by Josh Collins
Burns couldn’t help but notice how utterly out of place that building looked. It was contemporary, with sharp corners and big windows. It had also been made of some sort of composite metal, which gave it a distinctive spotless shine. From what he could tell from the outside, the hospital only had four or five guards on duty at a time, which would probably be fine to scare off a couple dozen drug-addled lunatics, but it wouldn’t stand a chance against a man like himself.
As he pushed his way through the main glass doors and into the entryway of the hospital, Burns immediately encountered the first problem. The doors may not have been guarded, but they circumvented that exploit by issuing numbered cards. The cards were scanned by an RFID locking mechanism that linked with a bolted door.
It wouldn’t deter him. No, he’d just have to do this the hard way. That meant pickpocketing a departing member and using his card to gain entry. The card reader didn’t seem to keep records of which numbers had been scanned, so a repeat wouldn’t alarm it. That said, the husky woman sitting behind the front desk could certainly tell. Maybe not who had been inside, but definitely who was not supposed to be. From the unsure looks he was getting by nearly everyone who passed, Burns was sure he was among the suspicious. He needed a change of looks if he was to be seen as a member. Luckily, there was a thrift store a few buildings down.
Leaving the VA and making his way down to the store, Burns noticed that it seemed about as understaffed as the hospital. This meant that no one would be in the back guarding the item bins, so he took to the rear of the store.
Approaching the bins, Burns began his search. Digging for only a couple of minutes, he managed to fish out some lightly worn, black shoes, pleated, olive pants, and a white, button-down shirt. It wasn’t the classiest he had ever looked, but it was better than the rags he was currently wearing.
Grabbing an empty garbage bag, Burns stuffed the items inside and then made his way around to the front.
Entering the store, the first thing he noticed was that it had two levels. The first seemed to be a discount item area, while the upper was the actual thrift store. The bottom area was lit like a dungeon, which made it unfairly easy to pick items off the shelves and stuff them in pockets without anyone noticing.
Doing so to a razor and some combs, Burns headed off for the restroom to make the transition.
As he turned into the hall, he accidentally bumped into one of the only workers on shift. She was an older woman, thin with gray hair.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he immediately apologized, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. She shook her head and laughed.
“It’s no problem, darling,” she ensured in an accent from the Isolated territories that he couldn’t quite place. Her eyes then drifted to the black bag under his arms. “If those are donations, please go around back and place them in the bins,” she asked kindly. Burns slightly bowed his head.
“Thanks,” he replied, as he turned and continued toward the restrooms. He let out a quiet sigh. That was a close one, but he seemed to have duped her.
Reaching the men’s room, he pulled on the door handle but it appeared to be locked. Grumbles from inside proved the theory correct.
He stood uncomfortably back and waited. If he spent too much time standing about with a filled garbage bag between his arms, someone would notice what he was up to. He needed to make a decision—and fast.
An opportunity came up as the women’s became vacant. They were single-room restrooms, so it wasn’t like he was invading anyone’s privacy.
However, as the occupant exited, Burns suddenly became frozen. The woman was the same fresh-faced, innocent looking one from earlier—the one who had stared holes into him in Central City. Her slightly narrow nose and eyes still had that same youthful gleam, but she was now wearing a tight dress, and her brown hair was tied into a ponytail.
After the last encounter, Burns wrote it off as a weird Altias thing, but this was a little too much to be a coincidence. What would a Central City business woman be doing several miles out of the way on Fifth Street?
She clicked down the hall in her heels and then disappeared around the corner into the rest of the store. She wasn’t so obvious about her scouting this time, but Burns could tell she had kept a keen eye on him.
He took a step forward, bidding to follow her, but as he did, the men’s room opened up.
Burns now had a choice: follow her and almost definitely draw attention to himself or stay hidden and ultimately complete his objective. It was a tough choice, but if the woman was really following him, then she’d be back. The vets being prescribed that Flenin didn’t have that same second chance. He had to continue with this mission first, so he stepped forward and entered the now vacant men’s room, closing the door behind him.
The room was ancient, with old grungy tiles for a floor and walls that hadn’t looked clean in decades. The faucet was pouring out water despite being turned off, and the toilet looked to have about as much water in its system as a dying lake—same color too.
Burns set down his bag and looked into the busted mirror. This wasn’t going to be an easy fix. Nevertheless, he ripped the razor out of its packaging and began.
After several minutes, and a pile of trimmed hairs later, the makeover was only partially successful. The razor he’d procured was a little less than proficient in removing the long strands of his beard, so he was left with a couple cuts and what looked like a five o’clock shadow. Combining this with the button-down shirt and pleated, olive pants, he would look respectable. No one would look twice at least.
The finishing touch was fixing his long hair. He grabbed the comb and began pulling hairs back. It would take too long to straighten it completely, but in a short while his hair was out of his face and resting nicely behind his head.
Setting the comb down and beginning cleanup, Burns glanced into the mirror once more. He didn’t see anyone he recognized. He tried to look away and finish cleaning up, but he couldn’t. The man looking back at him through the cracks and the divots and the dust was antagonistic. Not hiding anymore behind a beard and long hair, Burns could see this man was scowling. His characteristic dimples were nonexistent.
The man blinked slowly, continually revealing his dulled brown eyes. His skin looked torn, dirty, and pale.
The bloodied portrait suddenly fluttered out of the jacket and landed upright. Burns leaned down and picked it up.
This was an error. Again, he became entranced by the picture and the woman depicted on it. He didn’t say anything; he just kept looking. She was the only person in the room who he recognized. Her name was Evelyn. He always thought that was a beautiful name.
A drop suddenly fell onto the picture and ran down to his thumb. He looked back into the busted mirror and saw the man had a tear streak down his scraggly-cut chin.
Burns scoffed. The man in the mirror was weak. Burns did pity him though.
Suddenly, someone knocked on the door.
“Hurry up will ya?” they yelled from outside. Burns then remembered what he was supposed to be doing.
He quickly stuffed the picture into his pants pocket and then crammed the blue jacket into the bag with the rest of his old clothes.
Proceeding toward the door, he turned the handle and headed out.
Entering the Veterans Affairs hospital once more, Burns immediately swiped the wallet out of a departing man’s back pocket. He then removed the ID card and slid the wallet into his own back pocket.
Approaching the locked door, he placed the card in front of the RFID scanner and waited. After a few seconds, he heard a click and the door was unlocked. He then pocketed the ID card and made his way through.
The husky woman sitting behind the front desk perked up from her computer as she saw him approach.
“Do you have an appointment already scheduled, sir, or would you like to make one?” she asked.
“I have one already, ma’am. Thanks,” he responded, trying casu
ally to be evasive. She nodded back and pointed to the pad sitting on top of the desk.
“Please sign in with your name and then take a seat in the lobby,” she instructed. Burns complied and grabbed the pen, scribbling a random name. He then took a moment to covertly scout around. The lobby had a windowed view and many seats but little population. Directly in front of the seats, on the adjoining wall, was a partly opened door. That must be where the doctors called their patients from, which meant that was where he needed to be.
“Can I help you, sir?” Burns heard the woman ask. She must have been wondering what he was doing standing idly there.
“Uh, just wondering the time,” he said.
“The clock is right above you,” she answered. He acknowledged and then scribbled down the time.
“One more thing,” he said as he pushed the pad back to her. She looked at him with open eyes, awaiting his request. “Where’s your latrine?” he asked.
Pointing, she responded, “Through the doors, and then to the right.”
Perfect, he thought. Nodding back affirmatively, he made his way over to the doors.
Heading through them, he noticed that the whole back room smelled like they’d been papering the walls for hours, despite no one actually working at the time. In fact, it seemed like no one was working in the back at all. The long hall was tiles, closed doors, half-papered walls, and that was it. It looked about as inviting as death row.
Slipping into an office at the side, Burns noticed only two nurses were present. One, a blonde woman, was turned away from the door and seemed to be eating a cup of noodles. The other, a dark-skinned male with defined sideburns, was sorting through papers on a shelf. Both were oblivious, but nonetheless, Burns tried to go about as discreetly as possible. He grabbed a white doctor’s coat off of a hanger and flung it around to his back. A sudden squeak of a chair then caused him to look up.
“Excuse me. Who are you?” the blonde asked, now turned around.
“Transplant,” Burns answered quickly.
“From where?” she persisted with genuine eyes. The other nurse now began paying attention. Burns remained calm.
“Off-world,” he answered. “I couldn’t miss an opportunity to help in one of Altias’ most deprived districts.” He found that playing the most devoted employee always seemed to work. “After all, no veteran should be denied the right to a better life,” he said. The phrase was read off a poster found just behind the male nurse, but it worked nonetheless.
“Welcome to Altias then, doctor,” the woman said at last as she turned back and finished off her cup of noodles. The male nurse kept looking at him, so Burns made sure to give the man an approving nod as well. He responded in kind and then also went back to his work.
Adjusting the coat to fit comfortably, Burns began to head out of the room. As he did, he managed to get a glance at the facility fire preparedness map. According to it, the unmarked meds were kept below ground in cold storage. He assumed that was where the Flenin would be kept. He gained a slight bit of nervousness looking at this map though. Cold storage looked to be a maze of hallways. He hoped he didn’t get lost.
“Hey, do you need help?” the woman asked from behind him. Burns turned around and looked at her. He didn’t really want to bring someone along for the ride, but having someone along that knew the route could make his infiltration more seamless.
“Uh, yeah,” he stammered. “I have a patient coming in who’s going to need something strong but cheap.” He hoped that was enough of a description of Flenin to be useful.
“Sure, we have something like that,” she said, standing up. “Follow me.”
She led the way through the door as they proceeded toward the other end of the hallway.
“So, did you see what’s going down on Silverset? Scary stuff,” she exclaimed, beginning some idle chatter. Burns shrugged back to her, remembering vaguely the news report he saw at Lagona’s.
“Sure is,” he replied. She nodded back as they approached the elevator.
“You know, my father is stationed down there,” she said.
“No kidding,” Burns replied.
“Nope. He’s a lieutenant, a part of the planetary defense force. He got promoted from the invasion fleets.” Burns began to remember his time in the invasion fleets. Back in the day, that was where they had sent all the new recruits.
“Invasion fleets?” he repeated. “I served three tours in the fleets. What’s his name?” he asked.
“Alvarez. You know him?” she asked as she pressed the down button on the elevator.
“I’m afraid not.” Burns told the truth. The name wasn’t ringing any bells. It wasn’t much of a mystery though: lots of men served in the invasion fleets. “Are you worried about him?” he asked, understanding only vaguely what was happening on Silverset.
“A little,” she said. “He’s a good soldier, but he’s getting older. The reports say that things are bad. Nearly the whole planet has been taken over. The navy might even be sending an invasion fleet. Some people are saying that the Minister of War is in negotiations to let the planet be annexed to the Isolated territories.” Burns began to feel a little lightheaded; all of this was bringing back bad memories. “My father wouldn’t like that. He’d rather die than see us negotiate with terrorists,” she told him, but Burns’ only focus was on staying upright. Thankfully, the elevator had finally arrived. They both stepped aboard.
“That’s very brave,” he told her, still wanting an end to the conversation.
“Yeah, he’s the reason why I decided to be a nurse. I could never do what he does, but if I can protect the people who do—well, that’s priceless.” She began to sound like someone Burns once knew. He grabbed a hold of the picture in his pocket. He wanted to take it out, but knew that doing so would begin a discussion he didn’t want to deal with.
Eventually, the elevator reached the correct floor, and they stepped out into the cobalt-lit cold storage room. The name didn’t do it justice—it wasn’t just cold, it was downright frigid.
The nurse didn’t seem to care about the temperature, and soon they were on their way through the maze of halls. Burns was thoroughly lost, but she seemed to know the correct path. Within minutes, they were at a storage room door. She flashed her credentials and the door hissed opened.
“Good luck,” she wished as she walked away. Burns gave her a smile back and then waited until she was out of view before entering the room.
The storage room was small. It had a few shelves for extra supplies and then had a large space in the center where the pallets of medicine were kept. Burns made his way around this sealed pallet of meds in the center. From the outside, he wasn’t sure if it was the Flenin or not.
Shuffling through his pocket, he found a spare razor blade and used it to cut some of the plastic wrap around the pallet. He then ripped open a box and removed a transparent vial that clacked with little blue pills. He brought the vial closer to his face and read the inscription on one of the pills:
Swabboxsta
Swabboxsta was manufactured by Rhodine pharmaceutical, and its consumer name: Flenin.
Burns smiled. He’d done it.
Pocketing the items in his hand, he made his way to the front of the pallet and activated polarity. After a short humming sound, the pallet rose a few inches off the ground. He then approached the back once more and pushed the whole pallet of medicine easily out the door.
The fire preparedness map upstairs had noted a large crate elevator at the back of cold storage. It was accessed only by employees and let out to the arrivals pool. It was the elevator they used when they received shipments, but it would be the perfect method for Burns’ escape. He just hoped his stolen doctor’s credentials would work for the elevator’s scanner. He didn’t want to spend another second in cold storage, and for that matter, he never wanted to be in a place this cold again for the rest of his life.
ANSWERS
Leaving cold
storage and the Veterans Affairs hospital behind, Burns pushed the pallet of Flenin down a few blocks. He then left the illegal drugs behind a defunct building while he acquired some lighter fluid and a match. Returning, he sent the entire pallet up in all-consuming flame. The inferno might have called attention to the local fire department, but a flaming pile of drugs was beyond banal for Fifth Street standards, so he doubted anyone would care.
The sun then began to lower and the evening commenced, so Burns took off from Fifth Street and headed back to Central City. There was a reason he no longer lived in this part of the town, and the nights were it.
Since he didn’t feel like walking all the way back, Burns decided to spend his remaining dollars and take the tram.
Descending to the station underneath the city, Burns had to admit that looking less homeless certainly helped with people’s perception of him. Walking through the dungy, urine-smelling underground, people actually managed to accept him as normal. It felt strange. He still didn’t feel normal. Maybe he truly did deserve the looks he used to get. They saw him as an abomination, and he couldn’t say he disagreed.
Finally boarding the tram, he sat down in an empty seat. It was well past rush hour and plenty of seats were available, so nobody sat next to him. The doors then closed, and the tram sped forward at lightning speed. All the other people seemed pleased to be heading home after a long day of work, but Burns could only put his head in the palms of his hands and breathe.
During the mission he’d felt more alive than he had in a while, but afterwards—after the adrenaline went away—he began to feel as bad as he did that morning. The truth was, he had no idea what was going to make him feel well again. Nothing he tried ever worked. Not even saving people could help. Maybe this was just what life was going to be for him.
No. He wouldn’t take it like this. If everything he just went through wasn’t going to work, then maybe he did need help. He would have to take Lagona up on his offer. Talking to him may be the only option left to solve the problem, even if it felt strange.
