Trey had exited the buggy and stood by the passenger’s side of the vehicle.
“Rob and I put some better sound-suppression mufflers on the buggy,” Trey replied. “It’s a lot quieter now, and we want stealth today.”
“Well, thank Rob,” Kramer replied.
“I will,” Trey said without bragging. “We did this in the military with one of our Fast Attack Vehicles.”
“Well, whatever the reason, let’s go,” Kramer said as he started to swing his leg up and over the metal frame of the buggy into the passenger seat.
“No sir, you drive.” Trey said. “You know the way there, and I need my hands free if I need to return fire. Besides, you look like you’ve been itching to drive this bad boy!”
Kramer’s face beamed as he quickly walked to the other side of the vehicle.
Driving an open air vehicle like this was an experience Kramer would never forget. Convertibles had their own charm, especially in the winter months in Florida where the night temperatures were in the 50’s. But having no metal or plastic surrounding them made the ride feel like he was driving a giant motorcycle. It was exhilarating.
They drove without incident into town, passing through the Academy and taking old Highway 50 to their first destination, the Clermont Congregational Shalom. Although the synagogue was in a strip mall, there was a chance that Rabbi Vetter would be there. Knowing his spiritual leader, Vetter would be at the church or he would leave a note for his congregation on where to find him.
Old Highway 50 ended on one of Florida’s major north/south arteries, Highway 27. The strip mall that the congregation rented space from was on this road, so they had no option other than to deal with the risk of detection if they wanted to find the rabbi.
The strip mall was three blocks north of the Old 50 and 27 intersection, and within a minute, they were pulling in front of the storefront house of worship.
All of the glass doors had been smashed in, and anti-Semitic graffiti had been spray-painted on the beige-colored walls outside the congregation’s front door.
Trey leapt from the vehicle to check the front entrance, then quickly returned to the buggy, effortlessly jumping into the passenger’s seat.
“Says he’s at the hospital,” Trey said with disgust as he looked at the defaced storefront wall.
“Don’t worry about it,” Kramer said, sensing his friend’s disapproval. “It doesn’t mean a thing.”
“I don’t think so,” Trey shot back. “And it isn’t because I’m black. I spent time in the sandbox, fighting Haji and his hard-on for Israel. That,” he said, pointing at the hateful words on the wall, “Is why I fought. I hated those racist pricks; and now they’re here?”
“They always have been here,” Kramer sadly replied. “I treated them in the hospital and at my office all the time, although their numbers are fewer than before. You just have to ignore it and accept that they’re the ones who have the problem.”
“Well doc, let me tell you one thing. If I ever run across any of them, they WILL have a problem!”
“I don’t doubt that for a minute,” Kramer smiled in reply.
Returning the way they came, Kramer navigated old Highway 50 and wound his way to Citrus Tower Boulevard, turning right to go to the local hospital. Citrus Tower Boulevard was so-named because of the old tourist attraction that sits at the north end of the road. Built in the mid 1950’s on one of the highest points in Florida, the Florida Citrus Tower rises another 250 feet above the hill it’s built on, giving the tourists of the time a 360° view of the surrounding orange groves, along with the city of Orlando that sits about 35 miles to the east.
As Kramer approached South Lake Hospital, Trey directed him into the abandoned parking lot of a pediatric office. Pulling behind the building, they left the buggy tucked against the back of the structure. Trey reached into the open engine compartment and detached a wire from a piece of equipment. Taking the other end of the cable, he removed it and stashed it in his military vest.
“No one can drive this thing unless they have a spare coil wire in their pocket!” Trey said with some satisfaction.
“Whatever you say,” Kramer smirked, not knowing what Trey was talking about.
“Just follow my lead and stay behind me,” Trey shot back with a grin. “Just tell me where the best point of entry will be.”
The two of them moved through the lot and up a small hill that separated the clinic from the back of the hospital. As they snuck up to the crest of the ridge, they peered over the edge and noted the presence of several military vehicles parked in the back. Watching for a few minutes convinced the two men that no one was in either the HUMMVEE or Stryker, but both knew that DHS was lurking within.
“I’m stuck,” Trey finally said. “It’s a risk going in there. What do you think?”
Kramer dropped a small canvas grocery bag to the ground he had been carrying and pulled out two white lab coats. “Dr. Kramer” was stenciled to one jacket, while the other was without a name.
“I thought we might need these,” Kramer said as he handed Trey the jacket with his name on it.
“Take mine,” Kramer said. “If they challenge me, I can talk my way through it. You’ll have a better chance of getting by with something stenciled on the front.”
Donning both coats, Trey was at a loss as to what to do with his rifle.
“That won’t work,” Kramer said as Trey tried to hide the slung rifle under the lab coat. “I can see the outline through the coat. You’ll have to ditch it if you want to come in.”
Seeing a stand of tall grass nearby, Trey hid the rifle amongst the foliage and they returned to the crest of the hill.
“All I have is my Glock,” Trey said with some trepidation. “I hope we don’t need my rifle in there.”
“No worries,” Kramer replied. “You’re in my territory now.”
After ensuring that no one was around, they climbed over the crest of the hill and walked to the rear of the hospital. The loading docks for the structure were to their left, and some voices could be heard coming from there.
“Fortune favors the bold,” Kramer said as he turned the corner and approached the loading dock stairs.
“HEY!” Came a challenge from a soldier who was sitting on the edge of the concrete platform.
Kramer walked right up to the man, acting like he belonged there. Like most good poker players, Kramer took the initiative and bluffed like his life depended on it.
“Sorry,” Kramer said. “We went out for some air and figured it was just as quick coming in through here.”
“Who are you?” The agent said. “I don’t see any ID.”
“I’m Doctor Traynor,” Kramer said. “And this is Dr. Kramer. We were in the E.D. with Dr. Chase and stepped out for a moment. We must have left our IDs in there.”
“You aren’t supposed to go anywhere without your tags!” He said back. “I’ll have to report this.”
“Be my guest,” Kramer continued to bluff. “But let Dr. Chase now where we are. He’s expecting us to be back by now and I’m sure he’ll be upset if we’re late. He has some government big-wig coming in for me to look at and I don’t think he’ll be too happy if he can’t find us. Just give him a call, would you?”
The agent hesitated, obviously confronted with his first real challenge of the day, and possibly since he had been assigned here. Having worked at the hospital and having staff privileges, Kramer continued.
“Look, just check with Chase. Dial #343 and he’ll be right down.”
The agent pulled out a binder and checked his paperwork. The surprised look on his face indicated that the extension must have checked out.
“OK, doc.” the agent replied. “Just don’t forget your ID badges. You can get in a lot of trouble if you do.”
“
Thank you, son. I appreciate that.” Kramer replied and moved through the loading dock area and into the hospital.
“Ballsy!” Trey said with some admiration as they walked the halls of the receiving department.
“You’d be surprised what a little knowledge and a lot of moxie can get you.” Kramer said back.
Using the doctor’s knowledge of the hospital, they snuck through the various departments and eventually made it to the administrator’s section of the building.
“Here we are,” Kramer said. “Let’s hope we continue to be lucky.”
Walking like they belonged there, Kramer and Trey strode confidently through the hallways, making to the director’s office without incident.
The secretary immediately recognized Dr. Kramer and jumped from behind her desk to give him a hug.
“Oh God,” She said as she disengaged from the cardiologist. “It’s so good to see you! Dr. Chase will be thrilled.”
“Can you let him know I’m here?”
“Oh, just come on right in. There’s no need for protocol these days!”
The woman led them to the back of the room, and after a quick but perfunctory knock on the president’s door, the three entered his office.
“Well I never would have believed it!” Rick Chase said as he moved from his desk to greet his friend.
“Ruth,” Dr. Chase said to the secretary. “Could you get us some coffee?”
“I’d love to!” She replied.
“Hey Ruth,” Kramer added before she could leave. “Don’t tell anyone I’m here yet.”
The woman raised an eyebrow then nodded.
“What was that about?” Chase asked.
Kramer and Trey spent the next ten minutes explaining what they had been through and the concerns Claire had. During that time, Ruth had returned and after distributing the Styrofoam cups filled with black coffee, she joined in the discussion.
When Kramer finished with his story, leaving out any reference to Ed Grafton and who Vernon Bragg was and where he lived, he sat silently while Chase and Ruth digested what he had said.
“I don’t know what to say,” Chase started. “Other than we’re seeing the same thing here that Claire is observing in Nashville. The chronically sick are being transferred out of the hospital to other facilities.”
“You didn’t think that was unusual?” Trey challenged.
“Not at all,” Chase replied. “We are an arm of a regional hospital system and some of our sister facilities are better suited to handle the chronically sick. All I know is that several white busses with a red cross showed up at or E.D. door, and within an hour, all our chronic patients were loaded up and whisked away. It was sudden, but with no reliable electricity, it was a God-send.”
“Well, where are they being transferred to?” Kramer asked.
“Ruth, find out where our chronic patients are transferring to,” Chase instructed his secretary.
Ruth left the room, leaving the three behind to continue their discussion.
“By the way,” Kramer began. “Have you seen Rabbi Vetter? We stopped by the Congregation and the note directed us here.”
“I haven’t seen him in days,” Chase admitted. “He came in with several others from the temple and I haven’t seen him since. Last thing I heard him say was that he was going to Brightside retirement home to check on some of his friends from synagogue. You know him, always taking care of the helpless.”
“Yeah,” Kramer said with a smile. “He had them hauled over to the temple every Saturday from the extended living facility in that Ford Transit van he bought.”
“Did he get you for a donation too?” Chase smirked.
“What do you think?” Kramer laughingly replied.
“What do you need Vetter for?” Chase asked. “Is there anything I can do to help you?”
“No, my friend. I just needed to bare my soul. His advice and counsel is what I want.”
“Well,” Chase mused. “You might want to check with Mr. Jacobson. Those two are inseparable.”
“Old Barry’s around?” Kramer smiled. “I’d have thought he’d be in Brightside by now!”
“Yeah, well at 84 he’s still as tough as nails.” Chase said.
“That he is, and more.” Kramer agreed.
“Say, why don’t you check in on him.”
“Where does he live now?” Kramer asked. “I heard he sold his orange groves to some national home builder chain a couple of years ago.”
“Same place. The old coot sold everything except his house and the surrounding 20 acres.” Chase said.
“You’re kidding! That’s the most valuable piece of the entire spread.”
“Yeah, well you know Barry, he could sell snow to an Eskimo. Why don’t you ask him when you see him?” Chase concluded.
A knock on the door interrupted the conversation, and as before, Ruth slid into the room without waiting for a reply.
She moved to Dr. Chase’s desk and handed him several sheets of paper.
“Here they are,” she said with a confused look on her face. “I just can’t decipher what the paperwork means.”
Dr. Chase scanned the papers and handed them over to Kramer who looked just as confused.
“What do you think, Trey?” Kramer asked as he passed the government documents over to the young Marine.
Trey scanned the papers and after a moment or two, put them on the administrator’s desk.
“Having been an officer in the Maintenance wing of the United States Marine Corps, I am thoroughly versed in Government “Bravo Sierra” when it comes to paperwork and other important things.” He said, bringing knowing chuckles from the other two men.
“Bravo, Sierra is the military phonetic alphabet abbreviation for B.S.” Chase told Ruth, who had a confused look on her face.
“Oh!” Ruth replied. “So working for you would be Sierra, Sierra, Delta, Delta.”
The three men roared with laughter at the feisty woman.
“Got you there!” Kramer chided his friend.
“Well,” Trey continued. “The orders are to transfer the patients to a location with the abbreviation of COV, whatever that means.”
None of the other three could think of where that was since it didn’t correspond to any of their sister facilities.
“Well, I’ll see if I can make some discrete inquiries with our government friends,” Chase said as they wrapped up their conversation. “It’s good to see you, Gerry.”
“Same, Rick.”
“Say, any chance you could help out here,” Chase asked. “That is, if we ever need it?”
“Slow, huh.”
“No one can drive, and with DHS ordering everyone to their relocation facilities, I don’t see us needing you anytime too soon. But who knows when the people will be back. All I can say is we get diesel delivered daily and it’s enough to power the Emergency Department and one floor of beds.”
“I’ll check back with you soon,” Gerry promised.
Trey and Kramer left Chase’s office, but the two of them were stopped by Ruth.
“Dr. Kramer,” she began. “I’m worried. We’ve had people disappear from here, mostly the ones who question what’s going on.”
“Hasn’t Rick noticed?” Kramer replied.
She motioned them to come closer and continued in a whisper.
“Dr. Chase is a good man, but he got his job by getting along with everyone.” She answered. “It’s not that he’s ignorant, but he’s just spent too much time kissing butt to see who he’s cuddling up to.”
She moved behind her desk, and opening a locked side drawer, she pulled out several blank I.D. cards.
“Here,” Ruth said as she gave the documents to the two of them. “Take these to the
personnel department.”
She sat at her desk and filled out some more papers, handing them over to Kramer.
“This will get you a hospital I.D. It’s good outside the campus grounds as far as DHS is concerned.”
“A “get out of jail” card, huh.” Trey said as he examined the papers.
“As good as gold!” She replied. “Just come back here in one piece!”
With their own identification cards in hand, the two men switched lab coats so that Dr. Kramer had his original monogramed jacket.
Kramer gave the woman a hug and the two men left to have their IDs made.
“What should I be?” Trey began as they walked down the nearly empty hallway. “I don’t know anything about medicine other than how to stop someone from bleeding out.”
“I have an idea,” Kramer said as they stopped at an empty nurse’s station.
Kramer filled in some of the blanks that Ruth had left and handed one of the forms to the young Marine.
“Trey Williams, Epidemiologist?” He said inquisitively. “What the heck is an epidemiologist?”
“A disease doctor,” Kramer replied. “Someone who tracks an epidemic and how it spreads.”
“What do I do?” Trey asked, still unsure about his role.
Trey continued to look apprehensive. Kramer patted the young man on the back and they continued silently to the personnel department.
“Take notes,” Kramer finally replied. “You’re tracking an outbreak of something and you catalog where it’s going.”
“Oh!” Trey replied as the light bulb went off inside his head. “Just like keeping track of supplies and schedules! Heck, I did that all the time when I was in the Marines.”
“Yep,” Kramer said. “Just like tracking supplies, only this time, you will be tracking people and diseases.”
A half hour later, they walked out the front door with identification cards clipped to the front of their jackets; Dr. Gerry Kramer, M.D. and Dr. Trey Williams, PhD.
“Now where?” Trey asked as he retrieved his rifle and replaced the coil wire.
Charlie's Requiem: Democide Page 35
