his hand.

  Tyler held his face expressionless, not wanting to let Simmons know he understood what he meant. He wasn’t sure how much the commander knew, or how much he was willing to divulge. Any information was better than he currently had which was limited to things he’d seen with his own eyes before things went black. Three days had passed since then. More had to have changed than the hospital being protected by the National Guard.

  “What’s happening out there?” Tyler motioned to the window, yet held his gaze on Simmons who removed his hand from his mouth.

  “World’s going to shit. You saw it. Those people out there are going crazy. Feel lucky you are on this side of the wall.” Simmons walked across the room and stopped at the window to watch the scene below. “Every day they get more brash, but as long as they attack in small groups we should be OK.”

  “Why would they attack at all?” Tyler asked. “What’s so special about here?”

  “Safe secure walls. Enough supplies to last a few weeks. Running water. Electricity.” Simmons moved back from the window. “Need me to go on?”

  Tyler shook his head. If things had gone crazy enough in the world, he could see a hospital or a school becoming the perfect place to hole up as long as you were willing to share or defend it from countless others.

  “What about the people out there who need medical care?”

  Simmons smiled. “Look around, darlin. Four beds in a room designed for one. What do you think the rest of the hospital is like?”

  She shrugged. “Can’t really look around to find out, can I?” There was a hint of anger in her voice.

  “You’re only allowed to access the main level and this one,” Simmons said, pointing to the red plastic bracelet on her wrist. “Can’t be letting people just wander around, doing as they please.”

  “Or you can’t let us see what’s really happening,” she folded her arms under her breasts and looked down at her feet.

  “And what do you think is happening?” he asked, walking around the bed to take a knee next to her.

  “Some illness or something. Why else would you keep those people locked out and us locked in?”

  “Little lady, we keep them locked out for your protection. Same with locking you in. Until the perimeter calms down, nobody is allowed to go anywhere.” He tugged a slip of paper from his left front pocket just far enough for Tyler to notice the Presidential seal. “Orders came from the top.”

  Simmons got to his feet, bent backwards to stretch then walked to the door. “As much as I like answering your questions, I have a job to do. You can direct any other questions to the nurses or the doctors on this floor.”

  Tyler opened his mouth to ask him what really happened outside for the world to get like this, but couldn’t find the words. He suspected it wouldn’t matter if he asked the questions though as Simmons seemed skilled at responding with questions of his own. The military was hiding something, but Tyler wasn’t sure what.

  One thing he knew, however, was that he wasn’t going to get any answers here. To figure anything out, he needed to be well out of the hospital and out on the streets to see it firsthand. Unless he got lucky and a TV or radio was working down in the cafeteria.

  Simmons stepped out the door and turned around. “I’ll let the doctors know you’re awake. They’ll want to move you to another room.” He took a step back and let the door slam shut behind him.

  “They’re hiding something,” Marcy huffed.

  “I think so too.” Tyler scooted along the edge of the bed until he was sitting next to her. “What happened while I was unconscious?” He kicked her knee with his swinging leg. “Be honest with me.”

  “I told you what I know.” She said, leaning back in her chair. “None of the staff is saying anything. Shit, half of them look like they haven’t had an ounce of sleep in a month.”

  “Probably too busy taking care of dumb asses like me.” Tyler snickered.

  “I don’t think they are letting them leave either.”

  “The staff?”

  She nodded.

  “Why wouldn’t they be allowed to go? Don’t they have badges and ID cards to show the soldiers out front.”

  Marcy leaned close. “I think whatever is happening is contagious. They are keeping everyone here until they know for sure.” She turned her head to the door then back to Tyler once she was sure the coast was clear. “If I had to guess, they’re planning on killing us all.”

  Tyler laughed. Since he’d met Marcy he hadn’t had much time to get to know her, admittedly through no fault of her own. He’d been incapacitated by one means or another, otherwise not in a condition to ask questions about her or her life before. But from this simple reaction he knew most of what he needed to know. She was a conspiracy theorist with a general distrust of the government.

  While Tyler was suspicious of everything Simmons said, he didn’t hold them to the same standard as Marcy. He believed a certain amount of secrecy wasn’t just healthy, it was warranted. If this was an attack on American soil by some foreign interest or another, announcing it to the public would only cause a panic. Panic in times of crisis is a bad thing, often leading to more death, destruction, and excessive criminal behavior that is hard to combat. It would be damn near impossible to defend the country from an outside attacker while having to maintain the peace from behind the lines.

  That thought sent a ripple of realization through Tyler. The missing people, screwed up public services, and overcrowded hospitals had to be a sign of a terrorist attack. Since the hospital was so crowded the National Guard had to be here to protect it from attack. One well placed RPG or bomb could wipe out a few thousand people, sending the area reeling.

  “Maybe we’re at war,” Tyler offered. “The people down there might be a foreign army, trying to attack the hospital and disrupt public services.” The lights flickered in the room as if to offer proof.

  “Maybe,” Marcy agreed, though with a tone that suggested she was still skeptical. “But what if something else is going on?”

  Tyler considered the idea for a moment and let it pass. He liked Marcy, even considered her a friend, but she was too paranoid for his taste. But deep down he had to admit she might be right. The National Guard was too on edge for the situation to be normal. Simmons seemed far too eager and willing to snuff out a
life if they believed it would save one of his men, or someone in the hospital.

  “Whatever it is, it has to be important. We need to get out of the hospital and find out for ourselves.” Tyler knew that was the only way they’d get any real answers. Answers that weren’t candy coated and covered with enough layers of bullshit to be disguised as filth when thrown in the trash. He understood why the government would want to cover any mass event up, but wished they would be a little more up-front about talking to the people involved. Keeping people locked behind walls without offering an explanation wasn’t right. But without an army of his own, he didn’t stand a chance making Simmons or one of the other solders talk.

  Even if he had an army, odds were against getting anyone to talk. It was more likely that they would spark a massive battle by brining an armed force anywhere near the hospital.

  No. The only way they would get any answers is to leave the hospital and find them for themselves. And unless they found a secret tunnel leading out, that wasn’t going to happen. The only option Tyler had was to sit pat, let his head heal, and hope for the best. Hope that the mess here in Mobile wasn’t happening back home. He wasn’t sure how they’d handle things if the problems were more widespread. Would they hold their ground in the house or head to her sister’s down in Phoenix? Would people there turn to looting and stealing what they wanted or needed like they already did there? While he was happy he had the security system installed earlier this year, he knew it wouldn’t do much good without power.

  For now, there was nothing he could do to help them. They were at the mercy of whatever life was sending their way. He hated leaving them alone; not being there to protect them. If he’d quit the job months ago like Carrie had insisted, he’d be back with them safe and sound. At least he wouldn’t be as in the dark as he was in this hospital clear across the US.

  A knock at the door pulled Tyler out of his silent contemplation. He looked over at Marcy who was reaching for something in her purse as she watched the door. Her face full of concern, the same concern Tyler echoed in his own.