Time Clock Hero

by Donovan, Spikes

  “You know we might just need that!” Alaia said, raising her voice above the din.

  “I won’t be a party to any killing,” Dr. Carson yelled.

  Their way forward blocked, the fumes filling the air and their lungs with thick, dark smoke, Phoenix grabbed Alaia’s shoulder and swung her around. “Back the way we came! We can get---”

  “What did you say?” Alaia shouted.

  Phoenix waved at Alaia and Dr. Carson, and he began to cough. He ran back the way they’d just come, stopping at the hall leading towards the MRI room. Phoenix handed Dr. Carson the flashlight. “Light us up, Doc!”

  Dr. Carson took the flashlight and nodded. “If you think this is bad, just you wait until---”

  Phoenix didn’t have time. He leveled the shotgun and ran back down the hall, half expecting to see the three men that had come through the doors earlier. The smoke came up behind them, crawling along the ceiling, and the sprinklers kept running.

  Alaia grabbed the door handle and nodded to Phoenix. He raised the gun to his shoulder.

  “On the count of three, two, one---” Alaia opened the door.

  Dr. Carson’s light, because he had aimed it high, blinded one solitary guard who, instead of shooting, cried out and dropped his weapon.

  Phoenix grabbed the boy by his collar and Alaia scanned the room in the faint beams of the exit lights.

  “I’ve never shot no one before,” the boy said. “Honest, mister!”

  Phoenix recognized the boy. Slim face, skinny, light blonde hair under his black cap, a large, prominent nose. He was one of the guards who brought him down from Bobbie Jones’ office a few hours earlier, the one he’d warned, the one he’d heard say he wanted to leave.

  “Grab the gun,” Phoenix said firmly. “This old guy is the cure – but we’ve got to get him out of here. Are you with me?”

  “Yes … yes, sir,” the boy said.

  Phoenix knelt down and picked up the boy’s weapon and handed it to him.

  “I know I didn’t just see that,” Alaia said, as she pointed her AK at the guard’s chest. “He’s just gonna shoot us in the back, that’s what he’s gonna do.”

  “And you don’t know if we’ll be able to find a way out of here either, do you?” Phoenix said to Alaia.

  Alaia raised her eyebrows. “We’re not doing this.” She aimed her gun at the boy’s chest.

  Dr. Carson stepped in between the boy and Alaia, wrapping his hand around the muzzle of the gun, forcing it downward. “Haven’t you seen enough death to last for the next two-thousand years?”

  “You’re asking me that when I’m rescuing you from a bunch of thugs with guns?” Alaia said.

  “Yes, I’m asking you---”

  The doors at the far end of room, the ones they’d just come through, opened without warning, and a burst of gun fire, high and wild, ripped through the air, hitting the ceiling and walls. Everyone hit the deck – Dr. Carson with Alaia under him, Phoenix alone, but in a position to fire off the remaining rounds of double-aught buck in the direction from which the shots had come, and then the boy by himself.

  For a second they lay there, motionless, trying to listen above the sound of the alarm for the reloading or cocking of weapons, the shout of voices, or the running of boots. Nothing.

  Phoenix got up. “Magazine, Alaia, now. Who the heck makes a lousy a six-round magazine? Is that a joke?”

  Dr. Carson helped Alaia up. She quickly removed her pack and pulled out another magazine, a round, black, drum magazine. “Eighteen rounds, baby.” She handed it Phoenix and he handed her back the empty.

  “Let’s go, son,” Phoenix said to the boy, as he gently nudged him with his boot.

  The boy didn’t move.

  Dr. Carson bent over and felt the boy’s neck. He stood up and, in a flat, monotone voice, said, “He’s gone.” He reached out and took hold of Alaia’s shirt and jerked her towards himself; and he put his face right up into hers. He pointed at the boy. “That belongs to you, Detective Jenkins. Had you decided to leave things well enough alone, this boy would still be alive. Funny how you don’t understand love enough to know that, one day, your own son will need be shown mercy.” Dr. Carson pushed Alaia backwards, and she stumbled on a chair and fell to the ground. He bent over and put his finger in her face. “That boy’s death is your fault.”

  “Let’s go,” Phoenix said.

  Dr. Carson helped Alaia to her feet.

  Alaia Jenkins didn’t say a word, though she searched through her feelings and intellect for some phrase to define what had just happened. She wanted the boy dead, and she would have pulled the trigger. Dr. Carson had stopped her, stopped her cold; and then he threw her to the floor and protected her, with his own body, against the spray of bullets that had been fired from across the room. Was this the man behind Psyke and the Psyke Virus?

  Phoenix pushed everyone across the office space and into the next hall. The emergency lights cast a grim and unearthly glow on a single dead guard, an older man, who lay sprawled out on the floor with his left foot under his right leg. Phoenix pulled the body away from the door and looked out.

  Another hallway, without carpet, tiled in dark iron-colored tiles, reminded him of the tiles he’d seen in the lobby on his way in. Clouds of smoke, getting thicker by the minute, burned his nostrils. Men and women yelled, their voices coming from around the corner down the hall and to the left, back towards the front of the building.

  Phoenix ran into the hall, crouching for fresher air, and turned right. He came to another door, the door to the supply area. The door was fob activated and he paused.

  Alaia pushed him aside. “These doors are fail safe, Phoenix.” She turned the lever and the door opened. She ran into the supply room with her weapon raised. A few nurses, all of them standing by the open door leading out to the delivery parking area, looked at them as if nothing was happening.

  “Is there anyone else out there who can help with the fire?” Alaia asked, trying to look like the hired help.

  The girls looked over and shook their heads.

  Phoenix led the way out through the back of the hospital, taking the long way around, dodging a few infected who had been drawn to the noise of the explosion. When they reached the far end of the parking lot five minutes later, at the exact place Alaia had left the van, she began to panic.

  The van was nowhere to be seen.

  “Where’s Darkeem?” Alaia said, her eyes blinking rapidly. A few scattered infected people, some standing in the parking lot, others caught up in the shrubs, began struggling in their direction. “Where’s … where’s Darkeem?” She raised her AK, but Phoenix pushed the barrel down.

  “Is this where you left them?” Phoenix asked. “Think. But don’t shoot.”

  “I don’t know,” Alaia said. “But they were supposed to meet me in front of the hospital entrance – that’s all I know. They knew to … Beth knew to drive up once the lights went out. That’s what Phillip Mercer said to do.”

  “We took a detour, Alaia,” Phoenix said. “You didn’t have a back-up plan?”

  Alaia shook her head.

  “You know you’re always supposed to have a---”

  Dr. Carson put his hand on Phoenix’s shoulder. “You’re not helping. Maybe we need to walk towards the---”

  The sounds of staccato gunfire broke the silence, popping in the darkness in small bursts of three and four rounds. It came from near the entrance. Phoenix, Alaia, and Dr. Carson hurried up onto the sidewalk, pushed through the shrubs, and flattened themselves against the wall.

  They could hear the sound of running feet, light and swift, coming in their direction. Then the cries of men. The beams of two or three flashlights danced wildly across the sidewalk, and two or three solitary shots rang out, just as the running feet neared them.

  Darkeem, with an AK in his hands, stumbled and fell on the sidewalk, screaming out, writhing in agony with his hands trying to reach behind him.

  Alaia struggled towards Darke
em, but Phoenix grabbed her and pulled her back into the shrubs before the approaching group of men could see her. He put his hand over her mouth.

  Phoenix held her tightly. “There’s nothing you can do for him now.”

  Chapter 31

  Phoenix struggled to keep Alaia still and quiet, remembering what it was like to remain motionless during hide and seek games he’d played as a child. He thought of the stakes of tonight’s game, how losers wouldn’t become seekers, but how they’d become bullet-riddled bodies. The guards coming down the sidewalk – who knew how many? – probably had a friend to avenge. It wouldn’t matter to them who they killed as long as they killed.

  “Wait until we can see them,” Phoenix said. “Then you can waste them. You got it?” He could feel Alaia’s body shuddering. Her tears rolled down her cheeks onto his hands. “Hold … hold … here they come. Four guys.”

  Dr. Carson looked over at Phoenix with eyes alert yet fearful, then he nodded towards Darkeem. “We can save him,” he whispered.

  Phoenix let go of Alaia. He felt her trembling at his side, but he also saw her slowly raise her AK.

  The men, all of them dressed in black with their weapons up and ready, stepped into view.

  “Hey!” Alaia shouted, and the men turned.

  Alaia and Phoenix fired their weapons at such a close range that the flames from the ends of their gun barrels scorched their faces. Every shot hit home, metal to flesh, with instant results, incapacitating the men in seconds. They died instantly.

  Dr. Carson, concerned about Darkeem, ran from behind the bushes before the last man hit the ground. He gently grabbed Darkeem and dragged him away from the sidewalk and in between a gap between the bushes. Darkeem didn’t move. His eyes weren’t open. “Throw me your pack, Phoenix – now.”

  Alaia set her gun down and knelt down beside Darkeem, taking his hand in hers, and she cried. His breaths came slowly and irregularly.

  Phoenix tossed his pack to Dr. Carson. “There’s nothing in there except a small first aid kit!” A few gunshots peeled off from assault rifles somewhere near the entrance. Phoenix, kneeling on the ground, trying to keep as close to the shrubs as possible, scanned the parking lot near the entrance. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. “We’re … we’re about to have company!”

  “Alaia,” Dr. Carson said, “You can’t help me here – help Phoenix.”

  “No, Alaia, you stay right there,” Phoenix said, lowering his voice. “But throw me my knife and then put your AK close by.”

  Alaia reached for Phoenix’s pack just as Dr. Carson reached into it.

  “Please, give me a moment,” Dr. Carson said. “I’m losing your son.” He grabbed the small, round, black box, the one that Phoenix had picked up off his jail cell floor. He opened it and removed the platinum halo attached to the small, black, hard drive.

  “What are you---?”

  Dr. Carson slipped the halo around Darkeem’s head, snugging it up carefully, and handed the flashlight to Alaia. “Shine the light, please.”

  Phoenix turned to Alaia. “Where’s my knife? Anytime now would be okay. And do not turn on that light. We’ve got a herd of infected walking through the parking lot.”

  “Hand him the knife – and be quick,” Dr. Carson said. “And get that light on if you want to see your son alive again.”

  Alaia did as she was asked, wiping the tears from her face as she did. She handed Phoenix the knife and turned on the flashlight.

  “Now we’re dead, Alaia,” Phoenix said. “We’ve got … we’ve got twenty deadish guys coming in our direction. I could use a little help here!”

  “Do not move,” Dr. Carson said. He turned the black box over in his hands and opened a small compartment. He removed a small scalpel and a small, glass container. Alaia saw a second set inside the device. He handed one scalpel and one container to Alaia. “If you lose this, Darkeem is doomed.”

  Alaia watched Dr. Carson enter a code into the flat, black box, the number glowing first yellow, and then green. “Four, six, six, two, three,” he said. “Now, Alaia, press the halo against Darkeem’s head with your hands and make sure it fits snuggly.”

  “What are you doing?” Alaia asked. “My son is dying!”

  “No, he’ll be fine,” Dr. Carson said. A green light, a little larger than the others, began to blink. Dr. Carson touched it gently with his finger, and the color turned to red. A white number, followed by a percentage sign, appeared inside the red light. The number started at ten and, with each passing second, increased. “Phoenix, we need sixty seconds – no more, but certainly no less. Do you hear me?”

  “I hate to burst your bubble, Doc – but we won’t last half that time!”

  “What are you doing to my son?” Alaia said, squeezing Darkeem’s hand, her body shaking all over.

  “I’m saving him. You’ll just have to trust me.”

  “He’s dying!”

  “He’s only just beginning.”

  Phoenix, afraid of the pack of approaching infected, slung his shotgun and rushed out from the sidewalk and led them away from Alaia and Dr. Carson. The crowd of infected people turned, almost on a dime, and came towards him. Some of them shrieked and groaned, but all of them seemed to get their feet moving a bit faster with each passing second.

  More gunshots rang out near the entrance. Phoenix turned around, taking only a second in which to do so, and he saw the guards battling another group of infected. The numbers of infected approaching the entrance looked small in comparison to what he faced; and there were others grouping up in the parking lot, perhaps three or four times as many. He looked back towards Alaia. He couldn’t see her or Dr. Carson – and none of the affected seemed to be drawn towards their hiding place.

  Phoenix picked up some speed and headed towards the pack closest to him. He passed them to his right and, careful to keep from getting winded, slowed his pace. He waved his hands at the infected and ran out towards the darkest part of the parking lot, dragging the herd behind him. He kept his shotgun slung over his shoulder, holding the sling with his left hand while, with his right, he held his combat knife.

  He made a slow circle in the parking lot, gathering as many infected as could. He kept his eye on the sidewalk where he’d left Alaia, ready to rush to her aid if she needed him. He turned back towards the entrance of the hospital, slowing down just enough to catch his breath. The infected followed him.

  Phoenix tried to guess the numbers he’d lassoed. A hundred he guessed, or maybe a hundred fifty. How many followed him, how many had their blood-filled pupil’s zeroed in on him, he couldn’t tell. He smiled because he felt like a rock star stepping out onto the stage at Bonnaroo with his groupies in tow.

  The guards at the entrance, busy with the burning entrance and with other infected, saw and heard a man – he could’ve been one of their own – running towards them, holding a knife, screaming for help.

  Phoenix saw the expressions on the faces of the men only minutes before they met their maker. Some stood their ground, calling for Phoenix to hurry, others broke and ran. Just as the remaining guards opened fire, Phoenix darted to the right, barely escaping the clutches of the infected. He ran back towards Alaia, scanning the parking lot in the glow of the burning hospital. The area looked clear. But that would soon change.

  Alaia sat hunched over Darkeem’s lifeless body. She sobbed softly and her body shook and shivered in the cold night air. Dr. Carson had his hand on her back, rubbing it, and what he whispered to her, Phoenix could not hear.

  Phoenix knelt down beside Alaia and put his hand around her waist. He saw a light coming from the small hard drive, if that’s what it really was, and saw that it blinked in a pale, silvery-blue color.

  Dr. Carson had the small scalpel and specimen container in his hand. “I know this is going to be very hard for you, Detective Jenkins. But, if you will permit me, I have one more thing I need to do.”

  Alaia shook her head. “Why didn’t I bring him with me? Why did I l
eave him with those girls? Why?”

  “We don’t have time, Alaia,” Phoenix whispered with his lips close to her ear.

  Dr. Carson took the scalpel and began cutting into Darkeem’s cheek.

  Alaia pulled away, wiping her tears and nodding as if she understood exactly what Dr. Carson was doing. She leaned over towards Phoenix and, after a few seconds, he helped her to her feet.

  Dr. Carson took a small sliver of skin from Darkeem’s face. Just a tiny, bloody strip. He put it into the small, matchbook-sized specimen box, and inserted it carefully and reverently into the black hard drive. He removed the halo from Darkeem’s head and set the whole contraption back into its box and back into Phoenix’s pack. “Phoenix, you cannot lose this halo device, or throw it away for any reason, do you understand?”

  Phoenix bent over and picked up his pack and slung it over his shoulder. Then he helped Dr. Carson to his feet. “We need to move. We don’t have much time left.”

  “As long as we can get back to my lab and clear it out, we’ll be fine,” Dr. Carson said.

  “Phillip Mercer said something different,” Phoenix said. “He said we only have two days before this thing goes airborne.”

  “Two days?”

  “That’s what he said.”

  “I assure you, Phillip Mercer will pay for---”

  “Just stop, okay?” Alaia said, sniffling. She picked up her weapon and wiped the tears from her eyes. “If you two guys are finished babbling, maybe you can tell me how you plan to get us out of Nashville.”

  Chapter 32

  A fine rain began to fall an hour after midnight. Phoenix, Alaia, and Dr. Carson, exhausted emotionally, physically, and spiritually, felt as if they could go no further. Their clothes, still damp from the hospital’s emergency sprinkler system, soaked up the rain that fell on them. They shivered uncontrollably. A steady wind, appearing just as suddenly as the rain, swept across the dark road in front of them and Phoenix, unable to stand it much more, led everyone towards the next building.