I expected the halls to be brighter for some reason. All white, bright, and sanitized. They weren’t. I’m sure they were plenty clean enough, but the walls were painted an off-white that made them look dingy. Poor choice. The long fluorescent lights didn’t provide enough light, so that didn’t help matters. At least it smelled clean. I ran a finger along the wall as I walked just to be sure. It came back clean.
The place felt like an abandoned building. The halls were devoid of people and equipment. The only things that broke the monotony of the long hall were closed, unmarked doors on either side.
It was super quiet, too. My footsteps echoed down the hall. I tried to walk softer, lifting myself up on tip-toes, but that only made my shoes squeak.
I came to the end of the hall where it branched off to either side. To the right, a man stood on a ladder, his upper half disappearing into the tiled ceiling. The left hall looked just as empty as the one I came from, so I went that way.
Still, no signs pointed the way. I imagined having a sick loved-one here and getting completely lost. I’d like to think I would stay cool until I found somebody to ask for directions. Most likely, I’d end up running up and down the halls wailing like a tone deaf whale.
After a couple of minutes, I spotted my salvation in the form of a sign with arrows pointing in various directions at the end of the hall. I picked up the pace, nearly running into a man with a big mustache who appeared out of one of the side doors. There was no way I looked like I belonged there with my hands shoved in the pockets of my well-worn jeans and a faded shirt with the N.F.L. logo on it, but he didn’t even glance at me as he went down the hall in the other direction. The door click shut behind him.
I resisted the urge to look back. If I did, I was sure I’d find the mustachioed man pointing me out to security. I imagined them chasing me down and tackling me to the floor. They’d haul me off to a small room where they’d interrogate me until I confessed to hurting the boy. They’d turn me over to the police and then go out for donuts or something.
Which was silly, of course. First off, they wouldn’t be able to catch me if they tried. Secondly, I’m sure there are areas of the hospital that are strictly forbidden to the public, but those would be clearly marked and would require a security badge or something. Right?
The sign turned out to be useless. It listed off several departments I didn’t need—one being the security office. Definitely not that way.
I jumpy and on edge. I needed to relax before I gave myself an anxiety attack. I stopped and took in a deep breath, wiggling my hands. Relax, Conor! You’re not doing anything wr—
BAM!
I spun and dropped to a crouched— ready for anything—before the first echo bounced off the wall.
The guy working in the ceiling pulled his head out and grumbled at the large wrench lying on the floor by the ladder. He climbed down to retrieve it.
I signed and stood up straight. My heart beat about a million miles an hour. Relax! I turned and hurried down the hall.
Foot traffic increased and I actually did start to relax. A little bit, anyway. The more people I passed, the more I could blend in like I belonged.
A couple more turns and I came across another sign with a listing of departments by floor next to the elevator. After a quick scan, I found the ICU on the 3rd floor. I pushed the up button.
Once the elevator made its way to the ground floor, I stepped in, hoping to get it all to myself but a woman stepped in behind me. She had her slightly graying blonde hair pulled back into a tight ponytail and wore a white coat and a name tag. I couldn’t get a glimpse of the name. She jabbed the button for the fifth floor.
“What floor?”
“What?” I asked.
“What floor are you going to?” She glanced over her shoulder at me.
“Oh, three.”
Apparently assuming that I was visiting a sick relative in the ICU or something, she spared me a sympathetic look and poked the corresponding button. She stepped back from the panel and didn’t look my way again.
The elevator groaned and jerked to life, squeaking a little as it lifted us to our destinations. Dr. Ponytail pulled a phone out of her pocket and checked her messages. I slid my hands down the sides of my jeans. Relax!
It took less than a minute for the elevator to reach the 3rd floor, but every second nestled in that minute felt like a single little eternity. There was something about being stuck in a confined space with someone I was sure would turn around at any moment and accuse me of hurting that boy. She’d hold out her phone to show me she had texted 911 (can you text 911?) and tell me she had informed the police that I was here.
A tiny wave of relief washed over me when the elevator dinged and the doors opened to an empty hall. I hurried around the lady and out the door, turning left. When I saw nothing but a dead end, I spun and headed right before the elevator doors closed behind me.
I went around a corner and came to a halt in front of another reception area. Off to the left, a few chairs sat in a rather dim waiting area. A coffee table held outdated magazines in the center of a circle of well-worn chairs.
Straight ahead, a nurse sat behind the counter. She stared at a computer screen, clicking away at the keyboard without looking at me. Behind her, a hall stretched to the other end of the building. Another nurse stood at a computer on a rolling cart down the hall, inputting patient info. Another exited one room, crossed the hall, and went into another.
My hands found their way down my hips again and I stepped forward. After three steps, I chickened out and made a hard right turn, heading for the waiting area.
“Can I help you?”
I froze like a deer in headlights. My brain clicked at an agonizingly slow pace before I finally managed, “I’m just waiting.” Good call. I’m heading for the waiting area, so I must be waiting. Now, just as long as she doesn’t ask...
“Waiting for what?”
I wanted to lie, but really, what kind of believable lie could I come up with even if my head wasn’t buzzing with nerves? “The kid who was hurt in that fight last night,” I said.
“The kid?” she asked. “Does ‘the kid’ have a name?”
I turned toward her and shoved my hands in my pockets, hoping she wouldn’t see them shaking. “Of—of course, he does. I’m friends with him and I was just going to check on him. See if he’s okay and everything.”
She looked at me, fingers paused over the keyboard. She looked thirty-something. She had light brown hair pulled into what I assumed was a hospital regulation tight ponytail. Faint lines creased her bright blue eyes, but they looked more like laugh lines than the beginnings of age. She wore drab green scrubs and absolutely no jewelry that I could see. If she wore any makeup, I couldn’t tell. Her name tag read Baker.
“I see,” she said. “Well, I’m sorry but hospital policy states that only family members are allowed to visit patients in the ICU. Friends are allowed to visit only when accompanied by a family member. You said you were a friend, not family, right? You’ll have to come back once you have permission to visit the kid.”
“Oh,” I stammered, “yeah, I’m not family or anything. So, I’ll just...” I jerked a thumb over my shoulder back the way I came.
I turned where I stood and took a few steps. She didn’t even acknowledge me leaving, just went back to typing on the keyboard. At least she hadn’t called security on me, so that was a good thing. That meant there wasn’t a description of me out because I’m sure hospitals would have been notified if...
“You didn’t have anything to do with it, did you?”
I halted in my tracks. Hands. Jeans. You know the drill. I half turned. “What?”
“The fight the kid got hurt in.”
“Oh. Ha ha. No. I just... Okay, you got me. I’m not really his friend,” I admitted, the sparks of a thought finally flickering in my head.
Her left eyebrow arched. “No, really?” The sarcasm didn’t go over my head.
“Yeah, I,
um, I work for my school newspaper. I was just trying to see if I can, you know, get a story, or whatever.”
She nodded knowingly. “I was on my high school paper, too.”
“Really?” I turned back to her. Even though it was a flat-out lie, maybe a little kinsmanship would get me info on how the kid was doing.
“Yeah.” She laughed. “The stuff I wrote was really bad, though.” She laid her hand on the counter and clicked her blunted nails against it, her expression turning thoughtful.
My heart jumped. She was going to give me a little information. I could tell by the way she looked at me. It was an odd mixture of sympathy and hesitation. I was excited but scared at the same time. What if he wasn’t doing well?
“I turned away a newspaper reporter and three local news channels. I don’t think giving a high school newspaper a scoop is going to happen. Sorry.”
“Oh. Oh, no. It’s fine. I understand,” I said, my heart sinking back into place. “Can’t blame me for trying, right?”
I turned to leave again. A loud, high-pitched beep made my heart crawl back up my esophagus in an attempt to escape. Had she activated an alarm? I turned back to her, but she stared intently at the computer monitor.
In a moment, several nurses and a doctor appeared out of nowhere, rushing down the hall and into a room. Nurse Baker clicked a button and the beeping stopped. She glanced at me with a look that meant something.
I knew the alarm was for the kid I had hurt. My heart let go of my esophagus and it fell past my chest and into my stomach. She didn’t say anything, only stood and hurried down the hall.
It took me a moment to realize I had stepped toward the reception counter like my feet had made the decision for themselves. My breathing came in shallow gasps, my heart pounding from somewhere in my body. I approached, my tennis shoes sliding on the shiny, speckled floor. I angled my path to the left, staring at the computer monitor as it slowly turned into view. A red bar flashed on the screen. I moved closer, trying to read.
“Can I help you?”
I nearly flew out of my pants as another nurse came around the corner.
“MysisterishavingababyandIwaslookingforthebabydeliveryplace,” I spit out in a rush.
“Whoa, calm down dear.” She smiled kindly at me. “Labor and delivery is on the second floor.”
I spun and rushed away.
“Congratulations!” she called out to me.
“Thankyou!” I said as I rounded the corner and nearly broke into a run for the elevator.
Chapter 5
Day 2
1:18 a.m.
Tink. Tink. Tink.
My fingernail clicked on the metal bar as I perched on the balcony seven stories above the alley. I swear I wasn’t moving it but there it was bobbing up and down on its own.
Below, three guys cornered a lone man against the opposite building’s brick wall. One of them brandished a knife, loudly demanding the guy’s wallet.
Tink. Tink. Tink.
I leaned a little further over the railing. It’s just one mugging, I thought. If that guy doesn’t do anything stupid, he’ll just be out some money. Nobody needs to get hurt.
“Hey!” A voice echoed down the alley. Four more thugs materialized out of the darkness.
See, somebody was already there to help. I don’t have to get involved.
“What do you think you’re doing?” a newcomer asked.
The guy with the knife turned, holding it casually. “Mind your own business.”
“Whatever the guy has, it’s ours,” the newcomer said, unconcerned by the six-inch knife.
Okay, so maybe I did have to get involved.
Tink. Tink. Tink.
The disputed victim decided that was the time to try to sneak away while the two groups were otherwise distracted by each other. He inched along the wall, trying to become one with it.
“Just hold still,” I muttered under my breath.
Tink. Tink.
“I’d like to see you try to take it,” KnifeGuy retorted.
The newcomers stepped closer.
“Where do you think you’re going?” The voice boomed around the alley. One of KnifeGuy’s mates produced a handgun from somewhere under his coat and pointed the business end at the dude cowering against the wall.
Tinktinktink.
KnifeGuy glanced over his shoulder at the cowering man. A smile spread across his square jaw. “Waste him so we can take care of these punks.”
The gun rose.
I launched myself from the balcony, sailing across the gap between buildings. I hit the wall about two stories down, grabbing a small ledge under a dark window. I let myself drop another story before curling my fingers against the wall. The brick scraped painfully at my fingertips but it was enough to slow me down.
About two stories from the ground, I dug the toes of my shoes in and backflipped off the wall. My full weight landed on the guy wielding the gun. He crumpled beneath me while I landed on my feet above him.
Even with a ski mask on, the alley smelled of urine. I risked a glance at the man cowering against the wall. His pants were wet all the way down to his red sneakers.
“What do we got here, eh?” KnifeGuy asked.
The rest of the thugs turned to face me. All six of them. It seemed like the two groups weren’t above banding together against a common threat.
“Looks like we got a kid who thinks himself a superhero,” the newcomer said.
“Where’s your spandex?” another chimed in.
“Oh, you know,” I replied. “It’s kinda chilly out tonight. You know how cold it can get in spandex?” I backed away, hoping to draw them away from their victim. “Besides, you really don’t want to be wearing spandex when it’s cold. Shrinkage and everything.”
“A superhero and a comedian,” another sneered.
“Let’s make him wet himself like this loser and then stab him in the eye,” yet another suggested.
“Why so violent?” I asked. “You know, a little bit of counc—Whoa!” I bent backward, narrowly avoiding a knife slash.
Another swung a fist at me, but I caught his wrist, twisting it sharply. His momentum sent him flipping through the air to land flat on his back with a wheeze. Various weapons appeared in hands, including more than one gun.
I took a few more steps back. “Hey, can’t we talk about this?”
One of them stepped forward and raised a gun. Guess not. I dived to the side just as the gunshot rang out. I rolled to my feet and, in the same motion, took off running down the alley.
I turned a corner at the end of the alley just as another gunshot went off. The bullet whizzed past and lodged itself into a building across the street.
Shouts and feet pounded on the pavement followed me. I knew I could outrun them and be gone before they turned that corner, but I needed to lead them away from their victim. If I got away too quick, they might give up the chase and go back.
I slowed to a jog as I approached the end of the new alley, waiting for them to see me before I turned another corner.
Another shot rang out. I felt the bullet speed past my neck. Ok, maybe a little faster.
I hurried around the corner and looked for where to go next. Street lights lit an empty street. There was an unusual lack of traffic even for that time of the night. Oh well, I guess that was a good thing. Fewer bystanders to worry about. I picked a direction and ran. Ahead, the sidewalk was closed and boarded off due to the remodeling of the front of a building.
Another shot rang out as the group of thugs turned onto the street to follow. I ducked between an opening in the boards and dodged around a web of scaffolding before settling behind a stack of two by fours. It was dark behind the lumber. If I could let them creep by, I figured I had a chance to sneak back out the way I had come.
“I didn’t know superheroes hid from the bad guys,” came a voice from the opening.
I slipped down further behind the stack of boards, willing myself to blend into the shadows. The
dude slammed a hand against the board. The thump caused me to jump as it echoed around inside.
“Come out, come out!” Another voice from the other side of the boards.
Then, another banged on the makeshift wall. The thumping increased as the group spread out, moving down the boarded off construction area, and hammered on the wood. It reminded me of how thunder could start off low and distant but rolled louder with every passing moment. They pounded on the boards with fists. The sound inside rose like Thor himself was unleashed all the fury of the “Thunder God” down on Salt Lake City.
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